Spirit Vessel

In a prosperous place like the capital, an empty mountain was a rare sight - the one behind Southern Sky Temple.

Inside the valley were dried up trees, bereft of verdant leaves and covered with a thick layer of silvery snow.

Large flakes were still scattering; the winds howled like beasts from the entrance and engulfed the entire area, pushing down the dead trees.

A wooden pavilion, one grave, one memorial tablet.

Feiyun personally dug up the grave before glancing at the beauty trapped in ice. She seemed to be asleep - albeit, never to wake up again. He closed his eyes before gently placing the sculpture down to the grave and filled it up again.

Life was unpredictable, ladened with sadness.

The wondrous talent from the Ji, virtually peerless in her own era with too many suitors to count, would still turn to dust after a thousand years. Who would remember her in the future?

The prestigious and powerful consort basked in luxury, considered to be a deity but all was gone now. She was ill-fated, living for someone else. Perhaps many tears were secretly shed under the moon as she lamented her lack of freedom.

Everyone must die. Those who embark on the cultivation road for immortality must be even more ready for death.

Feiyun crouched down to carve a word on the tablet, Xuan.

She said that she wanted to make it up for Zuo Qianshou. Perhaps burying them in the same grave would be the best way to do so even though she didn’t explicitly state it.

He sat there, unmoving, seemingly pondering. The snow turned him into a snowman again.