I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

She raised her hand. The broken chain of cause and effect reconnected at her fingertips. New links grew from the broken ends, one after another, click, click, click. The people on the plain finally completed their actions—those who had raised their hands lowered them, and those who had lowered their hands raised them again, but they had a choice. Some chose to continue raising their hands, some chose to lower them, and some chose to turn and leave.

Queen Causality did not go with Qin Yuan. She simply stood there, watching the people on the plains make their choices.

The Old Man of Time said, "She won't leave here. This is her responsibility. But we still need her." He said "we," but the Queen of Cause and Effect did not deny it.

The fifth timeline. The Realm of Destiny.

A net. Spreading across the sky, with no beginning and no end in sight. The threads of the net are silver, but most are broken. The severed ends drift in the wind like willow catkins. The unbroken threads tremble, each pulled in a different direction.

A young woman sat in the center of the net. Her fingers were constantly tying knots. Silver threads weaved between her fingers, one knot tied, another untied. She tied the knots quickly, but untied them even faster. She was covered in sweat, and her lips were chapped.

Weaver of fate.

"It's no use." She didn't even look up. "Fate is too complicated. One person can't save everyone."

Qin Yuan stood beneath the net, looking up at the broken threads. "I won't save everyone. I'll save those I can."

The Weaver of Fate looked up. Her eyes were silver, with countless tiny points of light moving within their pupils, like traffic on a satellite map. "You save one person, but you might harm another. You kill one person, but you might save a hundred. What do you choose?"

Qin Yuan thought for a moment. "I'll choose what I can do right now. We'll deal with the future later."

The weaver of fate stopped. She looked at Qin Yuan for a long time. Then she handed him the silk thread in her hand. "Someone like you isn't suited to live under fate. You cut it. Cut off the useless threads. The remaining threads will be stronger."

Qin Yuan took the silk thread. There were no scissors. He used his protective Heavenly Dao to condense a blade and cut, slice by slice. The severed threads didn't drift away; instead, they retracted into the net, like injured tentacles retreating into their shells. The remaining threads became tighter, denser, and stronger.

The Weaver of Fate breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned against the pillar in the center of the net and closed her eyes. "Let me sleep for a while. Just a little while."

The Old Man of Time didn't urge her. He stood behind Qin Yuan, looking in the direction of the sixth line. There was a layer of gray mist there, and shadows were moving within the mist. Not the shadows of living beings, but the shadows of rules.

They walked towards the sixth line. Several gray shadows emerged from the fog. They weren't humanoid, but had human-like outlines. They had no faces, but the facial features were sunken. There was no sound, but words echoed in Qin Yuan's mind.

"You are repairing the myriad realms. But the myriad realms should never have existed in the first place. The progenitor of chaos is dead; this is the will of Heaven. Let everything return to nothingness."

The Void Council.

Qin Yuan stood at the very front, only three steps away from the shadows. He could feel the temperature in the fog—not cold, but "no temperature." Not darkness, but "no light." Nothingness was not a state, but the absence of a state.

"Existence is not a mistake," Qin Yuan said. "The mistake is that you think existence is a mistake."

The shadows didn't argue. They simply stood there, gray mist swirling around them. "We'll guard the sixth line. If you want to repair it, you'll have to get past us first."

The Old Man of Time said negotiations were possible. The Queen of Cause and Effect was absent; she remained on the Grey Plains. The Weaver of Fate was asleep. No one could negotiate.

Qin Yuan said, "I'll go talk to them."

He took a step forward. The gray mist swallowed him. Lin Qing'er could no longer see him, nor could the Old Man of Time. Only a gray expanse remained.

Qin Yuan's voice came from within the mist, not loud, but very clear. "You say the myriad realms shouldn't exist. Then why do you exist?"

The gray fog fell silent. A long silence. Then the fog dissipated, and Qin Yuan stood there, his shadow standing opposite him.

The shadow said, "We do not exist. We are merely projections of 'non-existence.' The true Void Council is in a place you cannot reach."

Qin Yuan asked, "What do you want?"

"We want you to stop. Don't repair the worlds. Let everything perish naturally."

"How long does it take for something to naturally die out?"

The shadows did not answer. They did not know. Because they had no concept of time.

Qin Yuan said, "You don't even have time, how do you know that annihilation is a good thing?"

The gray fog began to swirl. Not with anger, but with something akin to bewilderment. Shadows twisted, deformed, and then reformed within the fog.

"Negotiations have broken down," they said. "Let's do it."

Qin Yuan's hand rested on the hilt of his sword. But he didn't draw it. He looked at the shadows and recalled the words of the Ancestor of Chaos before his death—"Life is noisy enough." It wasn't sarcasm, but a sigh. It didn't understand why life existed. Neither did the Void Council.

Qin Yuan loosened the hilt of his sword.

"You are not my enemies," he said. "You just don't understand. I don't kill those who don't understand."

He turned and walked back to Old Man Time. The gray mist churned behind him, but made no move. The shadow did not pursue him.

The old man of time asked, "Aren't you going to fight anymore?"

"Let's stop fighting," Qin Yuan said. "The sixth line isn't in the fog. It's behind the fog. Let's go around it."

The Old Man of Time looked at the gray mist, then at Qin Yuan. He couldn't even remember how many years he had lived. He had witnessed countless people's attitudes towards the Void Council—either fight or flee. No one chose to "go around it."

He smiled, his wrinkles gathering together like the bark of an old plum tree. "Okay. Go around it."

Lin Qing'er walked beside Qin Yuan, her hand holding his. The gray fog receded further and further behind them.

The sixth line hasn't been repaired yet. The Void Council is still there. There are still two lines. But Qin Yuan isn't in a hurry. Because she's still there. That's enough.

The gray fog receded further and further behind them. Qin Yuan didn't turn around, nor did Lin Qing'er. The Old Man of Time walked at the very back, his white robe leaving a faint trail in the fog, like a boat gliding across the water.

The scene ahead had changed. Where the gray mist dispersed, there was not emptiness, not chaos, but a mirror. It wasn't standing on the ground, but lying across the space between heaven and earth—hanging from the zenith to the ground, obscuring the view from left to right and right to left. The mirror wasn't silver, but transparent. Through it, one could see the world behind, but the colors of that world were wrong. The sky was black, the earth was white, trees grew above the clouds, and clouds sank beneath one's feet.

The Old Man of Time stopped in his tracks. "The sixth line. In the Mirror World."

Qin Yuan reached out and touched the mirror. His fingertips passed through it without resistance or warmth. He passed right through it, Lin Qing'er following behind, and Old Man Time bringing up the rear.