Chapter 24

Inside the room, the maid lifted the glass curtains, their soft clang echoing in the quiet space. The immortals followed Su Yifang into the inner hall, their presence accompanied by faint fragrant winds as they passed, causing the smoke rising from the bronze incense burner to sway gently.
Su Yifang, her long, extravagant robes trailing behind, sat down on the couch. The attendants quickly moved to serve her, removing fruit plates, refilling tea, and fanning her.
Su Yifang sipped some divine tea, and in a slow, deliberate tone, she asked, “Has the beast been captured outside?”
“It has been bound with the Demon Binding Rope. The head of the family and several elders are now inspecting the forbidden ground. They should be able to seal the beast away again soon.”
Su Yifang nodded. When Ling Xianhong had left, the news that the beast had escaped had just been reported. Su Yifang had expected it to cause trouble all day, but it was dealt with much faster than she anticipated.
She said, “It’s good it’s been sealed. If it were left out there, who knows how many things it would ruin in one day, and people wouldn’t even be able to leave their homes. Who subdued the beast? It was caught so quickly—clearly someone was quite sharp.”
The maid paused imperceptibly before lowering her head to answer, “It was the Second Young Master.”
Upon hearing this, Su Yifang’s expression changed: “Him?”
“Yes.”
Su Yifang fell silent. She wasn’t sure why, but the words slipped from her before she could control them, “And what about the Eldest Young Master?”
“The Eldest Young Master is also at the Heavenly Gate, but his hand is injured and he cannot move much. So, it was the Second Young Master who stepped in.”
Su Yifang gently uttered an “oh,” neither affirming nor denying this explanation. It was true that Ling Zhongyu had just had his hand reconnected, so he couldn’t fight. However, Ling Qingxiao had subdued the beast on his own, which was equally true.
Thinking about it, it seemed that Ling Zhongyu’s injury had been justified. If both of them had been in top condition, both sons, both from the same father, but Ling Qingxiao had subdued the beast while Ling Zhongyu couldn’t...how could she make sense of that?
Su Yifang felt torn. When she learned that Ling Qingxiao was her biological son, her resentment towards Ling Xianhong and Bai Lingluan reached its peak. She hated Bai Lingluan, and she hated Ling Xianhong even more. But when it came to her sons, she still felt that Ling Zhongyu was her real child. She didn’t have the same emotional connection with Ling Qingxiao.
A thousand years of affection couldn’t be faked. Ling Zhongyu, who had been with her for a thousand years, was closer to her than Ling Qingxiao, whom she had only recently learned about. She had thought that Ling Qingxiao was Bai Lingluan’s illegitimate child and hated him for that, but now knowing the truth, she could not help but feel conflicted, even though she knew Ling Qingxiao had suffered. She couldn’t stop looking at him with a critical eye.
Ling Qingxiao’s temperament was...not exactly pleasant. Judging from his behavior today, it seemed likely that even toward his own birth mother, he harbored resentment.
Su Yifang asked, “Where are they now?”
“It seems the young miss was injured by the feral beast. The Eldest Young Master escorted her back to recuperate. As for the Second Young Master...he appears to have gone to the Library Pavilion.”
“The Library Pavilion?” Su Yifang was surprised. “At a time like this, what’s he doing there? Could it be that there’s something related to the beast sealed inside?”
“I wouldn’t know.” The maid shook her head. “But from what the attendants at the pavilion say...it looks like the Second Young Master went there just to read.”
“Reading?” Su Yifang was even more startled. “After everything that just happened, he can still sit down and read?”
Even the maid had nothing to say to that. The Second Young Master had always been a myth within Zhongshan. Things others couldn’t do, he always could.
After her initial surprise, Su Yifang only felt all the more that this child was strange—like he simply didn’t belong.
She sighed softly. “Zhongyu is still the most thoughtful one. He and Yinyue grew up together, childhood sweethearts...not at all like his father. A pity.”
A pity that, in the end, he wasn’t truly her own flesh and blood.
The maid didn’t dare respond. Matters involving the master and young masters were not something a lowly servant could comment on. Even if Madam Su now vented her frustrations toward the family head, once Lord Ling returned, the two would still be husband and wife, bound by name and position. As for the young masters, one raised and one born—neither was someone she could afford to offend.
She gently fanned her mistress, gauging her expression carefully, and said, “Madam, you are the legitimate wife, the properly wedded lady of the household, the direct daughter of the Yinglong Clan of Mount Lin. The Family Head is not one to confuse right and wrong. No matter how favored another may be, they could never overstep you. Your blessings are deep and vast—with Mount Lin behind you, and two sons who honor and care for you. Your future is secure.”
That “other” person...well, there was no need to say her name aloud.
Outside these walls, ever since Bai Lingluan bore the Second Young Master, people had begun respectfully calling her “Madam Bai.” But within Su Yifang’s estate, no one dared refer to her that way. The title of “Madam” belonged only to the principal wife—Su Yifang.
For years, Su Yifang had viewed Ling Qingxiao as a thorn in her side. Partly out of jealousy, partly to protect her own position.
The dragon race lived by the law of the jungle—strength reigned supreme, and the weak had no voice. Though Su Yifang currently enjoyed the glory and respect due a principal wife, she knew that if the illegitimate son ever rose above, she could be dethroned at any time, replaced by the boy’s birth mother.
Victory dictated rank. That was the unspoken rule of the dragon clans. Even Mount Lin would not speak against it. After all, Su Yifang’s own father had once claimed leadership by stepping over the corpse of the previous heir.
Thus, every clan leader, every powerhouse of the dragon tribes, had always been a legitimate child—born of bloodlines forged through political alliance and strength.
In theory, these heir-bloodlines were always superior to those of the concubines. Every generation’s rightful heir was born from the victors of the previous power struggle.
Su Yifang had long harbored doubt. She was of pure Yinglong descent—her father and brothers all possessed outstanding talent. How could a child born of Bai Lingluan, a lowly half-demon, possibly surpass her own son?
And yet, reality proved her right—he did not surpass.
The thought of it left a bitter taste in Su Yifang’s mouth. She hated Bai Lingluan. She hated Ling Xianhong.
But if Ling Qingxiao truly was her biological son, then the crisis she had long feared—of being replaced—would be resolved.
Just moments ago, she had spoken of Ling Qingxiao with disapproval and disdain, but now...she assumed as a matter of course that he would be loyal to her.
She had raised Ling Zhongyu for a thousand years; the bond of mother and son could not be faked. Zhongyu would surely stand by her.
And Ling Qingxiao, who was born of her own blood—surely he wouldn’t choose that wretched half-breed over her?
After all, Bai Lingluan had always been hot and cold with him—sometimes gentle, sometimes cruel. Now that it was clear she had acted with intention all along, Su Yifang refused to believe Ling Qingxiao could let that go.
One son she raised, the other she birthed—both should be hers.
Conveniently, Su Yifang forgot all the harsh treatment she’d inflicted upon Ling Qingxiao.
From childhood, Ling Qingxiao had rarely received his allocated cultivation resources. Eventually, he gave up asking and began relying solely on refining ambient spiritual energy.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
When the boys were young, Ling Zhongyu was frequently sickly and weak. To strengthen him, Su Yifang forced Ling Qingxiao to donate a bowl of blood every month for medicinal baths.
There were countless incidents like this.
As the head lady, Su Yifang never made her cruelty obvious. Everything was done under the guise of “volunteering.” The servants knew the truth, but no one dared speak. When delivering supplies, everyone understood: you didn’t need to bring the best to the Second Young Master.
This went on until Ling Qingxiao advanced to the Spirit Immortal realm. Only then did the abuse stop.
In his early years, due to his lack of resources and frequent bloodletting, his cultivation pace had been no better than Ling Zhongyu’s. Everyone assumed the two boys had roughly equal potential.
Su Yifang even found it odd at times—how did Ling Qingxiao manage to keep up, given how little he was given?
Then, Ling Qingxiao broke through. From that moment on, no one could keep up.
After reaching Spirit Immortal, he raced forward with unstoppable momentum. When he stepped into the Celestial Immortal realm at age one thousand, Su Yifang felt real fear.
She knew—if she could not bind this child to her, then she could not afford to let him live. And so, she forced Ling Qingxiao to gouge out his own core.
As the principal wife of a major clan, she could not openly persecute a concubine-born child. But if Ling Qingxiao “willingly” removed his core, then who could say she was to blame?
She had threatened him with Bai Lingluan’s life, and, just as she expected, Ling Qingxiao said nothing. He simply drew his sword...and cut. Su Yifang had been a little surprised. She hadn’t thought it would be so easy. After all, she’d always believed that Bai Lingluan had treated him poorly.
Ling Qingxiao may be cold by nature, but he was still bound by emotion. Anyone who had ever shown him kindness, even once, could easily tether him.
What Su Yifang hadn’t anticipated was that, after all her careful scheming, she would end up losing to Bai Lingluan. No wonder Bai Lingluan had watched with such calm eyes as Ling Qingxiao mutilated himself that day—no panic, no heartbreak. So she had known all along!
That wretched woman.
The thought alone made Su Yifang’s chest ache with fury. The maid hurried to massage her legs, trying to ease her frustration. “Please don’t distress yourself, Madam. Though she deceived everyone, in doing so, she also severed her ties with both young masters. What she enjoys now is nothing more than a fleeting illusion of glory, bought at the cost of all future favor. Madam, as long as you manage things wisely, the two young masters are both yours—by blood and bond.”
“Indeed,” Su Yifang agreed, sighing, “Right now, the priority is to mend the bond between them. I must guard against Bai Lingluan. That woman is good at nothing but playing the pitiful one.”
The maid echoed, “Exactly. Second Young Master values sentiment—he was even willing to carve out his own core for the sake of the one who raised him, despite her cruelty. And Madam, you’re his true mother. Surely, he will be even more filial toward you.”
The flattery was meant to please, but Su Yifang only sighed again. “I wish that were so. But I fear she’s twisted his temperament. If he’s grown jealous of Zhongyu and insists on competing in all things...what if, after all these years of raising him with my own hands, I’ve only nurtured a wolf with white eyes?”
The maid fell silent. She thought inwardly: Second Young Master was neglected for a thousand years. On the day of his tribulation, both Bai Lingluan and Su Yifang instinctively rushed to protect Zhongyu. If Ling Qingxiao bore resentment...wasn’t that only natural?
And yet here was Su Yifang, with her lofty tone, critiquing the very child she’d spent a lifetime shortchanging. Even as an outsider, the maid found it hard not to feel disheartened.
Su Yifang, still in a rare moment of contemplation, asked, “When Ling Qingxiao returns...between the two of them, which should I prioritize?”
A deadly question. Just moments ago she’d called Ling Qingxiao ungrateful—who would dare speak truthfully now? One of the more seasoned maids replied carefully, “Madam, maternal bonds are not forged by blood alone. The time spent together also matters deeply. Both young masters are your kin; it’s best to treat them equally.”
“That was my thought as well,” Su Yifang said, visibly pleased by the response. “Flesh of my flesh, both hand and back of hand are my own. I cannot allow bloodlines alone to negate a thousand years of maternal care. Zhongyu is pure-hearted, upright and loyal—of course a child like him is lovable. As for Ling Qingxiao, he is too solitary, too extreme. I feel for him, truly...but who would willingly spend their days with a block of ice harboring hatred? His misfortunes weren’t caused by me. Why should he wear that face at me? If he could just soften that temper, I’d treat him like a son. If not...I can only offer material compensation. But to feel the same affection I do for Zhongyu? That...may not be possible.”
The maids murmured agreement, none daring to speak further.
Having made up her mind, Su Yifang turned her thoughts to her niece. “Is Yinyue really injured? Was it serious?”
The maids hesitated. Illness in the young miss? More like an old habit. One maid answered tactfully, “Just a recurring ailment, nothing serious.”
Su Yifang nodded, understanding everything at once. Su Yinyue was the only child of her elder brother. With dragon bloodlines being so rare, the entire Línshan branch had long prepared to place all their hopes on her. Naturally, she had been pampered into recklessness.
Like now. Even with a dragon’s physique, how could she fall ill or be injured so easily? Su Yifang knew her niece well—this, no doubt, was another one of her little ploys.
She shook her head with a sigh. “Let her be. She’s young and scheming, but it’s harmless.”
Everyone knew Su Yinyue’s feelings, and both the Su clan and Línshan tacitly approved. Even Ling Xianhong never intervened. In the celestial realm, all dragons were collectively referred to as such, but within the race, there were countless branches: those with scales were called Jiaolong, those with wings Yinglong, those with horns Qiulong, those without Chìlong. And above them all—the ancient Canglong.
Zhongshan was the ancestral land of the Canglong. Even the current Celestial Emperor’s Qinglong line had originated from them before breaking off and rising in power, eventually claiming Mount Kun in the Upper Heavens and becoming the ruling dragon clan.
In accordance with dragon tradition, when one branch rises, all others must be suppressed. To preserve resources, the weaker lines could only intermarry and ally. Ling Qingxiao was the product of such an alliance between Canglong and Yinglong. For the sake of that alliance and to secure future generations, continuing their bond through marriage remained the wisest course.
Before the truth came to light, they had supported the match between Yinyue and Zhongyu. Now that everything had changed, the identities might be reversed—but feelings could not.
Yinyue was already devoted to Zhongyu, and Su Yifang, having raised him for a thousand years, was no more willing to part with him. The alliance between the two clans would fall to him.
With Yinyue unharmed, Su Yifang let the matter drop. Let the two children develop their relationship. Still, she’d heard whispers—something about Ling Zhongyu growing close to a low-born disciple.
What was wrong with the men of the Ling family? Ignoring noble ladies to dally with common-born girls? Ling Xianhong was like that with Bai Lingluan, and now Ling Zhongyu was walking the same path.
Su Yifang asked, “What of that girl—what’s her name, Yun something?”
“She’s been quiet, for now,” a maid replied. “She was there during the beast’s rampage. After seeing how coldly the Eldest Young Master acted to subdue the beast, she seems to have drawn back.”
“Heh.” Su Yifang sneered. “She’s truly clueless. Just another low-born mongrel. Keep an eye on her. If she knows her place and backs off, fine. If not...I won’t be merciful.”
"Understood." The maid responded. Then, as if suddenly recalling something, she hesitated before asking, "Madam, what about the woman by Second Young Master’s side…?"
Only then did Su Yifang remember that Ling Qingxiao had brought a woman back as well. At least with Yun Menghan, she knew her background, but this woman beside Ling Qingxiao—aside from her name, Su Yifang knew nothing about her. She didn’t even know what she looked like.
Su Yifang felt a slight headache coming on. She had no qualms about suppressing Yun Menghan, who was powerless and had no noble lineage, but Luo Han was a different case. Her origins were a mystery, and that made it unwise to act recklessly. After some thought, she finally said, "Forget it. He rarely gets close to anyone. Let him be."
Ling Qingxiao had no responsibility in arranging marriage alliances for the family, so his personal affairs weren’t particularly significant. More importantly, Su Yifang didn’t believe that Ling Qingxiao was someone who could fall in love.
Which meant it didn’t matter at all.
Dawn. Mist curled around the mountaintops. Above the boundless sea of clouds, spiritual light flickered as another day began in Zhongshan, even before the sun had risen.
On the training grounds, numerous low-ranking disciples practiced sword techniques under the sect leader’s guidance. Higher-ranking disciples, however, were free to arrange their own morning training.
Yun Menghan had fallen out with Ling Zhongyu. She had ignored every communication talisman he sent her, and when he came looking for her in person at the disciples’ quarters, she was either absent or "conveniently" occupied, leaving him no choice but to turn away each time.
After being rejected several times, Ling Zhongyu finally lost his temper. As the eldest son of Zhongshan, he had been adored and indulged since childhood. For someone of his status, taking the initiative to seek out Yun Menghan was already an unprecedented step. To be refused once or twice was tolerable—but did she really think he would keep coming back?
Their cold war continued. Yun Menghan, who had always followed Ling Zhongyu’s lead, suddenly found herself adrift. She had no social circle of her own, so without him, she had nowhere to go. Left with no other choice, she began tagging along with her fellow female disciples wherever they went.
Today was no different. As they walked toward the training grounds, one of the junior disciples suddenly tugged on her companion’s sleeve, whispering excitedly, "Look! Isn’t that the Second Young Master?"
The group immediately turned to look. Sure enough, high up on the white jade steps leading to Qianyang Gate, a tall figure in flowing white robes stood motionless. His black hair cascaded down his back, his garments pristine, unstained by even a speck of dust. The morning breeze stirred his robes slightly, a fleeting motion as ethereal as drifting snow.
The disciples whispered among themselves, both excited and nervous.
"It really is him! Quick, is my hair neat?"
"Ugh, why didn’t I wear my new celestial dress today? Yiluan Pavilion just released a new set of enchanted robes that scatter flower petals with every step. I spent a fortune on one! If I’d known I’d run into Second Young Master, I would’ve worn it!"
They busied themselves fixing their appearance while trying to maintain an air of dignified composure. After all, the Second Young Master was known for his otherworldly grace, as if he existed beyond the mortal realm. He had no patience for those who were crude or clumsy.
A wave of excitement rippled through the crowd, but Yun Menghan, lost in their midst, felt strangely out of place. She hadn't expected to see Ling Qingxiao here, and for some reason, her heart trembled slightly at the sight of him.
Qianyang Gate was the only path leading to the training grounds. Since Yun Menghan had been accompanying her fellow disciples, their schedule had been more or less fixed. Which meant...it wouldn’t have been hard to guess the exact time they would pass through here.
Could it be...that Ling Qingxiao was waiting for her?
Her heart pounded at the thought. She wasn’t the only one who had the suspicion—several of her senior sisters exchanged glances, their minds racing with speculation. Yun Menghan pretended not to notice their gazes, steadying her emotions as she lifted her skirt and ascended the steps with measured grace.
She had barely made it halfway up when Ling Qingxiao suddenly moved.
Startled, she instinctively looked up—only to see him brushing past them without a second glance.
All she caught was a glimpse of his flowing white sleeve and the fleeting outline of his unparalleled, indifferent profile.
Her gaze followed him involuntarily as he descended the steps, but before she could process what was happening, his figure vanished into thin air. Yet, even after he disappeared, the frigid aura he carried still lingered in the air, leaving behind a trace of piercing, unyielding spiritual energy.
A flurry of whispers erupted among the disciples.
"He left? He wasn’t waiting for Yun Menghan? Then...who was he waiting for?"
Ling Qingxiao had arrived at Qianyang Gate early and stood there for a quarter of an hour. By the time he left, he had confirmed one thing: Luo Han had overslept.