Heavenly Wheel Ascension

"Your sovereignty still stands even without me," Zhi Xuan said, exhaling a soft sigh. "Never mind, do what you must."

"Master Gu!" Lu Fan cried out, ignoring his shame and taking another step forward. "Since Master Gu is here, would Master Gu be willing to grant one or two pointers regarding our cultivation path? We are all stuck at this Soul Transformation stage without knowing how to touch the true Weaver laws!"

Zhi Xuan stopped his pace, but he did not turn around. "Weaver laws? You wish to weave the laws of heaven while your Dao Hearts tremble simply from beholding a person's physical frame?"

"But Master Gu," Meng interrupted with a pleading tone. "We are disciples of a great clan, yet we feel like frogs in a well after witnessing what happened last night."

Zhi Xuan sighed quietly. He moved his fingers for a moment, and behind him, the Six Paths Reincarnation Disk emerged. His True Domain expanded, manifesting six closed gates.

"Weaver Transformation," Zhi Xuan said. "Is the way you place your Dao around you. Forming a conception, then carving your Domain just like the Weaver experts. If you feel you have not progressed enough toward the Weaver stage, then do not gaze upward, but look beneath you."

He expanded his True Domain until it briefly enveloped the Ancient Shen Clan disciples, leaving them frozen before Zhi Xuan retracted the Domain as if it had never been released.

"Laws are not formed through meditation under the shade of Ancient Clan palaces," Zhi Xuan remarked. "Rather, they are formed from what you tread upon and experience during your cultivation. Furthermore, Laws cannot be imitated; Laws are the embodiment of the Dao. And a Dao that is imitated will only end like those you spoke of who were killed by me."

With that, Zhi Xuan faded into a shadow and vanished from Red Flame City, leaving the stunned Ancient Shen Clan disciples behind. To him, the pointers he had given were more than enough; whether they succeeded or not depended on their own understanding of his words.

The silence Zhi Xuan left in Red Flame City felt heavier than the thud of a collapsing mountain. Lu Fan, Meng, and a dozen other elite disciples remained standing still, as if their souls had just been forcibly pulled across the six reincarnation gates that had briefly appeared.

"Look beneath us..." Meng murmured softly. She looked down, staring at the scorched earth. "He wants us to see the face of this destruction, not just chase the shadows of the sky."

On the other side, Lu Fan slowly touched his rapidly beating chest. The vibration in his soul was no longer pure fear, but a spark of foreign understanding. "He is right... a Dao that is imitated will only end in dust. We are too busy worshiping ancestral techniques that we forget it is our own feet that should be treading the path."

Meanwhile, dozens of li away from the ruins, Zhi Xuan’s shadow solidified on a cliff peak facing west, away from the noise of Red Flame City. His black-and-white robes fluttered in the strong wind.

"Giving sermons to those children? Senior, you’re truly starting to act like a wise sect elder," Ao Sheng teased, the small dragon reappearing in the air and circling Zhi Xuan’s shoulders with agile movements.

"I only wanted them to be quiet and get to work so that Ruolan has no excuse to send more overseers here," Zhi Xuan answered coldly. He felt his chest, sensing the hundred black bamboo sword blades now residing within his storage space.

"But you truly released your True Domain earlier, even if only for a second," Xiao Die remarked, landing gracefully on Zhi Xuan’s open palm. "That was an unimaginable blessing for them. Senior, do you feel sympathy for the Shen Clan?"

Zhi Xuan gazed at the horizon, where the sun began to rise, illuminating the vast and fertile Chi Di lands. "Sympathy? No. I just remembered my former self, when I was still wandering without direction, groping in the darkness without knowing where the end of this road lay."

Zhi Xuan traveled as a shadow again, moving completely away from Red Flame City. Hundreds of li away, he stopped at a path leading into a lush forest that carried a soothing scent of dew. He stepped inside, his boots splashing dew around him.

He looked at his surroundings, and images of the forests near the Star Village of the past surged forth. Those memories—of leading goats to graze, of gazing at a piece of jade as if it were a priceless treasure. He smiled bitterly, realizing how far he had walked.

"Even after hundreds of years of cultivation, my heart remains in that village," Zhi Xuan said, his stride remaining firm. "Mortality... is beautiful. Cultivation is like a lion trying to catch its own tail; the Great Dao knows no mercy, the Heavens are so cruel."

He stopped at the edge of a clear river, leading directly to a waterfall. There, he saw several small children fishing, playing in the water, and some of them picking fruit. Zhi Xuan watched them flatly, but his fingers moved as he picked up a large fallen branch.

He sat upon a large mossy rock, letting the branch rest on his lap. With a smooth hand movement, a small carving tool of spiritual essence was created. He began to shave the wood, removing its rough bark until the pure white wood grain was revealed.

"Senior, what are you doing?" Ao Sheng asked with a tilted head, the small dragon appearing confused seeing Zhi Xuan now busy with a tree branch. "Didn't you just forge a hundred swords capable of cleaving the sky? Why are you carving rotting wood now?"

Zhi Xuan continued to carve, not answering. His carving tool moved nimbly, forming smooth curves that resembled the ripples of the river before him. Every wood shaving that fell to the ground seemed to take away one burden from his mind, which was crowded with visions of death. In his eyes, this wooden branch was not a weapon, but an anchor holding him from drifting further into the ocean of silence.

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Suddenly, his ears caught the sound of small, hesitant footsteps on the bed of dry leaves. A young boy, perhaps only seven seasons old, stood not far from him, holding a small bamboo branch with a fishing line tied to its end.

"Mister... are you an immortal?" the boy's voice was high-pitched and full of curiosity.

Zhi Xuan halted his movements, looking at the boy with his calm sapphire gaze. "An immortal? No. I am merely a wanderer who was lost and is now returning home, little boy."

The boy approached, his eyes sparkling at the carving in Zhi Xuan’s hand. "It's so beautiful... it looks like a crane about to fly. My father always says only people with peaceful hearts can make wood breathe like that."

"A peaceful heart?" Zhi Xuan chuckled lowly, the sound of his laughter carrying a hollow vibration. "Little child, sometimes beauty is born from an invisible destruction. Go fishing; do not let the fish escape because you talk too much with me."

The boy laughed and ran back toward his friends by the riverside. Zhi Xuan watched the boy’s back for a moment before returning to his carving. He separated the wood until it formed several wood pieces the size of a palm. Zhi Xuan placed the pieces beside him, his focus fixed on the piece in his hand.

He began to shave and carve the wood piece, his fingers moving nimbly while Ao Sheng watched, and Xiao Die lay upside down on Zhi Xuan’s shoulder, the little moth falling asleep in the cool atmosphere surrounding them. The piece of wood slowly changed shape under the control of Zhi Xuan’s precise fingers.

Fine wood shavings flew like autumn snow, revealing the form of a woman wearing a long robe, her small face carved with heartbreaking detail—sorrowful eyes yet full of fortitude. It was the face of Aunt Lian, a figure who had long since turned to dust in Star Village, yet remained eternal in the deepest recesses of his sea of consciousness.

Every stroke of his essence carving tool not only chipped away at the wood but also chipped away at the layer of coldness enveloping his Dao Heart. To the outside world, he was Gu Fengyan the bringer of calamity, but by this unnamed river, he was just a child longing for his home.

Once the carving of Aunt Lian was finished, Zhi Xuan placed it gently on the flat rock surface. He took a second piece of wood. This time, his hands moved more slowly, as if every wood fiber he removed carried the weight of thousands of jin. Slowly, a middle-aged man with a firm face yet lined with exhaustion began to appear. That was Uncle Chen.

Next, Zhi Xuan began to carve one by one the faces of the Star Village inhabitants; the face of Grandpa Wu, the faces of Mingling, Tang, Bashan, to Zhuwei and so on. He became immersed in the carving; he didn't realize that several seasons had passed, but Zhi Xuan seemed frozen in an endless time within his carving.

Time seemed to lose its meaning under the shade of the old tree where Zhi Xuan sat. The green leaves that had welcomed him now turned yellow, fell, and were covered by thin snow, before new buds once again sprouted from the frozen branches. Yet, for the bearer of the Banner of Calamity, the change of seasons was but a passing breath.

One by one, the wood pieces by his side began to form a silent line. There was laughter frozen on the carving of a village youth, wrinkles of affection on the face of the healer grandmother, and eternal innocence on the faces of children who used to chase him in the rice fields. Each carving was not just a likeness, but a vessel for the strands of emotion that had been locked behind the coldness of cultivation for so long.

"Senior..." Ao Sheng’s voice sounded faint, almost like a whisper of the wind. The small dragon now floated with very cautious movements, as if afraid to break the bubble of peace surrounding the place. "You have sat here for a full year. Star Village... you have truly rebuilt that entire village on this rock."

Zhi Xuan did not respond. His fingers, which usually held a soul-reaping scythe, now held the final piece of wood. He did not carve the face of another person, but a simple gate—the fragile entrance gate of Star Village, where he often stood watching the sunset while waiting for a simple tomorrow.

When the carving of the gate was finished, Zhi Xuan placed it as the end of the line. Instantly, a strange aura emanated from the pile of wood. There was no explosion of spiritual energy, no violent vibration of heavenly laws, yet the air around the river suddenly became very pure, as if the time stolen by death was briefly returned through an innocent intent.

Zhi Xuan took a long breath, an exhale that carried out the remnants of the purple mist that had been dimming his soul's light. He looked up, gazing at the sky which was now a bright blue.

"Finished," Zhi Xuan murmured. His voice was no longer cold as mountain-top ice, but carried the warmth of rain-washed earth.

He rose to his feet. His movements were no longer rigid like a stone pillar, but flowed like the river before him. He looked at the row of wood carvings, then flicked his hand. The pieces did not disappear, but floated and entered his storage bag, placed in the most sacred spot, even higher than the hundred black bamboo swords he had forged.

"Senior, your Dao Heart..." Xiao Die, who had just awakened from her long sleep, was startled. She flew in circles before Zhi Xuan’s face, her large moth eyes sparkling. "It is no longer shaking. The vision from the Emperor’s Monument... you have swallowed that sorrow?"

"Not swallowed it, Xiao Die," Zhi Xuan answered softly. "I have only learned to let it flow with me. Xi Wangmu’s sorrow is hers, and the memories of Star Village are mine. I do not need to become one of them to understand suffering."

Zhi Xuan stepped toward the edge of the waterfall, staring at his own reflection in the clear water. His hair was never tied, hanging loosely to touch his back, parted at his forehead. He saw that face, the face that once wanted to hold the stars in its palm, but even that was still very far away.

"My hair is never tied, as a sign that I am never bound by anyone," Zhi Xuan murmured. "Only Zhu and Ye can tie my hair. But now, their paths are higher than mine. Someday, there will be a time when I do not need to let my hair hang."

Zhi Xuan turned his body, leaving the babbling waterfall that had been a silent witness to his one-year meditation. He stepped out from the shade of the lush trees, returning to the path under the scorching Chi Di sun.

"Senior, where is our destination now?" Ao Sheng asked, his tiny body glinting gold as he pierced the thin mist between the trees. "Shen Sky City? Or will you truly seek another hidden place to avoid that Holy Maiden’s fine nets?"

"Of course, looking for another place to avoid that Holy Maiden’s fine nets," Zhi Xuan said calmly. "I do not want to be constantly stared at by those purple pupils full of charm."

Zhi Xuan walked with a frame that felt lighter, as if the weight of a thousand zhang of mountains that had crushed his shoulders all this time had fallen away with the wood shavings by the riverside. However, the tranquility he had just achieved was soon disturbed by a sharp and foreign ripple of energy that appeared suddenly at the end of the path.

Zhi Xuan’s footsteps stopped. His eyes narrowed, staring straight ahead where the air began to churn, refracting the sunlight into a dazzling clump of white energy. Xiao Die, who was buzzing around a large tree, shot toward Zhi Xuan.

Behind that white light, a woman appeared wearing pure white robes, her hair hanging gracefully in a beautiful silver color. A stinging heavenly aura emerged from the woman; she looked elegant and holy, yet carried a foreign scent.

The woman stood motionless, as if she were part of the light radiating behind her. Her white robes were not made of ordinary silk, but woven from cloud silk that emitted a soft silvery glow. On her forehead, there was a rune symbol shaped like double wings that shone dimly.