Generation followed generation, day followed night, and sunset followed dawn. Like a wheel that turned over and over again, bumping into stones and holes along a rough road, people were born, grew old, gaining wisdom, and died. Some found the essence of their life in this cycle, some humbly closed their eyes, and some fought until the very end.

Those who were able to escape the cycle received an extraordinary reward for all their efforts and bloody battles: immortality. It was far for the understanding of an ordinary person, but at the same time close, like a small speck of dust on clothing, the path to which could be carelessly brushed off with a fingertip. Therefore, in each era there were only a few Sages, but never more than ten.

“We can not give so much freedom to the martial arts sects! What will the imperial family say to this?”

“They are not interested in the reputation or actions of sects as long as their interests are not involved.”

“But without their influence and support, additional carts of grain will not be provided for the survivors. Need I remind you that pirates are rampant on the Yangtze River? They steal most of the grain and medicinal herbs. If we continue to fetter the movements of the sects of the Justice factions, then tragedy will inevitably occur.”

“Please do not start reminding us of the Great Explosion.”

“How much time has passed since that moment?” an old man with a long, unkempt white beard asked a question. He was dressed in old, worn-out clothes, sitting on one of the stone thrones on a high column in a truly huge hall, but his eyes remained young and bright.

“Ho-ho... One hundred and sixty-three years,” another with a long hairpin, which had a delicate blue stone at the end, answered him in the hair of the Sage, one of two twins sitting side by side on the same throne, framed by jade dragons.

“Then most of the world was destroyed,” his twin echoed him, differing only in that the stone on his hairpin was lilac. He also never stopped smiling, “Entire cities were wiped off the face of the earth in that war, and the Justice factions suffered significant losses, as did the Evil sects.”

“Their losses were greater than ours,” a voice echoed through the space, illuminated only by the faint glow of the lamps. Unlike everyone else, on a high throne, surrounded by precious weapons of his era, sat a man who looked to be about forty years old, nothing more, “After all, that little guy completely went crazy during the war. I expected nothing less from the Blood Flower Emperor.”

“The Eldest, he...”

“Don't forget who he really was. The fact that moron woman from Huashan sheltered and raised him as her disciple does not change anything,” his fingers tightly squeezed the handle of the throne until the stone cracked. The voice lowered and became stronger, causing a shiver to run through the bodies of the other Sages, “Those born as monsters will never become human.”

“Amitabha. I suggest returning to current problems. Recently, another small settlement died out on the South-Western borders,” the man’s voice lowered, and the rosary on his neck tapped against each other, “The symptoms were the same.”

***

The twins walked along a narrow corridor. Tapestries and paintings were hung on the walls, and the carpet made their steps so quiet that it seemed as if there were no people there at all. The younger one, the one who was constantly smiling, stopped, turning his head to his brother, who was in deep thought.

“Are you so nervous by the memories of days gone by?” his voice was gentle, like a stream in an endless field, “Smile, big brother. The Blood Flower Emperor died a long time ago and did not find the path to immortality.”

“Have you been lied to many times?” from the unexpected question, the younger one did not take a step further, allowing the older one to go ahead, “People always lie to other people, just as our eyes lie to us about our surroundings. The same thing can happen with the sense of qi.

“It doesn't make sense because...”

“Since qi is life itself in our mortal bodies?” the sage spread his arms to the sides, and his voice became a little louder, “Did qi itself exist for him? When I saw him in person, it seemed to me that a lifeless doll stood in front of me. There was no joy, no sadness, not even hatred in him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” this time he stopped, but did not turn around so that the younger would not see his expression with darkened, sunken eyes and a bitten lip, “It’s hard to imagine what we would have done if he had not been on the side of Justice.”

The younger one just shook his head, watching his brother’s retreating figure, and then looked at one of the paintings, which depicted one of the battles. Horses carried riders, martial artists demonstrated their most outstanding techniques, and enemies advanced, trampling beautiful flowers under them. And only one person stood out, leading the army. He held a sword in his hands and at the same time seemed to dance in front of his opponents, whose deadly techniques were aimed at his head.

However, he did dance. The Sage remembered that day, that heat and rivers of blood, among which a man with bright red hair danced with weapons in his hands as severed heads flew to the sides.

“The Bloody Flower Emperor or the Curse of the Kanho Lands. Who were you?”

And he left, suppressing a laugh that made his shoulders shake.