What He Could Not Change

A heaviness gradually settled over Hao Nhien’s soul.

It was unlike the pressure created by the shifting forces in the Realm of Circumstances. It caused no discomfort to his body, yet quietly stirred memories he had recalled countless times before—and repeatedly tried to set aside.

Ahead, a faint light appeared.

The glow slowly took shape, revealing the familiar scenery of Thanh Van Town.

Hao Nhien saw Tieu Lan sitting beside the racks of drying medicinal herbs.

Her head was lowered as she sorted through the plants. From time to time, she glanced toward the room where he usually cultivated, her expression calm, as though she were simply waiting for him to finish an ordinary session.

The corner of Hao Nhien’s mouth lifted without conscious thought.

The images that followed changed quickly.

Sometimes it was only a fleeting glimpse of her preparing medicine.

Sometimes it was the bright smile she showed after receiving praise.

At other times, it was nothing more than her small figure quietly taking care of things he had not yet noticed needed to be done.

They were all ordinary moments.

So ordinary that, when they happened, Hao Nhien had never imagined there would come a day when he would have to stand and watch them as things he could no longer touch.

He remembered clearly how much Tieu Lan had changed throughout the years she traveled beside him.

From a young girl unfamiliar with much of the world, she gradually became quick-minded, thoughtful, and capable of making her own decisions.

Sometimes she still liked being taken care of by him.

But in many matters, she was the one who silently looked after him instead.

Perhaps because he had grown too accustomed to her presence, Hao Nhien had never imagined that one day, even hearing her call him “Young Master” would become something he longed for.

The scene suddenly darkened.

When the light returned, Tieu Lan was lying motionless inside the familiar space of the Cosmic Ark.

The smile disappeared from Hao Nhien’s face.

He stepped toward her instinctively.

But the distance between them did not shrink.

The scene before him was only a memory being reconstructed.

The real Cosmic Ark still existed deep within his soul, a place he had been unable to summon or enter ever since the battle at U Minh Mountain.

Even knowing that, Hao Nhien stood there for a long time.

He had faced enemies stronger than himself.

He had been pushed to the edge of death and forced to make choices in moments when there was almost no time left to think.

But at least those situations had given him something to fight.

He could resist.

Run.

Gamble.

Or accept the price.

Before Tieu Lan now, he could do almost nothing.

Another image appeared.

It carried him back to the moment she had transferred her life force to save him.

Hao Nhien did not need to watch the entire scene to know what would happen.

He remembered her weakening.

Remembered her life force steadily fading.

And understood that his own survival had been preserved at that cost.

But knowing what had happened and standing here watching it happen again were entirely different experiences.

He saw his own unconscious body.

Saw Tieu Lan continuously transferring her life force.

A suffocating sense of helplessness rose within him.

At the time, he had known nothing.

He had not even possessed the chance to decide whether to accept what she was doing.

But none of that changed the result.

Tieu Lan had fallen.

And he had lived.

Hao Nhien slowly clenched his hand.

The battle against Duong Quang had not been something he could choose to avoid.

His opponent had driven him into a corner and forced him to fight if he wished to survive.

What Hao Nhien regretted was not fighting.

It was that before the battle ever happened, he had failed to think far enough ahead about the dangers Tieu Lan might face simply by being beside him.

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He had prepared many methods to preserve his own life.

He was accustomed to calculating retreat routes when facing stronger enemies.

But most of those preparations had revolved around his own ability to respond.

He had never truly considered the possibility that one day an enemy might stop trying to deal with him directly and instead target someone beside him.

Or force him into a situation where he could no longer protect them.

Duong Quang had done exactly that.

But even if it had not been Duong Quang, sooner or later another enemy might have used a similar method.

Considering the path Hao Nhien was walking and the powers he had offended, this was a danger he should have recognized earlier.

Not something he should only understand after Tieu Lan had been forced to sacrifice her life force.

Hao Nhien looked toward her within the scene.

His chest felt heavy.

He could not change what had happened.

But from now on, whenever he prepared to face danger, he could no longer calculate only how many ways he himself had to survive.

Hao Nhien lowered his head.

He knew regret could not rewrite a past decision.

But neither did he want to dismiss his own shortcomings simply because the outcome could no longer be changed.

The scene shifted again.

Tieu Lan appeared in a familiar courtyard of the Tieu Dao Sect.

She was tending medicinal plants.

Her movements were peaceful.

From time to time, she looked toward the gate as though waiting for someone to return.

Hao Nhien watched her.

A thought surfaced before he could stop it.

If he had left Tieu Lan behind back then, would she have avoided all the injuries she suffered later?

The scene seemed to answer the question.

Days of peace appeared one after another.

Tieu Lan continued tending medicine.

Cultivating.

Living in a quiet courtyard untouched by the battles Hao Nhien would later experience.

For a moment, he almost wanted to believe that this would have been the better choice.

But when he tried to look farther ahead, the images began changing.

Sometimes Tieu Lan left the Tieu Dao Sect.

Sometimes she stood before unfamiliar crises Hao Nhien could not recognize.

Different roads appeared and vanished.

None showed a certain ending.

Hao Nhien gradually fell silent.

He was comparing a life Tieu Lan had never lived against an outcome he already knew.

Those peaceful images made him regretful.

But he had no basis for believing that merely leaving her behind would have caused every future danger to disappear.

More importantly, Tieu Lan had never been someone who simply followed every decision he made.

She had thoughts.

Desires.

Choices of her own.

Even if those choices sometimes made him worry.

If he denied everything she had willingly chosen merely because he feared she might be hurt, then he would be deciding another life for her in her place.

Hao Nhien did not want that.

What he could accept responsibility for were his own mistakes.

Not the assumption that every misfortune had begun because Tieu Lan chose to remain beside him.

The image of her in the courtyard gradually faded.

Only her familiar smile remained for one final instant.

Hao Nhien watched it disappear.

The heaviness in his heart remained.

He still had no way to wake her.

That fear would not vanish merely because he had understood one more thing about the past.

But at least he no longer wanted to punish himself using possibilities that had never actually happened.

He still needed to find a way to bring her back.

That was what remained for him to do.

As the final light surrounding Tieu Lan disappeared, a soft laugh came from ahead.

Hao Nhien looked up.

Quan Nha stood only a few steps away.

She wore the familiar appearance from the days when they had operated together in Heavenly Eye.

The corner of her mouth curved slightly.

Mischief shone in her eyes, as though the moment Hao Nhien spoke, she would immediately say something that left him unsure how to answer.

Seeing her, the tension in Hao Nhien’s heart eased slightly.

Then Quan Nha’s smile changed.

“You said you wouldn’t let me make choices alone anymore.”

Her voice was gentle.

There was no accusation in it.

And yet Hao Nhien felt an unusual weight behind those words.

Images appeared behind her.

The months she had spent investigating the secrets of her identity alone.

The truths related to the Quan Family.

The changes within Heavenly Eye after she came into contact with a new path of cultivation.

Everything passed quickly.

As though someone were turning pages through memories Hao Nhien already knew too well.

He did not need to inspect every scene.

What caught his attention was the change in Quan Nha’s eyes.

Once, she had been able to laugh naturally even at things that left others embarrassed.

Later, that smile remained.

But behind it were thoughts even Hao Nhien could no longer easily understand.

He remembered the moment he had suggested that she approach the secrets hidden within Heavenly Eye.

He had not forced her to choose.

He had merely pointed out a possibility he could see, then allowed her to decide for herself.

But had that truly been enough?

A suggestion could open a path another person had never considered.

The listener still possessed the right to choose.

But their trust in the person giving that suggestion would inevitably influence the decision.

Hao Nhien knew Quan Nha trusted him.

And because he knew that, he could not treat his own words as something completely unrelated to everything that followed.

The scene shifted.

Another Quan Nha appeared.

This one still carried the lively ease of her earlier days.

She did not yet possess the calm, distant bearing of the God-Lord.

Nor did she carry the responsibilities of Heavenly Eye.

She looked at him and smiled.

Hao Nhien suddenly wondered—

if he had never made that suggestion, could she have remained this carefree for longer?

But before the image could fully stabilize, other possibilities appeared.

The secrets of the Quan Family still existed.

The questions surrounding her bloodline and identity would not disappear simply because Hao Nhien remained silent.

In one scene, Quan Nha continued searching alone.

In another, she returned to a place that had once brought her pain.

Then those paths opened into possibilities Hao Nhien could not predict.

He watched.

And realized he was repeating the same thing he had just done with Tieu Lan.

If he had said less.

If he had stayed longer.

If he had stopped Quan Nha.

If he had persuaded her to choose another direction.

Would the ending have been better?

Every question created another possibility.

None could prove anything.

Those endless “ifs” had no conclusion.

Hao Nhien looked at the Quan Nha before him.

His concern slowly shifted.

Perhaps the question was not whether he should have offered that suggestion.

Perhaps the real question was how much he had done after Quan Nha made her choice.

She had never asked him to decide her life for her.

If anything, everything she had experienced made her want even more strongly to control her own future.

But there was still a vast difference between being allowed to make one’s own choice—

and being forced to bear every consequence alone.

Hao Nhien remembered their final days in Heavenly Eye.

He had seen the changes in Quan Nha.

He knew she was about to face problems he did not yet understand.

But he still had his own road.

Other promises remained unfinished.

He could not stay.

Perhaps that was why the promise he had once made now felt so heavy.

Hao Nhien did not believe leaving Heavenly Eye had been wrong.

But neither did he want to use legitimate reasons of his own to dismiss whatever difficulties Quan Nha might now be facing.

The Quan Nha before him continued watching silently.

Hao Nhien slowly stepped forward.

The distance did not change.

He stopped.

Looked at her for a while.

Then said softly,

“I still remember what I promised.”

Quan Nha did not answer.

Her image gradually faded.

Hao Nhien remained standing in the silent space.

He did not know whether those words could somehow reach the real Quan Nha.

Perhaps this had only been a conversation with his own memories and doubts.

Even so, Hao Nhien felt no need to explain further.

He only knew that when he had the chance to return to Heavenly Eye, he needed to spend time understanding what Quan Nha was actually facing.

Not merely ask whether everything was fine—

and then leave again.

Ahead, another light began to appear.

This time there was no familiar courtyard.

No hall.

Only a long road stretching through different lands before disappearing into mist.

At the farthest point Hao Nhien could see, a lone figure stood with her back turned toward him.

Hao Nhien recognized her immediately.

Anh Nhien.