The Mask and the Whispering Crowd

Under the brilliance of the golden sun, the tabletop shimmered like a mirror. Surrounded by tranquil light and gentle shadows, Vera's meticulous busyness stood out starkly, an anomaly in the relaxed setting.

She had been reapplying the glaze to the ceremonial dragon mask again and again, just as her master instructed. Over two hours had passed, and yet her efforts still fell short of his demanding standards. She was exhausted, yet she wanted to follow master's instruction, she didn't want to let her master down. 

"Vera, the glaze still isn't right," Master Jin Xiu narrowed his eyes, his finger gliding along the mask's delicate edge. A faint furrow formed between his brows. "How many times must I remind you? The colors must be even. No exceptions."

Biting her lip, Vera carefully wiped away the flawed layer. Though her fingers trembled slightly, she picked up the brush again and started over with quiet determination.

"Once more, you've applied the wrong technique," Jin Xiu sighed, lifting his own brush with practiced grace. Beside her, he demonstrated for what felt like the hundredth time the correct method of applying the sacred glaze unique to the Glass Dragon Mask.

Outside the workshop, murmurs were spreading across the Divine and Celestial realms. Gods and immortals alike whispered as they passed.

"Is that Vera? Didn't she just return from her human tribulation? And she's still being put through training?"

"Well, if Master Jin Xiu is the one teaching her, it must be serious. His name isn't praised for nothing. Who would've thought the once most mischievous and rebellious Vera would become such a diligent model of cultivation?"

"The phoenix girl, right? I heard her last trial almost erased her memories. Who knows what her next test will be."

Their chattering was cut short by the arrival of several high-ranking officers clad in resplendent midnight-blue robes, radiating an air of strict authority.

"Are you all so free that you have time to gossip? Have any of you even passed the Inter-Realm Martial Trials yet?"

Another official, adorned in a white ceremonial hat bearing twin celestial swans, chimed in coldly. "Keep training. The threat of the Second Godfall isn't something a handful of heroes can stop. It's a battle for every realm, every being. Including you."

Shamed into silence, the crowd dispersed. The truth was bitter: only Vera had passed the grueling martial trials across the Divine, Celestial, and Mortal realms with record-breaking results. None of them even made the top ten. Ironically, the rest of the slots had been claimed by humans—a race once looked down upon by many in the higher realms.

The horror of the Second Godfall loomed large in their minds. Vera had warned them with vivid prophecies, her voice unwavering, her visions chilling. Though reprimanded, none dared to refute the urgency of her words. Deep inside, many felt a quiet bitterness, a spark of unwillingness, vowing to train harder, to reclaim their pride.

After all, protecting humanity had always been the duty of the Divine and Celestial realms. How could they now let frail mortals carry that burden alone? Yet the performance of those very mortals had shattered their complacency. Underestimating others was a mistake they could no longer afford. Even the smallest being might rise to greatness when fate demands it.

"You're improving, Vera," Jin Xiu said, his golden robe glinting with each movement. "But your brushstrokes are still uneven. Again."

Without complaint, Vera dipped her brush and resumed her work. Every detail mattered. Every curve of color had to resonate with spiritual clarity.

As she focused on the luminous glaze, a sudden realization struck her. This mask was more than a ceremonial artifact. Each stroke wasn't just color—it was her struggle, her rebirth. Over and over, she was painting not just a mask, but the fractured pieces of herself, trying to make them whole again. The tasks her master gave her, no matter how mundane they appeared, always bore hidden meaning. Years of living and training under Jinxiu had taught her that. 

Vera had learned that Jin Xiu always wants the best for her.

Perhaps every repeated action was a silent battle, a quiet reconstruction of her soul.

Unbeknownst to her, many in the realm had started watching with newfound respect. The same Vera who once slipped away from training to play pranks with other young immortals—that girl had grown.

They had underestimated her. It was easy to dismiss her back then, to laugh at her disobedience. But her progress was undeniable. Since Jinshu had taken her as his student, Vera's strength had soared. Even when she faltered, he never gave up on her. He trained her tirelessly, day after day, with unwavering dedication.

They believed it was because Jinshu, with his long life and wisdom accumulated through countless cycles of rebirth, knew how to mold potential into power. Maybe that was true.

But they failed to see the deeper truth: real growth was never a one-way gift. It wasn't about the powerful guiding the weak. It was about mutual illumination, the echo between souls resonating in harmony.

And in private, the high-ranking officials understood this all too well.

"If they haven't grasped the essence of collaboration," one said, hands clasped behind his back, "if they still think growth is linear, how will they survive what the Second Godfall brings?"

Another replied solemnly, "Some lessons must be learned through struggle. If we lay every answer before them, we only delay their true evolution."

"We are not here to solve their riddles. We are here to light the path. The rest, they must find for themselves."

Back in the workshop, Vera's hand paused mid-stroke. Her gaze softened as she looked at the nearly finished mask. It wasn't perfect—but neither was she. Yet each imperfection told a story. And every time she picked up the brush again, she told the world: she had not given up.

Not on herself. Not on the realms. And not on the hope that, when the darkness came, she would be ready to shine.