"Go on. Go."
His voice boomed out a final time:
"On this path, for every deed performed, you will gain a wound. A great wound of Transcendence—ineradicable, incurable, with pain that never subsides. Nine is the limit. Should you suffer a tenth wound, your body will perish and your Dao will scatter. There will be no salvation... Whether you can break this deadlock is uncertain, but this... is the only chance."
'So if I truly enter the great conflict of Years, I'll suffer one wound for one deed... and with the tenth, my body and Dao will perish?'
Lu Xuan nodded thoughtfully and bowed to Qing Xuan Daoist. Qing Xuan Daoist bowed back to him.
The two of them bowed to each other across the vast length of Guangcheng Palace, their forms perfectly aligned.
The scene remained frozen for a long while. By the time Qing Xuan Daoist raised his head again, Lu Xuan was already leaning on the Qing Ping Sword, staggering toward the dawn of the Years, toward The Beginning of Ancient Times.
