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

The opposition tried to push him out of the void. His points of light were compressed, turning from stone back into pebble, from pebble back into sand. Qin Yuan did not resist. He transformed the guardian of the Heavenly Dao into countless tiny points of light, like dandelion seeds, drifting towards every shadow. The points of light were not an attack, but a problem.

"What are you afraid of?"

Each shadow offers a different answer. Some fear loss, some fear injury, some fear being forgotten, some fear loneliness. All fears share a common thread—they fear the consequences of "existence." Loss, injury, forgetting, loneliness—these are all things that arise from existence. Without existence, these things wouldn't exist. But without existence, nothing else would exist either.

Qin Yuan said, "Fear of existence is also a form of existence. You are already there."

The opposition fell silent. There was no rebuttal, no argument, no sound. The silence lasted a long time. Then a shadow—neither the largest nor the smallest—spoke.

"The seventh timeline is in a place you would never expect." Its voice was no longer aggressive, but calm, like an old man recounting the past. "In your heart."

Qin Yuan frowned.

"In the process of repairing the myriad worlds, your own memories, emotions, and sense of existence are being consumed. Your body is your own, but your 'line of existence' is part of the myriad worlds. You repaired six lines, and each one has taken something from you. The timeline has taken away your years, the causal line has taken away your peace, the fate line has taken away your choices, and the mirror line has taken away your loneliness. Your line of existence has been severed. If it is not repaired, you will completely disappear the moment the myriad worlds are restored."

Qin Yuan looked down at his chest. He couldn't see the wound, but he could feel it. There was an empty space. Not where his heart was, but where "he himself" was. Like a jigsaw puzzle, a piece was missing.

"How do I fix it?"

"You can't fix yourself. You need someone else to help you."

A crack appeared in the emptiness. The crack was small, revealing only a hand. The hand pressed against the void, fingers spread, fingertips white. She was exerting force. Her hand trembled. She didn't know where Qin Yuan was, whether he could hear her, or if he was still conscious. She simply pressed her hand there, pouring spiritual energy into it, pouring trust into it, pouring in all her memories, all her waiting, all her desire to "be together."

Qin Yuan recognized the hand.

He didn't hesitate. He squeezed through the gap and returned to her.

The moment Lin Qing'er saw him appear from the void, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face. It wasn't hard, but it sounded loud. Then she hugged him and buried her face in his chest. The Old Man of Time turned away, refusing to look.

Qin Yuan raised his hand and placed it on the back of her head. Her hair was very soft; he had touched it countless times.

The voice of the Void Council came from the crack, very softly, like a sigh. "With her trust in him. Trust is stronger than existence."

Lin Qing'er lifted her head from Qin Yuan's chest. Her eyes were red, but no tears remained. She placed her hands on Qin Yuan's chest and closed her eyes. She didn't channel spiritual energy, cultivation, or anything measurable. She was recalling.

The memory begins in the back mountains of Xuan Yuan Sect. She was squatting by the stream washing medicinal herbs when he walked over, and she looked up. At that moment, she didn't know his name, but she knew his face. She remembered it.

The memory jumps to the Green Wood Sect. Under the old plum tree, she hands him a brocade pouch containing a seed. She says, "When it blooms, I will come to find you." She doesn't know how long she will have to wait. She waits. The memory jumps to the pinnacle of all realms. Under the starry sky, he says, "Wherever you are, that's where I am." She doesn't say "Me too," but she says it in her heart.

The memory jumps to the end. A chaotic abyss, a gray plain, a mirrored world. Every time he disappeared, she stood there waiting. Every time he returned, she asked nothing.

A blue light emanated from her palm, not spiritual power, not laws, but trust itself—the belief that he would return, the belief that he wouldn't die, the belief in every word he spoke. Even if he never said, "I will return." Even if he never said, "I will not die." Even if his words were as few as branches in winter.

Qin Yuan's "Threads of Existence" were rewoven in the blue light. The broken parts were repaired one by one, each thread carrying her warmth.

The Old Man of Time raised his hand, and the white light of time shone into Qin Yuan's chest. The Queen of Cause and Effect was gone, but the mark she left behind shone—the black light of cause and effect. The Weaver of Fate was gone, but the threads she left behind shone—the silver light of fate. The blue light of trust, the golden light of protection, time, cause and effect, fate—the five forces formed a closed loop within Qin Yuan's body. They did not merge, nor did they repel each other; they simply existed independently, but their directions were aligned.

Qin Yuan's aura changed. Not that he became stronger, but that he became more complete. Like a painting having its final piece of color added. His cultivation level hadn't increased, but "he" had become more like "himself." It wasn't that he had changed; the missing piece had returned.

The Void Council watched it all. The two divided factions exchanged a final glance in the void. Then their outlines faded.

"We are not your enemies." The voice faded into the distance. "We simply haven't found a reason for our existence yet."

The void closed. The Void Council vanished. Not defeated, but persuaded. Qin Yuan didn't know where they went, but a mark appeared on the back of his hand—gray, like mist.

The Old Man of Time stood at the edge of the rift, his white robes tattered. "The seventh line is repaired," he said softly, but with absolute certainty. "All the chaos in the myriad realms has returned to normal in the same instant."

Qin Yuan felt the power within him cease its struggle. The timeline no longer forked, the causal chain no longer broke, and the web of fate no longer swayed. Order was restored to all realms.

The Old Man of Time turned and walked into the depths of the myriad realms. "You can go home now," he said without looking back. After a few steps, his body began to become transparent. Not disappearing, but returning—returning to time itself. He no longer needed the image of an old man. He became time itself.

Qin Yuan didn't say "goodbye." The Old Man of Time didn't need goodbye. He was everywhere.

Qin Yuan grasped Lin Qing'er's hand. The two stood side by side in the void. There was no ground beneath their feet, no sky above their heads. But they were there. That was enough.

The old plum tree on the back mountain of Xuan Yuan Sect had finished blooming. Petals had fallen to the ground, carpeting the area around the bluestone like a thin layer of snow. Qin Yuan sat on the bluestone, holding a bowl of tea. The tea had gone cold, but he didn't drink it. He was thinking about something, but that thing had already slipped from his mind, leaving only a vague outline.

Lin Qing'er came out of the house, carrying a bowl of hot porridge. She took the cold tea away and placed the porridge in his hands. Qin Yuan looked down at the porridge, then looked up at her. Her face was familiar, but he couldn't recall her name. It wasn't that he didn't recognize her, but rather that the connection between her name and face was broken.