An Eternal Promise at the Monastery Gate
Early the next morning, the rotten mist atop Linh Son still refused to disperse, curling around the stone cliffs like strips of gray silk. The mountain path was drenched in the night's moisture, winding along the slope before sinking into the thick darkness of the ancient bamboo forest. It was a silence so peaceful it ached, before catastrophe descended upon the mortal world. The ancient monastery remained as still as it had for ten thousand years, yet the air seemed to have grown dense with an unnamed sorrow—the scent of a parting between life and death.
Hoi Minh had stood beneath the monastery gate since the rooster's first crow. He remained there for a long time, motionless as a stone statue, his eyes fixed on the horizon where strips of ash-gray cloud churned and roared. There, the storms of a turbulent age were about to rise, ready to grind all living beings into the dust of the mortal world.
From the temple courtyard, Vien An stepped out. The hem of her pure white robe stirred lightly in the headwind, a few drops of cold dew still clinging to her shoulder. Her figure was as ethereal as an immortal maiden formed from mist. Neither spoke a word of the mortal world. In silence, they walked side by side and stopped beneath the ancient tree that had stood for a thousand years in the temple courtyard. Its roots had sunk deep into the earth for far too long—so long that its enormous roots had thrust above the ground like scars carved by time into heaven and earth, silently witnessing the countless separations of the human world.
Hoi Minh spoke softly, breaking the oppressive silence that constricted both their chests. His voice was low, and the moment it left his lips, the wild wind of the sacred mountain swept it away:
“Today, I have to go down the mountain. The battle in the north is descending into chaos… I may be gone for a very long time. It will be unimaginably dangerous.”
Vien An lifted her eyes to him. Her gaze was as calm as an autumn lake, but deep within her consciousness, an undercurrent stirred, concealing a pain that clutched at her heart:
“I’ll stay here and wait for you beneath this ancient tree, always faithful.”
Hoi Minh gave a bitter smile. It held both anguish and the protective tenderness of a great man who knew he was about to step into a deadly maze:
“I don’t want you to waste your youth waiting for me. In an age like this, a promise can sometimes weigh more than a human life. I’m afraid I won’t be able to return whole.”
Vien An did not answer. She lowered her head slightly, opened the small cloth pouch at her waist, and took out a flawless white jade core marked with nine faint patterns—the fated keepsake Hoi Minh had given her that night beside the ancient stream. She clenched the jade in her palm, feeling its gentle spiritual power seep into her heart and soothe the coldness closing in around her:
“With this jade at my side, my true heart won’t feel so lonely. So if one day you lose your way amid the chaos of war, there will still be someone in the mortal world who remembers exactly who you were in your previous lifetime.”
Hoi Minh's whole body began to tremble. He reached inside his robe and took out the blue scarf embroidered with nine silver stars—the one she had once given him. He cradled it in hands roughened by eighteen years of solitary martial training, his eyes filled with an ancient, boundless reverence. Their gazes met in the unreal, and for that moment, their two heartbeats seemed to become one, rising above every distance within the confines of the mortal world. The thousand words they needed to say suddenly dissolved into silence.
Hoi Minh stepped close to Vien An, until only a hair's breadth remained between their two lives. He raised his hand, intending to touch the strand of hair blowing across her forehead, but the seal of Heaven's law rebounded against him, making his fingers halt halfway before withdrawing into a tightly clenched fist. He gazed deep into her clear eyes, driving each word into fate:
“An… If, by the smallest chance, one day my body dissolves into the dust of the battlefield and my soul loses the road home to the highest heavens… don’t cry. Just look at this jade core. When the nine patterns on its surface blaze with blood-red light at the same time, that will mean I’ve become the warmth protecting your palm. I may no longer have a mortal body, but this love has already been carved into Heaven’s mandate. Whether it takes eighteen years or ten thousand lifetimes of reincarnation, as long as you keep the jade, I will defy heaven and earth to find my way… and be reborn once more, if only to see you again.”
A thin veil of tears suddenly covered Vien An's eyes. She nodded softly, her voice trembling yet as firm as iron:
“No matter how far you go, even if you cross countless cycles of upheaval… my consciousness will recognize you. You have to come back.”
Hoi Minh did not look back again. He turned decisively and strode through the monastery gate. His proud figure faded behind the vivid green bamboo, blurring like ink washed across paper in the morning mist. At the final bend by the cliff, his footsteps faltered for a single beat. His hand tightened around the embroidered blue scarf hidden in his sleeve, and then he silently continued on, vanishing into the dense mist rising from the valley.
The Obsession Beneath the Benevolent Temple Roof
At the foot of the sacred mountain, the ancient monastery quickly returned to its usual silence and melancholy. Only the sound of wind from ten thousand lifetimes rustled through the old, ivory bamboo leaves. Vien An quietly opened her palm. The nine faint patterns on the flawless white jade core reflected the pale morning sunlight, hazy as a ghost of memory. She stared at the empty mountain path disappearing into the mist and softly sent her words into the boundless unreal:
“No matter how long I have to wait… I’ll still be here. A star not yet revealed.”
The mountain wind suddenly erupted into a violent gale, swirling and sweeping countless wildflowers into a blaze across heaven and earth, as though it meant to carry that oath, etched into bone and heart, into the boundless void and challenge the will of heaven and earth.
The Celestial Realm’s View — Nam Tao’s Cruelty
In the towering Beyond-Thought Palace above the heavens, silver clouds rolled slowly past the ancient, moss-covered stone terraces of the Silent Hall. Nam Tao stood silently beside the jade-stone railing, his long robe snapping in the wind, his right hand holding the celestial Book of Fate, its pages yellowed by time. He lowered his head and saw through layer upon layer of cloud and mist into the mortal world, where Vien An's white-robed figure remained a tiny white speck, standing motionless and alone beneath the ancient tree.
The Star Lord’s lips curled slightly—a smile as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice atop a sacred mountain, filled with mockery and cruelty.
He did not lower his jade brush to bless that promise. Instead, its sharp, pointed bristles, keen as a dagger, drew a merciless line across two names: Hoi Minh—Vien An. One stroke of Heaven’s will decreed a lifetime of separation between life and death, and separation across ten thousand lifetimes.
“One leaves for the sake of the world, while the other stays for love across three lives… What a perfect play for me to watch, and see just how thin the steadfast obsession of these fragile mortals truly is.” Nam Tao's voice rang out, detached and emotionless, as though he were discussing a sacrificial move on a stone board.
The Keeper of Fated Bonds stood behind him and shuddered in fear, bowing slightly:
“High God… are you going to let them lose each other forever in this great calamity of war?”
Nam Tao did not turn around. His eyes, which governed life and death, remained fixed on the dark, blood-soaked mortal world to the north:
“The eighteen long years of separation ahead… are only the opening movement of this great tragedy. I want them to taste the brightest light of hope before I reach out and crush it in eternal darkness. Let us see—when white bones lie exposed on the battlefield, when beauty withers beneath the temple eaves… will their oath still weigh more than a grain of dust from the mortal world?”
Click.
He snapped the Book of Fate shut. The dry crack rang out, violently shaking the heavens like thunder beneath a clear sky. At the same moment, a drop of thick black ink fell from the jade brush onto the page, spreading at a terrifying speed until it completely covered the nine points of starlight on the page recording the pair’s destinies. A cruel curse of fate officially took shape, sending them into eighteen years of earthly hell and separation.
Verse X
Mist veils the monastery gate—the song of parting, In iron armor, he leaves; her tears grow dim. Beneath the ancient tree, one waits, Across the blood-soaked battlefield, cloud shadows pass.
The loom at midnight, the shuttle drawing thread, An old mother stifles her tears and embroiders her heart. Win the world’s acclaim… but do not forget your roots, Eighteen long years… ten thousand lifetimes gone mute.