Nothing remarkable shook the Heavenly Realm after the last great upheaval—at least, not in the eyes of its immortal inhabitants. Life resumed its tranquil, timeless rhythm. Yet one quiet return passed unnoticed by most: the reappearance of Song Taiyi. No grand announcements heralded his arrival, no celestial celebrations marked the occasion. But those with eyes to see would have felt it—his presence now carried a weight far greater than before, as though each step he took pressed upon the very fabric of the realms.
"Majesty," came the calm, ageless voice of his master, the Guardian of Destiny, resonating directly in Taiyi's mind. "Your next trial will come in a few short years. You must descend into the mortal realm—not as a god, but as a man—and walk the Seven Trials of Humanity."
Taiyi closed his eyes, neither agreeing nor protesting. His expression remained unreadable, as if carved from ice.
It has been so many years since I wandered the Celestial Realm… and the Flower Realm, he thought. Perhaps it is time to travel again before the curtain falls.
Turning, he called softly, "Little Fox, let us go to the Flower Realm."
In answer, a young man materialized before him, with hair like living flame and eyes that burned a molten red. The once-scrawny fox cub Taiyi had rescued years ago now stood tall, his aura dense and steady—already in the High God Realm, just shy of ascending into the Celestial ranks.
"It seems you will soon become a celestial god," Taiyi remarked, his tone still flat, though a glimmer of pride flickered in his eyes for the briefest heartbeat.
To strangers, Taiyi was an unfeeling figure—a mountain of stone unmoved by wind or rain. His cold aura kept all but the most determined souls at bay. The Purple Palace, his domain, mirrored its master: silent, vast, and lonely. No servants bustled within its halls, no courtiers sought his favor. Only the Little Fox shared his solitude, a companion Taiyi had raised with his own hands.
To the young man, Taiyi was not merely a master but a father—one whose expectations were impossibly high yet never unfair. The Little Fox had never failed to meet them. That, above all, stirred a quiet pride in Taiyi's otherwise still heart.
"Master, it has been ages since you last left the Heavenly Realm," the Little Fox asked. "Why the sudden trip to the Flower Realm?"
"I seek the Flower Goddess," Taiyi replied, already raising a sleeve. "There is a task only she can fulfill."
In an instant, the world blurred, and they appeared before a small realm encased in an invisible barrier. The Flower Realm shimmered within, its skies painted with endless spring. No male was allowed beyond its threshold, not even a former Heavenly Emperor.
A woman of exquisite grace emerged from the barrier—her beauty was like the stillness of moonlight, her voice cool as the morning dew.
"Your Majesty," the Flower Goddess said, her tone formal and cold, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"I came to see an old acquaintance, yet you won't even invite me in. Is this how you greet your guests?" Taiyi asked, his voice indifferent, untouched by her frost.
"It depends on the guest. And you, Your Majesty, are still unwelcome here," she replied without hesitation.
A faint sigh escaped him. "After all these years, she still refuses to see me." His gaze lingered on the barrier as though searching for something beyond.
"Your Majesty," the Flower Goddess said softly, "no matter what you do, she will never return to the Heavenly Realm."
"She is my only remaining kin," Taiyi said, his tone faint yet edged with finality. "This world is fading, and fate cannot be reversed. Tell her it is time to leave as well. My era is ending—my days are numbered. Yue'er, you have been like a sister to me. I can tell you no more than this: soon, I will descend for my mortal trial. I came to say goodbye… and to entrust her with this."
From his hand bloomed a lotus unlike any other—five petals swirling with shifting colors, exuding a chaotic aura that seemed to distort the air. A tiny white dragon circled above it, its scales shining like frost.
"This is the Five-Colored Chaotic Lotus," Taiyi said. "Tell her to nurture it in the Chaotic Spring."
He placed it gently in Yue'er's hands. Without another word, he turned and departed.
As he stepped away from the Flower Realm, his steps faltered ever so slightly. His aura wavered, his breath uneven. A thin trail of blood glimmered at the corner of his lips.
The Path of No Emotion demanded a heart of pure emptiness. Taiyi still carried threads of feeling—tiny, stubborn remnants that weighed upon his cultivation.
He journeyed across the Six Realms. On the road, he came upon a desperate battle: a young phoenix, feathers blazing like dawn, was locked in a losing fight against a Golden-Winged Tiger from the Demon Realm. Even in her true form, the phoenix was forced back, her wings torn, her light dimming.
The tiger lunged for the killing blow—only for a single sword stroke to cleave it in two, scattering its soul to dust.
The phoenix transformed into her human form, kneeling at once. "Your Majesty."
"Oh? You recognize me?" Taiyi asked mildly.
"Your Majesty's presence is unmistakable. Even the blind would know," she said, bowing her head low.
He studied her for a long moment before vanishing. His voice lingered in her ear, warm yet distant: 'Stay in the Fire Realm and cultivate. The outside world is far too dangerous for one so young.'
From there, Taiyi wandered the Human Realm before heading alone into the Demon Realm. The Little Fox was left behind—this journey was not for him.
Deep within, Taiyi stood before a sealed prison where Demon King Yang awaited.
"Your Majesty Taiyi," the demon greeted, his smile sharp. "It has been a long time. It seems your end is near—you are no longer at your peak."
"I did not come to fight," Taiyi replied, returning the smile faintly. "I came to visit… a friend."
"You bring evil-purifying flowers to a friendly meeting?" Yang asked dryly.
"You were one of the few the Ancestral Emperor admired," Taiyi said, his voice softer than usual. "He fought you in his final years—and regretted not meeting you sooner. I, too, wish I could face such an opponent again. But alas… there is no one worthy above or below the heavens."
Yang Jun, bound though he was, felt the loneliness buried in Taiyi's words. It mirrored his own—the unending solitude of those who stood too high, too far above others.
"I know you can leave this place," Taiyi continued. "I know why the Ancestral Emperor let you live. But it is no longer necessary. I have guarded the heavens long enough. Soon, I will seal the upper realms. Leave… while you can. The Heavens must fall."
His tone was calm. His eyes were colder than ever.
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