Many years have passed again.
On the observatory of Mingxue Lu, Mo Yuban sat alone. His black hair, now streaked with gray at the temples, was disheveled, yet he still clutched his bamboo flute tightly in hand.
He gazed at the distant star in the night sky. Though no longer as bright as before, it still hung gently above. On either side of the star were two small points of light, like two people standing shoulder to shoulder.
He knew that was Qingmingzi and the other shore.
Mo Yunpan lifted the bamboo flute to his lips.
The flute begins to play.
It was a melody never before heard—desolate like winds from ancient times, tragic as the bugle of battle. As the flute began to play, seven instruments materialized around him: Starlight Piano, Moonlight Guitar, Flame Drums, Breeze Violin, Cloud Guzheng, Dewdrop Harp, and Thunder Electric Guitar. Together they played in perfect harmony, each note a sigh drawn from the depths of time, telling the story of one who waited three thousand years, one who guarded the world with their life, and the distant star that finally ignited.
Qian Lan stepped onto the observatory and stood quietly behind him, not disturbing him.
The flute's melody echoed through the night sky, lingering long after the notes had faded. Like living things, they drifted toward the starry heavens, toward that distant star on the other shore, and toward the two glowing figures standing side by side.
The song has ended.
Mo Yunpan set down his flute and softly said, "This piece is called 'Song of the Ashen World,' composed for my master, Qingmingzi." Qianlan said nothing, simply gazing up at the Binghe Star. Suddenly, she recalled her master's final words: "Don't forget the cinnabar mark." That mark now rested on her brow, always had.
Mo Yuban stood up, put away his flute, and walked away.
His figure vanished into the night, but those lyrics still lingered in the wind.
The Crimson Sword split the heavens and earth; beacon fires pierced through the rolling clouds.
Who cast the nine tripods into the raging waves, boiling starlight.
Rivers hang in the sky, and all things echo beneath the hooves.
One whip's stroke, under the setting sun, shatters a millennium-old wall.
Ask the vastness! Ask the vastness!
How many skeletons forged the dawn!
The Dragon and Tiger Seal, carved upon the frost-rimed edge of a broken halberd!
When the spring breeze disperses the horn sounds of the continuous camp!
Who is this again, ruling from the depths of the fragmented scrolls!
Ah... Purple mist swallows the setting sun, while new fields surge over broken hills. Who turns blood and tears into spring rain to nourish the vast lands? History is but a half-sheet of paper, unable to suppress the wild growth of the common people.
Peach blossoms bloom beneath the horse's hooves.
Ask the vicissitudes! Ask the vicissitudes!
The rise and fall of empires hidden within your grasp.
The sun and moon cannot weigh the mountains and rivers.
When the formation of wild geese sweeps across the cracks in scorched earth!
Green always climbs over rusted blades! Ah...
Look
That scar became the emblem of the morning dawn.
Every dewdrop is undried old wine.
Before the broken stele... I honor all directions.
Ask the vicissitudes! Ask the vicissitudes!
The rise and fall of empires hidden within your grasp.
The sun and moon cannot weigh the mountains and rivers.
When the formation of wild geese sweeps across the cracks in scorched earth!
Greenery always creeps over rusted weapons!
Hmm...
The wind swept through the observatory, carrying away the final note.
Qianlan stood still for a long time. Then, she gently touched the red mark on her forehead and whispered, "Master, did you hear that?"
No one answered.
But in the night sky, that star on the other shore seemed to shine a little brighter.
On the distant hill, Yisheng stood alone, gazing at that star. Her eyes held no resentment—only profound exhaustion and a hint of release. After a thousand years, she finally understood: some things cannot be forced. She had chased this dream for millennia, only to end up with boundless solitude.
She turned and walked away in the opposite direction, disappearing into the night.
From now on, the world lost Yi Sheng, who was consumed by obsession, and gained an ordinary woman ready to start anew.
But in another valley, Dada Pig Honey Flower and Ha Xiang Pi Dog were walking home side by side. Suddenly, a sinister figure leaped from the shadows and lunged at Dada Pig Honey Flower. "Little beauty, you can't escape this time!" Red light flickered ungracefully in Yanshi Tong's eyes as he licked his lips. But before his grin could fully form, it froze on his face. Countless silver sword flashes erupted from Dada Pig Honey Flower, instantly engulfing him. This was "Hundred Swords Strike"—her signature technique from seven hundred years ago, now perfected to perfection. The sword lights pierced through Yanshi Tong's body. His eyes widened as he looked at her, then forever lost their light. He collapsed with a thud, dissolving into a wisp of black smoke that vanished into the wind.
The wisp of black smoke drifted upward, higher and higher, until it vanished into the sunlight. As if five thousand years of sin had finally been washed away.
Farther away, Base's ship was completely destroyed in an accidental energy storm. In its final moments, its mechanical eye flickered with a dying red glow as the half-human face of a handsome youth and the half-metallic visage twisted together amid the flames.
23rd Century... Volunteer #0... Experiment failed..." Its voice was broken, filled with endless sorrow and regret.
Suddenly, the half of the young man's face broke into a smile—not manic, not grotesque, but the kind of smile that youthful spirit once wore when standing in the sunlight.
Finally... I can... go home...
It closed its eyes.
Amidst the flames, it seemed to see the sunlight of the 23rd century, its former self untouched by metal, and all it had once vowed to protect.
Then, its body shattered into countless fragments, dispersing across the endless cosmos.
All secrets regarding the Eclipse Bringer and data on the Ten-Toxin Golden Root have vanished into nothingness.
Yet perhaps, in some unseen place, a soul has finally found peace.
Three rivals, three endings.
And the Star of彼岸 continues to watch over everything with gentleness.
As Qingmingzi said----
As long as someone remembers that cinnabar, this story will never end.