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---

The aftermath of Shuhu's invasion was palpable. Buildings in Xianzhou Yuque bore physical scars, but the most profound impact was in the desolate eyes of its citizens. Yet, in this city draped in mourning, sparks of resilience and hope stubbornly persisted.

Children, usually the symbols of joy and vitality, quietly laid flowers at a makeshift memorial. Nearby, an elderly woman reminisced, "In my youth, tales of the undead dragon seemed nothing but fables to scare us at night." A bandaged soldier sighed, "We were ill-prepared for its terrifying reality, but our spirit remains unbroken."

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of gold and orange, the once-vibrant markets became venues for reflection and whispers about the future. At a corner, two old friends deep in a game of WeiQi (It is also known as "Go": a strategic board game where two players take turns placing black and white stones on a grid, aiming to capture territory and surround the opponent's pieces) often paused their moves to ponder the legends. "Could the Starscourge truly emerge in our darkest hour?" one mused. The other, looking up, added, "Legends often rise from kernels of hope. Now, more than ever, we cling to such hopes."

The taverns too, were abuzz with hushed discussions, particularly about Jingliu's unmatched resolve. "Despite her losses, she trains with an unmatched fervor," a patron shared, nursing his drink. A fellow drinker responded, "They say adversity forges the strongest steel. Jingliu is becoming a beacon of that strength."

As darkness settled, Xianzhou Luofu began to prepare for the Moon Festival, a beacon in these trying times. Streets adorned with lanterns became arteries of hope, pulsing with the city's resilient spirit. Grandmothers spun tales of past heroes to eager listeners. "Remember the Starscourge, who rose when all seemed lost?" one recounted. A child's voice, filled with innocence and hope, chimed in, "Could they return to guide us now?" She smiled, replying, "Perhaps they're closer than we think."

Near the tranquil lake, amidst the glow of floating lanterns, a young couple sought solace. "Even amidst our trials, beauty endures," she whispered. Drawing her closer, he affirmed, "The brightest stars emerge in the darkest nights. Xianzhou Luofu will find its light again."

---

The vast assembly hall of Xianzhou Luofu's Headquarters, typically resonating with strategic discussions, had fallen into a tense hush. Centered in the grand room, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent ornaments, stood General Jinhua. She wasn't as imposing as before. Her left side, previously a symbol of unmatched martial prowess, now bore the unmistakable absence of an arm.

"I come before you, council members and esteemed citizens of Xianzhou, with a heavy heart," Jinhua began, her voice laced with both firmness and vulnerability. "My inability to wield my sword and practice my martial arts renders me incapable of leading as The Marshal of Cloud Knights."

A cacophony of disapproval erupted, the echo bouncing off the ornate walls. The council members exchanged worried glances, their eyes filled with disbelief.

"General Jinhua, you've been the bulwark against our enemies for decades," one council member exclaimed. "Your leadership is unparalleled!"

Jinhua raised her remaining hand to silence the chamber. "I am deeply honored by your trust. But I've always believed that leadership isn't just about physical prowess. It's about knowing when to step aside for the greater good." She took a deep breath. "And I have found a worthy successor—my sister, Hua."

Whispers raced through the hall as eyes turned to the young woman who stepped forward. Though younger, Hua bore a striking resemblance to Jinhua, her determined gaze hinting at untapped strength.

"While I may no longer be fit for the frontlines," Jinhua continued, "my dedication to Xianzhou remains unwavering. I will train the next generation of Cloud Knights, ensuring that they are ready for whatever challenges await."

Another council member, a seasoned strategist, nodded slowly. "Your wisdom remains sharp as ever, General. While we lament your departure from active combat, your role as a mentor is invaluable."

Jinhua bowed respectfully. "Thank you."

---

On one of the bridges of Xianzhou, a setting sun painted the horizon with hues of gold and crimson, reflecting the delicate shimmer of the waters below. Hua stood there, the breeze gently ruffling her bluish-purplish hair, her commanding gaze fixed on Jinhua's missing left arm. The sight stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her, regret, anger, and sorrow intertwined.

Hua finally spoke, her voice layered with regret, "I should've been there, with you, with all of you during the war." Her striking blue eyes sought answers in Jinhua's.

Jinhua, with the grace and understanding of an elder sister, shook her head gently. "Your duty was here, safeguarding Xianzhou. I trust your judgment and capabilities. Xianzhou needed you more."

Hua opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or agree, but the sheer weight of Jinhua's conviction, her sisterly authority, stopped the words in their tracks.

After a moment of silence, with the wind carrying their thoughts away, Hua inquired, "What do you think the High Cloud Quintet is doing now? They've lost two of their own."

Jinhua gazed upwards, the stars beginning their dance in the twilight. "They're mourning, like the rest of us," she whispered. "The bonds they shared were deep. To lose someone that close... it takes time to heal."

The younger sister remained silent, pondering on her elder's words. But Jinhua, ever the perceptive sister, added a teasing note, "Are you still mourning for Y/N? You did have a soft spot for him, didn't you?"

Hua's stoic facade shattered momentarily. She blushed, a stark contrast to her pale skin, and hastily covered Jinhua's mouth. "Sister!" she admonished, her voice a mix of embarrassment and faux anger.

Jinhua's eyes twinkled mischievously, her laughter echoing softly. "It's rare to see you like this," she commented, clearly enjoying the moment.

The sisters shared a tender moment of understanding, the weight of the recent events still heavy, but made slightly lighter in each other's company. Yet, Jinhua's thoughts soon shifted to another member of their tight-knit group, Jingliu. She wondered aloud, "I wonder how Jingliu is holding up. She's been through so much."

---

In a corner of Xianzhou Luofu, away from the bustling streets, the rhythmic clanging of metal against metal echoed through the walls of a dimly lit smithy. Amidst the dancing flames and molten steel, Ying Xing meticulously crafted weapons, each one a masterpiece in its own right. His white hair, resembling the moonlight, cascaded gracefully down his back, complemented by the fierce intensity of his eyes. With the red tassel earring swaying with every motion, his hands moved with a precision that spoke of years of dedication and skill.

But as the weapons took shape under his deft touch, there was a palpable heaviness in the air. Every blade and hilt, instead of being a testament to his unmatched craftsmanship, seemed to weigh him down with sorrow. The joy that once bloomed from his heart with the creation of each weapon had been replaced by a profound sadness.

Ying Xing had once been a beacon of hope for the Cloud Knights. As a prodigious young craftsman, his weapons were heralded as unparalleled, earning him acclaim even in his youth. Now, time had etched its mark on him. His species, akin to normal humans in their lifespan, meant that the sands of time slipped rapidly through his fingers. His heart yearned to join the frontlines, to be part of the valor and honor that came with defending Xianzhou, but age and fate had other plans.

The bittersweet memories of Baiheng, the one he fondly referred to as his "older sister," haunted him. Her face flashed before his eyes every time he forged a new blade, a painful reminder of the time when she had found him, a lost boy in a world turned upside down by enemies. They shared a bond deeper than blood, one forged in the crucible of shared pain and loss.

The irony wasn't lost on Ying Xing. While he aged like any other human, the natives of Xianzhou, the Homo celestinae, had the gift of long lives, sometimes spanning millennia. He often wondered about the fairness of it all. Would his weapons have made a difference if he were on the frontlines? Would Baiheng still be with them? Would the tales of bravery have a different ending?

As another blade took shape in his hands, a recollection from the past bubbled up. Words spoken by Dan Feng, words that had puzzled him then but seemed more significant now. With a determined glint in his eye, Ying Xing decided it was time to seek clarity. It was time to confront Dan Feng and unravel the meaning behind those words.

---

The ornate halls of the Seven Arbiter-Generals hummed with subdued conversations and the faint rustle of scrolls, but Jing Yuan's thoughts were elsewhere. As the newly appointed Divine Foresight, he stood near the vast windows overlooking the city, drawn to the scenes unfolding below.

From this vantage point, he could clearly see the gatherings of locals, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. Their voices, rising in unison, carried songs that sang of valor, heroism, and sacrifice. The lyrics extolled the brave deeds of the Cloud Knights, the unyielding determination of the Elemental Guardians, and the unity of the High Cloud Quintet. The most heartfelt verses, however, were reserved for Baiheng. Her final stand against the dragon, a tale that would surely be passed down through the ages, resonated deeply with the people. They sang of her selflessness, her bravery, and the sacrifice she made for the city she loved.

Yet, amidst the triumphant refrains and melodies of gratitude, Jing Yuan felt a profound sorrow. The cheers and songs of the people below were a painful reminder of the personal cost of their victory. While the city celebrated, he mourned the loss of a dear friend. Baiheng's bravery had saved countless lives, but to Jing Yuan, the void left by her passing was immeasurable.

His tall frame, with its regal attire and flowing white hair, stood in contrast to the bustling world outside. The newly acquired trappings of his rank, from the nian-styled armor to the tassel and scroll at his hip, felt heavy. Not from their physical weight, but from the responsibility they signified. Jingliu had declined this position, choosing to hold onto her title as Xianzhou's Sword Champion. Her refusal meant Jing Yuan bore the mantle, but in this moment, titles and ranks felt inconsequential. All he could think of was the irreplaceable loss of a companion.

The storm clouds in the distance mirrored his inner turmoil. The city might have been saved, but the emotional scars of that fateful day were still fresh. Jing Yuan's heart ached, not for the accolades or recognition, but for the chance to see his friend once more.

As he approached the window, watching the storm clouds amass in the distance, he felt the undercurrents of tension and anticipation that had gripped the entire city. The swift succession of events - the dragon's assault, Baiheng's sacrifice, and the underpinnings of political change - loomed large in his contemplations.

Amidst these reflections, Jing Yuan's thoughts frequently settled on Jingliu. The weight of her personal losses was unfathomable, and he hoped she would find the fortitude to rise above them. For as the storm approached, both in the skies and in the heart of Xianzhou, its champions would need to be unyielding.

---

In the midst of Xianzhou's famed training grounds, a frosty tempest reigned. The open arena, once filled with the clangor of swords and the shouts of aspiring Cloud Knights, was now an eerily silent, frozen wasteland. The icy tendrils of frost wrapped around each weapon, each training dummy, encasing and eventually shattering them under their cold embrace.

At the epicenter stood Jingliu, a figure of despair and fury. Her porcelain-like skin contrasted starkly with her fiery crimson eyes, which smoldered with an inner tempest. Her pale, almost ethereal hair billowed around her, moved not by the wind but by the sheer force of her elemental wrath.

Each breath she took crystallized in the chilly air, and her hands, clenched tight, trembled not from the cold but from a tumult of emotions. Her mind raced, questioning the fates and deities that played such cruel games with mortal lives. How could they dangle the hope of Y/N' potential return, only to wrench away Baiheng in the very next breath?

"Damn those Elemental Guardians!" she spat, her voice cold and filled with disdain. Her frustration was directed at the revered protectors. "Blessings from Lan? What a cruel joke!" The frost around her seemed to grow more vicious with her every word. She considered the capabilities of her allies, their divine gifts, and found them wanting. "Dan Feng could've turned into a dragon, could've turned the tides of battle... and Jing Yuan, bestowed with Thunderlord's might, perhaps he needs more than just power. Maybe he needs guidance, training..."

But as her thoughts shifted to Y/N and Baiheng, the fiery anger was doused. A palpable sadness descended upon the arena. The frost began to recede, replaced by gentle droplets that mirrored the tears now streaming down Jingliu's face.

The loss, the gaping void left by their absence, consumed her. Doubt, that insidious whisperer, began to weave its tendrils around her heart. Was it possible? Could Y/N still be out there? Or was this just another cruel jest by fate? Emotionally drained, Jingliu fell to her knees, her heart aching for answers and solace.

Amid the thawing expanse of the training field, Jingliu slowly rose to her feet. Each droplet around her seemed to freeze in time, the world holding its breath. Her red eyes, previously dimmed with despair, now shone with a renewed fire. Her posture was erect, her resolve unwavering.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered to the heavens above, her voice filled with determination, "No longer shall I be a mere tool of fate. From this day forth, I will be a blade of unmatched power. I will become a sword that can cleave the very stars and defy the eternal Aeons."

She visualized herself standing atop the heavens, her blade shimmering with a celestial light, capable of cutting through the fabric of destiny itself. Every setback, every pain she had endured would be the whetstone that sharpened her resolve.

Raising her hand, Jingliu called upon her elemental powers, and a greatsword of pure ice materialized. It shimmered with an ethereal glow, reflecting her newfound determination. Swinging it with grace and precision, she carved intricate patterns in the air, symbolizing her commitment to her oath.

The message was clear: Jingliu had transformed her grief into determination. She was no longer content with being a pawn in the grand game of the cosmos. She would take control of her destiny, challenge the very heavens if need be, and ensure that the sacrifices of Y/N, Baiheng, and all her loved ones did not go in vain.

As Jingliu gripped the hilt of her greatsword, its sheer weight and balance felt like an extension of her own being, a true representation of her soul. The shimmering ice-blade, with its patterns and intricacies, looked like crystallized stardust against the backdrop of the dimming evening sky.

She raised the blade high, allowing the last rays of the setting sun to dance upon its surface. It cast shadows and reflections, painting a silent story of her resolve on the icy grounds below.

Drawing a deep breath, her voice, soft yet unwavering, echoed in the chilling air, "Y/N, wherever you are, no matter the distance or the barriers placed before me, I promise to find you."

She gazed up at the sky, where countless stars twinkled, each one perhaps holding a story of its own, and whispered, "In the vastness of the universe, against the machinations of fate and the cruel jests of the Aeons, I will keep the flame of hope alive."

With every step she took, the greatsword left a trail of frost in its wake, symbolic of her journey — one that began with heartbreak and loss but was now fueled by unwavering determination and the warmth of hope.

---

The chamber, adorned with ancient tomes, was filled with the humming stillness that comes after profound realization. Shelves brimming with age-old scrolls loomed over the room, casting long, haunting shadows that seemed to watch Dan Feng with expectant eyes.

The gem of Gogma, nestled on his table, cast an otherworldly green glow, making it seem as if the very heart of a dragon beat in the room. The whispers of its once mighty roar were felt in its rhythmic pulses.

As Dan Feng gingerly held Baiheng's blood vial, memories echoed around him. He could hear her laughter, see her determination, and feel her spirit. A memory surfaced, of a time when they had jokingly exchanged blood vials as a symbol of their unbreakable bond, never foreseeing the gravity it would hold.

Staring at the vials, he murmured, "Y/N... Baiheng... I cannot stand by and let the quintet's legacy crumble."

Suddenly, the room seemed to compress as an idea gripped him. The Ambrosial Arbor's legends whispered from the scrolls, its history a tapestry of miracles and miseries. With a sudden surge of energy, he began rummaging through his notes, cross-referencing myths with empirical data.

He recalled an old conversation with Baiheng, where she had spoken in awe of the Arbor. "Imagine the good we could do if we harnessed its powers," she had mused.

An idea began to crystallize. He whispered to himself, "The Arbor, when combined with the gem's essence and amplified with the magic of Permanence, could... Could it truly bring her back?"

The room felt charged, the very air tingling with anticipation. But amidst this burgeoning hope was an undercurrent of dread. He pondered aloud, "Yet, the Arbor's fruits drove many to madness. What if..."

A sudden gust of wind blew from the window, extinguishing the candle's flame and plunging the room into darkness, save for the gem's glow. It felt like a warning, a foreboding omen of the path he was contemplating.

Torn between desperation and the responsibility of his actions, Dan Feng found himself at a crossroads. The stakes were monumental - to revive a dear friend or potentially unleash an even greater peril upon Xianzhou Luofu.