Chapter 23: The Echo of the Goddess
The forest had quieted after the battle, but deep within the ancient woods, something stirred.
Ying Yue wandered alone, drawn by a faint melody carried on the wind. It was a soft, sorrowful hum—one that pulled at something deep in her bones, something older than memory. Her feet moved on their own, as though guided by a presence just beyond the veil.
She stepped through hanging vines and moss-covered stones until she reached a clearing where sunlight broke through in golden beams. At its center stood a small temple, crumbled and overgrown, its entrance marked by the same lotus crest that had appeared beneath her during the sealing ritual.
Her breath caught.
This place… felt like hers.
Slowly, she entered. Dust rose with every step, but the air was warm, alive with divine essence. Symbols pulsed faintly on the walls—marks of protection, rebirth, and balance.
At the altar stood a broken mirror, its surface cracked in a spiderweb of light. As she approached, it flickered.
Suddenly, her reflection changed.
She saw not Ying Yue—but Fu Sheng, the goddess of balance and eternity, radiant in white robes and a silver crown. The woman in the mirror stared back at her not with surprise, but with sorrowful recognition.
"I am you," the reflection whispered. "And you… are me."
Ying Yue reached out, fingertips brushing the mirror's surface.
Visions flooded her mind—of wars between gods, of betrayal, of a desperate battle where she had sealed the demon at the cost of her own life. Of Bai Jiu—no, Xie Changye, holding her broken body and screaming into the sky.
Tears streamed down her face.
"I left him behind," she whispered.
"No," the reflection answered. "You died protecting him… and the world."
Her knees gave out, and she collapsed before the altar. The weight of her past lives settled on her chest like stone.
Bai Jiu had carried this pain alone for centuries.
And she—Ying Yue—had forgotten it all.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I should have remembered. I should have come back sooner."
Light poured from the mirror, wrapping around her. The temple began to glow softly, and the goddess's voice echoed once more.
"You were never meant to carry it all at once. But now, you are ready."
Power surged through her—familiar, vast, but no longer foreign. Her memories, her essence, her divine soul—finally aligned.
She was Fu Sheng, reborn.
But she was also Ying Yue, with new love, new strength, and a heart that still beat wildly for the one who had waited for her.
The mirror dissolved into light.
From the shadows of the temple, a figure stepped forth—the High Priestess, an ancient guardian who had once served Fu Sheng in the celestial realm.
"You have awakened," the priestess said, bowing low.
"I have," Ying Yue replied, rising to her feet, her voice steadier. "And I have work to do."