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He already failed a hundred and twenty years ago. He will fail again. Allowing him to continue on his reckless path will only lead to more disaster.

How can I trust a madman who treats heaven and earth as his weiqi board, and all lives and souls as his pieces? How can I trust a sinner who caused the death of his sister?

How can I trust the obsession of a Feranmut?

Because, like you, he walked this land, lived in the seasons, and vowed to become 'human', to become part of this land and those who live upon it.

'Human'?

Humans are humans because they live and die. This is why they shine, as the candle's fleeting glow.

She has lived, and she has died. Wang seeks to disturb the slumber of the dead, in defiance of the laws of Heaven.

Even if his delusions somehow came true, how can you be sure that it is the departed herself who has returned and not a geist, a hollow puppet that only carries her image?

You just don't want to believe.

Things seldom go the way people want them to.

The outcome may not be exactly what we want. But to be shackled by regret and not even have the courage to take a single step...

...That is nothing but cowardice.

You have a way with words, Ch'en Hui-chieh. But I don't see how you intend to carry out the justice you speak of.

The token and the key. I am only here for them.

Continue to play games with words, and I will crush you before dealing with them.

Let's see who's crushing who.

What about you, Zuo Le?

I apologize, but I must cause offense.

Hah. So be it.

Those who stay near ink get stained. You have made some good friends, Candleholder Zuo.

Do your worst.

You almost hit a bookshelf.

I am no swordswoman and I have no interest in admiring Chi Xiao. But it would be a shame if your sword ruins the collection of the Sky Mirror Pavilion.

But you are not confident about taking the token from me.

Is that so?

The Elf now truly waves her jade scepter and twig for the first time.

Withered vines rush out from the ground, forming massive hands.

Dammit, she's a nightmare to deal with! Is the Sui Regulator's Supervisor decided through combat?!

How does the book go anyway... ah, I remember—and it's autumn, this is perfect...

'Metal's nature is change.'

Take this!

For a thief, you're pretty well-learned.

I wouldn't be surprised if I know Yin-Yang and the Five Elements better than someone who's forgotten her roots.

Zuo Le! Ch'en Hui-chieh! Your turn!

Zuo Le charges towards Chun, intent on disrupting her ability to respond.

Meanwhile, Ch'en Hui-chieh pulls back, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

In between them, Mo Yi unleashes razor-sharp autumn winds, tangling with the vine hands.

The Supervisor of the Sui Regulator continues to stand where she is, utterly impassive, as though she is watching a farce that she is becoming increasingly bored with.

Ch'en Hui-chieh continues to back off, until her back is almost touching the closed door.

Damn... can't hold on much longer!

Ch'en!

Chi Xiao...

<color=#d41f1f>Splits the clouds—</color>

Riding on the autumn wind, the sword aura sweeps away all the vines. The Elf looks surprised for a brief moment.

Then, dried leaves sharp as razors fly out from the vines towards the trio.

Mo Yi urgently casts a defensive spell, but the leaves cut their clothes and bags open...

The token that has slumbered since it was retrieved from the Garden of Grotesqueries falls on the ground.

This is the token from the Garden of Grotesqueries?

It is a geist.

It is, indeed, a geist.

The weiqi player had taken Sui's wildest imagination from the Garden of Grotesqueries and hollowed out the interior, leaving only the gleaming exterior...

The memories of his siblings were then injected to create this object.

Made of a glass-like substance, the tiny geist lies immobile on the ground for a while... then, it seems to grow ethereal.

It awakens.

It does not seem to feel pain. Or perhaps, the pain was overcome by the urge to return to this familiar place.

She begins to stumble towards the door.

That is...

Impossible!

All it takes is a single thought from the Elf, and the churning vines could shatter the object to smithereens. But Chun cannot bring herself to do it.

Because she truly does see a familiar figure in it.

The object touches the door, and it is as though a dream that has slumbered for a hundred years is suddenly awakened by an intruder.

The falling dust forms thousands of golden threads drifting in the air in the setting sun. The sliver of life force ripples.

All breaths are held as they see the ethereal figure that drifts between light and shadow in the falling dust.

It is blurry, indistinct, the only clear feature its grey robe, like paper that has grown yellow from the passage of time, but still smelling faintly of old books and dried ink...

The door opens slowly.

How do you get in, if you give me the key?

Why should the master of the house need a key?

The shadow bends slightly, as though trying to pick up the cracked scroll on the desk.

Or perhaps it is walking towards the window to open the sash closed for so long, to see if the osmanthus that was young back then has bloomed this year.

But her movement ultimately freezes between the done and the undone, a faint wisp of melancholy suspended in the sunset.

Put this scroll on the shelf by the wall. Leave that document on the desk; it's not yet finished.

A painting from Dusk? I should find a good place to hang it.

Why do I have to do these chores for you?!

Oh? But Nian said her Candleholder even helps her put together mahjong games.

Desk, chair and scrolls... every object in the room breathes with the shadow. They are her old friends, and she is the reason they never left.

A gust of wind blows through the room. The geist falls asleep and the shadow dissipates like a drop of ink that falls into water, leaving behind only that which is real, the shadows of dust.

And the sun, shining into an empty room.

It's...

Her...

No, she was a little taller, her hair a little blacker... she was thin, but not like that...

She cannot, would not accept, yet there is a single question that she could never answer.

Who else could it be?

Who else could it be?

The stunned Elf does not even notice the appearance of the proxy, one who is very much flesh and blood.

She continues to stand at the same spot, staring in the direction where the shadow disappeared.

I came as you asked.

But it seems you no longer have anything to say to me.

It's her... it's really her...

I never thought... I didn't think there was any trace of her existence left...

There is no doubt about it. It's a sliver of her life force, which those young people retrieved from the Sui's Remnant Consciousness.

As for traces of her existence... they are in the books of the Sky Mirror Pavilion, in countless scholars across the land of Yan.

Now, do you still believe that everything we siblings have done since Jie's disappearance is futile, Candleholder Chun?

If... if you can still find a trace of her somewhere...

Tell her...

The long-lived Candleholder chokes on her own words. She gazes wordlessly at the study, the interior of which has not changed for a century.

Having taken it all in, she turns around and slowly walks towards the exit, fighting the urge to look back at every step.

Leaving this place she knows best, yet brings her the most despair.

...I did not know that Wang's obsession was this paranoid, yet so deep.

I saw you at the city gates...

And we meet again.