It was the perfect evening, perfect.
The Golden Vale, the joyous atmosphere, and the rising lanterns that rose as a guide for the lost ones.
The Moon-Chasing Festival proceeded without disruption until Xias' vision unfolded like a movie camera rolling the recorded play.
TDs of all shapes and manners suddenly appeared, and with them, a rumbling came—GROWL.
Where lanterns once danced, the night sky was taken over by an enshroudment as the storm of mourning brewed.
Screams of frenzy and horror marred the Taoyuan vale. Xia was at the epicenter of it all, where she found herself surrounded by the TDs.
Yet, fate had not completely abandoned her, as there was still an opening for her to escape.
She took the first step, but it was towards the Wishing Tree, and not the small opening.
As Xia stepped onto the golden road leading to the Wishing Tree, the fabric clutched gently in her hands, something shifted within her, as if another self had awakened.
Her limbs moved with ceremonial grace, yet her heart was screaming. She saw the faces—past and future, alive and gone—flickering like lanterns in her memory.
She knew this was foolish. She knew there was still time to turn and run, as fate had not swallowed her whole.
And yet... she walked forward.
Some visions returned to her then: Kyorin, led astray by his teacher, and another, when he was cuffed below the sacred tree.
He always stood at the brink of death, yet survived. Her son, so close to death so many times, yet snatched back by something.
Will? Fate? She never knew. But tonight, she felt it again—that he would survive, even if she didn't.
And she remembered his words.
"The reward of selfless labor is the 'labor' itself."
A faint smile formed on her lips. Perhaps, as his mother, she also shared the same sentiment. She was kind, too kind.
She knew a fabric tied to a tree could not rewrite destiny. She knew the gesture was symbolic, powerless in the face of true calamity. But symbols had meaning, and tonight, meaning was everything.
She wasn't doing it for recognition. Not for herself. Not for hope.
She was doing it so the festival—their festival—could reach its conclusion.
After all, the responsibility of hanging the fabric fell upon her, given by Elder Gui, and a forced one.
She had every right to resent it, to run and question why the burden had been placed upon her shoulders.
But she didn't.
She had wished to help, and when help was needed, she was given this responsibility. Perhaps she hadn't chosen it freely—but hadn't she asked for it all the same?
At that thought, a sudden sense of liberation washed over her.
She realized then: this was no longer a duty imposed. It was a truth she had embraced.
In that moment, Xia stepped beyond the realm of fear and regret. She did not run from her actions—she understood them.
Yes—she was doing this for the people of Jinzhou, so their voices could be heard by the so-called Wishing Tree.
Her gaze shifted to the fabric, where wishes and names were written. As her eyes traced each syllable, the faces of those who had written them appeared in her mind.
By the time she reached the end and the trunk, she realized—she hadn't written any.
ROAR.
A monstrous roar shattered the air from behind. Xia knew then—her escape had been cut off.
Clear beads of helplessness shimmered in the corners of her eyes before falling onto the fabric.
She had written no wishes.
But if she could hold back her streaming tears just long enough, they would have carried one singular wish:
"Triumph of my son."
As a mother, that was her only wish.
Her hands reached toward the low-hanging branches, just as the shadows of destruction closed in.
With her remaining sorrow, she hung the wishes and closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable.
***
Thump
An aching thump drummed from Kyorin's heart as his attack momentarily grew dull for one exchange with the TD before him.
Yet it only lasted once before their sharpness returned, and in a clean sweeping motion, the TD met its end.
Instinctively, his eyes moved towards the Wishing Tree, where he saw the tragedy occur.
A sense of grief sprouted, digging its roots deep into his heart.
"Mother..." He called out.
He took a step, then immediately twirled as another TD met its end under DEVA's sharp blade.
RUMBLE
Gazing up, he saw the same ugly clouds that had loomed over the sky this morning.
A thought crept in: 'Is this a ploy?'
There was a chance this could have been a coincidence, but Kyorin had his reasons to believe otherwise. This sudden ambush… it reeked of intent.
His lips parted slightly, just a small gape—And like moths to a flame, the clouds began to drift toward him, drawn in as they had earlier.
Sure enough, his actions did not go unnoticed.
The moment the first stream of clouds entered his throat, another Resonance clashed with his own.
A jarring sensation surged through his neck—throbbing pain bloomed as shades of black-violet crept upward like a creeping poison, veined with crimson threads and a sickly green iridescence.
It was as if he had swallowed thorns, and they were still inside—tangled, choking, bleeding him from within.
A single strand of his hair turned white—It bloomed, then fell, drifting down like the wishing lady who had lost in the wind above the chaos.
And as the ground received the fallen, Kyorin's right hand rose.
The veins of his forearm pulsed black, like rivers of ink bleeding across once-pristine skin. But this was no mere shadow—this was totality.
His flesh darkened with an absolute hue that defied light; every contour vanished, swallowed whole.
And yet, it glowed—faintly, eerily—with a pale, haunting luminance, as though each atom burned inward.
A void set aflame.
He placed his hand on his neck and then squeezed it.
***
"???"
Not far from the chaos, a figure cloaked in darkness suddenly widened their eyes, their breath catching as if their airways had clamped shut.
"Haaah—hah—"
Gasping for air, they clutched their neck. But nothing helped. Panicked, they searched for the source of the suffocation—and found it.
A strand of Resonance. Weak, yet somehow intertwined with their own. It was the cause of the restriction.
They tried to eliminate it, but the moment their Resonance touched this foreign thread, every cell in their body seemed to accelerate. Their skin shriveled, their joints ached—they were aging rapidly.
They halted the process in horror.
But the suffocation resumed instantly, continuing from where it had left off. They dropped to their knees, air wheezing in ragged fragments.
Desperate, they again attempted to remove it— again, aging initiated. But this time, they were making progress, the foreign Resonance dissipating bit by bit.
Yet the cost was too high.
Again, they stopped—and again the suffocation tightened like an invisible noose.
Now sprawled on the ground, they writhed, their body scraping and shifting in the dirt, displacing the earth beneath them as they gasped in vain.
It was a death spiral either way—remove it and wither into dust, or leave it and be choked to death.
"Bring it!" They croaked the words as a final plea.
And then, with one desperate surge, they purged the Resonance from their body.
But in that instant, they sacrificed every last ounce of life force.
Their eyes rolled back, turning white.
Their limbs went still.
Their breath stopped.
Silence claimed them.
***
Back in Taoyuan Vale, wild embers engulfed the TDs as they fell beneath the might of the Blazing Brilliance.
Changli swung her sword, cutting through hordes of TDs with fiery precision until she reached where her teacher stood—Xuanmiao—holding an unconscious Kyorin in his arms.
"Teacher! Kyorin!" she cried, hurrying to them.
Xuanmiao glanced her way. "Perfect timing. Take your junior brother away from here."
He kicked off his sandal, precisely striking a TD square in the forehead, causing it to explode as Changli drew closer, only to stop as her eyes fell on the unconscious Kyorin.
Changli's eyes widened when she saw the deep black markings spreading across Kyorin's neck. She gasped. "What happened to him?!"
"It seems..." Xuanmiao replied with a grave tone, "...he strangled himself."
"Strangled... himself?" Changli echoed, stunned.
But Xuanmiao had no time to explain. "Just take him somewhere safe."
She hesitated. "Wait—where is Lady Xia?"
Her eyes turned toward the Wishing Tree, where the prayer fabric fluttered in the wind.
Her chest tightened. "No… it can't be…"
A dark fog clouded her thoughts, panic swelling—until Xuanmiao slapped her lightly. Paa—
"Focus." He commanded. "Leave with Kyorin!"
Biting her lip hard, Changli nodded and ran off with Kyorin in her arms.
Xuanmiao turned, withdrawing a plain sword from his Terminal.
"I don't know who summoned all of you…" He murmured, eyes scanning the chaos, "...but I will find the culprit."
But the truth was—the one behind it all was already dead.
Eventually, Xuanmiao found himself standing above the Fractsidus member, who lay lifeless in the dirt.
The man's age was evident in the lines of his face, his frame frail. He had died of natural causes, or so it seemed.
Xuanmiao's lips curled in disdain as he knelt and inspected the body. Even now, in his final breath, the Fractsidus had sown chaos, leaving behind a legacy of destruction that would never rest.
He stood and spat on the ground, muttering bitterly, "Even at your deathbed, you Fractsidus fiends still relish in the suffering of others."
He turned his back on the body, and his gaze hardened. This man might be gone, but the poison of his faction was still there, lingering like a curse on the land.
He couldn't help but wonder if that was their only purpose—to instigate, to divide, and even in death, to leave behind a trail of ruin.
With a final glance at the corpse, she left the place, her mind heavy with frustration and his heart heavy with bitterness.
***
"..."
A gentle cushion. Like a warm embrace from the benevolent, Xia felt herself cradled in a soft, tender presence.
Her eyes fluttered open, a soft, unbidden sigh escaping her lips as she slowly adjusted to the light.
The world felt distant, muffled, dreamlike. She blinked, focusing on the figure before her: a monk sitting cross-legged, her face calm and serene.
Her hands, resting gently on her, were warm—almost as though her presence alone could stave off the chill of whatever had brought her to this moment.
She felt the soft pressure of her lap beneath her head, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each steady breath.
Her robes, a simple yet elegant shade of faded ochre, pooled around her like a blanket of tranquility.
Her gaze was pleasant like a lotus, as though she carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words yet had no need to say any.
Xia should have felt surprise or panic, but there was only an odd sense of ease. It was as if this moment was meant to be.
She gazed up at the monk, her voice soft with confusion, "Oh, beautiful lady, where am I?"
The monk's face, delicate with a quiet wisdom, was adorned with a faint smile. Her lips parted, and her voice was like a breeze, gentle and calming. "This is the abode of the immortal, The Heart."
Xia's brow furrowed as she spoke, her confusion bubbling up despite the stillness in her chest. "Is this... the afterlife?"
Xin Yao smiled, her eyes kind but firm. "No. The afterlife is only for those bound to the material. You, Xia, live in the immortal's heart—here, you are beyond death."
Xia blinked slowly, as though the words were sinking in, but her mind kept racing back to something more urgent. "Kyorin... Is my son alright?"
Her voice was more of a murmur to herself, but Xin Yao's smile remained, understanding in her gaze. "Your son is alright," she replied, her tone soothing. "But..."
"But what?" Xia's voice was quiet, though her heart raced.
Xin Yao's eyes softened with a slight sadness, her voice barely a whisper. "Someone else might not be."
Xia's breath caught, and her gaze sharpened with sudden concern. "Changli..." she whispered, the name hanging like a premonition.
***
A few weeks had passed since the Moon-Chasing Festival. Though many casualties had been reported and many grieved, no one mourned Xia's loss as deeply as Changli did.
Kyorin had grieved too, but his tears had dried within days. Not Changli's. She wasn't even related to Xia by blood—yet Xia had been like a mother to her.
And so, she cried. At first, for days. Then a week. Then weeks. And now, it had been nearly a month. She lived aimlessly, as though her soul had died that day.
Today, after another fruitless training session, she returned to the house, tired, empty. But as she walked in, her nose caught a whiff of something.
A familiar aroma.
'Mother?'
The thought bloomed in her mind before she could stop it.
She hurried to the kitchen, but the graceful, mature figure she expected wasn't there. Instead, Kyorin stood in oversized robes, stirring the pot.
Noticing her arrival, Kyorin turned. In that moment, something about him—his posture, his expression—reminded her of Xia.
He gestured gently. "Come here."
She walked toward him, and he made her sit.
Then, picking up a chopstick with a bite of food, he held it close to her mouth. "Say ah."
Changli looked at him, then at the food. Her body trembled, yet she remained dormant for a long time.
Kyorin, a little disappointed, began to lower the chopsticks—but she caught his hand.
With a soft smile, she whispered, "Can you feed me… just one last time...?"
.
.
.
"...Mother."
Kyorin raised the chopsticks again, and this time, Changli opened her mouth and ate.
Outside the kitchen, Xuanmiao stood silently, watching through the doorway. His gaze lingered on the two young figures inside—one offering warmth, the other receiving comfort.
A heavy ache filled his chest as he thought: 'Lady Xia… just as you strove to be the best mother for these two, I shall strive to be a great teacher as well.'
End of Volume 2: TIMELESS FIRMAMENT
To be continued...