Chapter 29

Su Yifang’s expression was as dark as a brewing storm. She locked eyes with Luo Han, who remained motionless under the pressure. As the matriarch of the Su family for many years, Su Yifang had long mastered the art of silent intimidation, yet no matter how she bore down, Luo Han remained calm and unmoved.
A flicker of surprise flashed through Su Yifang’s heart, followed by a deeper sense of wariness. Who exactly was this woman? And what was her goal?
Her back straightened instinctively. Eyes narrowing, she gave a short, cold laugh and asked, “Who sent you? Who put you up to this, trying to drive a wedge between me and my son?”
Luo Han knew Su Yifang had taken her for a schemer. She thought, Well, at least she’s giving me credit where it’s due. But she kept her expression neutral and answered evenly, “Madam overestimates me. No one sent me. If there is anyone, it’s the heavens themselves.”
Su Yifang let out a sharp, derisive laugh. Her lips curled in disdain. “Such arrogance. Do you think you represent the heavens?”
Funny thing is, I kind of do. Luo Han, unwilling to argue semantics, instead rephrased, “Madam, I came to speak with you in good faith. In five days, Ling Qingxiao will set out with the Celestial Palace’s forces. You’ve heard how dangerous this journey will be. I trust in his strength, but no one can guarantee what will happen in the Western Eri Sea. He has already been wronged for a thousand years. I don’t want his own mother and the woman who raised him to fail him again on the eve of battle.”
Su Yifang’s temper flared. “Are you accusing me?”
“No,” Luo Han replied steadily. “I just don’t want you to have regrets.”
“Regrets?” Su Yifang scoffed. Like a porcupine whose territory had been encroached upon, every spike of hers was raised in full defense. “He was switched at birth without my knowledge—I was a victim, too. Now that I know the truth, I have treated them equally, split resources equally, even promised to divide the inheritance equally. What more does he want?”
“Yes, Madam, it is your wealth. You are free to distribute it however you please.” Luo Han nodded, as if agreeing completely, before smoothly continuing, “You want Ling Qingxiao and Ling Zhongyu to live in harmony. You expect Ling Qingxiao to honor and obey you while also remaining indifferent toward Ling Zhongyu. But people are not without feelings. You cannot control your attachment to the child you raised for a thousand years, so you compensate by treating them as fairly as possible in material wealth. That is your right.”
Su Yifang was caught off guard. She had expected an argument, but Luo Han’s words seemed to be validating her point. Then, just as she was about to relax, Luo Han’s tone shifted.
“That being the case, if Ling Zhongyu were to treat both you and Bai Lingluan the same—showing neither preference nor deference, splitting his filial piety between two mothers—you would find that reasonable, wouldn’t you?”
Su Yifang’s face twisted with fury. “Absurd! What is Bai Lingluan to me? How dare she presume to sit as my equal? I raised Zhongyu, saved his life countless times when he was on the brink of death. What has Bai Lingluan ever done? What right does she have to claim my son?”
“You see?” Luo Han sighed, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “All I did was present a hypothetical, and Madam is already this angry.”
Then, her tone grew lighter, almost amused. “By the same logic, why should Ling Qingxiao be expected to treat Ling Zhongyu as an equal? There is no such fairness in this world.”
Silence fell. Su Yifang’s chest rose and fell sharply, but she had no retort.
Luo Han waited a moment, allowing her to cool down before continuing, “At this point, I’m not here to place blame. You and your son were innocent in this matter—but so was Ling Qingxiao. What did he do to deserve this? The harm has already been done. Dwelling on whose fault it was is pointless. Instead of shifting responsibility, wouldn’t it be better to focus on how to make amends?”
Luo Han’s words cut deep, stabbing straight into the heart of the matter. Su Yifang opened her mouth several times, only to close it again, unable to refute her.
Because she knew—Luo Han was right.
She had always viewed the situation from her own perspective. I am the mother. I suffered giving birth. I never wished for Ling Qingxiao to be stolen. Why should he blame me? It’s my wealth, my choice how to divide it. Splitting it evenly is already the most I can do. What more does he want? Should I regret giving birth to him?
But the moment Luo Han brought Bai Lingluan into the equation, her own logic collapsed. The thought of being placed on equal footing with that woman enraged her beyond reason.
And yet, wasn’t this exactly what she had been asking Ling Qingxiao to do?
Poetic justice.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Su Yifang’s lips—self-mocking and bitter. She cast Luo Han a sidelong glance. The girl still sat poised and upright, her back straight, posture elegant. Her veil hung naturally, obscuring her features, its layers blending into the soft folds of her white gown. Only a pair of slender hands rested on her lap, fingers laced together—fairer than the silks that draped her.
Su Yifang exhaled slowly. She had thought Luo Han was young and reckless, but now she saw—this was someone not to be underestimated.
Though her face remained hidden from start to finish, her poise alone was enough to call her a beauty.
Su Yifang eyed Luo Han warily, never letting her guard down. “You have quite the silver tongue. I wonder—where does Miss Luo hail from, and what kind of parents must one have to raise such a sharp-witted daughter?”
“You flatter me,” Luo Han replied with polite modesty. Then she added, “My parents are of no consequence. I didn’t stay behind today out of boredom, nor am I here just to make conversation. I came to discuss Ling Qingxiao’s dragon core.”
After speaking, she couldn’t resist adding, “Actually, my talent is my own—it has little to do with my parents.”
Su Yifang’s expression stiffened. Unsure of how to respond, she chose instead to steer the conversation back. “The dragon core was not my doing. I didn’t know at the time. If he must hate someone, he should hate his father.”
Luo Han was speechless, nearly tempted to flip the table and curse her out. But venting emotions was the most useless thing an adult could do. She might feel better after yelling, but offending Su Yifang would mean losing the only leverage they had. If that happened, retrieving Ling Qingxiao’s core in a justifiable manner would become even more difficult.
The priority now was solving the problem. Suppressing her frustration, Luo Han kept her voice steady, professional, and composed as she negotiated with Su Yifang. “No one wants to see the tragedy of kin turning against kin, but what’s done is done. Arguing over right and wrong now won’t change the past. The only thing left is to remedy it and minimize the damage.
“I am not of the dragon race, so I can’t fully grasp the pain of having one’s core extracted. But the first time I met Ling Qingxiao, he could barely maintain his human form—every breath was agony. I imagine it must be more painful than having one’s heart ripped out.”
Su Yifang fell silent. She closed her eyes, feeling as if someone had taken a sharp spike and twisted it into her heart. She truly hadn’t known at the time. Back then, she saw Ling Qingxiao as a thorn in her side, someone she wished dead—why would she have cared whether he suffered?
She still remembered it vividly: how Ling Qingxiao had drawn his sword himself, stabbing it into his own chest without so much as a frown. With every cut, his face turned a shade paler.
And yet, throughout it all, his expression remained calm—no, indifferent.
He had gazed at Su Yifang, who had come to kill him, and Bai Lingluan, who stood by without interference, with eyes devoid of emotion.
As if the people before him were not his stepmother and concubine mother, but mere strangers.
At the time, that look had sent a chill down Su Yifang’s spine. She had realized, with utter clarity, that this was someone who could not be allowed to live. If she didn’t eliminate him while he was still young and powerless, he would inevitably become a threat in the future.
But before she could act, the truth came to light—at the grand banquet she had meticulously prepared to celebrate Ling Zhongyu’s success.
She had forced her own son to mutilate himself to help Bai Lingluan’s son break through a bottleneck. And Bai Lingluan had stood by, watching the whole thing unfold.
Su Yifang refused to relive that day. She continued to dote on Ling Zhongyu, surrounding herself with the joy of her nieces and nephews, all while avoiding Ling Qingxiao. Because every time she saw him, she would remember his gaze that day—and the memory would nearly drive her mad.
Seeing Su Yifang’s reaction, Luo Han sighed inwardly. The tragedy of kin turning against kin, of a mother’s hand raised against her own child—no one could truly bear such a burden.
But even so, Luo Han had to pierce the fragile illusion Su Yifang clung to.
“Madam, I understand your sorrow, but please take care of yourself. Still, the matter of the dragon core cannot be avoided forever. It must be addressed sooner or later. Ling Qingxiao is your own flesh and blood. Even if you favor your foster son, is this truly the extent of your partiality?
“You carried him for ten months, brought him into this world—was it only so you could personally torment him?”
The words struck deep. Su Yifang’s face instantly turned pale. “I didn’t—!”
“Then does that mean you agree that the dragon core should be returned to its rightful owner?” Luo Han nodded, lightly tapping her palm with her fingers. “That would be ideal. The celestial ship arrives in five days. Ling Qingxiao, heavily wounded, going to the Forbidden Land—it’s far too dangerous. Since your conscience weighs on you, why not take these five days to return the dragon core to him?”
“Absolutely not!” Luo Han’s words flowed seamlessly, leading Su Yifang along without her even realizing it. But the moment she heard the demand to return the dragon core within five days, her temper flared. “Do you think a dragon core is some trivial candy that can be swallowed and spat out at will? Once absorbed, it becomes a secondary core. Separating it would be akin to carving it out—do you want to kill Zhongyu?”
Of course, Luo Han had never expected to succeed within five days. She knew it was impossible—Ling Xianhong would never allow it, nor would the Celestial Palace.
But people always resisted when pushed too hard. If you asked to open a window, they might refuse. But if you started by demanding to tear down the whole wall, they would resist fiercely—only to later agree to the compromise of just opening a window.
That was exactly what Luo Han was doing. She had deliberately pushed for an immediate extraction, only to act as though she were reluctantly stepping back when met with rejection.
“If Madam insists, then I have no choice,” Luo Han sighed, as if conceding. “How about this—after they return from the Western Sea, we discuss the matter again?”
Su Yifang hesitated, but this proposal seemed far more reasonable. She could find no immediate excuse to refuse. After a moment, she nodded. “That could work. But if Zhongyu is gravely injured—how could we possibly—”
“Madam.” Luo Han’s voice sharpened slightly, cutting off her excuse. “There is no shortage of miracles in the immortal realm. If one searches earnestly enough, there is surely a way to minimize the harm. You are the legitimate daughter of the Linshan Clan. Your family leads Zhongshan. Are you telling me that, even with the combined power of both clans, you cannot find a painless method to extract the core?
“Hesitation only invites disaster. This issue will have to be resolved eventually—sooner rather than later benefits everyone: you, the family head, Ling Qingxiao, Ling Zhongyu, and all those involved.
“Or is it that Madam truly wishes to see the two brothers turn against each other?”
Su Yifang was left speechless. Luo Han’s words were sharp as needles, leaving her nowhere to hide.
Yes, this matter had to be resolved.
All her arguments and justifications amounted to nothing more than an unwillingness to see the son she had protected since childhood suffer such pain.
If Ling Qingxiao weren’t her son, if he were still that wretched woman Bai Lingluan’s child, Su Yifang wouldn’t have spared him a second glance. Now that Ling Zhongyu had already been gifted the dragon core, trying to take it back from him was no different than asking a tiger to cough up its meal—pure fantasy. But the truth was, Ling Qingxiao was her flesh and blood.
This mistake couldn’t be allowed to drag on any longer. Ling Zhongyu housed two dragon cores, while Ling Qingxiao was still heavily wounded. Everyone knew—the best solution was to return things to their rightful place.
But no one was willing to make that move.
Ling Qingxiao stayed silent, and so they all kept dragging things out, pretending that time itself might somehow erase the problem.
Luo Han’s words were a knife, sharp and merciless, slashing through Su Yifang’s delusions and laying bare the bloody truth. She could no longer escape it. Her strength seemed to drain from her all at once, and she collapsed against the armrest, her elegant poise from earlier nowhere to be seen.
Luo Han, knowing when to retreat, stood and said, “Madam’s virtue and maternal heart are truly admirable. As we’ve now agreed, once we return from the Western Sea, the matter of the dragon core shall be addressed in earnest. You’re the patriarch’s wife, the young master’s mother—this should be handled by those closest to them. As an outsider, I won’t overstep. Please, do inform the patriarch and the young master of this matter.”
With that, she bowed gracefully. “Good day, Madam. I’ll take my leave.”
Su Yifang remained motionless. Luo Han didn’t mind—she had honored all etiquette. She turned and departed, robes fluttering behind her, every step measured and refined, flawless in manner.
She wore the poised bearing of a polished noblewoman—but inside, she was rolling her eyes hard.
A bunch of useless fools, not a single one capable of handling things.
Choosing Su Yifang as her breakthrough point had been deliberate. She certainly wasn’t about to count on Ling Zhongyu to grow a conscience and volunteer to cough up a dragon core. If this matter was going to move, it would take pressure—external pressure, leveraged wisely.
Among the power-holders of Zhongshan—Ling Xianhong, Bai Lingluan, Su Yifang—only Su Yifang had any realistic chance of standing on Ling Qingxiao’s side.
Luo Han had made the right bet. Even in a different world, her skills remained sharp.
Leaving Su Yifang’s main hall, she strolled toward the front gate. Only then did a mild headache set in.
She didn’t really know the way back.
Standing under the sun, staring at the endless sea of clouds, Luo Han was seriously considering whether she should try retracing her steps...when a familiar chill drifted in behind her.
No need to look. She already knew who it was.
Ling Qingxiao’s presence always came with a crisp coldness, the mark of someone who had cultivated ice arts for years. Hot or cold, day or night—his presence was always like snow on jade.
She turned to find him climbing the steps.
He didn’t ask what she had said to Su Yifang, and she didn’t ask where he’d been. He simply gave her a nod and said, “Let’s go.”
Luo Han followed with a crisp, “Alright.” She also didn’t bring up the “veil-fetching” excuse she’d used earlier to send him away—what a dumb lie. Looking back, she felt like her brain had turned to mush in that moment.
She stepped onto the flying sword and, with a clear conscience, promptly shut off her brain. Only then did she remember: she hadn’t even looked at the loot from earlier.
Excited, she pulled out the storage bags to inspect them. The one from the Celestial Palace was standard-issue—mass-produced, well-stocked, impersonal but valuable. The gifts from Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang, on the other hand, were clearly handpicked. Ling Xianhong had given her a Liuli seal for defense; Su Yifang, a pair of Twin Star Ribbons—balanced in attack and defense, suited for ranged control. Both gifts included pills and bundles of talismans.
Clearly, someone had considered her strengths and fighting style when selecting them.
Without hesitation, Luo Han stowed everything into her Bodhi leaf pendant.
Storage bags were the lowest tier of spatial tools. Space rings and pendants were a level up—but none of them could store living creatures. Only the legendary Mustard Seed Realm could do that—a fully contained world, complete with elemental balance and self-sustaining cycles. A pocket dimension where even humans could live and cultivate. Those who possessed one were either great sages...or favored by fate itself.
Spatial tools of the same tier couldn’t be nested. A storage bag couldn’t be placed inside a ring, and rings couldn’t be placed inside a pendant. But storage bags, being lower level, could be put into higher-tier tools.
So Luo Han shifted the two bags from Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang into her pendant. But the Celestial Palace’s space ring was equal to her pendant—so they conflicted. That one had to be worn.
She slipped the white jade ring onto her left index finger. It quickly adjusted to fit her, the change so smooth she didn’t feel a thing.
Curious, she moved it to her middle finger. The ring adapted again, instantly.
Fascinating.
She held up her hand to the sunlight, admiring it. “Of course palace aesthetics are all the same. Subtle and elegant, nothing too flashy—but once it’s on, it has this refined charm. Not bad.”
Ling Qingxiao glanced at her hand. He saw the single ring—left side only, unbalanced. His eye twitched.
Without a word, he took off his own white jade ring and handed it to her.
Luo Han was still admiring her own and didn’t quite follow. “Huh?”
Seeing her confusion, Ling Qingxiao didn’t explain. With a flick of his fingers, he guided the ring with a thread of spiritual energy and slipped it neatly onto the middle finger of her right hand.
Now both hands bore matching white jade rings, symmetrical and perfectly fitted. Her fingers were slender, her skin smooth—like the hand of a divine statue carved from fine jade.
Ling Qingxiao finally felt at peace. “Now it looks better.”
Luo Han stared at her hands for a long moment...and then asked, “So you’re giving me your military stipend? Just like that?”
“I don’t wear adornments,” Ling Qingxiao said, sword in hand. His hands had to remain unburdened—more importantly, he couldn’t tolerate anything disrupting his immaculate appearance.
Luo Han was speechless. Perfectionism really was an incurable disease. Just look at Ling Qingxiao—this man was clearly in the terminal stage.
Though she grumbled inwardly, she still kept the ring. After all, they were practically glued together these days—and they'd be heading to the Western Sea together soon. Whether the ring was on her or on him made little difference.
She admired the twin rings, holding them up and examining them on her fingers. Then, she turned a warning glare at Ling Qingxiao. “You’re not allowed to just give girls rings. Got it?”
“Why?”
“There’s no ‘why.’ Just remember that.” Luo Han gave him a final glance, then suddenly blinked. “Wait...where are we going?”
“Library Pavilion,” Ling Qingxiao answered evenly, glancing at her like she’d just asked if fire was hot. “We don’t have much time at midday. Several passages weren’t completed last time. It’s quiet now—perfect for you to finish copying the Jiuhua Scripture.”