A pale palm pressed against an ancient door.
This gate had rarely opened—few possessed the right to enter the [Library]. As Luofu's Master Diviner, Fu Xuan qualified. Yet until now, she'd hesitated to sever her past.
If her divinations had been sharper…
If she'd altered even one pivotal moment…
Would her master still live? Would An Ming still linger in her world?
Fu Xuan pushed the door open. No more hesitation.
Shelves towered like mountains. At their end stood an aged figure leaning on a cane.
"What do you seek?"
The elder turned, his gray eyes behind dark glasses holding cosmic truths.
"If fate offers one path, I'll choose correctly at every fork." Fu Xuan strode forward.
Bookshelves dissolved into swirling galaxies. The Library became a cathedral of knowledge.
"There are no answers." The cane tapped stardust. "Only questions… and eyes to see them."
"Then give me eyes."
"Even if destiny is fixed, I'll find the turning point."
Pain meant nothing. Separation from An Ming had already hollowed her soul.
"As you wish."
The cane touched a constellation. Hexagrams coalesced into an amethyst [Eye], embedding into Fu Xuan's forehead.
Agony wrenched a gasp from her—a pain that would haunt her eternally.
If this reveals fate's threads…
She'd endure it.
"Every cause bears its effect. This is your destiny—to ascend as Diviner."
Memories flashed:
—A child praised as "blessed" for her talent.
—Jingtian ruffling her hair, becoming her master.
—A tearful boy named An Ming complaining, "She called me a brat!"
—Shared naps under peach blossoms.
—Candied haws saved just for her.
—A first kiss.
—Snowfall vows.
"Xuan'er…"
The memories blurred. The world sharpened.
Mists parted. Before her—
One path.
The only path.
"Was this your purpose?" The elder glimpsed her dreams.
"Not dreams." The [Eye] glowed. "My past forged me."
Fate has one road.
How laughable.
How tragic.
Yuque Confinement
"Back so soon?"
"Why you…?"
"Why not me?!" Ai Ni puffed her cheeks. "Even old pals can't jailbreak on my watch! Lunch!"
An Ming stared at the unidentifiable sludge.
"If you can't cook, bring ingredients next time."
"Trying to poison me?"
"?"
He flicked her forehead. Ai Ni flopped dramatically.
"Face it," she groaned. "If you wanted to escape, you'd be gone."
As Ai Ni slunk off, An Ming studied the peach tree—still thriving under someone's care.
The shattered Wuye lay nearby. Forgive me, he thought. We'll rebuild.
[Age 20. An Ming's first year of confinement. Little changed—except freedom.]
[Yingguang visited, critiquing Wuye's progress while dumping arcane tomes on forging.]
[The boy who once napped through books now read them cover to cover.]
[Only Fu Xuan never came.]
Under the tree, An Ming parried Ai Ni's strikes one-handed, a manual titled Blacksmithing for Dummies: Make Your Sword Forge Itself! in his grip.
"Seven minutes. Worse than yesterday."
Ai Ni lay sprawled, counting clouds. "Mercy! I'm the prisoner here! Ha! 'One sword chills nineteen galaxies!'"
An Ming sighed. Did I break her?