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At the final juncture, he hesitated.

The old Daoist, with hair and beard as white as snow, gazed down at the palm-sized bamboo fan in his hand.

This fan was the symbol of authority for the leader of the Qing Heng Sect.

The secrets of fate must not be divulged.

Whenever a past leader had caught a glimpse of the heavenly way, a crack would appear on the fan to shield them from divine wrath.

If this formation truly succeeded, then the great path that their Qing Heng Sect had sought for centuries would indeed exist.

Surely, another fissure would be added to the fan.

Qing Miao's hand, holding the fan's handle, trembled slightly.

Hadn't he, like Qing Ping, yearned to attain enlightenment?

Just then, the man seated high on the dragon throne behind the screen responded calmly, without a ripple of emotion.

"Very well."

He could forsake the elusive promise of an afterlife.

He could forsake the monumental achievements that would last for a thousand autumns.

He could forsake his life, even the flesh and blood that comprised him.

Everything that Gu Changjin possessed, he was willing to let go.

The conversation that transpired in the inner chambers of the Qianqing Palace was known to none other than Gu Changjin and Daoist Qing Miao; it remained a secret from the rest of the world.

Scholar Qing Miao was sent back to Dragon Yin Mountain, returning to that dilapidated Green Rock Temple. Outside the temple, a squad of covert guards from the imperial city stood watch day and night in the dense forest.

In the many years that followed, Qing Miao often heard others singing praises of Emperor Yuanzhao.

Saying that he was diligent in governance, with formidable strategies and military prowess.

Saying that he loves his people like a father, his care is as vast as the sky and his tolerance as profound as the earth.

He was hailed as the most virtuous monarch since the founding of Great Yin.

Under his rule, the nation enjoyed stability, and the people lived in peace and prosperity.

On the emperor's birthday, common folk would burn incense in their homes as a gesture of goodwill, and endless temples adorned their halls with perpetually lit lamps, symbolizing longevity.

Four decades later, the worn wooden door of the Green Rock Temple creaked open.

The emperor, with his stern countenance and ever-growing imperial aura, carried an ink-jade urn as he entered.

"Venerable Daoist," he greeted.

Daoist Qing Miao was both surprised and unsurprised by his arrival.

Forty years ago, when Emperor Yuanzhao had just ascended the throne, he tragically lost his beloved. The young emperor had sought Qing Miao out, asking for his help to defy the heavens.

Qing Miao had agreed and, as he left the palace, left the emperor with a single parting message.

"Sire, you must become a man of great virtue. On the day your virtuous deeds are complete, that shall be the day this old Daoist assists you in setting up the fateful array."

At first, Daoist Qing Miao assumed that after three or five years, this young emperor would likely lay aside his obstinate obsession.

As the emperor, what kind of woman could he not have?

Having tasted the sweetness of the dragon throne and the boundless power it bestows, would he be willing to forsake all for an ethereal hope, a mere shadow of uncertainty that even he, as the Supreme Leader of the Qing Heng Sect, cannot affirm?

It is most likely that they are unwilling.

Yet, he had also heard that Emperor Yuanzhao had only ever crowned one empress in his reign, and that sole empress was his late first wife who passed away before he ascended the throne.

Qing Miao Daoist gradually understood that Emperor Yuanzhao's relentless, almost masochistic dedication to state affairs day and night was not only for the sake of the realm and its people, but also for his own quest for "great merit."

The old daoist held his palm fan and respectfully bowed to the man with frosty temples, "This old daoist has met His Majesty."

After the salute, he inquired, "Has Your Majesty prepared yourself?"

Gu Changjin acknowledged with an "Mm."

His body was nearly depleted, and he could no longer afford to wait.

He wished to see her.

Qing Miao smiled and glanced back at Qingyan Temple before saying, "Your Majesty, please follow this old monk. This Dragon Yin Mountain is where the Xiao family's dragon veins lie. Beneath the mountain, there's an underground palace. It's just right for our purpose."

Gu Changjin followed Qing Miao through a series of intricate maze-like formations, eventually arriving at a dim and narrow tunnel.

The damp and chilly wind lifted the corner of his imperial robe.

Somehow, he felt as if he had been here before.

Inside the underground palace, an ancient and mystical Taiji Bagua array was painted, its cinnabar vividly red under the bright lamp light.

"Please take a seat, Your Majesty," Qing Miao instructed, gesturing with his fan towards the yang fish's eye in the Taiji symbol. "This old monk will now activate the formation."

With that, he struck his own chest three times in succession. The force seemed gentle, yet it forced out three mouthfuls of fresh blood from his heart.

Qing Miao's face turned ashen, and he appeared much older in an instant.

The blood suspended in the air instead of falling, floating as it was guided by Qing Miao's fan to slowly form a talisman array in mid-air.

Gu Changjin gazed steadily into the void.

After an unknown duration, a chill breeze suddenly echoed through the corridor.

A thought crossed Gu Changjin's mind. Through the twelve crested streamers, he peered down the passage, yet could discern nothing.

Nonetheless, he sensed a presence.

Someone was watching him.

Raising his gaze, Gu Changjin happened to witness a sudden glow in the yin fish's eye on the opposite side just as he looked up.

In that instant, Daoist Qing Miao's voice boomed like a spring thunder, "The array is activated!"

With his words, flames flickered to life on Gu Changjin's dragon robe. The fire spread along the vermilion lines of the Taiji Bagua Array, engulfing the yin fish's eye on the other end.

Within a few breaths, the air was illuminated by a crimson hue, and a fierce gale swept through. The two fish eyes, yin and yang, seemed to be drawn to each other, slowly and incrementally merging together.

The flames raged fiercely.

Amidst the intense heat and searing pain, the flames gradually receded, and the figure of Daoist Qing Miao also faded into obscurity.

Gu Changjin felt an extraordinary silence in his ears.

It was a vague tenderness and solitude, akin to every night of the past forty years.

The warmth she had once brought him and the loneliness of losing her over those long years intertwined, accompanying him through four decades.

Others perceived him as cold and detached, with only the state and its lands occupying his heart.

Little did they know that this emperor, disciplined and strict with himself to the extreme, had been holding onto an ethereal hope.

That hope was the longing to see her again.

Such a desire never diminished with the passage of time.