Chapter 124

Luo Han was certain he was up to something. She sighed inwardly. How far the world had fallen—where once stood a noble and courteous Ling Qingxiao, now sat this devious schemer.
Back then, he would turn around and seal his senses just because she was changing her cloak.
Now? He was a manipulative little fox.
“I mean it,” she said. “I’m really going to look.”
She reached for his robe tie. Ling Qingxiao didn’t flinch, not even a blink. That look on his face said it all: Whichever one of us backs out first is a coward.
In the end, she caved.
Drawing her hand back with a grumble, she muttered, “Fine, I’ll stop. Seriously though, how are the wounds?”
“I wasn’t joking,” Ling Qingxiao replied.
He pulled back his collar, revealing a long, red scar. “It’s nothing major.”
His movements were calm and casual. If Luo Han acted shy now, it would only make her look inexperienced. So, she leaned in and inspected the wound without flinching.
What she saw, though, made her heart ache. So many days had passed. Despite the best spiritual medicines delivered daily, the wound still hadn’t healed. And this was just one of many.
Luo Han said nothing. Her hand began to glow with soft white light as she gently pressed it to the scar. Healing energy flowed from her fingers, slow and steady.
This...this was yet another boundary they’d crossed. They had held hands, embraced, but always with a layer of clothing between them. This was the first time skin touched skin.
Ling Qingxiao instinctively wanted to pull away. But he endured it.
The discomfort faded quickly. In its place came a tingling warmth, subtle and persistent, drawing him in.
Maybe it was the healing spell. Or maybe...it was her touch.
Luo Han continued treating his wounds, and as she worked, his robes inevitably loosened further. Once she’d finished tending to the outer injuries, she hesitated to go any deeper. Withdrawing her hand, she asked softly, “All done. How do you feel now?”
Ling Qingxiao came back to himself, gathering his robes. “Much better. Thank you.”
His current clothes were simple and loose, just two thin layers—suitable for rest and recovery. But when he adjusted his collar, Luo Han caught sight of an old scar on his chest. She quickly stopped his hand. “Don’t move. What’s that?”
Ling Qingxiao lowered his gaze. “That?” He spoke lightly. “It’s an old wound. From when my dragon core was taken. It’s been five hundred years. The scar’s faded.”
An immortal’s body was pure and flawless, injuries rarely left a trace. Over the years, Ling Qingxiao had suffered countless wounds, and yet his skin remained unblemished, like carved white jade. Only this scar remained, a mark that time could not erase.
She had heard about what happened, but hearing was different from seeing. The moment she laid eyes on it, she understood. The scar was still so clear after so many years, it must have cut deep, painfully so.
Unable to help herself, Luo Han reached out, gently touching the mark. “Did it hurt...back then?”
“It’s long past,” Ling Qingxiao replied. “It looks worse than it was. It wasn’t fatal.”
“Not fatal?” Luo Han didn’t know whether to laugh or scold. “It’s right by your heart. If that’s not fatal, then what is?”
Ling Qingxiao smiled faintly and shifted his position slightly. Three inches to the left of his heart, a faint silver light shimmered beneath the skin, a single scale began to glow.
Luo Han’s eyes widened. “That’s…”
“My inverse scale,” he said. “A dragon’s body is covered in armor, impervious to blade, fire, or water. But the inverse scale…once damaged, it never heals. It’s the only true weakness.”
So this was the fabled inverse scale. Luo Han couldn’t help her curiosity—she reached out and touched it lightly.
Cool and smooth, the scale felt like polished jade, resilient yet refined. Fascinated, Luo Han stroked it again. But just as she began to grow engrossed, her wrist was caught.
Ling Qingxiao’s grip was firm, almost instinctive.
Startled, Luo Han blinked and quickly reassured him, “Are you worried? Don’t be. I’d never hurt you.”
It made sense, this was his most vulnerable spot. Being on guard was only natural.
But Ling Qingxiao gave a helpless sigh. “That’s not it. Even if you came at it with a blade, I wouldn’t stop you.”
She stared at him, confused. He had no fear, not of her, not even of this scale that could cost him his life.
“You think I’m guarding my inverse scale?” Ling Qingxiao said, exasperated. “It’s not the weakness I fear. I stopped you because...for another reason.”
Luo Han frowned, sensing his pause. “This is your heart’s shield—your only unhealable wound. And you trust me with it?”
“What does trust have to do with it?” he answered calmly. “If it’s you, and you want something, I’ll give it to you myself. You don’t even have to ask.”
Such words...were terrifying in their weight.
Luo Han had to speak. “You can’t be like this. You need to protect yourself. Never let your guard down—not even around me. You have to put your safety first.”
But Ling Qingxiao’s gaze remained calm, unwavering.
“I’ve never put up walls with you,” he said. “If you ever wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t need my inverse scale.”
Luo Han’s heart stirred. She wanted to respond but the words never came.
Sensing her silence, Ling Qingxiao didn’t press the matter. He straightened his collar and said, “There are two things I wanted to tell you.”
Luo Han glanced out the window. “The medicine should be taking effect. You should sleep. Tell me after you wake up.”
Whatever he intended to say, it wouldn’t be quick.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t argue. He nodded, letting her help him lie down. She tucked him in with gentle hands. “Rest well. I’m right here.”
Drowsiness soon overtook him. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw Luo Han lean down and blow out the candle. The flame flickered, then vanished.
The palace was swallowed in silence. Moonlight streamed through the windows, casting everything in a cold, tranquil silver. Her silhouette stood framed by the night, soft and ethereal, like something from a dream.
Ling Qingxiao closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him.
Luo Han doused the lamps, closed the bed’s curtains, and tiptoed out of the hall. Outside, the petals of the glowing night-tree drifted down like falling stars, pulsing softly as they touched the ground.
Here, the winds were stronger, the air thinner. Luo Han absentmindedly brushed back her wind-tossed hair, wandering aimlessly between the palatial buildings.
This was the Celestial Emperor’s domain, a place forbidden to enter without express command. The rest of the Immortal Realm bustled at night, but Great Luo Heaven remained silent, as though uninhabited.
Which, in a way, it was.
Ling Qingxiao disliked crowds. He had no family, no clan. Aside from himself, Luo Han, and a few essential attendants, the entire realm lay empty.
Her footsteps echoed through the stone pathways.
Troubled by her thoughts, she finally stopped at an open pavilion, leaning against the railing as she gazed into the churning clouds below.
Ling Qingxiao said he had two things to tell her. She didn’t know what both were but she could guess one of them.
Most likely...it was about the demon in his heart. He was ready to face the distance between them. But was she?
When would she be ready to cross the invisible gap between them? The truth of her transmigration, the plot of the original story, the Bodhi Tree’s warning, each weighed heavily on her heart.
She had promised to treat Ling Qingxiao as a new person, to not judge him for the future actions of another version of himself.
But how could she fully separate the two, when they were one and the same? This time they had together…it felt too much like a stolen moment. A fleeting indulgence.
Deep down, Luo Han often wondered: if not for her…who would Ling Qingxiao have chosen?
She had intercepted the plot. She had fallen from the sky into his darkest hour and become the one who stood by his side.
But if fate had gone as intended, if she had never come crashing into the Abyss, would Ling Qingxiao ever have loved her? Or was it always meant to be someone else?
Luo Han stared down into the strange, churning clouds beneath her feet. Her gaze remained fixed for a long time, unmoving. Finally, she blinked and in that very moment, she noticed the clouds below twisting into a great vortex, a roaring spiral like a dragon’s breath sweeping across the skies.
She frowned. What is that?
Just as she rose from the railing to call for someone, the token the Black Tortoise had given her suddenly lit up with a faint pulse. That was how the Bodhi Tree communicated with her. Could this chaos…be its doing?
She didn’t even have time to form a clear thought before the ground beneath her vanished. A strange force pulled her in swift, silent, irresistible. She had no time to react, no time to resist. One blink, and she was gone.
Darkness became light. She reflexively raised a hand to shield her eyes. But she wasn’t the same girl from before, her senses quickly adapted. When she lowered her hand, several pairs of eyes were already staring at her, wide with surprise.
The Bodhi Tree. The Black Tortoise. A number of ancient beings were gathered there, their expressions painted in shock.
The Bodhi Tree’s leaves trembled violently. “Why are you back? Did the time-travel fail?!”
Luo Han’s eyes widened as well. “I...I was about to ask you the same thing. Why am I back?!”
Turning around, she found herself standing once again on the scorched, barren land, the very place where it had all begun. Around her stood the Bodhi Tree, the Black Tortoise, and the other ancients creatures that rarely stirred from their domains. The boundary shimmered with a faint green glow.
This…was where I first crossed worlds.
The Bodhi Tree, flustered and pressed for time, didn’t even stop to confirm anything. It simply assumed the spatial vortex had collapsed and Luo Han’s transmigration had failed.
In a rush, it gathered its spiritual power. “Quick! We’ll open another path through the temporal rift. We must send you back immediately before it’s too late”
The words hadn’t even left its mouth when it abruptly stopped.
“…Too late.”
The barrier shattered, shards of green light fell like broken glass. The outside air surged in, heavy with the scent of war and smoke. Luo Han turned, stunned and saw someone standing at the edge of the broken ward.
Tall. Cold. Radiant like an ice blade beneath the heavens.
He wore the full regalia of the Celestial Emperor, every inch immaculate and commanding. And he was looking at her not as if he were seeing an old acquaintance, but as if she were a complete stranger.
Luo Han froze.
“…Ling Qingxiao.”
Just moments ago, they had stood together. And yet this Ling Qingxiao looked at her as though they had never met.
“So it is the Heavenly Dao,” he said calmly. “Forgive me for not welcoming you personally.”
His voice was polite. But the weight behind his words was colder than steel.
“Men,” he commanded. “Escort the Heavenly Dao back to the Heavenly Palace.”