Chapter 26

iHs body stiffened immediately. But they were still falling, and he couldn’t shake her off. He simply endured it, his tone composed despite the discomfort: “Let go. I’ll carry you back.”
Luo Han refused. She held on tighter, even burying her face in the crook of his neck.
The rest of Ling Qingxiao’s body went rigid.
This...this distance was far too close. He could feel the brush of her hair on his skin, featherlight and ticklish.
In all his life, he had never been this close to another person.
For a moment, his mind blanked.
They continued falling through the clouds, the cold wind whipping around them, dragging their clothes and hair into an entangled mess. All Luo Han could hear was the wind roaring in her ears. The helplessness of high-altitude freefall was overwhelming; she shut her eyes and clung to the only solid thing she could grasp.
Ling Qingxiao finally recovered. With a flick of his foot, a crystal of ice coalesced beneath him. He kicked off it with perfect control and accelerated upward, defying gravity.
The floating stones had completely lost cohesion, but he maneuvered through the chaos with effortless grace, hopping from one to another until they reached the ledge again.
Luo Han still had her face buried against him, her arms locked around his shoulders like a lifeline, unaware they were already back on solid ground.
Ling Qingxiao stood stiffly, not daring to move. He raised a hand and gently patted her shoulder. “It’s alright. We’ve landed.”
Only then did Luo Han begin to process. She blinked, slowly registering that she was clutching a very familiar robe sleeve.
She looked up, froze, and then recoiled in horror.
She had been hugging Ling Qingxiao. In midair. For who knew how long.
She let go as if scalded, stumbling two steps back—only to nearly fall again.
Ling Qingxiao sighed, caught her wrist, pulled her upright, and immediately let go. “Careful.”
Luo Han gave a dazed nod, struggling to keep a straight face. She was burning with embarrassment inside, but seeing Ling Qingxiao’s utterly indifferent expression made her feel like she was overreacting.
To him, perhaps...it was nothing.
After all, this was the man who once said, when saving Yun Menghan, that it didn’t matter who fell—he would have saved anyone.
Which meant the fault was hers.
She hadn’t yet adapted to flying or freefall, and had reacted like someone drowning—grabbing whatever she could. In truth...she had overstepped.
Still flustered, Luo Han glanced at Ling Qingxiao’s serene, picturesque profile and felt a pang of guilt. She quickly bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I was...too panicked just now. I forgot you don’t like physical contact…”
“No harm done.” Ling Qingxiao’s expression remained as calm as ever, his voice composed—but his hand, ever so slightly, seemed a little stiff. “As long as you’re unharmed, that’s what matters.”
Luo Han’s face burned with embarrassment. She hurried to change the subject. “What happened just now? Why did the formation array on the Floating Cloud Platform suddenly fail?”
The moment the topic shifted, Ling Qingxiao resumed his aloof and unruffled demeanor. “Mount Zhong was struck by an external force. Many of the protective arrays were temporarily suppressed by the pressure—that’s why the platform malfunctioned.”
Though that was an explanation, it only made Luo Han more confused. “An external force? But Mount Zhong holds one of the greatest concentrations of power in the heavens. Who would dare provoke the main peak?”
She didn’t wait for his reply—because a moment later, realization dawned.
Who else could it be, if not the Celestial Palace?
Ling Qingxiao remained silent, only lifting his gaze toward the sky. Luo Han followed his line of sight—and there, stretched across the heavens, was a streak of golden light blazing through the clouds. It shimmered like sunlight, brilliant and tyrannical, branding the sky with its divine command.
Not only Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao—every person on Mount Zhong, from injured disciples to meditating elders, had stopped what they were doing to stare upward in alarm and disbelief.
Luo Han lowered her voice. “What...is that?”
“A Celestial Summons,” Ling Qingxiao replied quietly, the shifting light casting flickering shadows across his eyes.
“For what reason?”
“When the Celestial Summons is issued, all clans in the Heavenly Realm must await orders. White light signals auspicious tidings. Red, calamity. Gold—” he paused briefly, “—a decree of war.”
Luo Han could hardly believe her ears. “War?”
Her heart sank. Had she misremembered? Aside from the great immortal-demonic war that occurred during Ling Qingxiao’s reign in the novel, was there an earlier battle she’d overlooked?
“Yes,” Ling Qingxiao confirmed. “A golden summons means evil has surfaced. All heroes of the heavens are called to arms.”
He withdrew his gaze and began forming hand seals, casting a series of glowing talismans. Soon, the barrier at the cliff’s edge rose like a curtain of flowing water and split in two.
“The Celestial Edict will arrive by tomorrow at the latest. Until then, continue your training.”
“You’re not even curious?” Luo Han asked incredulously. “It’s a Celestial Summons! What if it’s something huge?”
“We’ll know soon enough.” He had already summoned the Floating Cloud Platform anew, restoring its form with a flick of his fingers. Then, gesturing slightly with his chin, he said, “Get back up.”
Even with the heavens shaking, Ling Qingxiao remained unwavering. But news traveled faster than expected. Before the sun had fully risen, word of the decree had spread across the mountain. The moment Luo Han stepped off the training platform, she heard disciples whispering all along the path.
Just days ago, the ferocious beast Yayou, sealed beneath Mount Zhong, had broken free. Many believed it had escaped because of the lightning tribulation that had damaged the mountain, weakening the seal. That explanation held weight—but it was only part of the truth.
It wasn’t just Mount Zhong. Across the dragon clans, the sealed beasts had begun to stir. Mount Zhong’s was simply the most extreme, the only one to fully break loose. Of course, nothing escaped the notice of the Celestial Palace. After a swift investigation, the Emperor himself issued a decree from the Upper Heavens:
All celestial clans were to gather at the Western Sea—to quell the disturbance, and purge the chaos.
Luo Han overheard this all the way back, every conversation abuzz with the name Western Sea. She held her tongue until they were alone, then leaned closer and whispered, “Where is this Western Sea, exactly?”
“To the west of Mount Qi, along the edge of the Silver River.”
Ling Qingxiao barely finished the sentence before casting her a sidelong glance. “You really didn’t read the Cloud Realm Geography Compendium, did you?”
Luo Han went stiff. She hadn’t expected to be exposed so suddenly. Having an academically-inclined companion was a double-edged sword—it meant public shaming was constant.
“I mean...I read some,” she muttered weakly.
“It’s in the first volume, second chapter. Barely twenty pages in from the cover.”
Luo Han couldn’t find a single word to say. She pulled aside her veil with disbelief and stared at him. “You even remember the page number? Did you just reread it?”
“It’s common sense,” Ling Qingxiao replied, brushing the veil back down over her face with one hand. “Cultivators have sharp senses. It’s perfectly normal to remember what you read. And there are too many people around—don’t show your face.”
Luo Han obediently lowered her veil, sighing inwardly. Sure, cultivators had better memory and senses than mortals, but even so, how could anyone remember every book they read in a thousand years?
Then again, this was Ling Qingxiao. Of course he could.
Rather than sulk, Luo Han chose to move on. She’d been humiliated so many times, she was nearly immune. This was just normal now. As long as she didn’t compare herself to him, her inner peace remained intact.
She pressed on, “Why is the Celestial Palace sending everyone to the Western Sea?”
Fantastic. She hadn’t read the Chronicles of Immortal and Demonic Clashes, either. Ling Qingxiao didn’t even sigh this time—he was used to it.
“That’s where the Devourer Beast is sealed,” he said calmly. “Just beyond the Silver River, on the fringe of the known world. The spiritual energy there is chaotic and ungoverned. It’s always been a place of exile. You’ve heard of the Devourer Beast, haven’t you?”
Luo Han hesitated, then tentatively guessed, “Descendant of Taotie?”
“Correct.” Ling Qingxiao gave her a small nod. Hearing her get something right—even something as basic as that—was oddly satisfying.
After all, most immortal children learned this before they even entered formal cultivation.
Luo Han began to piece things together. “So, the Celestial Emperoris dispatching forces to the Western Seabecause of the Devourer Beast?”
But as soon as she said that, inconsistencies began surfacing. “He issued a summoning decree—it must be urgent. But if it’s so urgent, why not send the celestial troops directly? Mobilizing from the Celestial Palace would be much faster than rallying people from across the realms.”
Ling Qingxiao asked calmly, “Do you know why the Devourer Beast is imprisoned in the Western Sea?”
“Why?”
“Because the Western Seais a naturally formed suppression zone,” he said, voice cool as jade. “The higher one’s cultivation, the greater the suppression. The stronger they are, the weaker they become inside.”
Luo Han froze, then quickly grasped the logic. “So the Emperor can’t send top-tier immortals, because the stronger they are, the more heavily they’ll be restrained—making it even harder to fight the beast. But you also can’t send those too weak, or they’ll die. So the only option is to find a balance: talented young elites from powerful clans, who haven’t yet stepped into the highest realms...like the Ling clan of Mount Zhong?”
Ling Qingxiao nodded faintly. “Exactly. The suppression threshold falls roughly between the upper-tier Spirit Immortal realm and the lower-tier Celestial Immortal stage. Those at that level offer the most cost-effective force.”
It all clicked. The Devourer Beast carried the blood of the ancient divine beast Taotie—once sacred, now monstrous and insatiably bloodthirsty. With such a creature, too dangerous to kill, too volatile to release, the only solution was to imprison it in the Western Sea. The sea’s suppression field wasn’t a cage in form, but in function—it served as one all the same.
So that was the truth behind the decree. No wonder the Celestial Emperorwas calling on the entire celestial realm.
Still, Luo Han found something about the situation...off. “Even if all of that makes sense logically, it still seems strange. Selecting elite soldiers from the imperial army would be faster and more reliable than rallying every major clan in the heavens.”
Ling Qingxiao seemed to agree—he opened his mouth to speak, but then his eyes narrowed sharply and he fell silent.
Luo Han noticed too. She followed his gaze to the clouds and saw a cluster of celestial attendants descending through the mist. The moment they spotted Ling Qingxiao, they quickly landed and offered deep bows. “Greetings, Second Young Master. We’ve been searching for you.”
Ling Qingxiao's expression remained impassive. “What is it?”
The lead attendant didn’t waste time with small talk. “Today, both the Clan Head and Madam happen to be free. Madam has prepared a midday banquet, and invites both young masters to join her. A warm, familial meal, she said.”
Ling Qingxiao’s eyes flickered with suspicion. Even Luo Han was stunned—she hadn’t expected that. For Madam Su to send an invitation to Ling Qingxiao?
Immortals didn’t need food or sleep, but noble houses still honored the customs of sharing meals and formal greetings.
But this timing was...far too convenient. The heavenly decree had barely descended when Su Yifang issued a summons. According to the attendants, both Ling Xianhong and Ling Zhongyu would be there too.
This couldn’t be a simple lunch.
Luo Han glanced at Ling Qingxiao, and her vague suspicions solidified. Clearly, the summoning decree wasn’t as simple as subduing the Devourer Beast. That might be the official excuse, but this lunch? This was the real maneuver. Ling Xianhong wanted him present—for some reason.
Ling Qingxiao’s expression revealed nothing. Faced with the obvious trap, he merely nodded and said, “Lead the way.”
The attendant bowed again. “This one dares not.” She gestured subtly, and two others stepped forward. “We will escort Miss Luo back.”
Luo Han was about to agree when Ling Qingxiao’s cool voice rang out, “No need. She’s coming with me.”
Luo Han choked slightly. “I could head back on my own…”
All she wanted was to lie down. Following Ling Qingxiao meant she’d inevitably be roped into some lecture, sparring, or another impromptu study session.
“You’re not safe alone,” he said flatly. “It’s a family meal. One more person will only make it livelier. After the meal, I’ll escort you home.”
Luo Han’s lips twitched. She wanted to protest but couldn’t find a valid excuse. She muttered to herself, You’re not escorting me home. You’re just going to drop me off at the nearest training ground.
Regret welled up in her chest. She was the one who had tied herself to him, who insisted on binding Ling Qingxiao to her as her bodyguard for a thousand years.
Now she realized, she hadn’t recruited a protector...she’d picked up a stern-faced, emotionless taskmaster. The kind that kept her nose pressed to the grindstone.
And the worst part? She had nine hundred and ninety-nine more years to go.