Late at night.
Beyond Luoxia Village, the sea fog lay thick.
The sound of the tide was heavier than usual, striking the distant reefs again and again, as if some enormous beast were slowly turning over beneath the depths.
Tantai Jingyue and Zhu Changli walked toward the outskirts of the village, one ahead of the other, their feet brushing through the sea mist.
Luoxia Village was quiet.
The low houses crouched in the darkness like old wooden chests soaked by the tide.
Wooden frames for drying nets stood crookedly beside the courtyards, while old oars leaned against the walls.
When the sea wind blew past, it carried the faint smell of fish and damp timber.
This place was completely different from the Divine Palace.
The Divine Palace had towering halls, sacrificial platforms, the Sea Mirror, Tide Arrays, and layer upon layer of bright, icy divine light.
Here, there were only damp wooden doors, low fences, fishing nets hanging in the courtyards, and the most ordinary night in the mortal world.
Tantai Jingyue had rarely set foot in a place like this.
She had grown up in the Divine Palace. What she saw most often were the temple halls and watery steps; what she heard were the priests chanting their scriptures; what she studied were the rites of Hairuo and the divine authority that subdued the sea.
Yet as she walked along the village road in Luoxia Village, she felt no disgust.
Instead, there was a strange sense of familiarity.
As though, long ago—very long ago—she too had heard waves as rough as these and breathed night winds carrying the scent of fish.
Tantai Jingyue did not understand where that familiarity came from.
Nor did she think much about it.
Zhu Changli followed behind her in silence.
He watched the white figure ahead of him, and the pressure in his heart grew heavier.
He knew what she was about to see.
He also knew that once they met, there would be no turning back.
…
That night, Old Jiang still had not gone to sleep.
He sat on an old wooden stool in the courtyard, a tobacco pipe clutched in his hand.
There was still no tobacco in the pouch, but he continued to rub the pipe again and again, as if using the motion to suppress some surging emotion.
An old oil lamp burned in the courtyard.
Its flame was small, but it held open a patch of dim yellow light in the mist.
When the sea fog outside the courtyard suddenly fell still, Old Jiang raised his head.
A white figure slowly came to a stop outside the gate.
Tantai Jingyue stood before the entrance.
Zhu Changli stood behind her.
Old Jiang’s gaze first fell on Zhu Changli.
He did not angrily curse him. He merely gave a cold laugh.
“Last night, Lord of Fate said he had not come to Luoxia Village tonight.”
“So it seems the people of the Divine Palace cannot even wait a single night.”
Zhu Changli’s face paled slightly, but he did not argue.
Old Jiang looked at Tantai Jingyue.
For a moment, his eyes held emotions so complex they were almost impossible to read.
This was the child he had personally sent away many years ago.
She was also the Divine Maiden now worshiped beneath the divine throne of the Divine Palace.
She had grown up.
Dressed in white like the moon, cold and aloof, she no longer showed any trace of the little girl who had once cried and refused to let go of his hand.
Yet looking at her, Old Jiang felt only a bitter ache in his heart.
Tantai Jingyue spoke coolly.
“You are Jiang Huaichao?”
Old Jiang lowered his eyes.
“Divine Maiden.”
“This old man is only a fisherman from Luoxia Village now.”
Tantai Jingyue did not argue with him.
She asked directly, “Where is Shui Hua?”
Old Jiang’s expression instantly turned cold.
“There is no one here whom you are looking for.”
“Since I have come,” Tantai Jingyue said, “I will not be leaving empty-handed.”
The mist in the courtyard grew slightly heavier.
The veins on the back of Old Jiang’s hand bulged one by one as he tightened his grip on the pipe.
Inside the house.
Shui Hua had never truly fallen asleep.
Ever since Zhu Changli had visited the night before, her heart had been in turmoil.
Old Jiang refused to tell her the truth.
She did not dare force him to answer, either.
All she could do was sit on the edge of the bed in a daze, clutching the sword Jiang Qingwan had given her.
When she heard voices outside, she woke at once.
First, Old Jiang’s voice.
Then came the voice of an unfamiliar woman.
That voice was cold.
But for some reason, when Shui Hua heard it, her heart gave a faint, sudden flutter.
It was not fear.
It was more as if something inside her had answered.
Then she heard her own name.
“Where is Shui Hua?”
Shui Hua could no longer remain seated.
She hugged the sword to her chest, climbed out of bed, and pushed open the door.
“I’m Shui Hua! Who’s looking for me?”
The door opened.
She stood in the doorway.
The old lamp in the courtyard swayed, and the sea mist was cool against her skin.
The first person Shui Hua saw was Tantai Jingyue.
Then she froze.
Tantai Jingyue was looking at her, too.
In that instant, every sound in the courtyard seemed to vanish.
Even the tide seemed far away.
They looked far too much alike.
It was not a superficial resemblance.
Their bone structure, their brows and eyes, the shape of their faces—even the faintest curve that appeared when they lifted their gazes—all seemed to have been carved from the same moonlight.
And yet they were completely different.
Tantai Jingyue stood barefoot in white, her brows and eyes cold and serene, her entire being like a moon that had walked out of a divine temple.
Shui Hua held a sword in her arms, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes bright, the warmth of the mortal world still clinging to her.
One was the moon reflected in a mirror.
The other was a flower floating on water.
One was worshiped beneath the divine throne.
The other had grown among fishing fires and the sound of the tide.
Shui Hua instinctively touched her face.
Her mind was a little dazed.
“You…”
“Are you the Divine Maiden from the grand ceremony?”
Tantai Jingyue spoke first.
“You are Shui Hua?”
Shui Hua nodded blankly.
“Yes.”
Tantai Jingyue looked at her, and her eyes gradually darkened.
The instant Shui Hua appeared, she had sensed it.
It was an irresistible pull.
As if a part of herself that had been missing for a very long time had suddenly answered her from before her eyes.
It was not ordinary spiritual power, nor was it a magical artifact.
It was something deeper, something rooted in the very source of her being.
Zhu Changli had not lied to her.
Shui Hua truly carried the aura of the Hairuo divine essence.
Tantai Jingyue took a step forward.
Old Jiang immediately moved in front of Shui Hua.
Tantai Jingyue looked at him, her voice calm.
“Move.”
Old Jiang did not budge.
“Divine Maiden—”
“She is only a girl who knows nothing.”
Tantai Jingyue said, “She has something that belongs to me.”
Shui Hua froze.
“Something that belongs to you?”
Tantai Jingyue looked at her.
“Someone took the divine essence that should have been mine.”
“Now, that part of it is inside you.”
Shui Hua understood none of it.
Divine essence?
Stealing something?
What was she even talking about?
How was Shui Hua supposed to understand any of this?
She felt absurdly wronged.
She had merely gone to sleep, and when she woke up, the entire world seemed to have suddenly changed.
Old Jiang had become Jiang Huaichao, Deputy Envoy of the Sea Hall.
She had become someone’s little granddaughter.
And now, a Divine Maiden who looked almost exactly like her was standing in her family’s courtyard, claiming that something belonging to her was inside Shui Hua.
Shui Hua tightened her grip around the sword, her voice trembling.
“I didn’t take anything from you.”
“I don’t even know you! I don’t know who you are!”
Tantai Jingyue said, “Not knowing does not mean it isn’t there.”
The words were cold, and they cut deeply.
Shui Hua’s eyes reddened at once.
Everyone seemed to know something.
Zhu Changli knew.
Old Jiang knew.
Even the Divine Maiden standing before her seemed to know.
She alone knew nothing.
The feeling frightened and angered her at the same time.
She gritted her teeth.
“Are all you important people like this?”
“Whenever you want something, you just claim it belongs to you?”
The atmosphere in the courtyard tightened.
Old Jiang said coldly, “Jingyue.”
“Your sword should not be pointed at her.”
Tantai Jingyue’s gaze paused.
She looked at Old Jiang.
“You know me?”
Old Jiang did not answer.
He merely tightened his grip on the pipe, standing firmly in front of Shui Hua.
Of course he knew her.
His granddaughter—how could he not recognize her?
But without Hairuo’s instructions, there was nothing he could answer.
Bitterness filled his heart.
Zhu Changli could not possibly have brought Jingyue here so openly for no reason.
Without Hairuo’s tacit approval, Lord of Fate would never have dared go this far.
So… had Lord Hairuo made her choice as well?
At last, Zhu Changli spoke.
“Jiang Huaichao.”
“Let the Divine Maiden confirm it.”
Old Jiang gave a cold laugh.
“Confirm it?”
“How?”
“Cut her open?”
“Or gouge her apart?”
Shui Hua’s face went pale. Cut her open? Wasn’t that a little too cruel?
Tantai Jingyue looked toward Zhu Changli.
Those words made her realize that Zhu Changli still had much he had not revealed—many things far more important than the old records contained in Lord of Fate’s water talisman.
But for now, she would not retreat.
The Sea-Calming Sacrifice was imminent.
The Sea Eye had already begun to stir.
She had to find out exactly what that part of Shui Hua was.
Slowly, Tantai Jingyue raised her hand and closed it around her sword hilt.
“I won’t kill her.”
“But I need to confirm something.”
When Shui Hua saw Tantai Jingyue take hold of her sword, she instinctively stepped back half a pace.
Of course she was afraid.
The woman before her was the Divine Maiden of the Divine Palace—the one who had lost only to Jiang Qingwan at the Grand Ceremony of the Myriad Forms of the Great Void.
And Shui Hua was merely a fisher village girl who had picked up a sword only a few days ago and did not even know how to wield it.
Yet when she saw Old Jiang standing in front of her, she suddenly no longer wanted to retreat.
She had caused plenty of trouble throughout her life.
Every time, Old Jiang had scolded her, beaten her, and cleaned up her messes for her.
This time, it seemed, it was finally her turn to stand up.
Shui Hua lowered her gaze to the sword in her arms—the one Jiang Qingwan had given her.
She still remembered the way Jiang Qingwan held a sword.
Calm. Resolute.
As if no matter what stood before her, she could cleave through it with a single stroke.
Shui Hua slowly drew her sword.
The blade flashed.
Her hand was trembling as she gripped the hilt, but she still raised the sword.
Tantai Jingyue looked at her.
“You’re drawing your sword against me?”
Shui Hua’s eyes reddened as she gritted her teeth.
“You were the one who said I stole your things.”
“I told you, I didn’t steal them.”
“If you don’t believe me, then come and take them.”
The words had barely fallen when the sea mist in the courtyard suddenly grew heavy.
Tantai Jingyue’s sword also slid slowly from its sheath.
Pale moonlight from the blade illuminated the small courtyard.
The sword in Shui Hua’s hand, meanwhile, shimmered with a faint violet hue.
Born from one another and bound by twin destinies, the two had met for the first time—yet now they faced each other across the edges of their swords.
Old Jiang tightened his grip on his smoking pipe. Blood vessels slowly surfaced in his eyes.
Standing within the mist, Zhu Changli watched the scene unfold and suddenly felt as though he had personally pushed two moons onto opposing paths.
The next instant,
two sword flashes broke through the tidal mist at the same time.
Water and moon met for the first time.
And the edge of conflict had already emerged.
