Chapter 10

Ling Qingxiao quietly watched her without a word. Luo Han had no choice but to set aside her beloved "tablet" and follow him outside for practice.
The sunset painted the horizon gold, its rays spilling down the cliffs, making the massive sun seem within reach. Luo Han stepped outside, then abruptly remembered, "I don’t have a sword."
Below Ling Immortal stage, cultivators had to rely on flying artifacts. After becoming a Ling Immortal, one could freely soar through the skies unaided. Luo Han currently had no cultivation base and thus had to rely on a flying artifact—which she didn’t possess. Ling Qingxiao had been carrying her throughout their travels by sword only out of consideration.
Immortals loved beauty, and flying artifacts came in all manner of splendid forms—from elegant lotus platforms and flowing clouds to elaborate flying boats and luxurious pavilions.
But flying artifacts were also among the most expensive, prompting many cultivators, especially younger ones, to prefer the practical yet stylish method of sword flight.
Unfortunately, Luo Han was penniless at present. Despite possessing numerous priceless treasures, none could easily be exchanged for immediate currency. She didn’t even have the most basic immortal sword.
Just as she opened her mouth to suggest postponing practice until they exited the secret realm, Ling Qingxiao formed a hand seal, summoning his own sword, Jiuxiao.
Luo Han was stunned at the sight. "I'm just a beginner. An ordinary sword is fine—how can I use your personal sword?"
Ling Qingxiao was indifferent. "It doesn't matter. Using a high-quality sword will help you learn faster."
With no other option, Luo Han braced herself and approached the sword. As she got closer, she could clearly feel the biting chill emanating from the sword.
She stood there awkwardly, looking at the sword. "But I have no cultivation. How am I supposed to control it?"
Standing on the sword was easy enough, but making it rise was another matter entirely.
Ling Qingxiao explained patiently, "Cultivators store spiritual energy in their bodies to utilize it. You're different—you can directly command the spiritual energy around you without prior cultivation."
Cultivation essentially involved accumulating spiritual energy inside the body. Luo Han, however, didn't need this accumulation. She could control external spiritual energy directly. Still, even without storing energy, she needed to understand how each technique worked and practice until it became second nature.
When Ling Qingxiao said "you're different," Luo Han's heartbeat sped up momentarily. She didn't ask why she was different, nor did Ling Qingxiao explain further. Instead, he instructed her to feel the spiritual energy around her and attempt to direct it.
Following his instructions, Luo Han closed her eyes, visualizing the surrounding area from a bird’s-eye perspective. She saw countless glowing dots of five distinct colors, each representing one of the Five Elements, gently drifting around them. These dots, she realized, must be the spiritual energy.
Luo Han experimentally guided the spiritual energy and found it surprisingly obedient, following her will exactly. Feeling confident, she attempted to lift the sword with this spiritual energy—but this time, she failed.
Ling Qingxiao seemed to read her thoughts and instructed gently from the side, "Don't be anxious. Jiuxiao possesses its own consciousness. Guide it gently instead of forcing it."
Luo Han tried several more times. Finally, the sword shakily lifted into the air. Her eyes brightened with excitement at her accomplishment—until Ling Qingxiao mercilessly added, "Now, open your eyes, step onto the sword, and steer it."
Startled, Luo Han momentarily lost her focus. Jiuxiao instantly plummeted, stopping precisely an inch above the ground.
She sighed in relief, immediately apologizing, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop your sword."
Ling Qingxiao stabilized the sword but refused to straighten it himself. Instead, he instructed patiently yet sternly, "Sword control requires unwavering attention. You can't afford to lose focus. Now, straighten it yourself, and do it again."
What a ruthless instructor he was! Luo Han grumbled internally, forcing herself to regain control of the sword and steadying it once more.
Watching Ling Qingxiao effortlessly flying earlier had made the skill look deceptively easy. But now that she tried it herself, Luo Han realized how demanding precise control truly was. Standing upon the blade, she flew crookedly, swaying and stumbling. Ye Zinan watched from the treetop, anxiety written across his face.
Though Luo Han’s flight was shaky, she still managed to rise steadily and fly forward approximately ten meters. She was satisfied with her progress and was preparing to call it a successful day, but Ling Qingxiao showed no intention of letting her off easily.
"Your altitude and speed are inconsistent," he remarked bluntly. "Considering it's your first time, I'll give you an easier goal. Fly steadily in a straight line for three complete rounds, then you may rest."
Luo Han gasped audibly. Ye Zinan, eavesdropping from above, felt a cold chill down his spine.
Even as a member of the bird race, he remembered clearly his first flight experience. When he managed to rise into the air and maneuver a bit, the elders had already proclaimed him a prodigy of their Zhuque clan. Yet Ling Qingxiao expected a beginner to maintain perfect speed and height consistently for three laps?
Ye Zinan grew genuinely concerned. Had he been so negligent with his own training lately, or was Ling Qingxiao simply an extraordinary talent among the dragon clan?
Luo Han circled repeatedly over the cliff, improving gradually, yet still not meeting Ling Qingxiao's ruthless standards.
By the time night had fallen, the moon cast a silver glow across the mountain ridge. Ling Qingxiao stood gracefully beneath it, his robes gleaming like snow. Not far from him, Luo Han sat on the sword with resignation and a touch of grievance, refusing to continue.
Ling Qingxiao sighed softly. "For your first attempt, you're already doing well."
Luo Han looked up hopefully, but Ling Qingxiao remained calm and unmoved. "But still not enough."
Ye Zinan watched sympathetically as he stretched and leaped off the tree. He turned to Luo Han with a cheerful farewell, "I'll go back and rest first. Good luck!"
Luo Han watched helplessly as Ye Zinan confidently went off to rest, feeling increasingly miserable. Perhaps sensing her strong resentment, Ling Qingxiao conceded slightly. "Alright, rest briefly. We'll continue in fifteen minutes."
Luo Han eagerly jumped down, stretching her stiff legs and back. She'd barely relaxed when Ling Qingxiao's voice calmly announced, "Time's up."
She stared at him blankly, disbelief clear on her face. Was this man's heart made of stone? Was this any way to treat a delicate young lady?
Ling Qingxiao was unbothered by her pleading look. "You take approximately fifteen minutes per lap, and at your current success rate, you'll likely need two attempts per successful round. Therefore, if you start practicing now, after six rounds you'll have just enough time left to sleep four hours. Otherwise, you'll have to sacrifice your sleep."
Luo Han felt overwhelmed by his cold, meticulous calculations. He was clearly a cultivation machine!
The next day, Luo Han stood numbly on the flying sword, completely drained of spirit. They journeyed toward the Far North, crossing more than half of the secret realm before finally retrieving their first Crane Orchid.
The remaining herb would have to wait until tomorrow. Bitterly cold winds swept across the endless snowy landscape. Thankfully, cultivation robes had built-in warming formations, allowing Luo Han to stay comfortably warm even in thin garments.
They found shelter early to rest from the unknown dangers lurking in the icy north. Ling Qingxiao was temporarily away, giving Ye Zinan a chance to quietly approach Luo Han and ask sympathetically, "How many times did you practice last night after I left?"
"Eight," Luo Han replied, her face emotionless.
Ye Zinan grimaced, his sympathy evident. "That's brutal."
Luo Han didn't wish to continue the painful topic, knowing Ling Qingxiao would soon return to drag her out for yet another lesson. Ye Zinan observed her quietly, curiosity evident in his eyes. "What exactly is your relationship with him? He's so cold to everyone else yet so diligent with you."
Cultivators rarely meddled openly in each other’s private matters. Although Ye Zinan had witnessed the earlier drama involving Ling Qingxiao's family, he hadn't probed deeply into it. However, Ling Qingxiao's meticulous care towards Luo Han intrigued him intensely.
Luo Han stared quietly at the snow-covered plains, speaking softly, "Every person's temperament is different. Some speak first and act later; some act without saying a word. Some boast loudly of every small favor, while others never speak but remember everything silently."
The male lead, Ling Zhongyu, was the former; Ling Qingxiao, the latter.
Unfortunately, the child who cries the loudest gets the milk, and the one who knows how to speak well finds favor among the crowd. As for the silent ones...in the end, even their greatest contributions will be forgotten.
Ye Zinan listened thoughtfully, sensing that Luo Han’s words carried a deeper meaning. But instead of elaborating, she simply said, “He may seem distant and cold, but in truth, he’s patient and responsible. Even the smallest things, just mentioned in passing, he remembers. He’s not as untouchable and indifferent as the rumors make him out to be.”
Ye Zinan clicked his tongue. “Oh? Defending him now?”
Luo Han ignored his teasing.
For all that she had spoken just now, she had yet to actually answer Ye Zinan’s question. He either hadn’t noticed or had simply chosen not to press further about her relationship with Ling Qingxiao.
After this exchange, the distance between them naturally shrank, and Luo Han finally remembered to learn more about her new teammate.
“How old are you?” she asked.
In the Immortal Realm, age was a mark of seniority, as natural to ask as a person’s name. Ye Zinan didn’t think much of it and casually replied, “One hundred thousand and eight.”
Luo Han froze for a moment. “...Your age?”
Ye Zinan found the question odd. “Yeah. What about you?”
Luo Han hesitated, then after a pause, answered, “Eighteen.”
Ye Zinan waited a beat before his eyes widened in shock. “...Just eighteen?”
“Yeah.”
Both of them were momentarily speechless.
Luo Han, utterly baffled, asked, “You’re over a hundred thousand years old, while Ling Qingxiao is barely a thousand. So tell me, how are you still losing to him?”
“How the hell are you talking to me right now?” The ancient senior, Ye Zinan, was deeply offended. “We bird demons aren’t built for combat, alright? Besides, I’m not old! In the Vermilion Bird Clan, I’m still a blooming young flower!”
After a round of mutual verbal attacks, both of them felt slightly wounded.
Ye Zinan wasn’t about to let it go and was preparing to fire back when, from outside, a calm and icy voice suddenly called out:
“Luo Han.”
That voice. That tone.
Luo Han’s expression instantly turned to one of pure suffering.
By now, Ye Zinan had developed a conditioned response—just hearing Ling Qingxiao say “Luo Han” made his scalp tingle. Quietly, he scooted away and flashed her a thumbs-up in encouragement. “Good luck. I’m going to bed.”
Luo Han, seeing that escape was impossible, trudged toward the exit with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their execution.
All she wanted in this life was to be an ordinary, unremarkable person—live off her real estate investments, collect rent, and take it easy.
So why, even after transmigrating, was she still being forced to study?