Chapter 127

The vision had been so real. He could still feel the breeze in that flower field, the cool air against his skin. This wasn’t imagination. Ling Qingxiao stood motionless, deeply unsettled. These weren’t his memories, so why had they surfaced?
He tried again to return his focus to work but failed. Eventually, he gave up, rising and walking toward the window.
Outside, the wind howled through Da Luo Heaven, and waves of clouds rolled through the sky. It was a scene he’d grown used to over the millennia...but tonight, it felt unfamiliar.
It took him a while to realize what was different. In the distance, the lights in Chongguang Hall were still glowing.
There was no one else in Da Luo Heaven, only him, a divine beast, and the Nine Heavens Sword. After nightfall, only Yuqing Palace ever remained lit. Now, rows of lanterns flickered from Chongguang Hall across the courtyard, quiet but steady, like a silent form of companionship.
Ling Qingxiao stared for a long time, then turned away, sleeves sweeping coldly behind him, and went back to his scrolls. This time, oddly enough, his mind was clear. No more distractions.
Ling Qingxiao had personally gone to escort Luo Han back to the palace, a rare break from overseeing the frontline where millions of troops awaited his return. But even in his absence, court affairs piled up like waves. Most he had already pre-arranged, but as always, unexpected matters surfaced that only he could decide.
He worked through the night. By the time he looked up again, it was already nearing si-shi (around 9–11 a.m.). He frowned. Something...felt off.
He glanced at the still-burning lantern on the corner of the desk—and suddenly remembered.
Luo Han. It had been so long. Why had she remained so quiet?
Ling Qingxiao’s expression darkened. He rose and made his way toward Chongguang Hall.
The grand doors were closed. Everything appeared normal. Ling Qingxiao’s eyes narrowed as he knocked calmly.
“Heavenly Dao—are you inside?”
No answer. His gaze turned cold. Had he underestimated someone? For someone to take her from right under his nose...impossible.
He waited a moment longer, then pushed the doors open.
The protective formations were intact. Not a single disturbance. Which was odd, Ling Qingxiao hadn’t stationed visible guards or locks, but the hall had been sealed with layers of intricate spiritual arrays.
If someone had entered or left, the wards would’ve reacted. Could someone really bypass all of that without alerting him? Suspicion gnawed at him as he stepped into the quiet hall. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze that followed him inside.
Then he heard it. Soft breathing.
Ling Qingxiao walked toward the bedchamber. Behind the gauzy drapes was a vague silhouette, slender and still, lying sideways on the bed.
Anyone else might’ve been fooled, but not him.
Even so, this puppet technique was unusually lifelike. Was it another ploy?
Ling Qingxiao’s face remained cold. He reached out to draw back the bed curtains—but his hand paused.
He could hear her soft, even breaths. Smell the faint floral scent of her hair. She was lying slightly askew, her long hair splayed over the pillow, head tilted inward, dark locks trailing across her fair skin.
Black hair. Snow-white skin. Crimson lips. The contrast was breathtaking. Ling Qingxiao stood frozen by the bed, unsure what to do next.
Spying on a sleeping woman was improper. By all rights, he should turn away...but what if it was a trap? Still, if this was a puppet, it was too perfect.
While he hesitated, the figure stirred.
Luo Han woke, blinking sleepily as the breeze brushed her face. Through bleary eyes, she saw the familiar outline standing beside her bed. She yawned, reached out and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist.
“So sleepy...Why are you here?”
Ling Qingxiao stiffened completely.
After a long moment, he slowly reached down, attempting to peel her off. “Heavenly Dao…I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
As his hand brushed her arm, he recoiled instinctively as if burned.
Luo Han had tossed and turned through the night. Her robe was slightly disheveled, the wide sleeves slipping down her arm, revealing smooth skin as pale as jade beneath.
She sighed, still half-asleep, snuggling against him. The fabric of his robe was cool and smooth, and the curve of his waist felt familiar. Her cheek pressed lightly against him.
“I dreamed of you last night,” she murmured. “You were so cold. I said goodnight...and you didn’t even respond.”
Ling Qingxiao stood there, utterly stiff, still trapped in her embrace. Never in his life had he experienced anything this...mortifying.
He tried to rouse her. “This isn’t a dream. Sit up first.”
She had just woken up, mind still foggy and time all muddled. In Luo Han’s blurred memories, she remembered back when she first met Ling Qingxiao, he used to say that too: “Sit properly.”
Back then, he couldn’t even tolerate her sitting crookedly.
Luo Han’s head rested against him, her breathing gradually steadying as she drifted off again. Ling Qingxiao was at a loss. He had no choice but to silently recite “see no evil” as he pried her arms off his waist.
As her arms dropped, her body tilted dangerously, nearly falling off the bed. Ling Qingxiao instinctively caught her and even he was startled by his own reaction.
Why did he do that?
He could’ve easily used spiritual energy. And even if Luo Han had fallen, she wouldn’t have been harmed in the slightest.
The sudden shift in balance stirred Luo Han awake. Half-lidded eyes cracked open. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around Ling Qingxiao’s neck. The more he tried to keep distance, the closer they got. He couldn’t fling her off now. With a stiff expression, he supported her neck and gently laid her back on the pillow, then tried to extract himself from her grasp.
The moment she touched the bedding, her limbs went slack. Ling Qingxiao finally freed himself. He didn’t dare look back at the scene on the bed. Face dark, he turned and strode away.
He returned to Yuqing Palace in record time, his expression thunderous. The divine beast Xiezhi, sitting like a stone statue at the palace gates, blinked in surprise when he saw the emperor rush past. “Your Majesty?”
Ling Qingxiao headed straight inside, grabbed a cup from the table, whatever was in it, and downed it in one gulp. The cold liquid slid down his throat, and his dazed mind finally sobered a little.
He could barely believe he’d made such a grave mistake. It wasn’t just a misjudgment about the barrier, he couldn’t even tell if someone was real or a puppet? All his years of cultivation had clearly been for nothing.
To be fair, no one could blame him too much. People always judged others by their own standards. And up until today, Ling Qingxiao truly could not imagine someone who could sleep until midday without being roused by people entering or leaving their room.
Xiezhi hopped down from its pedestal and wandered into the hall, curling up by the partition screen. “Your Majesty, did something trouble you?”
In all the years it had known Ling Qingxiao, it had never seen him so rattled.
Ling Qingxiao rubbed his temple and replied after a pause, “No. Just my own mistake.” Then, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he added, “If someone asks, tell them I never left.”
Xiezhi slowly nodded. “Understood.”
Ling Qingxiao stood in place for a moment, then finally pulled himself together. The composed dignity of a Celestial Emperor returned to his bearing as he returned to his seat at the imperial desk.
But the moment his brush touched paper, that image returned, the memory from his dream, holding a girl’s hand as they painted together. Whether it was illusion or some buried fragment of memory, he could still smell the faint fragrance from her hair.
The exact same scent…as just now.
—
Luo Han had slept deeply. So deeply, in fact, that she woke up sore. She sat at the edge of the bed, dazed for a long time, before recalling she had once again time-traveled, this wasn’t the world she belonged to.
Her memories were hazy. Had she really dreamed of hugging Ling Qingxiao? Of complaining to him about being cold and distant? Or had it really happened?
She changed her clothes, smoothed her hair, and quietly slipped over to Yuqing Palace.
There were no guards at the entrance. It looked less like the residence of the Celestial Emperor and more like some neglected cold palace. But Luo Han knew better, this was the most dangerous and most secure place in all the six realms.
Because the man inside didn’t need guards. He himself was deterrent enough.
As she walked in, she passed a massive stone beast at the gate. It looked like a mixture between a goat and a deer, gleaming white, a single horn on its head. It stood like the most loyal sentinel, guarding the palace behind it.
As Luo Han approached, the statue-like beast suddenly spoke. “You are the Heavenly Dao?”
She wasn’t surprised, it was the famed divine beast Xiezhi. She nodded. “I am. Is Ling Qingxiao inside?”
“He is,” Xiezhi replied. Then, lazily added, “His Majesty has not left all day. May I ask Heavenly Dao what brings you here?”
He hasn’t left all day?
Luo Han’s thoughts spun rapidly. That meant...the scene of her hugging him and complaining must have just been a dream. Thank goodness. If that had really happened, how embarrassing would it be to bring it up?
Feeling reassured, her expression relaxed. She smiled brightly. “I’m here to discuss the matter of the ancient forbidden technique. It concerns the peace of the six realms, it’s better we address it as soon as possible.”
Backed by righteousness, her spine straightened, and she strode into the palace with confidence. Inside, she found Ling Qingxiao in the eastern hall, reviewing memorials. His face was calm, brush strokes decisive, and already there were thick stacks of paperwork beside him.
Luo Han stared, speechless at the workload. She couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed. Look at him, working hard, focused, while I was just…sleeping and dreaming nonsense.
Ling Qingxiao had sensed her presence the moment she entered. Outwardly calm, inwardly…mortified. Thankfully, his naturally cold expression masked all emotions. He set down his brush and looked up, face impassive. “Heavenly Dao.”
She was used to this routine. “Are you busy? I’d like to discuss the ancient technique.”
He nodded and stood, leading her to the side hall, gesturing for her to sit.
Luo Han sat down naturally, unconsciously behaving like she always had around him, as though he were still her boyfriend. She sat at his side without the slightest hesitation.
Ling Qingxiao immediately tensed on one side.
He wasn’t used to people sitting so close. As Emperor, he couldn’t very well scoot away, it would seem improper. He simply endured it, planning to increase the distance at the next opportunity.
Oblivious, Luo Han poured two cups of tea, placing one in front of each of them. Ling Qingxiao stared at the cup before him, silently lifting it.
Ling Qingxiao had begun to notice more and more oddities—like how Luo Han made countless small gestures that revealed an unconscious closeness to him. She would lean toward him while speaking, habitually sit at his side, or mirror his actions without realizing it.
These were not things one could fake. Habits like this only formed between people who were truly, deeply familiar with each other. But why did she act like that? Or more accurately, why was he the person she had grown used to being close with?
Luo Han, for her part, ate well and slept better, completely lacking the self-awareness of a hostage. She carried herself as if this were her own home. Casually, she asked, “Do you know the details behind the ancient forbidden technique? How was it released?”
Ling Qingxiao reined in the thoughts crowding his mind and replied coolly, “The Demon Realm keeps a tight guard against the Celestial Realm. Many messages never make it through. What we’ve gathered from scouts at the front is that when Ye Zhongyu went to find Yun Menghan, he happened upon the forbidden technique by chance. Later, when the battle situation worsened, Ye Zhongyu grew desperate for victory and chose to unleash it.”
Luo Han nodded slowly, mulling it over. The cultivation systems of the immortals and demons were entirely incompatible. Whether immortals infiltrated the Demon Realm, or demons placed spies in the Celestial Realm, it was easy to be exposed. That meant, in wartime, neither side could clearly discern the other's plans.
A blessing and a curse.
She strained to recall the original plot she’d once read, now fuzzy after so long. “I remember parts of it, but the details are hazy...Do you know about the Execution Platform and Yun Menghan being strung up on the city gates?”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. That had also baffled him, he could never understand the logic behind Ye Zhongyu and Yun Menghan’s choices.
Luo Han went on, “After Yun Menghan leapt from the Execution Platform, she fell into the underground rivers of the Demon Realm. By some twist of fate, she was carried along the dark current to a secluded witch clan that had cut themselves off from the world for tens of thousands of years. That clan is descended from Nuwa, and their High Priest is someone you know, the one currently by Yun Menghan’s side.”
“At the time, Yun Menghan had lost her soul, utterly broken. The High Priest saved her, and in the process, developed feelings for her. But when he confessed, she couldn’t accept it. She fled the clan overnight and stumbled into danger, only to be rescued by Ye Zhongyu.”
In this version of the timeline, events had been delayed across the board compared to what Luo Han had previously experienced. When she first transmigrated, she’d accidentally fallen into a time vortex and been flung back to the era of the Ancient War. It was there that Ling Qingxiao's cultivation soared rapidly. By the time they returned, only a month had passed in the Tianqi Era.
That back-and-forth essentially let Ling Qingxiao leap thousands of years ahead of his peers. Because of that head start, he ascended to Immortal Lord early, discovered the demonic fragments in the Jade Purity Vase ahead of time, and began investigating the forbidden arts well before anyone else.
In that timeline, the demon soul sealed in the Jade Purity Vase was exposed early. The reigning Celestial Emperor at the time sacrificed himself in order to annihilate the forbidden technique along with it.
But in this version of reality, Ling Qingxiao never traveled back. He followed the normal path, cultivated for a millennium, ascended steadily, and rose step by step. The Jade Purity Vase remained undisturbed, and Ye Zhongyu had more time to grow.
Still, what was destined to happen would eventually happen. Though delayed by years, Yun Menghan still faced her crisis. She was hung from the city tower, lost her unborn child, and ultimately jumped from the Execution Platform. In the waters below, the fragment of the demon soul sensed a suitable host and quietly latched onto Yun Menghan.
The dark river of the witch clan emerged once every hundred years, at random times and locations. That particular cycle had the misfortune of linking directly to the Demon Realm’s underground river, leading Yun Menghan to the secluded witch village where she met the High Priest.
But unlike before, Luo Han and her companions never arrived to stop what came next. Yun Menghan and the demon soul lived peacefully in that hidden village for a long time. If not for the High Priest’s unexpected confession, they might have remained undisturbed even longer.
Frightened, Yun Menghan ran. She left too abruptly, giving the demon soul no time to drain the clan’s bloodline, inadvertently sparing the witch village from destruction. That being the case, the seal on the Jade Purity Vase should have remained intact, and the forbidden technique should have never been released.
So how, then, had the ancient technique surfaced? Who broke the seal?
And why was the witch clan’s High Priest now standing at Yun Menghan’s side, openly supporting the Demon Realm? It didn’t add up. Even if the man was a love-struck fool, he was still the spiritual pillar of his people, responsible for their protection and seclusion. By all logic, he should never have left the village.
His presence in the outside world meant something must have gone terribly wrong. Luo Han’s experiences were clearly diverging from everything she’d once read, leaving her only with the scenes shown to her by the Bodhi Tree.
But the original novel never bothered with the world’s deeper logic. It lavished attention on anything involving Yun Menghan, her tragic romance with Ye Zhongyu, their passionate reunion, even the bed scenes were vivid and emotionally charged. But when it came to world-building, war, faction conflict, or the fate of the witch clan, barely a word was spared.
The writing felt like a script forced to move for the sake of the protagonists. Whenever Ye Zhongyu’s side needed help to escape Ling Qingxiao’s pressure, the ancient technique would miraculously appear. As for how it appeared, why, or who released it, those details were brushed aside.
Luo Han was starting to question if she was truly inside a novel at all. The narrative bias was too overwhelming. Anything tied to Yun Menghan was written in elaborate prose dripping with emotion. Everything else was shallow filler.
But she had a gut feeling, the answer to resolving the forbidden technique lay within those overlooked gaps.
Last time, the way they dealt with it was through mutual annihilation: the Celestial Emperor sacrificing himself alongside the forbidden soul. But this time, the emperor was Ling Qingxiao.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t let that happen again.
There had to be another way. A way to resolve the threat without anyone paying with their life.
Ling Qingxiao, of course, had no idea about this so-called “original plot.” As he listened to Luo Han recount the twists between Yun Menghan and Ye Zhongyu, their quarrels, their reconciliation, he gave her a long, unreadable look.
Luo Han gave a rough summary and concluded, “That’s about all I know. Yun Menghan was taken away by Ye Zhongyu, and they made up. As for how the forbidden technique was discovered, or why the High Priest is involved...I don’t know.”
“That’s enough,” Ling Qingxiao said calmly. “We don’t need to know everything ourselves. So long as we have a direction, the rest can be investigated.”
Luo Han instinctively asked, “Who are you sending to investigate?”
Ling Qingxiao paused slightly, his expression turning unreadable. “Wuyou City.”
The Demon Realm was tightly sealed against the Celestial Realm. If one wanted information about the Demon King, Wuyou City was the only viable path.
When Luo Han heard the name, she murmured, “Wuyou City...as in ‘Peace Eternal in Great Bright City, Long Life and Freedom in Wuyou City’?”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. “That’s the one.”
In name, Wuyou City belonged to the Demon Realm. In reality, it obeyed no one. While the Celestial Realm also had autonomous regions—like Zhongshan and the Sixteen Prefectures of Wuyun, Wuyou City’s independence was something else entirely.
They didn’t just ignore the Demon King, they lived as if he didn’t exist. With independent trade routes, an economy of their own, and no allegiance to demonkind, they paid no taxes and followed no orders. Simply put, if you had the coin, Wuyou City would do anything for you.
Including assassinating the Demon King.
Of course, Ling Qingxiao didn’t need to hire someone to assassinate Ye Zhongyu, if he wanted the man dead, he preferred to do it himself. But for intelligence gathering, Wuyou City could be useful.
Luo Han suddenly lit up, her eyes sparkling. “We’re going to Wuyou City? When do we leave?”
Ling Qingxiao’s brow creased subtly. He had never once considered letting Luo Han leave the Heavenly Palace, much less step foot in a lawless den like Wuyou City. After all, keeping a deity under house arrest wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you wanted whispered through the Realms. If it got out, the trouble would be immense.
But seeing Luo Han bubbling with excitement like she was preparing for an outing, even calculating what she should pack, Ling Qingxiao felt compelled to speak. “Wuyou City is a den of assassins, full of chaos and danger. It’s not a place for someone like you.”
Luo Han looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “But you’ll be with me, won’t you?”
Ling Qingxiao faltered again. Had he said he was going?
The frontlines were in a precarious state—he could easily send subordinates to Wuyou City while he returned to command. Why go personally?
And yet, facing Luo Han’s expectant gaze, he found himself unable to refuse. Luo Han tilted her head. “What’s wrong? Is something stopping you?”
As if possessed, Ling Qingxiao said, “No.”
“Good,” Luo Han smiled, relieved. “Then when do we leave?”
He didn’t correct her. And so the misunderstanding snowballed toward a destination completely opposite of his original plan. Ling Qingxiao thought for a moment of the million-strong army awaiting his return...and then decided that they could wait just a little longer.