Journey to the End of the Night
In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go.
Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass.
Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons.
On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes.
A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past.
Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.
North Liao · Eastern
The Serpent’s Path Upon the earth, so vast and wide, A serpent coils, in death it guides. A path unseen by mortal sight, Yet whispers call in endless night. Through ancient gates of bronze so bold, Where runes of fate and time unfold, The spirits drift, no fear, no cry, To realms beyond the living sky. No blade can strike, no hands can hold, A road of shadow, dark yet old. Yet wisdom weaves its silent thread, Between the realms of life and dead. Oh, Primordial Ancient Serpent, the timeless seer, Who shaped the path, so stark, so clear. In slumber deep, his past remains, Yet echoes loud in endless chains. Not death, nor life, can break this way, A serpent’s gift, both night and day. So heed the winds, the breath of fate, For all must walk through death’s own gate.