Outside Linhé City, the night rain fell in torrents.Xie Wuchen ran through the muddy mountain path, his left hand clamped tightly over his right wrist—the gray-white karmic thread had burrowed deep into his flesh, pulsing like a living thing.
With every beat, another fragment of memory blurred."Mother… what were your last words to me?"He whispered the question—but only emptiness answered.Behind him, Qingming Sect pursuers closed in.
Three sword lights tore through the rain curtain. At their lead stood the chief disciple of the Law-Enforcement Elder, voice thunderous:
"Xie Wuchen! You destroyed the Heavenly Dao's sacrificial cauldron and glimpsed forbidden truths—you stand guilty of sect betrayal! Surrender at once!"Xie Wuchen gave no reply. His toe tapped the earth, and his form vanished into the dense forest.But the moment he entered the woods, the world spun violently—
The gray thread on his wrist flared hot!Reality twisted.
No longer a rain-lashed forest—now he stood in that ruined temple from three years past.
His mother lay on a straw mat, serene.
The old beggar offered her a bowl of water, murmuring:"This is 'Forgetful River Elixir.' Drink it, and pain vanishes—but you'll lose one memory."She took it, smiling faintly:"I wish to forget… the moment my husband fell in battle, and I couldn't hold his hand."Xie Wuchen jolted awake, cold sweat mingling with rain on his face.
—So his mother hadn't died of illness. She'd chosen the elixir—to erase her deepest sorrow and gain peace.
And that beggar… was he an agent of the underworld?"Found you."A chilling feminine voice drifted from above.Xie Wuchen looked up.
Perched on a treetop stood a girl in black robes, holding a bronze bell, seven ghostly lanterns swaying at her waist.
Her face was pale as parchment; her eyes held no pupils—only silver rings swirling within."You bear the 'Cauldron-Brand,'" she said, her voice hollow yet clear. "If not removed, within three days, you'll forget who you are."The pursuers encircled them."Demoness!" roared a执法 disciple. "Cease your sorcery upon our sect brother!"The black-clad girl merely shook her bell.Ding…Where the chime passed, raindrops froze midair. Grass and leaves turned to ash.
The three cultivators stiffened instantly—their spiritual light dimmed—and they knelt in unison, bowing as if in ritual obeisance."A Soul-Caller from the Underworld?" Xie Wuchen's eyes sharpened.She floated down, her silver-ringed gaze locking onto his."My name is Bai Ying. I once served as Guide of Lingering Attachments. But I refused to collect one soul… and was stripped of my divine registry, cast out from the Nether Realm."She pointed to his wrist."Your mother's soul is inside that cauldron—used as a 'pure karmic source' to feed Heaven's Dao."Xie Wuchen felt as if struck by lightning."What did you say?""The cauldron in the Merciful Child Temple was but a branch furnace," Bai Ying whispered. "The true Cauldron of All Beings lies beneath the Rebirth Well in the Underworld. Your mother's soul hasn't scattered—but she's imprisoned in the 'Cell of Forgotten Memories,' enduring daily extraction… to refine the purest 'Essence of Letting Go.'"The rain ceased abruptly.
Within three chi of Xie Wuchen, droplets hung suspended in air.A chill rose from his dantian—not rage, not grief, but the tremor of a Dao-foundation on the verge of fracture.
He cultivated the Dustless Path—to sever emotion, extinguish attachment, dwell in purity.
Yet now, his heart felt pierced by ten thousand needles."Why tell me this?" he asked."Because the gray thread on your wrist," Bai Ying extended her hand, revealing a broken talisman glowing in her palm, "is the Mark of the Cauldron-Lord. You've been chosen as the next Shepherd—either become a harvester… or be harvested yourself."From afar, the执法 disciples finally broke free of the bell's enchantment, roaring:
"Form the array! Slay this demon!"Unfazed, Bai Ying drew a yellowed spirit-paper talisman from her sleeve and pressed it into Xie Wuchen's hand."This is a Contract of Passage. It will temporarily seal the thread. If you wish to save your mother's soul… meet me at the seventh grave in the Potter's Field, at midnight in three days."Before her words faded, her body dissolved into seven ghostly lanterns, scattering into the stormy sky.The sword formation closed around him.Xie Wuchen looked down at the talisman—
Scrawled in blood across its surface was a single line:"Heaven's Dao devours mortals—and gods alike. We are all prisoners."He laughed then.
Softly. Coldly. With the desolation of a man who sees the cage for the first time."You call me a traitor?"
He slowly drew his wooden sword. Its dull blade reflected the falling rain—like ten thousand arrows poised to fly.
"But if this Great Dao… is itself a prison that eats its inmates…"
The sword tip lifted. Raindrops reversed course, sharpening into blades.
"Then I'd rather be the jailer—than remain a prisoner."Sword light flashed. Blood mixed with rain.
All three Qingming disciples fell.Xie Wuchen sheathed his sword and walked into the darkness.
The gray thread on his wrist pulsed faintly—as if answering a distant call.And far beyond mortal sight,
in the void between stars,
a shadowy figure stood amid the celestial sea, murmuring:"The seventh Seed… has awakened."(End of Chapter Three)