Old Turtle, a master of divination, had guided Miao Miao through most calamities over the centuries. Yet even with his skill, he couldn’t reverse Miao Miao’s decline. Three years ago, it was not simply a whim of Song He to let Bai Shuo stay; Old Turtle had specifically asked to keep her.
“I do not know,” Old Turtle answered somberly. “Their fates are shrouded in a mist that I cannot see through.”
“Even Bai Shuo’s?” Song Feng asked in surprise. Three years ago, Bai Shuo had merely been a mortal. He had once questioned Old Turtle if she had deep connections with the immortal world to warrant his intervention.
“She has no immortal destiny,” Old Turtle shook his head. “I only saw that this child could protect Miao Miao. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have sent her, a demi-immortal, to Fire and Ice Island to deal with your brother’s sinister presence.”
On that night, Bai Shuo thought the books in the library were left for her by Song He, but one person understood her better than Song He—Old Turtle, whom she interacted with daily. Although Old Turtle could foresee calamities, he could not leave the island. He sensed that a major crisis was imminent for Miao Miao, and Bai Shuo was the only variable.
For Miao Miao’s safety and Bai Shuo’s well-being, he could only choose one. Destiny offered Miao Miao a narrow escape.
As for the strange young man who had suddenly appeared, Old Turtle had not mentioned to the sect leader that he felt an immense power within him, one so strong that even his millennia-old heart could not fully grasp it. Bai Shuo was Miao Miao’s lifeline, and he would protect those around her as best he could.
“And what of A-Zhao? If Zhe Sang cannot inherit Miao Miao, might A-Zhao bear its future?” Song Feng asked.
Old Turtle was silent, waving a dismissive hand. “You are the sect leader of Miao Miao. It is for you to choose who inherits it. Why ask me?”
Turning to leave, Old Turtle paused, “Miao Miao Island—the Wu Tong Tournament—if you can avoid it, do not go.”
“Ancestor?” Song Feng was stunned, as Old Turtle never spoke idly.
“After tonight, I must enter a deep slumber. I had hoped to say goodbye to that young one, but it seems there is no time. Although Bai Shuo has brought blessings to Miao Miao, it cannot keep her. Once this is over, her fate will be hers to follow.”
Song Feng wished to ask more, but Old Turtle had already dissolved into a wisp of green smoke, leaving only a single parting remark as he vanished from the hall.
To counter Song He, Old Turtle had sacrificed a century of his lifespan to make a divination. The divination revealed that only Bai Shuo could alter Miao Miao’s fate. By removing a disaster for Miao Miao, he had sealed his own fate to slumber for a hundred years, leaving the island’s fortune, whether blessed or cursed, beyond his influence.
The hall fell silent. Song Feng cast a glance at the jade slip left behind by his predecessors and let out a long sigh.
The Dao of the Three Realms, the fortunes and misfortunes of the immortal sects—how much longer could he carry this weight?
"One can only hope that Zhe Sang will find his way back to the right path, and that Er Yun and Chong Zhao will be able to revive the mountain gate."
Late at night, the cold sea breeze swept across the island, making the chill sink deep into one’s bones. The two disciples standing guard outside the Mysterious Ice Cave couldn’t help but rub their hands together for warmth.
Unseen by anyone, a tiny sapling inched closer to the cave entrance under the cover of darkness. Suddenly, there seemed to be movement not far away.
“Who’s there?” Chang Xu, sensing something, shouted in alarm. He and Yi Fan hurriedly stepped forward to investigate, only to discover that the ‘movement’ was merely branches swaying in the sea breeze.
Yi Fan shot Chang Xu an annoyed look, and Chang Xu gave a sheepish smile. “Well, something just happened on the island recently. It’s making me jumpy.”
They turned back around, and out of the corner of his eye, Chang Xu thought he saw a small sapling creeping along the edge of the barrier surrounding the Mysterious Ice Cave.
“Senior Brother, a tree is moving!”
Chang Xu called out quickly. Yi Fan turned to look, but saw nothing unusual at the cave entrance. “The island is full of trees. Of course they sway in the wind. Why are you shouting like that?”
Chang Xu blinked and looked closely, but the sapling was nowhere in sight. He rubbed his eyes and saw nothing, then chuckled awkwardly. “Maybe I was mistaken, heh.”
Yi Fan rolled his eyes again, clearly too exasperated to respond.
Inside the cave, the fire had dwindled to a mere glimmer, and Bai Shuo was rubbing her hands together for warmth. “This cursed place… why is it so freezing… it’s… it’s going to kill me…”
She had thought that with the help of the fire, she could hold out until Chong Zhao emerged from his three-day seclusion. However, the Mysterious Ice Cave was far colder than she had anticipated, and the firewood wouldn’t last long. Let alone three days—she wasn’t sure she could even make it through one.
Huddling close to the fire, Bai Shuo hugged her knees, trying to get as close to the warmth as possible. But the cave was unbearably cold, and after a night of shocks and exhaustion, she was drained. Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy, and she slipped into a hazy sleep.
In her dream, she seemed to be in a peach grove, the blossoms in full bloom, their petals cascading like a pink sea. By a gently flowing stream, someone leaned lazily against a stone table. The figure wore a white robe, with long black hair flowing loosely over their shoulders. They seemed to have been drinking; there was a slight slur to their voice, as if tipsy.
“Sigh… Yue Mi, next month is your grand birthday. Don’t you dare clean out all the treasures in my hall this time. Go make a mess in the other three halls instead. My treasures… they’re meant for a greater purpose…”
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