Chapter 137

In terms of power structures, the world was divided into six realms. But when viewed through the lens of life and death, there was only the Underworld, and then everything else.
The Underworld functioned under its own laws, saturated with deathly energy, it remained a treacherous place, even for powerful immortals, demons, or spirits. And yet, Luo Han had encountered no danger at all.
She had strolled leisurely along both sides of the Forgetting River, admired the scenery like a tourist, tasted the local specialty wine...and with barely any effort, arrived at the location where the Nuwa Stone was hidden.
It all felt far too easy, like a sovereign emperor on a royal southern tour.
And in fact...that wasn’t far from the truth. The Emperor of the Underworld’s officials had been trailing nervously behind them the entire time. When Ling Qingxiao paused at the riverbank, a few ghost officers rushed forward to ingratiate themselves.
“Your Majesty,” one said, bowing deeply, “the water of the Forgetting River differs from ordinary water. Anything that falls in is lost forever. It can’t be crossed by flying either, only the ferryman’s boat can pass. The object you seek is at the riverbed. Retrieving it may prove difficult. If you permit, we can inform His Excellency the Underworld Emperor to dam the river upstream and drain the water”
It already sounded like a tedious undertaking. Luo Han was about to offer to alter the river’s laws temporarily, when Ling Qingxiao cut in calmly, “No need.”
With a simple wave of his hand, the water of the Forgetting River parted left and right. All at once, the bones littering the riverbed and the heavy miasma of death were swept aside, revealing a clean, walkable path beneath the waves. Luo Han fell silent. So did the dozens of ghost officers behind them.
Ling Qingxiao stepped into the parted river first, then turned to offer Luo Han his hand. “The riverbed hasn’t been cleared in years. Watch your step.”
The entire scene felt so surreal that even the hardened ghost officials began to question their own understanding of the world. Could the living really cross the Forgetting River?
Of course not. Every year, countless spirits perished within its waters, some trying to glimpse the realm of the living again, others clinging to the world they left behind. Whether living or dead, any who dared cross alone were dragged to the bottom.
The Forgetting River’s waters were highly corrosive. Once in the Underworld, even the mightiest cultivators were no more than ghosts awaiting judgment. Whatever powers they’d held in life had to be put aside.
The ghost officers had grown used to death being a daily occurrence in this river. They often used it to frighten newcomers, reminding them that all mortal techniques were rendered useless here.
But now...now they realized the truth. The river hadn’t rejected spells. It had simply never encountered one powerful enough to part it. They watched with wide eyes as Ling Qingxiao walked calmly down into the riverbed, utterly untouched by the realm’s laws.
One officer came to his senses and hurried after him. “Your Majesty! No living soul has ever entered the riverbed. It may not be safe. With your noble status, please don’t risk it, perhaps allow some of us to scout ahead first?”
Even the imperial guards from the Heavenly Realm stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the situation underwater is unclear. Please at least take your guard with you.”
The noise irritated Ling Qingxiao. He glanced back. The look wasn’t particularly sharp, and he didn’t unleash any real pressure but it was enough. Everyone immediately shut their mouths.
“Stay on the bank,” he commanded, his voice like an imperial edict.
The ghost officers wanted to speak again, but none dared. The heavenly guards, though clearly still uneasy, stood tall and saluted in unison. “As you command.”
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao descended together into the riverbed. The parted water shimmered blue-green, like ethereal flames. As they went deeper, the surface above disappeared from view.
Luo Han glanced around. Darkness loomed on either side, and within the depths flickered eerie green lights, faint, flickering, like will-o’-the-wisps in a graveyard on a summer night.
She asked softly, “Why are there ghost flames in the water?”
“Because the Forgetting River is never cleared,” Ling Qingxiao answered. “Over countless years, bones have accumulated at the bottom. When bone ash collects heat, ghost fire begins to form.”
Luo Han looked more closely and realized the shapes she had taken for rocks...weren’t rocks at all. Before the dread could fully take hold, Ling Qingxiao reached out and covered her eyes.
“If you don’t like it, then don’t look. The yin energy here is dense. Staring too long will affect your soul.”
A chill crept up her spine. She didn’t want to look anymore. The eerie cold of the river made her feel like she, too, was part of the dead. The more she thought about it, the more unnerved she felt. Quietly, she edged closer to Ling Qingxiao and slipped her arms around his.
Ling Qingxiao paused slightly but didn’t stop walking. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Luo Han didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes drifted up toward him. In the watery dimness, his skin looked like polished jade, his neck smooth and pale, his jawline sharp and elegant. When he spoke, the line of his throat shifted slightly with each word, forming a beautiful arc.
Some inexplicable impulse overtook her. She reached up, fingers extending toward his throat. Before she could make contact, Ling Qingxiao caught her hand mid-air.
His eyes were cool. “What are you trying to do?”
Luo Han sighed inwardly. She knew well that while the Celestial Emperor might tolerate teasing and playful touches...anything more intimate was still off-limits.
With a gleam of mischief, she wrapped both arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “There’s too much ghostly gloom on both sides. You’re the only pleasant thing to look at. I’m done trying. I’ll just stay like this. Let me know when you find the stone.”
And just like that, she clung to him completely, arms locked around his waist, face buried against his shoulder, giving off a “you deal with it” kind of vibe.
Ling Qingxiao stopped walking. His hands hovered awkwardly mid-air, unsure where to place them. For once, he was actually glad he hadn’t brought attendants along. If anyone from the court saw this scene...what a scandal it would be.
He sighed silently, then at last wrapped one arm around her waist and said, “You are the last true deity. Even if you don’t wish to be known widely, you still carry the title of Heavenly Dao. If someone sees you like this, the impression...won’t be ideal.”
“You’re not other people,” Luo Han murmured, completely unfazed. She nestled into a more comfortable position against him. With her eyes closed, she gave a faint, ambiguous smile. “Besides...this is what you call ‘inappropriate’?”
Ling Qingxiao was using a movement spell to speed their travel. The chill of the Underworld’s currents swept swiftly past her cheeks, stirring her hair. Taking advantage of their close proximity, she mischievously moved her hands, pretending to attempt something that truly would be considered inappropriate.
She thought Ling Qingxiao would stop immediately and scold her, cool, strict, as always, reminding her to mind appearances. But her hands slid from his waist up his back, down again, and came to rest at the knot of his sash...and he didn’t so much as flinch.
Luo Han hovered there awkwardly, her fingers hooked into the tie of his robe. Now she was the one caught in a dilemma. If she pulled back, it would seem she had no courage. But she couldn’t actually...untie the Emperor’s belt, could she? Why isn’t he reacting like usual?
Before she could untangle her thoughts, Ling Qingxiao’s voice drifted down from above, languid and unhurried.
“Why stop?”
Luo Han cleared her throat with all the dignity she could muster, withdrawing her hand with mock regret. “Your belt’s too tightly tied,” she muttered. “Wouldn’t budge.”
Ling Qingxiao raised a brow, expression unreadable. “You didn’t even try. How would you know?”
Luo Han glared at him, exasperated. What is with him today? Is he trying to make things harder for me? She looked up just in time to catch his gaze. Their eyes met in the still silence at the bottom of the Forgetting River. The water muted all sound, it was so quiet they could hear each other breathe.
She watched as Ling Qingxiao’s eyes dipped down, falling on her lips.
Alarm bells rang in Luo Han’s head. Instinctively, she broke the gaze and quickly changed the subject. “A-Are we almost there?”
Ling Qingxiao’s reaction earlier had been purely reflex. He didn’t know why, but after their eyes met, his gaze had involuntarily dropped. If he had stared just a moment longer, would he have kissed her? He wasn’t sure.
But since Luo Han had already changed the subject, he played along. “It’s just ahead. Be careful where you step.”
The stone they sought was a relic left behind from the time Nuwa created humans. Over the years, the stone had developed sentience. Nuwa entrusted it to the Underworld, where it served as the anchor of reincarnation.
Soon, they reached it.
The stone was split into three uneven pieces, resting in the riverbed. Luo Han stepped forward and examined the inscriptions, but after some time, she shook her head. “It looks...ordinary. Doesn’t feel special. Why would the Earth Sovereign guide us here?”
Ling Qingxiao scanned the entire surface with his divine sense. He was much faster than her, he had already read every word inscribed upon it. He frowned slightly in thought.
“Didn’t the Bodhi Tree mention the Earth Sovereign left you a message?”
“‘The benevolent are human,’” Luo Han recited. “But those four words, only two seem useful. What was he trying to say?”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t answer immediately. Seeing his thoughtful expression, Luo Han asked, “You have an idea?”
“Just a theory,” he replied. “Let’s test it.”
With Ling Qingxiao, a “theory” usually meant certainty. Luo Han stepped aside without hesitation.
He drew his Nine Heavens Sword, tested the hardness of the stone, and began carving. The stone had been submerged for millennia; its inscriptions had long since faded. The Nine Heavens Sword was narrow and fine, unsuited for carving, but in Ling Qingxiao’s hands, the blade remained steady, precise to the last hair.
He traced over the faded characters, redrawing the ancient “人” (human) glyph with flawless accuracy. Luo Han quickly realized what he was doing.
One after another, Ling Qingxiao restored every “人” character on the monument, then looked to her and said, “Try channeling your divine power into them.”
Though everyone in the Celestial Realm cultivated spiritual energy, no two cultivators’ power felt the same. Divine power, especially, was utterly unique to each deity.
Luo Han gathered a thread of divine essence in her palm and slowly guided it into one of the glyphs.
There were seven "人" characters in total.
As her energy flowed into them, they began to light up one by one, forming a precise pattern: the Big Dipper. The moment all seven were lit, the stone flashed. Luo Han withdrew her power, stepping back just as a soft light poured out from the surface and gathered into a phantom figure.
Hovering above the stone was a woman with gentle eyes and boundless sorrow. Even after all these years, her face remained the same, compassionate and calm. She smiled faintly at the two standing before her.
“You’ve come.”
Though her body had long faded into dust, this final remnant of consciousness stirred at the sight of them. So many years had passed. Friends had become enemies. Lovers had been torn apart. But these two still stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Xiheng had been right. When the last thread of her awareness was awakened, the faces she saw...were theirs.
Luo Han hadn’t expected to meet a trace of Nuwa here. She quickly bowed. “Earth Sovereign.”
Ling Qingxiao was surprised as well. Nuwa had always been more legend than fact, yet here she was. He gave a respectful bow. “Earth Sovereign.”
This was only a fragment of her divine consciousness, and it had been dormant far too long. Even now, it struggled to hold itself together. There was no time for pleasantries.
Nuwa got straight to the point. “Since you’ve come this far, I assume...you’ve already met the Bodhi Tree. Tell me, how fares the world outside?”
Luo Han answered softly, “The Celestial Realm flourishes, the Mortal Realm prospers, and the realms of demon, spirit, and ghost coexist in relative peace.”
She paused. “But...hearts are greedy. Peace is fragile. The Six Realms are...not as stable as they appear.”
Nuwa sighed. She had suspected as much. The thing she feared most...had come to pass.
Her voice drifted like mist across the ghostly waters, airy and faint:
“When I was young, I made many mistakes. I hesitated. I was too soft-hearted. When I should have ended things, I couldn't bring myself to do it. And by the time I realized the consequences...it was already too late.”
“You mean the Demon God?” Luo Han asked quietly.
“Yes,” Nuwa murmured, her regret so deep it echoed through the water. “He was my greatest mistake. I showed mercy...and left behind disaster.”
She looked to them, hopeful and anxious. “Where is he now?”
Luo Han answered, “In the hands of the Demon Realm. The Demon God has lost all reason, reduced to a monster of instinct. He’s begun stirring unrest in the Demon and Beast Realms, sowing chaos, trying to spark another war across all Six Realms.”
Just like the ancient war of the Middle Era. History, as always, had come full circle.
Nuwa sighed. “This was my greatest fear and it has come to pass. I should have seen it clearly back then. Confinement never solves the root of a problem. The longer he remained imprisoned, the deeper his hatred grew. Left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before his resentment brought catastrophe upon all six realms.”
Luo Han hesitated, then asked, “Earth Sovereign, why did you bring us here? What is it that you want us to do?”
“I sealed the Jade Purity Vase long ago, but as time passed, I could feel the Demon God's hatred growing. Fearing that he would one day become a calamity, I used the last of my days to forge a mirrored vessel, an imitation of the Jade Purity Vase, called the Calamity Purging Vessel.”
“Though it appears identical in form and structure, it serves an entirely different purpose. The Jade Purity Vase nurtures all life, filled with water of purity and renewal. But the Calamity Purging Vessel contains Severance Water. Within seven days, it can dissolve all living beings, body and soul alike, leaving nothing behind.”
Luo Han understood. “You want us to use the Calamity Purging Vessel to completely destroy the Demon God’s fragments.”
Nuwa nodded slightly. Her form had already begun to fade. “The vessel can eradicate immortals, demons, even deities. When I created it, I feared it falling into the wrong hands, so I buried it in the Underworld, hidden behind layers of reincarnation seals. It can only be used three times. Moreover, only one with a truly pure heart may wield it, and it must be activated using a unique incantation. Here is the chant and the location, guard them well.”
Luo Han received the knowledge and promised firmly, “You have my word. Once the Demon God has been dealt with, I’ll carry both the Jade Purity Vase and the Calamity Purging Vessel myself. I won’t let them fall into anyone’s hands. If anything goes awry, I’ll destroy the Calamity Purging Vessel myself.”
Only then did Nuwa’s expression soften with relief. Her heart at ease, the last thread of her divine consciousness dispersed, drifting into the bone-strewn waters of the Forgetting River.
“The benevolent is human. The righteous, suitable. Cultivate the Dao through self-refinement. Cultivate humanity through benevolence. From here on...the road is yours alone.”
As she spoke, her figure dissolved completely, leaving only a spray of glittering light behind. Luo Han caught one speck in her palm and looked back, the riverbed, once thick with wrathful energy, had grown quiet. Countless lonely spirits, now purified, began to rise in white mist, ascending toward reincarnation.
The Forgetting River divides the worlds of yin and yang. To be reborn, souls must cross it. But that crossing comes at a price, merit.
Those who committed great sins in life cannot pay the fare. When they reach the river’s heart, the ferryman throws them overboard, and they suffer the torment of dissolution until they’ve accumulated enough merit or are devoured by hungry ghosts.
Even in death, Nuwa had used her divine merit to cleanse the river and guide lost souls. Her compassion and virtue humbled Luo Han.
She sighed quietly. Ling Qingxiao stood beside her a moment, then said, “We shouldn’t linger. Let’s go.”
Though he had sealed off the outer miasma, this was still the riverbed of the Forgetting River. The yin aura seeped through everything, and staying too long would harm even divine bodies. Luo Han nodded, and together they ascended quickly toward the surface.
—
They came ashore at a different location than where they had entered. The sky had already dimmed. Along the riverbank, Nether Flowers had bloomed to full crimson, glowing in the night like wildfire.
Since no one knew they had resurfaced, the ghost officials and heavenly guards remained waiting elsewhere. Ling Qingxiao, ever discreet, sent a message spell instructing them to disperse—without revealing their new location.
As Luo Han dried the lingering dampness from her robes, she turned to him. “The Calamity Purging Vessel is buried elsewhere. We shouldn’t delay—we need to find it.”
“No rush,” Ling Qingxiao replied casually. “If I’m right, Nuwa must have placed heavy protections around it. Too troublesome. Best to let someone else set them off first, and then...we collect what’s left.”
Luo Han raised a brow at him suspiciously. “You sound a little too well-informed. Did you know about this beforehand?”
Ling Qingxiao met her gaze, chuckling. “Even with a thousand eyes and ten thousand ears, I can’t know everything. I didn’t know Nuwa left a message at the bottom of the river. But—” he paused, “I did know that Ye Zhongyu had someone secretly dispatched to the Underworld.”
“He sent someone here?” Luo Han tensed. “Could it be...he also knows about the Calamity Purging Vessel?”
The Demon Realm had no business with the Underworld. There was no reason to send anyone here, unless they were after something very specific. And Ye Zhongyu had deliberately staggered his timing to avoid crossing paths with them. Luo Han couldn't help but suspect: he knows.
Ling Qingxiao remained calm. “A cunning hare digs three burrows. If even a sliver of the Demon God can destroy realms, then it’s only natural the Earth Sovereign left multiple backup plans. I suspect she didn’t just leave you a message, she left other clues for her descendants. If you hadn’t appeared in time, they would have been the final line of defense.”
Luo Han fell silent for a moment. Then she gave a soft “tsk.” “You knew Ye Zhongyu sent someone to retrieve the vessel. So you must’ve also known that on the fifteenth, their little stunt was a diversion.”
At the mention of that day, Ling Qingxiao’s face darkened. “I knew Ye Zhongyu was plotting something. But I didn’t realize they were audacious enough to try and take you.”
Luo Han corrected him with a faint smirk, “Not take. Rescue.”
Ling Qingxiao let out a silent sigh. She really doesn’t let things go.
They strolled through the fiery Nether Flowers, petals like red flames licking at their feet. Ling Qingxiao’s robe brushed past them, and as his spiritual aura stirred the air, petals began to fall, like crimson rain.
He asked, “Why didn’t you leave that day?”
“Hmm…” Luo Han tilted her head in thought, then answered honestly, “Might’ve been blinded by beauty. I was too enamored with a certain someone’s face...I couldn’t bring myself to go.”
Ling Qingxiao’s face remained cold, refined and dignified, but his eyes betrayed a faint smile. He glanced at her with helpless amusement. It was now the 30th of the Seventh Month—the Ghost Gate hadn’t yet closed. They still had time.
Ling Qingxiao asked, “So...where do you want to go next?”
Luo Han abruptly stopped. His tone was far too casual, like they were on a vacation, touring scenic realms.
Was he seriously planning to let Ye Zhongyu take the bait, do all the hard work...only for him to swoop in at the end and take everything? She had always thought Ling Qingxiao was too noble, too proud to play dirty like that. But now?
Now she wasn’t so sure.
But then Luo Han thought it over. Why do the work yourself, when others can do it for you? Letting someone else hunt down the treasure wasn’t so bad after all. She quickly came to terms with the idea and said lightly, “I heard the Boundless Sea of the Underworld is an ancient remnant, steeped in sorrow and suffering. It’s said to be the perfect place to temper one’s state of mind and break through bottlenecks. Let’s go take a look.”
The Boundless Sea? Ling Qingxiao glanced at her without a word. She didn’t notice, but he saw through it clearly, she wasn’t going there to train for herself…
She was going for someone else’s sake. For his sake. It was like a basin of cold water crashing over his head. The rare lightness Ling Qingxiao had felt until now froze over, hardening into ice.
She stayed at his side, laughing, teasing, completely at ease. It made him forget, sometimes, that she wasn’t truly looking at him. But just as he started to believe...there would always be some little detail that slapped him awake.
She’s not looking at me. Not really. It was an odd feeling. He knew the one she longed for was a version of himself, just from the past. In the long life of an immortal, people changed. So technically, it was still him. But knowing that didn’t make it easier.
Thousands of years as Emperor had taught Ling Qingxiao one thing: no matter what people said, only what you hold in your own hands truly belongs to you. So what if she loved a past version of him? He would skip over those years and stand right here as the person she’d never leave again.
Luo Han was still chattering about the Boundless Sea. When she finished and noticed his silence, she looked back and found him standing still, eyes downcast, deep in thought.
Surprised, she tugged at his arm. “What are you thinking? Why so serious?”
Ling Qingxiao returned to himself instantly, his dark expression buried deep. He smiled gently at the young woman before him so bright, so beautiful, and so completely trusting.
“Nothing important,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Luo Han frowned slightly, not quite convinced. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem...distracted.”
“I’m fine.” His gaze was calm and reassuring, the very image of the strong, dependable Emperor everyone knew. “Don’t overthink it. Let’s go.”