For a while, the world stayed still. The rivers of qi flowed smoothly; the stars turned without sound. Wang Lin wandered the new lands, speaking little, watching how life grew from the ashes of what he had broken and remade.
He thought the shadow was gone.
He was wrong.
One night, when the twin moons rose, the air cooled sharply. A thin whisper slid through the wind—no louder than the flutter of a moth's wing.
> "Did you truly think balance comes without hunger?"
Wang Lin's body tensed. The mark on his chest flickered black for the first time since the rebirth.
He turned slowly. Behind him, the light warped, and a figure stepped out of it—transparent, half smoke, half memory. Mo Xie's echo. His form wavered, but his eyes burned with the same quiet intelligence.
> "You're supposed to be gone," Wang Lin said.
> "I am," the echo replied. "But every will leaves a shadow. Even a world born from balance carries the desire to tip toward one side."
The wind died. Stars dimmed. All around them, the realm's pulse slowed as though listening.
> "What do you want?" Wang Lin asked.
> "Nothing," Mo Xie said softly. "Only to remind you that peace is not an end—it is a choice made every breath. Forget that, and the hunger you devoured will wake again."
He extended a hand. Between his fingers glimmered a single ember—the last spark of the Abduction Flame.
> "Take it. Keep it sleeping. As long as compassion stays stronger than greed, it will never burn again."
Wang Lin hesitated. He could feel the weight of it—the lure of power, the whisper of infinite dominion. Then he closed his hand around it, and instead of devouring it, he breathed. The ember cooled, turning into a tiny lotus petal that drifted into the night.
> "Then I'll guard the choice," Wang Lin said.
Mo Xie's echo smiled, faint and almost human. "That is all the heavens ever needed."
His form dissolved into starlight, leaving only the sound of the wind returning. Wang Lin stood alone, the petal spinning in the air before vanishing into the sky.
He looked up. The stars burned brighter than ever.
> "Peace isn't something I'll steal," he whispered. "It's something I'll protect."
He turned and began walking down the mountain path toward the sleeping villages below. For the first time, each step felt light.
Far above, the heavens whispered back—
not with fear, but with gratitude.
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