Chapter Sixty-Five: The Past and Present of the One Breath Sect

“Is it not said that as long as the heavens and earth endure, the phoenixes will never part? Xue’er…”

“I am nearly eight hundred years old now. Can I truly continue living?” A man with white hair yet the face of youth stood atop the summit of Mount Tai, gazing with melancholy upon the turbulent world below. “What is there left to hold me in this world? Over seven hundred years have passed since the fall of the Song, and yet I remain. Ever since the world’s spiritual energy vanished, I have ceased cultivating and sealed myself within this humble stele. Every sixty years, I reappear here. Junior Sister, are you still there?” Tears welled in his eyes. The last time he recalled these memories was sixty years ago. His only purpose for lingering in this world was the hope of meeting his junior sister once more.

Seven hundred and forty years ago, after the Battle of Yashan, Princess Zhao Jiangxue of the Song chose to follow her nation in death, sinking with the Song fleet into the South Sea. He had hoped his cultivation could save her, but when the world’s spiritual energy dissipated, his heart died as well, for he no longer had the power to rescue her. For twenty years, he scoured mountains and seas in vain, unable to find even a trace of spiritual energy. Seven hundred and twenty years ago, with the last of his strength, he sealed his consciousness within this memorial stele, hoping for the day spiritual energy might return.

Seven hundred and forty years ago

Atop Sword Technique Peak, Gate of the One Breath

“Junior Sister, you cannot go. You know as well as I do—this is the will of Heaven. No matter the outcome, we cannot resist it.”

“Senior Brother, I know you mean well. But my family is there, as is our hope. If Heaven intends to destroy us, then I shall destroy Heaven itself!” the woman replied resolutely to her sect leader.

“Then I shall go with you! Even if it means suffering Heaven’s punishment, even as our powers fade, I will not let you come to harm…” His determination was unwavering.

“Senior Brother, you are our sect’s leader. The journey ahead is fraught with mortal peril. If you leave, what will become of our Gate of the One Breath? You must guard the Mountain-Sea Mirror to prevent otherworldly beasts from ravaging the mortal realm. How else could we face our master? This is but a war among mortals; let us, the disciples of the dust, bear it. If I cannot return, my spirit will find its way back to the Mountain-Sea Mirror. All our disciples will return. Rest assured, Senior Brother.” The woman smiled in farewell, ensuring her brother would remember her at her most beautiful—her final visage.

“In that case, you must be careful. This golden feather is refined from my very soul. No matter what happens, it will remain with you. Though it cannot save your life, it will ensure you never fall into reincarnation. I hope I shall live to see you again. Take care, whatever may come, you still have your brother.” He placed a golden feather in her hand and watched in silence as she turned away, not knowing this would be their eternal parting.

As the saying goes: “The Phoenix King seals himself on Mount Tai’s peak, long years pass within the Mountain-Sea Mirror. Sun and moon revolve with ease, but the beautiful bones never return home. The cycles of time are nothing compared with the pain of longing.”

The Southern Song, beset by fierce Mongol attacks, lost Leizhou. The court retreated to Yashan. Zhang Hongfan, a Han who had once been a disciple of the Gate of the One Breath but later betrayed his sect and stole the Soul of Mountains and Seas, led the Mongol army in the assault on Yashan.

By noon, arrows rained down on the Song fleet. The young emperor Zhao Bing and the minister Lu Xiufu deliberated on how to repel the enemy. In Lin’an, Chancellor Wen Tianxiang had already been captured by the Mongols. Zhang Hongfan, the traitor, led the attack.

“Fire the flaming arrows!” Zhang Hongfan, recalling Zhuge Liang’s burning of Red Cliffs, intended to incinerate the Song fleet completely. But the Song commanders had anticipated his tactic.

“Quick, cover the arrows with earth!” Amid the frantic efforts of the soldiers, the immediate crisis was averted. Yet the dense fog robbed the ships of their bearings. Most of those present were disciples of the Gate of the One Breath and recognized that the Soul of Mountains and Seas, unleashed by Zhang Hongfan, was at work—a host of spectral beasts entangling the ships, locking them in place. From the shore, Zhang Hongfan watched with satisfaction as his wicked scheme succeeded.

“Charge! Keep shooting! Slaughter them all!” Zhang Hongfan commanded, personally steering his ship into the Song fleet. Familiar with Han tactics, he had once again betrayed his own people, determined to annihilate Zhao Song completely in exchange for wealth and power.

“Don’t be afraid, little brother. Your sister is here.” Zhao Jiangxue, clad in crimson armor, soothed the panicked emperor Zhao Bing. Suddenly, a flaming arrow slew a princess at her side; Jiangxue watched her younger sister die before her eyes. The emperor, however, remained calm. “Phoenix Sister, Father said if you returned, you must be protected at all costs. You brought so many disciples—you must know what fate awaits us. Tell me: is there any hope left for the Song?” Though young, Zhao Bing was already a mature sovereign, fearing neither the Mongols nor Zhang Hongfan, but grieving for the millions who would perish by the traitor’s blade.

“Little brother, this is the will of Heaven. Yet I am Han, and of the Zhao clan. I shall remain with you, through life and death. The disciples of Gate of the One Breath will share the Song’s fate!” Determination shone through the sorrow in Jiangxue’s eyes. She understood that the calamities of the past fifty years portended the world’s end. Dynastic change was nothing new, but this time, it was different. The emperor closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It was the arrogance of our ancestors that led to this wretched end. We have failed the world, failed our forebears,” Zhao Bing whispered, weeping in silence.

“Your Majesty, I am powerless,” Lu Xiufu wept as well.

“Enough tears. Since Heaven has decreed our fate, all we can protect now is the dignity and virtue of our nation. The battle has raged for days; our supplies are gone. There is no escape—where can we flee on this vast sea?” Jiangxue’s voice was heavy with despair. Facing the coming end, she was helpless. She straightened the young emperor’s robes and bowed deeply three times. “You have done all you could, Your Majesty, upholding the Song and fulfilling your duty to the world.”

All aboard the ship knelt and bowed three times in farewell.

“Little brother, I shall go first. I will kill Zhang Hongfan! Even in death, I will rid the world of this traitor!” With that, Zhao Jiangxue rose, gripped her crimson sword, and strode out.

“Phoenix Sister, no…” The emperor knew her intent well. She was near ascension, but for the sake of the world and the Song, she had returned, and now she would sacrifice herself, condemning her soul forever.

“Zhang Hongfan! Traitor! Lackey! Murderer of our master! This time, I will kill you!” Zhao Jiangxue leapt, expending the last of her spiritual power, charging Zhang Hongfan’s ship. The disciples of the Gate of the One Breath rose with her, determined to exhaust their powers and slay the traitor together.

“Well, well, my nemesis comes for revenge. So this is how Zhao Song has lasted—your meddling! Instead of cultivating immortality, you come to die!” Zhang Hongfan sneered, raising a jade vial. “Release a million demon spirits!” Instantly, the Soul of Mountains and Seas unleashed countless ancient spectral beasts—phantoms still terrifying, devouring many disciples in a flash. Jiangxue fought her way through, barely surviving.

“Phoenix’s Lament!” She transformed, as if into a fiery phoenix, and soared toward Zhang Hongfan. He loosed a flaming arrow—the shot struck home, and the phoenix writhed in agony. Zhang Hongfan laughed all the louder. “Paltry thing! Even if your senior brother were here, he’d die the same!” But in his triumph, he realized too late—Jiangxue had not struck at him, but at the Soul of Mountains and Seas. Her crimson sword and her own spirit pierced the jade vial, releasing the imprisoned demon souls. Zhang Hongfan could no longer wield its power.

“Master, I have done it!” Gravely wounded, Jiangxue drifted down like a butterfly onto the sea. “Senior Brother, I cannot return. Forgive me…” She closed her eyes as a golden feather carried her shattered soul across the waves, slowly vanishing into the endless expanse.

“No!” Zhang Hongfan roared in madness. “Kill them all! Slaughter every Zhao!” He knew he had lost his source of power and immortality. Now, he too would slowly wither and die.

The Song army could no longer resist. All that was left was to preserve the last dignity of their dynasty—martyrdom.

The young emperor, eyes brimming with tears, said to Lu Xiufu, “Phoenix Sister is gone. Let me follow her.”

Weeping, Lu Xiufu carried the emperor on his back, and with over eight hundred members of the imperial clan, leapt into the sea to their deaths.

Zhang Shijie, a disciple of the Gate of the One Breath, led the remnants of the navy to the base of Hailing Mountain. Upon hearing of the emperor and Lu Xiufu’s martyrdom, he too, overwhelmed with grief, threw himself into the sea. Countless loyal soldiers and citizens followed, ending their lives in the waves. Thus, the Song dynasty was utterly extinguished.

Yet the traitor Zhang Hongfan erected a stele: “Here Zhang Hongfan destroyed the Song.”

The carnage at Yashan was unspeakable. In its wake, a hundred thousand chose suicide over surrender, and the sea was thick with corpses.

When Chancellor Wen Tianxiang beheld the devastation, he composed a poem: “The barbarians come to the South Sea, and the dead lie tangled as hemp. The stench of blood shatters the heart, the storm howls through graying hair.”

“Junior Sister, in the end… I will find you…” The sect master of the Gate of the One Breath closed his tearful eyes. After this battle, the sect could no longer endure. Because of Zhang Hongfan, tens of thousands of disciples had perished.

…

The man slowly withdrew from his memories. Every sixty years, he relived those centuries-old events. The grief remained vivid as ever. Now, his sole purpose was to wait for his junior sister. He could still feel her presence…