Fùt?o h?……bu? hüí tashói f? kistò…

  Vuéà kiyji haó f?i xhá z?gzü

  kistò hūj Di?n Tí?m g? shaoì buk ú z?g V??o k?h? fu? ? z?gzü……·

  Urīt yī

  Di?n shaoì

  The sky roared with relentless lightning, and the torrential rain soaked every corner of the world, plunging it into a cold, black abyss. Amidst the mud and the rushing water, the maroon scroll lay abandoned until a mysterious presence arrived. Steps, muffled by the storm, approached. A figure clad in a silent black cloak stood over the scroll. A hand reached down, retrieved it, and with a measured, composed gait, the figure vanished into the darkness.

  Elsewhere, drenched to the bone, Gu Zong sat upon a stone altar. He was submerged in a profound trance, his hands locked in a complex mantra-seal. Despite the battering rain, his concentration remained unshattered. Inside his mind, he retraced every character, every stroke of the information he had read from the scroll.

  His hands began to move in a rhythmic dance, weaving through the air as if taming the wind itself. As his mudra reached its zenith, a black void manifested between his palms, a singular white spark flickering at its center. Suddenly, blood began to seep from his closed lips, yet he did not stop. He pushed through the pain, and in a blinding flash of white light, the Jiuhuang Yin manifested.

  When Gu Zong opened his eyes, he gasped in disbelief. The zither, once pure white, had turned a haunting shade of crimson. Its strings, which once shimmered with blue light, now pulsated with a vivid, bloody red.

  A slanted, dangerous smile played on Gu Zong’s lips as he gripped the instrument. He touched the wet strings with a grace that suggested he was touching a part of his own soul. With a sharp flick of a finger, a lethal wave of energy erupted, slicing a nearby tree cleanly in two. His eyes widened, his smile deepening. He shouldered the Jiuhuang Yin and began his march toward Fukun Xueyuan, his burning gaze promising a storm far greater than the one overhead.

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  At the main gates of Fukun Xueyuan, the Grandfather and Hui Chi arrived, accompanied by Zhuang Hue. Despite the rain, Zhuang Hue’s eyes burned like glowing embers, though he quickly masked his intensity with a look of innocent despair as they approached the library.

  They entered the grand hall, their damp robes heavy, their footsteps echoing against the water-slicked floor. Every step felt like a march into a zone of impending catastrophe.

  Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning so deafening struck the academy that even those in secluded chambers recoiled in fear. In that instant, the Grandfather’s legs buckled. Jun Wan, Hui Chi, and Zhuang Hue rushed to catch him.

  Grandmaster Gongzhang’s words echoed like a death knell: "A grave error has been committed by Gu Zong. He has partitioned his own soul, rendering him unable to use spiritual energy. This is considered a forbidden spiritual sin."

  The Grandfather’s mind went blank, a high-pitched ringing filling his ears. Master Kang Jue added with a hint of heat in his voice, "The unfortunate events surrounding Princess Shewan and Leader Gu Tian caused a violent altercation between Han Wuang Shi and Gu Zong on the very first day."

  Tears welled in the Grandfather’s eyes. Jun Wan and Hui Chi lowered their heads, unable to hide their own weeping. Only Zhuang Hue remained unnervingly calm, his eyes downcast.

  "I knew this would happen," the Grandfather whispered, his voice trembling. "Gu Zong forgets nothing. He has never forgotten what the Han Clan did to my son and daughter-in-law."

  As Jun Wan and Hui Chi helped him sit, the Grandfather began to speak, his voice heavy with a stifling grief.

  "When my son, Gu Tian, tended to the lotus flowers of the Lianxiao Clan, he fell in love with Princess Shewan, the daughter of the Han Clan’s Chief Advisor. She was a disciple here at Fukun Xueyuan. Their love blossomed in the Hazu Tai settlement, and they fled to marry in secret. We didn't even know."

  He looked tenderly at Jun Wan before continuing.

  "Princess Shewan was a noble soul. She found joy in our simple, rugged life. A few years later, Gu Zong was born, and our happiness grew. But then came the ultimatum: return to the Han Clan or be destroyed. Shewan was brave; she refused. For years, the bitterness festered. Then, on the day Zhuang Hue was born, Han Juan Hao sent an invitation to a celebration, claiming they sought reconciliation."

  The Grandfather’s voice cracked. "Shewan was hesitant, but my son believed they had realized their mistake. We went. But it was a trap. Han Juan Hao and his soldiers ambushed us. I managed to hide the children, but that monster... he slaughtered my Shewan and my son Gu Tian right before our eyes."

  He looked up, his eyes filled with a haunting sorrow. "I know Gu Zong’s behavior is wrong. But tell me... how can a child who watched his parents being murdered in cold blood ever find peace?"