Chapter 65

Once Luo Han realized the entire courtyard was filled with priceless relics, she started moving like a cautious ghost. She was terrified that if she touched anything too roughly, she might accidentally damage a national treasure.
Meanwhile, Ling Qingxiao was calmly carving an array into the bottom of the medicine pot. Array engravings were an ancient technique in themselves—carved into tools and utensils, they allowed the material’s innate properties to be enhanced and refined. In later eras, with the rise of advanced forging techniques, materials could be melded under high heat to create more flexible, complex tools, and the art of array-carving gradually faded into obscurity.
But compared to the current timeline of the Middle Era, even those “old” techniques were still in their infancy. Arrays had only just begun to emerge as a concept. Many sigils hadn’t yet developed their formal structure. But that was more than enough. As long as the theory existed, Ling Qingxiao could innovate freely. Even if someone questioned him, he could claim he was simply experimenting—nobody would know better.
As he carved, he murmured, “This is my first time engraving an array on Kunling Jade. A bit shameful, really.”
If anyone in the modern Tianqi Era saw him, this would be like watching someone casually scrawl on a cultural relic. But Luo Han had already seen enough miracles over the past few days to be numb to it. In fact, she was more captivated by him than the jade.
Ling Qingxiao’s hands were long and elegant. He held the carving knife with precise control, and each stroke on the jade was calm and deliberate. Whether it was his face, his hands, or the fluid motion of his movements, everything was so aesthetically pleasing it was hard to look away.
Luo Han stared for a long moment before finally remembering to ask, “What are you doing, exactly?”
“A small modification,” he replied without lifting his gaze. “Boiling medicine takes too long, and you’ve been standing watch over it this whole time. It’s inefficient. I’ve altered a few array lines—once it’s placed over the fire, the pot will automatically manage the heat and timing. You just need to preset it, and it’ll take care of itself.”
Luo Han was stunned. Was this...an automatic medicine cooker?!
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One moment she was plunged into a prehistoric life without modern convenience—and the next, the genius beside her casually recreated an ancient version of high-tech convenience.
Knowledge really could change your fate.
After finishing the array, Ling Qingxiao demonstrated it for her. Sure enough, the newly modified medicine pot could now control the flame and brewing time on its own. Luo Han was ecstatic. She saw him reach for the pestle and mortar again and quickly said, “Let me do that!”
But her hand barely lifted before he gently pressed her fingers back down. “I’ll handle it.”
With the decoction automated and her pestle duties taken away, Luo Han suddenly found herself...unemployed. She sat under the eaves, chin resting in her palm, listening to the gentle rain while watching Ling Qingxiao grind herbs.
Grinding herbs should’ve been a dull, repetitive task, but in his hands, it was oddly calming to watch. His movements were unhurried, patient, meticulous. Just looking at him made her own heart grow quiet.
Luo Han finally asked, “How are your injuries?”
“Much better,” he replied. “No wonder this is a signature remedy of Xiangshi—it works incredibly fast. Other than a faint pain when I move too much, the rest is already manageable.”
He might say it was “manageable,” but Luo Han didn’t believe it for a second. His injuries had been so severe just yesterday—no matter how miraculous the medicine, it couldn’t heal everything in a day. And the herbs had only treated the external damage. His internal injuries were far worse.
The more she thought about it, the more reluctant she felt to leave the village. Internal injuries weren’t something to mess with. If not treated properly, they could affect his future cultivation. Ling Qingxiao couldn’t use his powers or fight right now. He needed peace and rest—and this remote mountain village was the perfect place for that.
The rain slowly faded. The medicine was ready. After taking his dose, Ling Qingxiao dozed off again. Luo Han sat beside him, watching his serene, resting face, growing more anxious with every passing moment.
His internal injuries couldn’t be dragged out any longer. The village leader had said yesterday that a few key ingredients were still missing—she wondered how that was going?
Just then, footsteps echoed from the front gate. The village chief walked up to the door, just about to knock when the wooden panel swung open from the inside.
The leader paused. “I was just about to knock. How did you know I was here?”
“I heard footsteps and guessed it was you,” Luo Han replied as she stepped aside to let her in. “Is there something you needed?”
The chief unshouldered the basket on her back and pulled out several wrapped herbs. “I found the ones for your brother’s internal injuries today. But there’s one more I couldn’t find in the nearby mountains. I plan to head out farther tomorrow. These ones—you can start with. I’ll bring the last one once I find it.”
Luo Han was deeply touched. “You’ve gone to so much trouble for us...we don’t even know how to repay you.”
“No need,” the chief waved a hand dismissively. “These days, battles are erupting everywhere. The demons are eyeing our lands, and we immortals must stand together. You’re just children, and you’ve already lost your family, relying only on each other. Any adult who sees that would want to help. I may not be able to do much, but at the very least, I can find you the right herbs.”
Luo Han’s eyes stung a little. She bowed her head in gratitude. Then she looked at the basket on the woman’s back and offered hesitantly, “This is already such a burden on you. If you’re heading out again, let me come with you. I may not know herbology, but I can at least carry things for you.”
She meant every word—but as soon as she spoke, her heart twinged. She glanced toward the house, worried.
Ling Qingxiao was still asleep. If she left now, who would take care of him?
Seeing Luo Han hesitate, the village chief kindly said, “No need—you should stay and look after your brother. I’m used to the mountain paths, I’ll be fine on my own.”
“That wouldn’t feel right,” Luo Han said firmly. She couldn’t bring herself to simply sit at home while others helped them. The chief had already given them shelter and medicine—what kind of person would she be to let someone else brave the mountains while she sat comfortably waiting?
Unfortunately, it was just the two of them. There simply weren’t enough hands.
Luo Han considered taking a risk—maybe she could pull out a protective formation from her spatial ring to keep the courtyard safe while she was gone. But before she could decide, the chief seemed to sense her concern and added, “There’s nothing to worry about. Our tribe has guards who patrol the mountains daily. And even if the demons somehow managed to sneak past them, we have neighbors on every side. The moment anything sounds off, everyone would come running. If you’re really worried, you can set a door spirit charm at the gate.”
Luo Han blinked. “A door spirit charm?”
The chief smiled and demonstrated it for her. “Every door and wall is watched over by its own guardian spirit. Unless someone inside gives permission, outsiders—especially dark forces—can’t come through. The charm is a way of invoking and honoring that guardian.”
This was clearly a spell born of ancient beliefs—faith in the divine, the practice of offerings and invocation. In later eras, when faith in the gods faded, these rituals had long been lost.
Luo Han gave it a try herself and instantly felt a strange, divine resonance. Her eyes narrowed. She’d never felt this when using normal spells. Could it be...these were the kinds of techniques she was supposed to learn?
She tucked the thought away for now. One step at a time. First, she needed to get Ling Qingxiao fully healed.
She placed the new herbs in the courtyard and pretended to go back inside to fetch something. In reality, she used the moment to load up on weapons and hidden tools from her spatial ring, slipping them on beneath her robes. Then she shut the gate and followed the chief out.
Before they left, she cast the door spirit charm as instructed. The moment she finished, the chief’s eyes widened in surprise. “You managed that on your first try? And with such strong effect? You’re truly talented.”
Well...she was technically a minor god. It made sense divine spells suited her.
Luo Han gave a vague, modest reply. “Chief flatters me—it was likely just luck. It’s getting late, let’s head into the mountains.”
The chief didn’t argue. Worried about descending after dark, she agreed at once. The two of them trekked deeper into the forest. The chief might look older, but her pace was astonishingly swift. In fact, by the time they reached the steepest parts, Luo Han had to work hard just to keep up.
Noticing this, the chief took the time to offer her breathing and movement techniques to better navigate the terrain. At first, she had assumed these two siblings were descendants of some prestigious clan, forced into hiding by misfortune. But the more she chatted with Luo Han, the more surprised she was—this girl knew almost nothing.
To Luo Han’s credit, she seized the opportunity to learn. And the chief, open-hearted and experienced, generously taught her everything she knew.
The Middle Era was different from the world Luo Han came from. In later generations, peace led to pride, and sects became secretive and possessive. But in this age of constant war, survival came first. Sharing techniques—even the secrets of a clan—was not seen as foolish, but as a chance to preserve life.
Along the way, the chief pointed out trees and herbs, naming them and explaining their uses. Bit by bit, Luo Han absorbed a wealth of practical knowledge she’d never find in any book. What looked like scattered tidbits were actually the distilled experience of a seasoned warrior—far more valuable than anything learned through rote study.
One such teaching was the unique cultivation philosophy of this era. In later times, the world had grown obsessed with techniques—refining weapons, concocting pills, casting spells, laying arrays. Any cultivator traveling would be weighed down by dozens of tools. But here, in the Middle Era, it was the opposite.
This era valued the Dao itself. The principle of simplicity, of minimalism. People believed in strengthening the body—when the body was strong, techniques would follow naturally. The chief even said, training wasn’t something you did; it was something that emerged from living.
Luo Han felt this wasn’t a matter of right or wrong—just different worldviews. And she didn’t plan to reject either. She’d learn the Middle Era’s physical cultivation and healing knowledge, while still using the refined tools and advanced techniques of the later Tianqi Era when needed.
The higher they climbed, the rougher the terrain became. Eventually, the path vanished altogether, and they had to cut their own way through. Her veil made it harder to breathe, and after several steep slopes, Luo Han finally pulled it down and took a deep breath.
The moment the chief saw her face, she stopped mid-step.
When they first met, Luo Han had been veiled, and Ling Qingxiao had been gravely injured. At the time, the chief had assumed the siblings had a tragic backstory and didn’t pry. But now, seeing her unveiled in the light of day, the chief was completely stunned.
She had already been struck by Ling Qingxiao’s looks when they first arrived. In fact, she had joked to herself: With such a good-looking brother, no wonder the sister hides her face. But now...it turned out the sister was equally stunning.
The chief didn’t even know what to say at first. In the end, all she could do was sigh and murmur, “Truly worthy of being siblings. Such divine features. But your features aren’t actually that similar...your parents must both have been breathtaking.”
Luo Han winced inwardly. One lie always led to more lies. “I suppose...maybe.”
Beautiful, sensible children—who wouldn’t like them? The more they spoke, the more fond the chief grew of Luo Han. After a moment, she asked curiously, “But if you look like this, why wear a veil at all?”
Luo Han paused for a moment, then answered softly, “I used to cover my face because it was easier. But I won’t do that anymore.”
Cultivation was about freedom and understanding the self—if she didn’t even dare show her face, what was the point of cultivating at all?
She looked the way she did, and there was no need to hide it. She used to worry about attracting trouble, but hiding wouldn’t make the danger go away. Only strength would.
So why not stand openly under the sun and let the need to protect herself push her to grow stronger?
Of course, her decision to remove the veil had a more practical reason too—they were in the midst of war, not peace. On the battlefield, looking good might not get you noticed, but wearing a veil definitely would. That was basically walking around with a target painted on your back.
Too out of place, too conspicuous.
Once the veil was off, Luo Han moved much faster. Fortunately, luck was on their side today—they didn’t have to go too far before they found the rare herb they were looking for. Luo Han helped pack it up, and then the two made their way back down the mountain together.
On the way back, the sky darkened, and a light rain began to fall. At first, neither of them paid it much mind—it was barely enough to dampen their hair. But as they neared the base of the mountain, the rain began to intensify.
The village chief looked up at the sky and asked, “Looks like it’s about to really come down. Should we find some shelter, or keep going?”
Luo Han frowned at the dark clouds. “We should head back quickly. This rain looks like it might last a while. It’s better to get down before it gets heavier and the road gets harder to walk.”
The chief agreed, and they both picked up the pace. As they rounded a bend near the mountain pass, they saw someone standing at the path’s end, as if he’d been waiting a long time.
Even through the misty rain, Luo Han could recognize him at a glance.
He wore crisp white robes, the rain around him turning to frost the moment it touched his aura. There was no need to see his face—his presence alone gave him away.
The chief spotted him too and turned to Luo Han with a teasing smile. “So that’s why you were in such a rush to get back—someone was waiting.”
Luo Han hadn’t known Ling Qingxiao would be waiting. Judging by how long he’d been standing there, he must’ve come looking a while ago. She didn’t have a good explanation, so she forced a smile and said, “My brother worries too much. He’s always been like that. You’ll get used to it.”
Then she raised her hand and called out, “I’m here!”
When Ling Qingxiao woke up that morning, he was surprised to find the bed beside him empty—and the room as well.
He thought she was just outside, but when he stepped into the courtyard and found it silent, his heart sank.
Where had she gone?
The courtyard was in order, with no signs of a struggle. That at least meant she hadn’t been taken. But that left only one possibility—she had gone out on her own?
He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the worry that she’d gone somewhere dangerous, or the sour feeling that she’d promised to stay and watch over him, and yet had left without a word.
When he opened the gate, he sensed a faint enchantment unravel—a protective ward. It was a door spirit charm, an ancient spell long thought lost to history. He didn’t have time to marvel at it—he only cared about finding Luo Han.
He first went to the chief’s home, figuring that would be her most likely destination. But the chief’s family said she had gone out into the mountains to gather herbs—and hadn’t yet returned.
When he asked where, they couldn’t say. Herbs grew where they liked in the mountains, and the search was mostly guided by luck.
Ling Qingxiao had no way to find them. All he could do was wait at the mountain path.
He waited a long time. The sky darkened, and then the rain began to fall.
Just as he was about to go looking himself, he heard her voice call out through the mist—“I’m here!”
He turned, saw her, and immediately strode forward. Rain fell around him and froze into white frost at his feet, sharp and cold, like a blade cutting through fog and shadow.
The chief’s smile grew even more amused. Luo Han pretended not to notice, though she felt a bit strange inside.
Why did Ling Qingxiao look...upset?
With his cold-water affinity, rain should’ve blended naturally with his aura, yet now it froze into jagged ice crystals around him. That kind of reaction meant his spiritual energy was leaking—he was in a bad mood.
He reached her quickly. His expression was taut, clearly holding something in. Luo Han braced herself for a scolding.
But to her surprise, the first thing he said was: “Why didn’t you find shelter?”
The excuses she had prepared got stuck in her throat. She blinked, confused. “Huh?”
He reached out and touched her damp hair—still wet from the rain. He frowned deeply. “This rain is too heavy. What if you get sick?”
“I was out gathering herbs,” Luo Han replied, as if that explained everything. “It wasn’t a good time to delay. Besides, it’s just a bit of rain. I’m not so delicate—I’m not going to faint from getting wet.”
Ling Qingxiao heard she’d gone into the mountains and his frown deepened. “That kind of task is dangerous. Why didn’t you wait for me? Why go alone?”
Luo Han didn’t even have to think. She answered immediately: “Because I need to learn to do things myself.”
Ling Qingxiao had still been preparing to say more, but when he heard those words, he fell silent. That’s right—Luo Han was growing. One day, she’d become someone who could stand entirely on her own, someone who wouldn’t need protection anymore.
He felt a strange rush of emotion well up inside him—so strong it caught him off guard.
The village chief stood off to the side, watching the two of them. She was clearly right there in plain sight, yet these two kept talking like she didn’t even exist.
The chief clicked her tongue. Young people and their little dramas...She was too old to be standing in the rain for this.
With an exaggerated cough to draw their attention, she smiled kindly once they looked over. “Now that you’ve got the last herb, and I already went over the prescription with Luo Han on the way back, the medicine for the internal injury is ready. All that’s left is brewing it. I doubt you two need me to hover and nag, so I’ll take my leave. If you run into any problems, feel free to find me.”
Only then did Luo Han realize the chief had also been standing in the rain this whole time. She quickly apologized, and Ling Qingxiao, setting his questions aside for now, helped see the chief off with her.
By the time they returned to their own courtyard, the sky had gone dark. Luo Han lit a lamp and didn’t even pause to wipe the water from her clothes—her first thought was to check the herbs.
Rain could ruin them. She counted and inspected them three times before she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She had just started preparing the decoction for internal healing when something warm and soft landed on her head.
Ling Qingxiao had appeared behind her and was gently drying her hair with a fine, soft cloth.
Luo Han glanced at him and blinked in surprise. “Wait a second—this isn’t that high-grade towel from the Tianqi era? I thought you said we shouldn’t use anything from the storage ring unless absolutely necessary?”
“It is,” Ling Qingxiao said calmly. “And this is a necessary situation.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact that Luo Han didn’t even know how to respond.
Once her hair was towel-dried, Ling Qingxiao infused a bit of spiritual energy into his hand to gently warm and dry it further.
Luo Han immediately grabbed his hand, alarmed. “You haven’t recovered yet—don’t use your energy.”
“It’s fine,” Ling Qingxiao said. Seeing that she wasn’t letting go, he simply switched hands and kept drying her hair. “This little bit won’t strain the injury.”
Luo Han’s robes were enchanted garments from the Tianqi era—waterproof and fireproof. They’d never been wet to begin with. Once her hair was dry, her entire body felt cozy again. She glanced at Ling Qingxiao’s still-dripping long hair and said, “Then let me dry yours.”
He was about to refuse when she cut him off sharply. “Don’t be a hypocrite. You dried mine, so naturally I should dry yours. You’re the one who’s injured. Be good and cooperate.”
Ling Qingxiao had been hearing a lot of “be good” lately. He gave her a slightly helpless look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not,” Luo Han said seriously. She dragged him into the room and firmly pushed him onto the floor cushion. Then she picked up the towel, gave it a shake to clean and dry it, and began to carefully dry his hair.
She combed his long hair out with her fingers, gently wrapping the strands in the cloth. His hair was smooth and fine as flowing water.
“Even though the Middle Era has so many great things,” she said with a sigh, “I have to admit—the Tianqi stuff is just more convenient.”
Ling Qingxiao sat upright as she worked. After a moment, he suddenly asked, “If you had the choice...would you stay here, or return to the Tianqi era?”