Chapter 30

After leaving the main hall, Bai Lingluan deliberately slowed her pace. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the steady sound of footsteps approached behind her.
She turned and, without saying a word, smiled brightly. “Zhongyu.”
Seeing the way she looked at him, Ling Zhongyu couldn’t quite keep his voice stern. “You called me out...is something wrong?”
Bai Lingluan seemed a little shy in his presence. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said softly, “It’s nothing really...I just wanted to check on you. I heard from the Clan Head that this mission is extremely dangerous—not only will you face the Devourer Beast, but demons and rogue beasts may also take advantage of the chaos. You haven’t fully healed, and now you’re being sent to the battlefield...I can’t help but worry.”
She was reserved, almost timid. But the awkwardness wasn’t one-sided. Ling Zhongyu also felt unsettled. For the past thousand years, as the acknowledged heir, he had never paid much attention to a mere concubine in the back courtyard. Even when Bai Lingluan gave birth to his so-called “half-brother,” she’d never been worthy of his notice.
Never had it crossed his mind that Bai Lingluan might actually be his birth mother.
So when his tribulation thunder struck during his ascension, his first thought was that Heaven had made a mistake. But then, when lightning descended, Bai Lingluan threw herself in front of him, shielding him with her own body. Emotionally, he couldn’t process it—but logically, he knew the truth.
Life-and-death instinct doesn’t lie. Bai Lingluan had known all along that he was her son. It explained so much—the way she looked at him with unspoken care, always watching from the shadows. He used to think she was just trying to curry favor with the rightful heir. Now, he knew—it had always been blood.
No matter what others said about her, to Ling Zhongyu, Bai Lingluan was the mother who loved him. That would never change.
His tone softened. “Don’t worry. My wounds aren’t serious. Besides, Father gave me a protective treasure—if the worst happens, I can still save myself.”
Bai Lingluan’s face lit up. “The Clan Head gave you something extra? I knew it. You’re his favorite—he’d never truly treat you and...that one...the same. I may not be up to date with current events anymore, but your father has seen it all. Make time to speak with him before you leave—he must know more than he’s letting on.”
“I will,” Ling Zhongyu nodded. He didn’t need Bai Lingluan to tell him that. The squeaky wheel gets the grease—if he didn’t go find Ling Xianhong, did she expect the man to seek him out? Not likely.
And let’s be real—where in this world is there such a thing as true fairness? In noble families, favoritism was everything. The one most loved got the best. The rest fought for scraps.
Unlike that fool Ling Qingxiao—cold, withdrawn, always keeping his distance. Taking what he was given and never asking for more. Only an idiot acts like that.
Bai Lingluan went on and on, giving him all the motherly warnings she had saved up for a thousand years. Though Ling Zhongyu found it tedious, he forced himself to listen.
Looking at her grown, powerful son before her, Bai Lingluan suddenly felt a pang of regret.
It felt like just a blink, and he had grown so tall.
What she regretted most in life—what ached to the core—was missing her child’s entire upbringing.
When Ling Zhongyu was learning to walk and talk, Bai Lingluan had yet to be brought into the household. She was still a shameful secret, unable to show her face. She could only clutch his tiny robes, sobbing as her heart tore in two.
Later, when she was finally allowed into the open, Ling Zhongyu had already become someone else’s son. She could only stand by and watch as he called another woman “Mother,” leaning into that woman’s embrace with childlike affection.
Su Yifang had stolen her senior brother, her rightful place, and now...even her child.
How could Bai Lingluan not hate?
She watched her son snuggle up to another woman, then turned around and unleashed all her resentment—all her fury—on Ling Qingxiao.
So what if Su Yifang was the high and mighty head wife? So what if she bore the purest Yinglong and Canglong bloodline? In the end, the so-called child of heavenly omen—born beneath celestial signs—was still left at her mercy.
She tormented Ling Qingxiao however she could. She couldn’t hurt his dragon blood, so she lashed at him with words. Vicious, cutting words.
Then, come morning, she’d be riddled with guilt. She’d summon him, offer kind words, comfort him—trying to make up for her cruelty.
But it never lasted. A few days of peace, then a glimpse of Ling Zhongyu, and all her hatred would rise again...and crash down on Ling QingXiaolike a wave.
Again and again. On and on, with no end.
Over time, Ling Qingxiao became cold. Detached. His ability to trust withered into nothing.
Sometimes, Bai Lingluan regretted it. But those moments were fleeting—like sparks that vanish in the wind. Because as Ling Qingxiao grew, so did his brilliance. His talent was otherworldly; his cultivation outpaced even prodigies.
He reminded her with every breath that power was ordained. Nobility could not be defied. She...and her child...would never be anything more than a mixed-blood disgrace.
Though the Great War of the Middle Era had long ended, the enmity between celestials and demons remained deeply etched in the fabric of the world. A child of both bloodlines—half-immortal, half-demon—was a pariah in every realm.
Spiritual energy and demonic energy stood in absolute opposition, making cultivation techniques for each side fundamentally incompatible. That’s why celestial-demonic hybrids often had abysmal aptitude. If mortals began at zero and dragons at one hundred, then demons...were in the negatives.
Two dragons united? A powerhouse pairing. One dragon, one mortal? The dragon’s dominant bloodline might still drag the child’s talent upward. But pair a dragon with a demon, and disaster was all but guaranteed.
The purer the demonic blood, the worse the outcome. It wasn't just a matter of lineage corruption; it was an affront to both sides. The celestial bloodline became tainted, and the demonic one diluted—neither clan could tolerate such offspring. To the world, it wasn’t simply taboo—it was heresy.
Take Bai Lingluan, for instance. She cultivated desperately, swallowing countless pills and elixirs, but her progress remained stagnant. Once she became pregnant with Ling Zhongyu, she gave up entirely, focusing all her efforts on securing a future for her son.
But even with her efforts, Ling Zhongyu’s path had already been compromised. Born weak, with mediocre talent, he was quickly outpaced by his peers—and more importantly, by his half-brother, Ling Qingxiao. At first, Bai Lingluan refused to accept it. But as the children grew and their cultivation diverged further, she was finally forced to confront the bitter truth:
In this lifetime, Ling Zhongyu would never surpass Ling Qingxiao.
And from that truth, envy took root.
If Ling Qingxiao had been slow-witted, or even just plain-looking, perhaps Bai Lingluan could have coexisted with him, at least on the surface. But he was too perfect—so perfect it bred resentment.
Her expression darkened at the memory. Her lips moved, then stilled—finally, she spoke, voice low and veiled with intent. “Once we reach the Western Sea, the situation will be chaotic. You must tread carefully. And if the opportunity presents itself...eliminate the threat at the root.”
Who the "threat" was needed no clarification.
Ling Zhongyu was silent for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. “I understand.”
Ling Qingxiao had struck first, Bai Lingluan told herself. He had severed Ling Zhongyu’s arm in the Biyun Secret Realm—who could say what he might do in the Western Sea? If he drew first blood again, then don’t blame her for being ruthless.
A snake born of a viper will still carry venom. The child of Su Yifang would never be truly clean.
The moment the Heavenly Palace's summon was issued, Zongshan buzzed with fervor. Within the day, every disciple knew: the palace was mobilizing a force to suppress a rampaging beast in the Western Sea. Anyone at or above the Spirit Immortal stage could register within three days.
In a place like Zongshan, where prodigies were born by the dozens, chances like this were rare. Even though the beast was notoriously dangerous, countless disciples still signed up. Three days later, Luo Han’s token lit up—signaling the final selection.
The identity token served not only as proof of one’s rank and cultivation, but also doubled as an official information hub. The announcement flashed gold—a radiant shimmer drawing everyone's attention.
It felt like the results of an exam being posted across the entire school.
Luo Han already had a hunch, but curiosity got the better of her. She formed a hand seal, and the token's glow shifted into a beam of light. Characters etched themselves into the air like sword cuts—line after line until a full hundred names had been listed.
Officially, the list was curated based on overall strength, selecting only the top 100 out of the many who applied. Unofficially, of course, it had been pre-arranged from the beginning.
At the very top—unsurprisingly—was Ling Qingxiao. Second place went to Ling Zhongyu.
Luo Han clicked her tongue. Even in a rigged ranking, Ling Qingxiao still took first place. If he were placed second, the people pulling strings behind the scenes would be too embarrassed to rig it in the first place.
She scrolled down, feeling a bit like a nosy relative checking in on a younger sibling’s test scores. It was just for fun—until she saw her own name buried in the eighties.
She blinked.
That bastard Ling Xianhong had gone out of his way to bury her in the middle of the list, low enough not to draw attention, but still publicly displayed.
It hit her like a sneak attack. She wasn’t even officially a Zongshan disciple—why include her at all? And if they were going to include her, couldn’t they have given her a better ranking?
Instead, she was dragged into the bottom tier and paraded around for the whole sect to see. Did the Heavenly Dao have no sense of dignity?
Still seething, Luo Han kept scrolling—only to find Yun Menghan’s name five or six places higher.
No doubt Ling Zhongyu’s doing. The male lead pulling strings to get his heroine into the team, how very on-brand.
She scrolled through the rest without much interest. But then, a sudden thought struck her: she hadn’t seen Su Yinye’s name.
She double-checked—nothing.
So, when push came to shove, the male lead still favored the female lead over his cousin. He’d ensured Yun Menghan could come, but left Su Yinyue behind.
Ah...the cruelty of love triangles.
Luo Han sighed, tidied up her belongings, and activated the dual storage rings on her fingers—set to invisible. She checked the items in her Bodhi Leaf pendant once more, confirmed everything was in order, then stepped out.
Three days had passed just compiling the final roster. Only two remained before the Heavenly Palace’s flying ship would arrive. And though she’d received supplies from both the palace and Zongshan, nothing could compare to handling things herself—so, she set out to do some last-minute shopping down the mountain.
Conveniently, there was an auction being held today—perfect timing to take care of everything at once. Luo Han wasn’t expecting to actually buy anything; she didn’t exactly have money to throw around. But it wouldn’t hurt to broaden her horizons a little.
By the time she arrived, Ling Qingxiao was already waiting at their agreed meeting spot. When he saw her, he asked, “All set?”
Luo Han nodded. “Spirit stones, face veil, cloak, formation disks, and the voice-altering elixir—I brought everything. Nothing’s missing.”
If they were just heading into town for supplies, they wouldn’t need to be so cautious. But tonight, they were also attending an auction. And not just any auction—one that catered to both sides of the law. With deals easily running into the millions of spirit stones, and items of...questionable origin, discretion was everything. Buyers and sellers alike went to great lengths to keep their identities hidden.
Without proper concealment, a place like that could be fatal.
Ling Qingxiao gave a small nod, saying no more. The two of them walked side by side down the mountain. Zongshan had a no-fly rule—no flight talismans or artifacts were permitted above the Wentian Gate, the main peak. Luo Han hadn’t yet reached the level of wind-riding, so they had to descend on foot to the gate before they could use their swords to fly.
The square at Wentian Gate was bustling, voices overlapping in a clamor of excitement. As they drew closer, Luo Han noticed a large board hung above the gate, displaying the very same rankings from earlier. A crowd of disciples gathered around, pointing and chatting animatedly.
At the very top, “Ling Qingxiao” shone in dazzling golden characters—standing alone, unmatched and radiant.
Luo Han’s face immediately soured. She paused for a moment, speechless. “Seriously? A bootleg ranking, and they still had to plaster it across the south gate?”
“Any official ranking from Zongshan must be posted publicly for at least three days,” Ling Qingxiao replied evenly. “It’s meant to serve as motivation.”
He glanced at the board—and paused, just a moment. “You actually placed above Yun Menghan. Impressive.”
He had honestly expected Luo Han to be dead last. Even with a prearranged list of names, the rankings themselves were calculated by the system and based on impartial metrics.
The names could be chosen, but the order could not. Which meant, according to the official algorithm, Luo Han’s overall performance had genuinely surpassed Yun Menghan’s.
Considering Luo Han’s cultivation was practically nonexistent, that meant she’d compensated through other strengths—enough to bridge the vast gap in cultivation base.
Luo Han looked like she’d rather disappear into the floor. “Three whole days? Seriously?” she muttered, mortified. She grabbed Ling Qingxiao’s sleeve and pulled him forward. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s just go.”
How dare they put her at the bottom of the list and then publicly shame her for three days straight?
Nice going, Heavenly Dao. You’ve officially lost your daughter’s affection.