Preface and Brief Introduction

Preface: The Path to Awakening

The end is the beginning, the beginning is the law, and the law governs the endless cycle of all things.
— The Yin-Yang Stone

Time is the eternal, unchanging truth. It encompasses…
— Nan Jue

“Alright, alright, no need to say more. Time, I understand it.”

You understand? (Nan Jue)

“Yes, I do. See, it’s right here, resting in the palm of my hand.”

Time has given birth to countless gods… (Nan Jue)

“Gods? Hmph, such a dull title. I grew tired of it at seventeen. Yes, that year I became a god—a true god. Don’t believe me? Wait a moment.”

Uh, what are you going to do… (Nan Jue)

“I’m going to make next year my seventeenth year.”

Huh? What now? (Nan Jue)

“I’ll make the next breath of time become next year.”

That’s absurd. I won’t speak for you anymore. How can we act so within time… (Nan Jue)

“Tsk, you’re upset now. I know what you want to say—spouting clichés about time, reciting poems that summarize an era. But can you really sum up my story?”

Well… alright, you are indeed special. But I must see things through. (Nan Jue)

“Time is a circle, without beginning or end. Look, it sits right here in my palm. Forget the poetry. My story is about to begin.”

You rascal… (Nan Jue)

“By the way, how will you describe me? Surely not like Mu Ziyun or Di Shichen?”

Of course not. You’re unique—I’ll call you Qiong Ju. (Nan Jue)

“Qiong Ju? Which Qiong Ju?”

The Qiong Ju in the darkness. (Nan Jue)

***

Brief Excerpt: The Yin-Yang Stone — The Cycle of Beginning and End

“Do you hate this world?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you love this world?”

“No, I don’t.”

— Sun Zikai

The leaves on the tree rustled wildly, perhaps drowned out by the heavy rain masking their cries.

Soon, thunder crashed down.

The house had only two walls; front and back were open. There was no furniture except a low table. A woman sat cross-legged nearby, fiddling with an oil lamp resting on the table.

No footsteps approached, yet she turned her head—he had arrived. Outside, the sky looked like hell.

“You’re acting strange today.”

“I feel uneasy.”

“Oh?” The woman was surprised, smiling. “You, uneasy? When do you ever feel uneasy?”

A thunderbolt cracked across the sky, casting the man's silhouette. He wore a long white robe, fastened at the waist with black silk, from which hung a wooden sword—a Tang-style blade, slender and long, resembling the katana-like sword carried by Fang Tianmu in the first volume. The robe had pockets at the waist, and his hands were tucked inside them.

He quickly vanished into the darkness again.

“Yes, I feel uneasy.”

The woman sensed he wasn’t joking. But what could unsettle him? Growing anxious, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

The raindrops beat rhythmically on the tiles, yet inside was an eerie silence. The woman stood and said, “If there is something wrong, can’t you change it?”

“Time has fractured. I cannot return.”

“What happened?” The woman seemed to sense the answer. After a moment of panic, she sat back down with a calm resolve, tidying her hair. Then she laughed softly.

“What are you laughing at?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you so uneasy, as if the sky were falling. Yet suddenly, I realized—you’re human too. No longer an unreachable god.”

“God? Hmph, a boring title. But hearing it again isn’t so bad.”

“God, what are you afraid of?”

“Sigh, hearing it twice makes it dull.”

The woman shook her head with a gentle smile. “So many long to become gods.”

***

“Are you talking about Tang Zhujuqi Dodo? The last human god of the Age of Many Gods?” the man scoffed.

“Yes, I grew up listening to his stories.”

“Hmph, that’s a god? Does he even deserve the title?”

The woman spoke softly, “He’s no match for you. But what are you afraid of?”

“Time has fractured. I cannot return.” The rain behind the man worsened.

“But you’ve seen Tang Zhujuqi Dodo yourself. What time can’t you return to?”

“I sensed something long ago.”

“What?”

“After the Age of Many Gods, there must be another era—a godly era.”

“Isn’t that our current era?”

“No, no…” His voice lowered until he whispered, “The Age of Rules!”

“What? Rules?”

“The fracture is there. I must return to the Age of Rules, but time has fractured; that era has vanished.”

The woman shook her head, not fully understanding. Yet over the years, she knew one thing: he was always right, always doing what was right. She beckoned him, saying, “Rest for a while. You spoke in your sleep last night.”

The man finally emerged from the darkness and sat at the table, asking, “What did I say? I never talk in my sleep.”

“Yes, but you did last night. You said a name.”

The man’s lips curled into a smile. “Was it a woman?”

“Probably not. The name was… Mu Ziyun.”

The man paused, stroking his chin. “Huh… never heard of him.” Then, counting on his fingers, his expression darkened. Suddenly, he slammed the table. “He’s part of the fracture… a…”

He faltered, frustrated: “Ah, it’s too noisy!”

Just then, outside, the world transformed into birdsong and blossoms, clear skies stretching far and wide. The man stood and walked to the eaves, hands in his pockets.

“Where are you going?” the woman asked.

The man turned with a sly smile. “Back to when I was five. That year’s rain—that’s the rain I remember most.”

The woman gently tidied her hair, then vanished, becoming a shadow. Behind the man, countless shadows flickered—forgotten dreams fading away.