To the south of Kiyi city, there was a small village, which shall remain unnamed for the time being; for it’s far too underpopulated, irrelevant, and not even associated with any major sect to deserve a part in this play.

However, this tiny settlement, situated at the crossroads among the endless plains, is where Fengli and Annu said goodbye to Fuhei; they were dead set on traveling southeast, while he had some unfinished business to attend to in the north.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us? Once we reach my homeland, the remnants of my clan might find the way to heal your hand!” suggested Wen Fengli, not at all happy to say goodbye to her new friend, whom she grew more attached to than she was willing to admit even before herself.

And she was right, as the condition of his arm was clearly supernatural, and not physical in nature; for despite having lost all control over it, it neither begun to rot nor showed any other symptoms of degradation; it even healed the bite marks he experimentally inflicted upon himself in the dungeon cell! Surely someone knowledgeable in medicine or the flow of qi could fix it?….alas…

“The Wuyun sect…” whispered Fuhei angrily, climbing the horse that Fengli and Annu graciously bought for him, using some of the wealth master Lan permanently lent to the wolfgirl. “…and the one who opposes the black clouds, Bai Caoren. If I can find her, and join forces with her…”

Hateful fog momentarily clouded his vision, but soon enough, he returned to reality and smiled at his friends.

“I wish you luck on your journey, wherever it will take you! But my path is the one I have to walk alone!”

Or ride, thought Fengli, but stopped herself from giving such snarky remark. Fuhei changed drastically ever since that day in Kiyi- no longer a happy-go-lucky guy he used to be before, dark clouds now weight heavily on his heart; she knew that there is no point in attempting to stop him the way he is now.

Just as Annu knew there is no point in trying to stop her; no amount of arguing or pleading worked, she is just desperate to reach her destination, no matter what. However, at the very least, she let him take the accursed amulet into custody for the time being and promised not to use it until they learn more about its nature.

Fengli’s eye never changed back- and within her meditative inner world, she claimed to see the ominous black sun as clearly as ever before. More importantly, during their departure from Kiyi, she took apart the wall using nothing but qi powers, even though the amulet wasn’t on her person at the time. Perhaps she was therefore right, that the effects of that medallion are permanent- but if so, that gave the sheepboy existential dread in its own right.

Because who says it’s actually a good thing? Every time she uses her newly obtained powers, Fengli sweats a lot, her pupils widen and she has trouble walking straight for some time afterwards. That can’t be healthy, there must be some nasty hook hidden somewhere…after all, if it was possible for yaren to cultivate as humans do, surely there would be many mixed breed cultivators by now?

Fuhei set out for Chenfei, his objective- to find Bai Lianfei, and inquire about Bai Caoren. Neither the sheep nor the wolf ever heard the latter name, but if that Bai Caoren was supposedly living somewhere in the northwestern mountains, asking another person who shares the same surname and isn’t affiliated with the Wuyun sect seemed like the smartest thing to do. And even if she didn’t know- Lan Caolu, who had many friends and contact among the mountain sects, should be able to locate that person without much trouble.

Fengli and Annu, on the other hand, continued their journey further south. Their destination- an orphanage near the border dividing the civilized middle kingdom from the southeastern wildlands, where Fengli spent most of her childhood. She didn’t quite remember where her hometown was located, or how it even looked like, beyond extremely vague, fragmented, and unhelpful earliest memories. This is perhaps no wonder, considering she was about 4 years old when admitted into the institution, one of the many children orphaned by the border conflict with the tribal southerners.

But surely the people in the orphanage will know where she came from? Or at least, they will know who brought her there, as it was unlikely she made the journey on her own; then they can find these people, and ask them directly.

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Far within the southeastern bamboo forests, and not so far to the eastern seashore, there is a cursed ruin.

The local beastman tribes speak of the place with terror and reverence; it’s said to be haunted by ghosts and evil spirits, the earth itself soaked with resentful energy. Those who venture within are said to never come back; or worse, return changed, as if something took away their very soul; thus all sentient beings avoid the cursed place, else they share the same fate.

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The temple complex, which once housed hundreds of people, is now reduced to dust, and even their foundations weren’t left unscathed. Occasionally there are some remains of a wall still standing, the elaborate floral and geometric patterns that once adorned them now full of holes and cracks; reminiscent of the warriors of legend, who, filled with countless arrows, died standing on the ancient battlefields, defiant even after death.

The central point of the building, and the one it’s named after, stands undamaged; not even days and nights of bombardment by fire, ice, rock, electricity and pure energy of life itself could put a scratch on its pristine, ebony surface; it’s a mighty spire, protruding from the stone floor, and pointing high towards heavens, as if in some act of defiance.

Failing to destroy it, and not sensing any energy patterns emerging from it whatsoever, the cultivator armies of the Jianding campaign eventually gave up and left; they figured it must be made from the same indestructible material as the two demonic artifacts they failed to damage as well; perhaps it served as an altar to some cursed deity, or perhaps it was just a product of vanity. They will never know, as the sect that once owned the temple was destroyed together with it, its legacy forever buried beneath the rubble, lost to time and elements….

They shall rue the day they reached such far fetched conclusion in their arrogance!!

For the spire is just a tip of an iceberg. Beneath it, there is a massive complex, of which the sigil protruding from the ground is merely a modest beginning.

They never found the hidden passage leading beneath, they never even suspected its existence.

The countless cells and facilities located underground; the clockwork machinery; and last but not least, servants and slaves who manned them; All became the Remnant, and took up the legacy of their masters. They learned, and evolved; and the newly found power was followed by ambition.

We will rebuild the military might of the Wen clan, and surpass them! We will rewrite the laws of reality itself, and reach the heights even they couldn’t even dream of!

There were a lot of challenges on the path to power; for one, the Spire, which was actually a giant demonic artifact, was silent; Its gargantuan gears were moving neither clockwise nor counterclockwise; the key was lost.

How to find the key?

A pair of curious devices was constructed; just like other artificially made demonic artifacts, they were merely copies imitating the originals, but they did their job well; their mechanism of action allowed them to detect energy patterns from both lost artifacts, whenever they were used.

The Remnant knew that the cultivators didn’t destroy them; they couldn’t, just like they failed to damage the spire; instead, they must have hidden them somewhere, locked them up, afraid of their power, afraid of the truth itself.

The needle of one compass suddenly started moving rapidly two years ago; it was met with a lot of joy and celebration, alas, eventually, it stopped; it pointed somewhere northwest, very far away; too far to attempt recovery. The Remnant didn’t want to waste their precious, limited manpower on doomed expeditions, nor risk detection by those who would not forgive their existence. The route of patience was decided.

Then suddenly, the needles of the other compass moved a little over a month ago; at first slowly, now they were shaking like mad, also pointing towards the northwest; their erratic movements didn’t slow down even for a day, and in addition to that, it seemed that their source was slowly getting closer and closer.

The Remnant didn’t want to draw an optimistic conclusion; but by all means, it seemed that not only someone was actively tapping into its power, but also consciously bringing it to them.

An operative was dispatched. A girl with rabbit ears, blue eyes, and dark skin, whose age could have been anything between teenage and late twenties, was chosen for the job.

It was believed her outwards appearance will allow her to blend in with the people outside, which couldn’t be said about many other residents of the underground complex. A copy of the copy, a miniature compass, was given to her; its small needle would always point towards the target, while the large needle would estimate the distance. To ensure the success of her mission, she was equipped with a powerful artifact, that allowed her to overcome even the strongest opponents; and last but not least, a method of ensuring her loyalty was implemented, in case she decided to betray the Remnant for whatever reason.

Having memorized the briefing of the mission, she saluted and left with haste.