Zhang Xiao looked at his grandfather's phantom. It was a recorded message.
"There's so much I want to tell you, but I can't..."
The Old Celestial Master sat cross-legged before Zhang Xiao, as though he had known when he left this message that his eldest grandson would be sitting here.
"When you were born, I cast a divination. The signs were terribly ominous, and the only path to survival lay in the West.
"I never understood why. But after discussing it with Headmaster Dumbledore, I realized that if there truly was any way to clear away the darkness outside,
"our only chance was for you to take control of the magic network and the Heavenly Court..."
The Old Celestial Master fell silent for a moment, then said softly,
"So often, I hoped this great tribulation would never come-that our predecessors had simply predicted it wrong.
"But heaven refused to grant that wish. In the end, you still had to bear this suffering..."
Zhang Xiao listened quietly. Did he resent him? Not really. What he felt was something far more complicated.
There was sorrow, grief, loss, and pain. Only resentment was absent.
"Xiao Xiao, there's still so much I want to say to you. But after thinking it over and over, I realized it would only deepen your sorrow.
"We who follow the Dao should embrace freedom and let go. So... this old Daoist takes his leave!"
The Old Celestial Master turned and walked away, his body gradually fading into a phantom before dispersing.
Zhang Xiao rose from the ground too and bowed deeply to his retreating figure. Farewell, Grandfather.
The whole space fell silent again. He was alone.
Zhang Xiao did not hurry to leave. Instead, he remained seated cross-legged on the ground, carefully sorting through everything he had