Chapter 132

“Flashy, foolish, and utterly pointless?” Luo Han nodded in perfect agreement. “You’re absolutely right. One must rely on oneself. Wishing on illusions and hoping the heavens will grant your dreams, how could that possibly work? Whatever’s written on the lantern...best to make it come true yourself.”
Ling Qingxiao felt something was off. His brows furrowed, his tone sharp. “What exactly did you write on those lanterns?”
Luo Han pretended not to hear.
A vague sense of foreboding crept into Ling Qingxiao’s heart. “If it were something trivial, fine. But for serious matters, one must treat them solemnly. Writing it on a paper lantern is no better than child's play...Don’t tell me it was something like...marriage? Children?”
Luo Han’s expression froze for just a moment. Ling Qingxiao saw it and his heart sank.
So it was something like that. His emotions tangled together, anger that something so sacred as marriage had been taken so lightly, and anger that Luo Han had actually agreed to it.
What he didn’t realize...was that this bitter, tangled feeling gnawing at him had a name. Jealousy.
He fell silent, his face cold and unreadable. Though his bearing remained as regal as ever, the chill in the air around him was enough to freeze a summer breeze.
Luo Han thought with some frustration, They weren’t lying when they said rulers are unfathomable. Same man, same soul, but now that he was the Celestial Emperor, he was nearly impossible to read.
Just then, they passed by a candy figurine stall. Luo Han stopped, calling out to the vendor, “How much for one of these sugar figures?”
The old vendor was startled to find such a heavenly-looking girl speaking to him and stammered, “T-Ten copper coins each…”
Money was meaningless to Luo Han, of course. She tilted her head and asked, “Can you make anything? How about a dragon?”
Ling Qingxiao, still brooding, paused in surprise and glanced at her.
The vendor had clearly heard such requests before and confidently patted his chest. “Miss, say no more. When it comes to sculpting dragons, I’m the best in town. The ones I make are so lifelike, you’d think they could fly off. Even if a real dragon came down from the heavens, I’d bet he couldn’t tell the difference.”
Luo Han laughed aloud.
Ling Qingxiao gave her a light pat on the head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She pushed his hand off with a glare. “Then I want a silver dragon.”
The vendor froze, ladle mid-air. “Silver...miss, these are sugar figures.”
Luo Han froze too. Right, this was the mortal realm. No silver sugar here.
She looked embarrassed. Ling Qingxiao, standing beside her, couldn’t help a soft chuckle.
She turned and glared daggers at him. He caught her hand and gently pressed it down before placing payment on the stall.
“She often dreams up strange things. Don’t worry, just make it the usual way.”
The vendor thought his words sounded a bit odd, but couldn’t say exactly why. He nodded and went about his work, expertly stirring syrup and sculpting.
While they waited, Luo Han grew bored and wandered over to another stall that sold kites. Seeing her slip away again, Ling Qingxiao frowned and instinctively took a step to follow. Why was she always running off on her own? It was too dangerous.
But really, what danger could possibly exist in this small mortal city, guarded by the Celestial Emperor himself, a squad of elite celestial guards, and the incarnation of the Heavenly Dao?
Rationality aside, when it came to her...reason didn’t matter.
The vendor noticed Ling Qingxiao’s line of sight following Luo Han and smiled knowingly. “You and your lady aren’t married yet, are you? It’s good to have feelings before marriage, helps the years go by smoother.”
Ling Qingxiao blinked. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, the two of you clearly look like a young couple, sneaking out together for a little stroll. Sure, it breaks a few rules, but young love is precious. Take her to see the world while you’re still young. When you’re old, at least you’ll have memories.”
To a mortal, the scenario was obvious: a betrothed couple sneaking away to enjoy a little time together. Ling Qingxiao stood in silence beside the stall, and for a moment...he felt something stir in his chest.
Dragons lived long lives. Aging wasn’t something he ever had to worry about. As the Celestial Emperor, he spent every day dealing with matters of state and balancing the fates of six realms. When had he ever paused for something so trivial as...a sugar figure?
Now, evening approached. The sky blushed orange with sunset. Smoke drifted from kitchen chimneys. An old couple, bickering and laughing, walked home arm in arm. School had just let out; children raced down the street, and soon, a chorus of mothers' voices echoed from the alleys.
So this is the true mortal world…
He, Ling Qingxiao, might know every river and mountain from the Heavenly Court to the Underworld. He knew every city’s taxes and population, but he didn’t know how much a sugar figure cost, or what time school let out.
An emperor was destined for solitude.
Before the title of Emperor, he had been the head of Zhongshan, the fastest cultivator to ascend in history, a once-in-a-millennium genius of the Azure Dragon clan. He had borne many burdens, but never warmth.
No one ever asked whether the Celestial Emperor was tired. Just like no one ever asked if a genius felt pressure.
He held power and strength that others could only dream of, but in the end, in his quiet moments, he had never experienced the simplest kind of life.
The vendor had finished the sugar dragon. He handed it to Ling Qingxiao and said, “Here you are. My last sale for the day, closing up now.”
Ling Qingxiao’s keen eyes noticed, “You still have enough syrup for another. Why close early?”
“Oh, that bit? Not for sale. I’ll take it home for my wife—she loves a sweet snack.”
He packed up his tools, then turned to a young flower seller nearby and called out, “Little miss, how much are your flowers?”
"Ten copper coins for a single stem," the little flower girl chirped.
The sugar figurine vendor immediately grumbled, "So expensive?"
The girl pouted. "It’s an epiphyllum—blooms for one night only. Most people wouldn’t even get the chance to buy one if they wanted to!"
The vendor grumbled some more, but still reached into his pouch and handed over the coins he’d just earned from selling the sugar figurines. "Fine, give me one."
The girl pulled two flowers from her basket. "These are the last ones. Take them both, I’ll give you a discount—fifteen coins total."
The vendor scowled. "You little fox, quite the shrewd one for your age. You just sold me one for ten, now you say two only cost fifteen?"
Just as he was about to haggle, Ling Qingxiao stepped forward and said calmly, "No need to argue. I’ll take the other one."
The flower girl, who had been stealing glances at him this whole time, instantly flushed bright red when he addressed her. She snatched the money without even counting it and dashed off like the wind.
"You gave her too much," the vendor clicked his tongue. "She didn’t give you change!"
Ling Qingxiao looked down at the delicate flower in his hand and smiled faintly. "It’s fine."
To him, money was the most meaningless thing in the world.
The vendor gave him a knowing look, then hefted up his bundle with practiced ease. "Better hurry after her, young master. Sugar figurines melt quick—if you don’t eat it soon, it’ll be a puddle."
With that, he walked away, whistling an off-key tune, his stride light.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t know what had come over him just now. He had simply wanted to...bring her a flower, like any ordinary man. But now that the moment had passed, he found himself at a loss for what to do with it.
These hands of his could wield brushes to paint, draw battle formations across thousands of miles, or execute the most refined swordsmanship...yet now, one hand held a sugar figurine, and the other...a fragile epiphyllum blossom.
Luo Han returned, assuming the figurine must be finished by now. She spotted Ling Qingxiao standing dazedly in place and walked up to him, casually taking the treat from his hand.
"Where’s the vendor? I looked away for a second and he vanished."
She took a bite, then instinctively held the sugar figurine toward Ling Qingxiao, offering it to him without a second thought, something she’d done a hundred times before.
Ling Qingxiao looked at the half-eaten figurine, then at her lips still sticky with sugar, and leaned down to take a small bite.
Just a touch. His lips brushed it and then retreated. Luo Han didn’t think much of it. Once he was done, she took another bite without hesitation.
Ling Qingxiao barely kept his expression in check, still maintaining the composed dignity of a sovereign, but his gaze flicked awkwardly upward, avoiding her face. Then, without a word, he reached out and tucked something into her hair.
Luo Han blinked in surprise. She instinctively reached up to see what it was, only to have her hand gently pushed down.
"Don’t move," Ling Qingxiao murmured. His gaze swept downward. "Eat properly. You’ve got sugar on your face."
Luo Han licked her lips, oh, he was right. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Where did you get that flower?"
"A little girl sold it to me. She was in a hurry to go home."
It was rare, but even someone as aloof as Ling Qingxiao could be surprisingly thoughtful. Luo Han looked up at his face, just inches away. "Why an epiphyllum? It's beautiful, but it only blooms for a moment. Too brief."
Ling Qingxiao’s fingers paused mid-motion. He was a man of pure logic, and yet...the moment she said that, a shadow of foreboding stirred in his heart.
He removed the flower from her hair. Ignoring the passersby around them, he summoned a thread of icy energy, coating the blossom in a thin sheen of frost.
Luo Han’s eyes widened. "It’s just a mortal flower."
Was it really necessary to use spirit energy this pure?
He was the Celestial Emperor, his spiritual power was no small thing. That faint layer of frost was enough to preserve the flower for a thousand years, maybe ten thousand, untouched by decay.
"It’s a pity it’s a mortal bloom. Limited in potential," he said. "This is the best I can do. Once we return to the Heavenly Realm, I’ll find something with a longer bloom. For now, let this do."
He slipped the frost-covered flower back into her hair. This time, it suited her perfectly.
Luo Han’s usual hair accessories were minimal, just a simple pearl blossom. She still held the half-eaten sugar figurine in one hand, her stunning beauty unadorned save for that single glimmering epiphyllum. In the warm glow of twilight, it gleamed with ethereal light.
Behind her, crowds bustled and voices called, people going home or heading out, but all of them blurred into the background. In that moment, they were nothing but shadows.
And for the first time, Ling Qingxiao felt a strange sense of grounding. He had wandered these mortal streets, observing and assessing, always keeping a detached eye on the world. But now...he finally felt like a part of it.
Luo Han noticed his gaze lingering and shifted awkwardly. "Why are you staring?"
Ling Qingxiao reached out and brushed a sticky spot from her cheek. "You still have sugar on your face."
He was utterly consistent in this kind of meticulous attention. Luo Han sighed and reached up to wipe it herself, but he stopped her.
"Don’t move."
So she let him continue. His fingers were long and steady, cool to the touch, and wherever they grazed, it felt like the heat melted away.
"You haven’t changed a bit," she murmured.
"Hm?"
"Nothing. Forget it," she said, shaking her head. "I’m tired of wandering. Let’s go back."
The word back...perhaps the most comforting word in the world.
Amid the twilight of the mortal realm, Ling Qingxiao replied in a low voice, "Alright."
Though they dressed like mortals, neither of them truly belonged here. They didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Luo Han returned to her quarters and entered cultivation. When she emerged again, the moon was already high in the sky.
She’d been sitting too long and felt restless, so she stepped out for a walk. The city lay nestled between mountain and lake. Ling Qingxiao’s residence sat right at the water’s edge. Just outside the door, the moonlight shimmered across the lake.
Luo Han followed the path along the shore. In the distance, half-hidden by trees, she spotted a hint of white cloth, so stark in the moonlight it nearly glowed. She lifted her skirts and stepped up onto the lakeside pavilion.
"You’re out here all alone?" she asked.
Ling Qingxiao had already sensed Luo Han’s presence. Without turning, he poured her a cup of tea and said calmly, “Had nothing better to do, thought I’d come out and see how the mortal realm looks at night.”
The evening was quiet, moonless, but filled with stars. The water beside them flowed gently, and from farther down the river came flickers of light, someone was releasing river lanterns, and many had drifted into their courtyard.
Luo Han sat across from him and, noticing his eyes fixed on the glimmering lights reflected on the water’s surface, chuckled. “You were criticizing river lanterns just this morning. What are you staring at them for now?”
Ling Qingxiao sighed in resignation. There was no winning with Luo Han, offend her once, and she’d find ten ways to hold it over your head.
Without even picking them up, he could see what was written on the floating lanterns. Wishes for parents’ long life and good health, prayers for children to grow up simple, kind, and free of hardship. Hopes for a beloved to propose, or for a destined partner to appear.
None of it practical, of course. A person’s fate depended on time, place, and the will of heaven couldn’t be changed by scrawling words on paper and setting them adrift.
Ling Qingxiao had always thought such things were meaningless. They didn’t help one achieve their goals, nor made them easier to reach. Worse still, they exposed one's innermost thoughts far too early, foolish on every level. But now, standing here in the mortal realm, he had begun to understand.
Those who made wishes knew, too, that a paper lantern couldn’t change their fate. But still, they wrote. Because writing it out brought comfort. Because sometimes, just voicing a hope was enough to carry on.
“I used to think it was absurd,” Ling Qingxiao said softly. “Why entrust your hopes to the gods? But now I see...these words weren’t meant for divine ears. They were meant for themselves. Even if they knew it was impossible, they kept saying it, over and over, unwilling to let it go.”
He glanced across the table and caught the look on Luo Han’s face. “What?”
“Nothing,” Luo Han shook her head. “I just didn’t expect you to sound so...grounded. I always thought you lived above the clouds, untouched by mortal sorrow.”
Ling Qingxiao had been a prodigy in his youth, crowned Celestial Emperor before his prime. Not only mortals, he’d barely grasped how ordinary cultivators lived. He paused, then gave a faint smile. “Everyone has their burdens. Whether emperor or beggar, none are exempt.”
Luo Han rested her chin in her hand, watching him from across the flickering water. The shifting light painted her face in silver and shadow, making her look like something between a celestial and a demon.
“What hardships have you faced all these years?” she asked.
She’d asked this once before. Back then, Ling Qingxiao brushed her off, claiming everything was under control. As Emperor, everyone else could afford confusion, pain, and weakness, but not him. He had to remain rational, powerful, unshakable.
But no strength comes without cost. He bled, he broke, only silently, never visibly.
Staring at the rippling water, Ling Qingxiao finally said in a low voice, “My father remains confined in a secluded manor. My stepmother loathes me. My birth mother sees me as her mortal enemy. When I ascended the throne, the Six Realms rejoiced, envoys from all nations came to pay respects...yet not a single one of them was family.”
Luo Han sat up, a flicker of sorrow in her eyes. “Ling Qingxiao…”
“It’s fine,” he said. “That was six thousand years ago. I’ve long since made peace with it. They say I’m cold, heartless even, but I think...I never moved past my own selfishness. When I gave back the dragon core, I was furious. Not because I craved the core itself but because I hated their betrayal. I hated their favoritism. I cut open Ye Zhongyu’s chest and took the core by force...not because I needed it desperately, but because I needed a reason to kill him.”
Luo Han reached out, gripping his fingers tightly. Her gaze locked on his. “Love and hate are part of being human. No one’s a saint. You were treated unfairly, it’s only natural to hold resentment. No one should blame you for having private pain, or personal vengeance.”
“You don’t need to carry that guilt,” she continued, her voice unwavering, warm as starlight. “No matter what others say, there will always be someone who stands by your side.”
For a moment, Ling Qingxiao felt utterly disoriented, like the world had melted away, and all he could see were those unwavering eyes. When he came to, he chuckled faintly.
“I don’t care what others say. I’ve always been clear-headed. When I chose to strike Ye Zhongyu, I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew it meant severing all ties. But there’s nothing to mourn. I never truly had those bonds, so what is there to lose? If anything, I regret not killing him outright. Had I not spared him for the sake of appearances, I wouldn’t be cleaning up this mess now.”
Luo Han didn’t know how to respond. They’d never spoken about this before. She had assumed, perhaps naively, that Ling Qingxiao carried guilt. But now she saw, he was more resolute, more ruthless than she imagined.
Yet...somehow, it still felt like him.
She took both his hands in hers and said softly, “How could you say you never had anything? You have a long road ahead, filled with battles and triumphs. You’ll build the world you dream of—earn your glory, your reputation. You’ll gain friends, loyal followers...you’ll have everything.”
“…And what of a wife?” he asked.
Luo Han paused, then nodded. “That too. If you want it.”
But that wasn’t the answer Ling Qingxiao wanted.
“I’ve cut all blood ties. I’ve destroyed my only brother. I have no family, no friends, no siblings and I don’t need them. They are meant to follow, not accompany. But there’s one thing power can never replace.”
Though he still used “I,” his tone left no room for debate.
Luo Han was silent. After a moment, she said, “You’ll be a great emperor. Everything in this world has its destined path. What’s meant to come will come. It can’t be forced. You once gave your word, when this is over, when the forbidden techniques are destroyed...you’ll let me go.”
Ling Qingxiao stared at her, a deep sadness rising in his chest.
“Why,” he asked quietly, “do you want to leave?”
“Of course I have to go back.” Luo Han stared at him steadily. “He’s waiting for me.”
Ling Qingxiao sat in silence for a long while. He had countless things he could say in rebuttal, but the moment he looked into her eyes, he knew there was nothing left to say.
The night wind blew across the lake, tipping over several river lanterns. Ling Qingxiao quietly gathered the teacups and said, “It’s late. You should rest.”
Luo Han stood up, replying softly, “Alright. You should rest early too.”
She stepped down from the pavilion. After walking some distance, she turned back quietly only to find that Ling Qingxiao was still seated where she’d left him, unmoving. The wavering reflections of the water danced across his form like a dream. He looked like an immortal who had wandered into the mortal world, so distant, so unreal.
Luo Han didn’t want to hurt him. But she had made a promise, and she couldn’t break it just because her heart wavered now. If past and future versions of Ling Qingxiao were one and the same, then their states of being should remain consistent across time.
All she could do was gamble, gamble that past and future would eventually converge.
Ling Qingxiao had sensed her hesitation, sensed the brief moment she almost turned back but ultimately, she still chose the other man.
After she returned to her room, Ling Qingxiao retracted his divine sense. He retrieved a stone from his storage space. It was a memory stone he had once acquired from Luo Han, quite by accident.
He stared at it for a long while, then slowly raised his hand and forcibly activated it with a surge of divine power.
Against overwhelming strength, no seal, restriction, or ownership recognition could stand. The stone lit up, projecting a scene into the air, filled with immortal mist and swirling clouds. A man dressed in pale white ceremonial robes walked slowly through the South Heaven Gate.
At his side stood the Star Lord Tianyu.
Someone in the background called out, “Ling Qingxiao!”
The image froze at that moment. Ling Qingxiao stared at it, his expression indifferent, almost detached. Every detail matched perfectly. The day he found Luo Han, she had clearly recognized Tianyu Star Lord. So, they had known each other even back then.
The image faded, the glow in the memory stone vanishing. It dropped back to the table, now just a dull gray pebble. Ling Qingxiao’s long fingers tapped rhythmically on the stone table, calm, even, but somehow deeply unsettling.
He had already suspected the truth before watching the recording. Watching it merely served to seal his resolve.
As a youth, he had never been given anything, so he never fought for it. He had shut himself away, accepting the world as it was. But now, now he was Emperor. He had long since learned that if he wanted something, he only needed to reach out and take it.