Severing Ties: The Sect Regrets My Departure

It was a butterfly carved of flawless white jade, glowing with ethereal light.

It carried the weight of an Immortal’s demise. It bore the burden of a scheme to hide a god, the accumulation of thousands of years of calculation, and the harvested life force of countless experts ground to dust. Finally, it had seized the Fated Chance, gaining the pity of Heaven and Earth.

It had returned from the dead.

However…

Upon its revival, the white jade butterfly felt no joy. It did not even spare a moment to examine its new existence.

Instead, it flapped its wings and shot straight toward the main hall.

Empty.

It did not despair. It turned and rushed into the side chamber. But the presence in that room had long since dissipated, ground away by the sands of time.

It found nothing. Not a trace. Not a whisper.

Panic set in.

It began to search frantically, darting through the courtyard like a creature possessed. It checked beneath the towering ancient tree, inspected the dust-covered stove in the kitchen, scoured the utility room piled with junk, and even swept over the mossy, rain-soaked roof tiles.

It crashed into walls, fractured its delicate wings, and was blown back by fierce winds. Yet, it never gave up.

It had to find her. It had to find the one person it could not bear to leave behind.

But…

When the white jade butterfly drifted into the wine cellar and saw the jars of Pine Blossom Wine stacked floor to ceiling—wine prepared over centuries for a reunion that would never happen—it froze in mid-air.

It hovered there for a long time.

Finally, it drifted out of the cellar and returned to the courtyard, stopping in front of Gu Xiu.

Or rather, it stopped in front of the paper umbrella resting in the empty grave.

It landed gently on the umbrella. But perhaps fearing its tiny legs would damage the paper, it failed to find purchase and tumbled down into the mud.

It struggled up and flew back to the umbrella. But just as it was about to land, it veered away. It frantically flapped its wings, shaking off every speck of dust and dirt clinging to its body.

Only on the third attempt did it approach again.

Pure white. Spotless. Like jade.

It landed with agonizing care, folding its wings to lie quietly on the paper surface.

This was her umbrella.

She had gone out. When she returned, she would surely come to retrieve it. She loved this umbrella. She would come back.

She had to.

But… it was just a butterfly now. Its presence attracted swarms of ants. They smelled the sweet spiritual essence of the creature and began their climb, marching up the handle of the umbrella in three distinct columns.

The butterfly was enraged. This was her treasure. It would not allow these vermin to defile it.

It rose and flapped its wings, generating wind to blow the ants away.

But the world is full of ants. As long as she did not return, the umbrella remained a stationary target. The ants came back, again and again.

From the moment the galaxy filled the sky, to the rising of the morning sun, to the setting of the western orb.

The ants never stopped.

But the butterfly was exhausted.

It finally accepted the reality. It drifted down onto the paper umbrella and lay still. It did not leave. It did not resist. Even as the ants crawled over its body, threatening to dismember it piece by piece, it did not move.

If she didn’t return, it wouldn’t leave. If she never returned, it would wait here for eternity.

Just as the ants were about to feast, a hand reached down.

Gu Xiu picked up the paper umbrella, casually brushing away the insects and dust. He looked at the creature on the paper and spoke softly.

“Senior Yuhe has exchanged her Immortal Death for your life. Senior… please restrain your grief.”

The white jade butterfly trembled.

It snapped its head toward Gu Xiu. Though it was a fragile insect, its eyes burned with a towering, apocalyptic rage. It glared at him, as if accusing him of speaking madness.

Gu Xiu did not flinch. He met the creature’s gaze with silence.

Finally, after an eternity, the butterfly withdrew its gaze. It fell limply into the mud.

Then, it went mad.

It thrashed in the dirt, beating its wings against the stones, smashing its head against the rocks. It wanted to shatter its own form. It wanted to die.

But the Grand Formation had anticipated this. No matter how hard it tried to self-destruct, the array poured endless vitality into its body, forcing it to heal, forcing it to live.

It looked at the paper umbrella again.

It no longer saw the hope of return. It saw only a lonely grave overgrown with weeds.

I wish to call to the one in the grave, to spread a mat and pour out my grievances.

But I know… the one in the grave can no longer hear me.

It stopped fighting. It looked at Gu Xiu one last time, then surrendered to the formation. It began to absorb the vitality, the power, the sacrifice.

The radiance of the white jade butterfly grew blindingly bright.

Flash!

A pillar of white light erupted. When it faded, the butterfly was gone.

In its place stood a man in white robes. The man from the mural.

Yuhe’s husband, Bai Shao.

He had returned.

But there was no celebration. No cheers. Even his own eyes held no joy, only an abyss of sorrow.

Bai Shao glanced at Gu Xiu, said nothing, and walked straight into the wine cellar.

Moments later, he emerged carrying two jars of Pine Blossom Wine. He tossed one to Gu Xiu, then sat cross-legged in the mud before the paper umbrella, ignoring the filth staining his pristine robes.

He broke the clay seal, tilted his head back, and drank deeply.

“This taste…”

He lowered the jar, his voice trembling. “Even in death, this Pine Blossom Wine makes one linger.”

“You said I liked Pine Blossom Wine,” he whispered to the umbrella, his voice barely audible. “But what I liked… was drinking it with you.”

The umbrella remained silent.

“Gu Xiu, correct?” Bai Shao turned his head.

Gu Xiu nodded. Bai Shao had been resurrected by the formation; the knowledge of what transpired was likely imprinted on his soul.

“Is there anyone… willing to wait for you?” Bai Shao asked.

Gu Xiu frowned slightly. He didn’t nod, nor did he shake his head.

“I am not worthy,” Gu Xiu replied.

“I am not worthy either.”

Bai Shao shook his head and took another swig of wine. He drank too fast, choking on the liquid. He coughed violently, tears streaming down his face.

He didn’t wipe them away. Through the blur of tears, he looked at Gu Xiu and smiled a broken, wretched smile.

“I’m not worthy!”

“Why was she so foolish!”

“I didn’t want her to wait for me! I don’t deserve her waiting for me! I shouldn’t have let her wait…”

The dam broke.

The man who shone with boundless radiance in the mural, the hero of a bygone era, curled up in the mud and wept like a child. Snot and tears mixed with the dirt on his face.

He was just a mortal now. A mortal whose heart had been ripped out.

Thoughts ripple like water on a cold mat; a thousand-mile reunion ends in a single night.

Gu Xiu looked away, giving the man privacy. He broke the seal on his own jar and took a drink.

The wine was indeed excellent.

No words were exchanged. One man wept, the other drank in silence.

They sat there until the moon set and the sun rose again. The jars were empty.

Bai Shao finally stood up.

He walked to the west side of the courtyard, stopping before the towering ancient pine tree. He looked up at its branches, which stretched out to cover the sky.

“When I left, this pine was only half a zhang tall,” he murmured. “Now, it stands tall and spreading like a canopy.”

“Wrong.”

“It’s all wrong.”

Bai Shao turned to Gu Xiu. “If someone is willing to wait for you…”

He stopped, then laughed bitterly. “Never mind. Saying it is useless. Your silence shows you see it more clearly than I do.”

He shook his head and walked back to the paper umbrella. He picked it up with reverence, dusting off every speck of dirt.

“I should go,” he said.

Gu Xiu was surprised. “Senior, you…”

“I am not as capable as her,” Bai Shao said softly. “I do not have the skill to exchange death for life, nor the power to simply bring her back.”

His eyes hardened.

“I am taking her to Longevity Mountain.”

Longevity Mountain?

Gu Xiu’s eyelids twitched. That was a Forbidden Zone. A place of ten deaths and no life. Even a Supreme Venerable would not dare set foot there lightly.

“She will not die. She cannot die.”

“I will bring her back.”

Gu Xiu remained silent. He understood. Bai Shao had been brought back, but without her, this second life was a curse. He was going to defy the heavens again.

Bai Shao went back into the cellar and returned with one final jar of wine. He handed it to Gu Xiu.

“I can only spare one more jar. If we return, I will invite you to drink freely.”

“If we do not return…”

“This wine will be your inheritance.”

Gu Xiu looked deeply at the man. He saw the resolve to die in Bai Shao’s eyes.

“I bid farewell to you, Fellow Daoist,” Gu Xiu said, clasping his fists.

“Thank you.” Bai Shao returned the bow.

“By the way,” Bai Shao asked suddenly. “Do you possess an item capable of harming a Supreme Venerable?”

Hm?

Gu Xiu paused, then retrieved the finger bone he had fished up from the void. He had never tested its true power.

Bai Shao raised a finger and tapped the air.

Hum.

A profound, mysterious energy surged from Bai Shao, flowing into the bone in Gu Xiu’s hand. Before Gu Xiu could analyze it, Bai Shao withdrew his hand.

“My strength has increased greatly after rebirth, yet even I cannot fully fathom the origin of this bone,” Bai Shao admitted. “However, I have left a little something inside it.”

He looked Gu Xiu in the eye.

“The next strike…”

“Will do more than merely harm a Supreme Venerable.”

More than harm?

Gu Xiu’s eyes narrowed.

Bai Shao turned away. He took a single step, and his figure blurred, appearing a hundred zhang away in an instant. He held the paper umbrella close to his chest, walking into the wind.

As he vanished into the distance, a faint song drifted back on the breeze:

“A lifetime of pride has led to this solitary dusk; across the four seas, none stand with me against the setting sun.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong!”

“It should be just like under the lamp.”

“An old friend returns from ten thousand miles…”

“To face the shadow!”

The song faded.

The Grand Formation, which had been humming with power for days, finally ground to a halt. The cycle was complete.

Gu Xiu took one last look at the small courtyard.

Then, he turned around.

He headed toward the valley exit.

There, a group of “powerful experts” was waiting for him.