Chapter 106

Luo Han’s heart skipped a beat. A deep unease crept over her. She tried to sense how the future might shift—but, unsurprisingly, she came up empty.
One cannot heal oneself. Luo Han could read the paths of fate for others, but not for herself. The moment something touched her own destiny, her perception was sealed.
Still, even the lack of vision confirmed one thing—what was happening now was intricately tied to her future. And that...was far from good news.
She and Ling Qingxiao both fell silent. He, too, was thinking about the demon god.
Feng Yujia noticed their sudden change in demeanor and grew tense. “What is it?” she asked urgently. “Is something wrong here?”
Luo Han shook her head. She didn’t want to bring up the Middle Era. “We’re not sure yet. But danger lies ahead. Be careful.”
In other words: if Feng Yuchen caused trouble again, she would not be saving him.
From the moment they entered, Feng Yujia had sensed something was off. She couldn’t explain it, but her years of instinct told her the place was dangerous. Now that even Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao warned her, she dared not be careless. Quietly, she began to circulate her spiritual energy, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Feng Yuchen, watching his companions remain on high alert, was baffled. Everything looked so vibrant and peaceful. Precious herbs that even a sect couldn’t afford were sprouting from the ground like common weeds. Wasn’t this an immense stroke of luck?
He scoffed. “Aren’t you all being a little paranoid? These are all treasures! Where’s the danger?”
Luo Han cast him a sidelong glance. “There’s no such thing as free fortune. Use your brain. So many priceless spiritual herbs, all untouched? Even if by some miracle we stumbled upon an undiscovered treasure trove, ancient spirit herbs—no matter how rare—should have long since turned to dust. How can they still be plump and fresh after hundreds of thousands of years?”
Feng Yuchen hesitated. Her words made him look again—and now, he did notice certain inconsistencies.
By now, Ling Qingxiao had a working theory. “I once heard of a phenomenon,” he began. “Some magnetic rock walls, when struck by lightning, can preserve images from a certain time. What we’re seeing now may not be real, but echoes of the past—projections captured long ago. At some point, the scenery of an ancient land was stored in these stones. When the earthquake unearthed them, and under the right conditions, those images were released.”
Luo Han caught on immediately. “Like a natural version of a shadow crystal?”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. “Exactly.”
Realization dawned on Luo Han. “So the mirage that appeared after the quake wasn’t a real ruin emerging from the earth, but a projection cast by those stone walls. It flickers because the magnetic fields are unstable—it only activates under certain conditions.”
Feng Yujia was still catching up, but she quickly realized Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were already deep into technical discussion. She didn’t interrupt, instead staying close and listening quietly.
But this brief journey had already taught her something: Ling Qingxiao’s depth of knowledge was astounding.
She had assumed he was just a martial prodigy, but clearly, his scholarly foundation was just as terrifying.
Along the way, Ling Qingxiao could name every weed and herb, their lifespans, their origins, even their extinction timelines. He was like a walking, talking compendium. Talent alone didn’t bring one this far—he was also relentlessly disciplined.
No wonder he had rewritten history.
Feng Yujia sighed inwardly. The more she saw, the more she realized she needed to forge a strong bond with Ling Qingxiao. She had once only half-believed the rumors of the Celestial Emperor’s favor. But now, seeing him in person, she was sure: Ling Qingxiao’s future would far surpass anyone’s expectations.
A man like him would never remain in obscurity. If she could attach herself to him now—before he truly rose to power—then when he eventually took command of Sanqing Heaven, her choice today could shift the fate of all Wuzhou.
Feng Yuchen, meanwhile, couldn’t quite follow their conversation. Looking at the vivid, lifelike Middle Era flora all around, he just couldn’t believe it was all fake. “These are just illusions? But illusions are usually conjured by someone. What illusion could replicate extinct spirit herbs down to the tiniest detail?”
Luo Han could hardly believe it—this arrogant, foolish, and self-absorbed man was the future king of the Phoenix Clan? She muttered, “This isn’t an illusion. The plants and trees look real...because they once were. But now? The divine energy has long since faded with time. Who knows what hides beneath that surface?”
With a flick of his sleeve, Ling Qingxiao released a stream of spiritual energy. “Let’s find out.”
His Qi carried a purifying ripple. As it touched the spirit herbs, the once-glorious plants began to blacken. Suddenly, they disintegrated into countless inky specks that surged toward them like a tide.
Feng Yuchen jumped back in alarm, hastily summoning his protective artifact. “What the hell is that?!”
Ling Qingxiao’s expression turned grim. “Nethermoths. Don’t let them touch you. If even a single one lands on your body—cut it off. Immediately.”
Feng Yujia’s blood ran cold. She’d heard of Nethermoths—creatures born of deathly Yin Qi, their delicate wings laced with glittering phosphor powder. Beautiful, yes—but the powder clung like a curse. Once it touched a host, it drained their life force within seconds, reducing even a peak cultivator to a withered husk.
Those seemingly idyllic Middle Era scenes? Illusions crafted from the corpses of death-born demons. Had Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao not spoken up, any one of them could’ve reached for a flower or herb...and paid with their life.
Feng Yuchen finally understood—Luo Han had saved him.
Feng Yujia, though not the most gifted, had cultivated diligently for years and accumulated many life-saving techniques. Feng Yuchen, though less disciplined, was spoiled by the Phoenix Queen herself and had no shortage of defensive treasures. The siblings flailed and scrambled but managed to barely defend themselves.
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, however, looked entirely at ease. Ling Qingxiao formed a shield of spiritual energy, keeping all the moths at bay. The Nethermoths, drawn to his vibrant life force, hurled themselves toward the barrier like moths to a flame. But the moment they touched his Qi, they ignited into blue fire and vanished in streaks of ash.
Within the spiritual barrier, Luo Han watched calmly before murmuring, “There are too many. This is triggering my trypophobia. Since these moths are born of death Qi, their source must be nearby—and extremely powerful.”
“You’re right.” Ling Qingxiao extended his hand, summoning his spirit flame. He coated one of the moths in it. The pale-blue flame seemed fragile at first...but the moment it made contact, it exploded like fire meeting oil. In the blink of an eye, the flame expanded into a raging inferno.
Feng Yuchen had already burned through several artifacts and was hanging on by sheer desperation. When he suddenly saw the moths around him bursting into cold, silent flames, he recoiled in shock. The fire burned with no heat, no light—only a devouring chill.
He looked up and saw that every last moth in sight was engulfed in eerie blue fire. One spark spread to ten, ten to a hundred. In moments, the entire sky was ablaze. Though Nethermoth powder was vicious, Ling Qingxiao’s spirit fire was fiercer still. It swept through the air like a storm, incinerating every last speck of death energy.
It took the time of an incense stick for the flames to die down.
Feng Yuchen stood frozen, stunned into silence. After a long moment, he finally asked, “What artifact was that? Where did you buy it?”
Feng Yujia, hair slightly tousled but otherwise composed, sighed and put away her own weapon. “It’s not an artifact. That’s Ling Clan Leader’s spirit fire.”
Feng Yuchen gaped. “Spirit fire?!”
The kind every cultivator could summon? Was this a joke? He had spirit fire too, and it sure as hell couldn’t do that.
Feng Yujia shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve seen such a terrifying spirit flame. Spirit fire is tied to the soul—if his fire is this strong, that means his cultivation is truly fathomless. And he’s only a thousand years old...truly formidable.”
Only then did Feng Yuchen realize—he was actually older than Ling Qingxiao.
He felt a deep embarrassment settle in. Ling Qingxiao was so poised, so powerful, that Feng Yuchen had unconsciously assumed he was from the same generation as the Phoenix Queen.
In status, perhaps. But in age...Ling Qingxiao wasn’t even close.
The blow was so great that Feng Yuchen barely spoke the rest of the way. Which, honestly, was a blessing.
Luo Han focused, following the trace of death Qi. “It’s coming from this direction.”
Feng Yujia, now completely convinced of the duo’s strength, silently allowed them to take the lead.
After Ling Qingxiao’s fire had purged the surroundings, the illusion finally dissolved. What remained was a ruined site of crumbling walls, decay, and eerie winds—no trace of the serene paradise they’d seen before.
Now this—this was what a true ruin should look like. With no distractions, the group moved swiftly. Luo Han led them to a massive, fractured stone wall.
“This is the place.”
“Stay behind me,” Ling Qingxiao said, stepping forward to investigate. He scanned the area, eyes narrowing. “This was once an altar. These wall fragments were once murals. The center was likely the sacrificial platform. After the quake, the foundation collapsed, but some of the murals survived.”
Luo Han followed his gaze and saw the evidence: toppled stones still formed the faint outline of a circular platform. She turned to the wall. Amid the grime and erosion, faint red markings could just barely be seen.
“What’s this drawing?” she frowned, trying to decipher it. “It’s too old...I can’t make it out.”
Feng Yujia, having been little help so far, stepped forward. She searched diligently until she found a half-buried slab of untouched stone.
“Over here—look! This piece isn’t weathered!”
The others hurried over. Using spiritual energy, Feng Yujia unearthed the buried slab. Because it had been hidden underground, the carving on its surface was miraculously well-preserved.
As they brushed away the dirt, the image slowly came into view.
“What is this…?”
Feng Yujia shook her head. “I can’t make it out. The sediment is too thick, and I’m afraid of damaging the carving underneath if I try to force it.”
“I’ll handle it,” Luo Han said, motioning for her to step aside.
She placed her hand above the fractured stone wall, and grains of dirt lifted cleanly into the air, separating one by one from the stone’s surface without disturbing a single mark. Feng Yujia watched in astonishment. Until now, Luo Han hadn’t acted at all; Feng Yujia had assumed she was weak and depended solely on Ling Qingxiao’s protection. Clearly, she had been wrong—Luo Han was no ordinary cultivator.
As the last of the dust lifted away, the mural was finally revealed. Luo Han studied the ancient lines and gradually discerned the outline of a woman. She frowned slightly. “It looks like...a woman in red. What is she doing?”
A woman, dressed in red, standing before an altar?
Ling Qingxiao’s eyes narrowed. Something stirred in the depths of his memory, just as space itself abruptly warped. He instinctively reached out for Luo Han, but his hand closed on nothing.
His heart sank.
Luo Han felt the ripple in the space-time fabric, but the flow of time hadn’t shifted; they were still in the Tianqi Era. She remained calm and waited for the vision to fully take form.
When the distortion faded, she found herself wearing different clothing—a long black robe with a crimson skirt beneath, and a grand, embroidered outer coat draped over her shoulders. Before she could process her surroundings, a shrill voice rang out from outside: “Sixth Miss, the bridal escort is almost here! Are you still not ready?”
Luo Han’s brows drew together. Bridal escort?
A maidservant rushed in and, seeing Luo Han frozen in place, grabbed her by the arm in frustration. “Miss! You’ve always been out of favor. Today is such a grand event—why aren’t you using this chance to show your face in front of the lord? If you don’t move now, there won’t even be a spot left at the front for you!”
Luo Han was still catching up. “Wait—what day is it today?”
“Miss, have you gone dull?” The maid gaped at her like she’d just watched a genius waste their only opportunity. “Today is the sacred ceremony! The eldest miss has been chosen as the new Holy Maiden! This is the pride of the entire Che Clan! You’re just as beautiful as the eldest miss—if you show yourself today, maybe a Demon Envoy will take notice and you could be chosen too!”
Demon Envoy. Luo Han finally heard a term she understood. She asked casually, “Will there be a lot of them?”
“Of course! They’re here to receive the Holy Maiden—it’s a grand affair,” the maid said, eyes dreamy. “To serve the Demon God is the greatest honor. If chosen, you’ll live a life of luxury—and your entire family will rise with you.”
The Demon God...Luo Han’s heart twisted with unspeakable emotion. She had already suspected as much. Now that the pieces were falling into place, she felt strangely calm.
An altar, a Holy Maiden, a mural...It all pointed to one truth.
They had entered the world of the mural.
And the mural itself? A sacred offering—worship of the Demon God. In this time, the Demon God had not yet fallen. His followers were still many, fervent, and powerful.
Based on what the maid had said, the "Holy Maiden" was nothing more than a divine concubine—a servant in name, a sacrificial bride in truth, bestowed unimaginable honor. Luo Han, it seemed, had taken on the role of the younger sister to one such chosen maiden.
A younger sister, unloved and disregarded.
And today...was the Demon God's wedding day. Or more accurately—his selection of a new consort.
Luo Han had no desire to show her face outside. She had been to the Middle Era. What if someone recognized her?
Unfortunately, the maid was determined to fulfill her “mission.” Seeing that Luo Han wasn’t cooperating, she started physically pushing her toward the door.
Luo Han discovered that her spiritual energy had been sealed. Within this painted world, she was bound by the rules of the mural. As an unloved, likely illegitimate daughter, she would naturally possess little to no cultivation. Her appearance was still her own, but her power was suppressed to nearly nothing.
However, she could still feel the flow of time—and it hadn’t changed. Which meant she could forcibly break free at any moment. There was no need to panic, so she allowed the maid to push her forward.
They had just passed the screen when the door was pushed open from the outside. Luo Han looked up. A tall figure stood in the doorway, his presence like an icy blade cutting through the air.
The maid nearly swallowed her tongue. “G-Grand Young Master?!”
Ling Qingxiao’s expression softened slightly when his eyes landed on Luo Han. He strode toward her, his gaze locking on the maid who still held Luo Han’s wrist. Coldly, he said, “Let go.”
The maid dropped her hand as though burned. Luo Han rubbed her wrist and raised a brow, amused.
“Big Brother?”
Ling Qingxiao sighed inwardly but accepted the role. “It’s me.”
When he had missed catching her moments ago, his heart had nearly stopped. After falling into this world, he hadn’t even paused to orient himself—he had come looking for her immediately.
Thank the heavens...he’d found her.
From the maid’s fearful reaction, it was clear this “Grand Young Master” held considerable status—likely the clan’s legitimate eldest son. Judging by her surprise, these siblings weren’t close. For him to abandon the ceremony and come seek out the Sixth Miss...was completely out of character.
But Ling Qingxiao couldn’t care less about “character.”
He glanced at the maid. “You’re dismissed. Unless summoned, you’re not to enter again.”
The maid opened her mouth, looked between the two of them, then wisely said nothing and left with her head bowed.
Once the room was quiet again, Luo Han chuckled. “Brother, we may be siblings, but we’re both grown. Isn’t it a little inappropriate to lock me in here?”
A proud and proper eldest son, and a forgotten Sixth Miss?
What was this? A vintage family-drama trope?
Ling Qingxiao sighed. “Don’t start.”
Luo Han couldn’t stop laughing. “Who’s starting anything? If your conscience is clean, why did you drive the maid out?”
Ling Qingxiao knew she wouldn’t let this go anytime soon. He gave in and pulled her close. “We’re real siblings—there’s no need to fuss about appearances.”
Luo Han nearly choked, while Ling Qingxiao seemed to have become addicted—he pulled her even closer and said, “Today is your elder sister’s wedding. Let’s go pay her a visit.”
When it came to shamelessness, it was now a matter of who had the thicker skin. In the beginning, Ling Qingxiao had always been on the receiving end of Luo Han’s teasing, but soon, he began drawing on his terrifying capacity for learning. He analyzed, adapted, and improved until he not only caught up but even surpassed his “teacher.”
This time, Luo Han was caught off guard and actually found herself blushing.
Ling Qingxiao led her through the manor’s corridors. The courtyard was bustling with activity. The passing servants, upon seeing the pair, stepped aside in deference, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear.
As the noise grew louder and the crowd thicker, Luo Han suddenly realized something was off. She frowned. “Have you been here before?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know where the bride’s chamber is?”
“I guessed.” Ling Qingxiao’s tone was mild. “These courtyards are laid out in balanced symmetry. With a bit of deduction, it’s easy to find.”
“…” Luo Han wisely chose silence. There was no competing with a scholar’s humility.
Inside the bridal chamber, the atmosphere was festive and joyful. When the crowd saw Ling Qingxiao arrive with Luo Han in tow, the entire room fell quiet.
One by one, people stood and stepped aside, respectfully bowing. “Greetings, Young Master.”
As the crowd parted, Luo Han caught sight of the bride seated on the wedding bed. The moment their eyes met, the bride’s gaze widened in shock.
“Luo—”
“Elder Sister,” Luo Han swiftly interrupted Feng Yujia, her voice calm and clear. “Today is your great day. To be chosen as a Holy Maiden by the Demon God is the highest honor. From now on, the clan will rely on you. When you reach the divine temple, remember to be cautious in word and deed, and serve the Demon God well.”
Feng Yujia heard the subtle emphasis and quickly composed herself. Like a proper young mistress, she lowered her chin with refined grace. Though they had been dragged into a mural world, the roles assigned to each of them closely mirrored their real personalities—Luo Han, being the youngest, played the youngest sister; Ling Qingxiao, noble and stern, the eldest son; Feng Yujia, the perfect noblewoman, naturally played the bride.
But where was Feng Yuchen?
When Feng Yujia had first awakened, she’d been surrounded by maids bustling to adorn her. Not knowing what was happening, she hadn’t dared act out of turn and could only sit still in confusion and anxiety.
The sight of Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao had almost made her cry out in relief. Fortunately, Luo Han had reacted swiftly, speaking in code and wrapping all the vital clues—time, place, and next steps—into one line. Feng Yujia was clever; she immediately understood the implications and began to calm down.
Still—the Demon God?
They had actually entered the realm of the Demon God?
Feng Yujia’s entire worldview was shaken. In her world, the gods were ancient myths—legendary beings who had long since vanished. Who would’ve thought she would not only travel to an era where gods still walked the earth, but also be sent as an offering to one?
Of course she was terrified.
But beside her stood Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, both calm and composed. Their presence alone was enough to soothe her panic.
At some point, these two had become her anchors. With them around, she no longer feared the unknown.
Suddenly, the sound of ceremonial music thundered from outside. A wave of people burst into the room, shouting excitedly, “Cover the bride! The Demon Envoys have arrived!”