A Solitary Swan Song

After taking a sip of wine, the old man began to tell his story.

He had once been a mainstay of the demon race in the War of the Endless Night, leading them to seize the advantage in the early stages of the war. After countless battles, he had finally seen victory’s light drawing near.

Then one battle sent him plunging into despair. He lost, and he lost terribly.

Not one of his comrades survived. He lost an eye, and his legs no longer worked properly.

Before long, he learned that the alliance of immortals and gods had won because an organization called the Qiming Hall stood behind them. He blamed the Qiming Hall for his defeat. Later, he heard that some members of the demon race had joined the Qiming Hall, too. He hated them all equally.

“Teacher Bai Sheng?” Lin Yeqiu said.

“Bai Sheng? Is he in the Qiming Hall, too?” the old man asked.

“I’m his disciple,” Lin Yeqiu replied.

The old man patted Lin Yeqiu on the chest. “Not bad. You’re in good shape.”

“He served under me once.”

“And then?” Lin Yeqiu asked curiously.

“He ascended, didn’t he? That kid has a bright future, hahaha,” the old man said. “Now he has an even brighter future in the Qiming Hall. Hahaha.”

Later, he began dreaming of his comrades and the battle they had lost. He was terrified, lost, and bewildered. In that moment, he understood: twenty years of glory had bought him forty years of oblivion. No one remembered who he was. He began growing flowers for no reason other than that he wanted to. In the end, he grew fifty-four thousand six hundred and seventy-one of them, one for every comrade who died in that battle.

This was the first sea of flowers. It looked like a field, yet it filled the lonely heart of an old man.