At the edge of a quaint wooden bridge stood a handsome boy with black hair, sharp brows, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a simple black robe, carrying only a sheathed blade, a jade flute, and an obsidian ring.

A look of forlorn masked his face as he stared into the impenetrable mist ahead. Behind him an elderly lady watched impassively.

“Adjudicator, it is time,” urged the old woman.

“Where will I go when I cross the Bridge of Exile?” the boy asked without turning around.

“No one knows for certain. It will be neither here nor there, but it will be somewhere.”

The woman spoke in riddles and was frankly unhelpful. However, that didn’t stop Jin from taking a step forward and allowing the mist to envelope him. Once he stepped completely onto the bridge, a cold sensation permeated his body.

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“Is this what it’s like to become mortal again?” Jin pondered.

With each step he felt his powers draining. The further he went, the weaker he became, yet this uncomfortable feeling did not deter him. He feared nothing, not even death. In fact, he welcomed death, for it would be a reprieve from the unquenchable grief in his heart.

Jin knelt to the ground and wept, moaning what words could not express. It was safe to cry on the Bridge of Exile. Here he was truly alone, free to show weakness and to weep for many things lost.

“I’m sorry Tian Long, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…,” he kept repeating.

Jin’s pride and arrogance had cost him everything, but it was Tian Long who paid the ultimate price.

After some time, Jin gathered himself and stood up again. A fire burned in his eyes while he vowed to the heavens. Whether it would take him fifty years or five hundred years, he would find a way to return.

And when he did return, the High Realms will shudder at his reckoning.