Chapter 69

When Luo Han heard the thunder, an idea suddenly came to her. Lightning was the natural bane of demons, and heavenly thunder was the judgment weapon of the Heavenly Dao. She, as the embodiment of the Heavenly Dao, was born to wield it.
Now, with thunder and lightning already present, she had the home-ground advantage. She didn’t need to defeat the demon god—she just needed to make him hesitate. That would be enough.
The thought flashed by in an instant—still incomplete, unformed—but the demon god’s aura was growing stronger by the second. There was no time to ponder it fully.
She immediately turned to Ling Qingxiao. “Take me to higher ground—quick!”
Earlier, they’d both insisted the other leave. Since neither could convince the other, then so be it—they’d face this together.
After all, they’d fought side by side through so many battles already. What was one more?
As expected, neither of them objected to this plan. Ling Qingxiao had already guessed Luo Han’s intention. He glanced around and said, “Lightning alone won’t be enough.”
“What?”
“There are mountains and rocks. Crude as they may be, we can still set up a demon-suppressing formation.”
Ling Qingxiao’s understanding of formations far surpassed Luo Han’s, so she refrained from commenting and instead asked, “Where do we go?”
“There’s no time.” Ling Qingxiao didn’t waste another word. He took Luo Han and soared into the air, heading for the nearest mountain peak. “Let’s do what we can.”
They reached the mountaintop, and not long after, a dark silhouette slowly emerged beyond the cliff’s edge.
The wind howled atop the mountain, and rain fell in icy sheets. That figure floated in midair, relaxed and composed, seemingly untouched by the world around him. His long hair was untied, flowing freely in the air. His skin was pale, his eyes narrow and slightly upturned at the corners, and intricate totem-like markings framed his cheeks. He looked both handsome and dangerously alluring.
Luo Han recalled the last time she saw a lingering will of one of the ancient gods in the fallen Divine Realm. That god had once spoken wistfully about how perfect divine bodies and faces were. Back then, Luo Han thought he was just being vain—but now, looking at the demon god, she believed it.
The aesthetics of all six realms did indeed seem to take gods as the ultimate standard. The demon god’s appearance might not appeal to the immortals, who preferred aloof, transcendent beauty. But among the demons, he was undoubtedly the ideal—he was their aesthetic blueprint.
The demon god studied the two before him, raising a brow in interest. He had only intended to squash a few annoying ants, but unexpectedly stumbled upon such a delightful surprise.
Smirking faintly, he asked, “Was it you two who killed my followers?”
The accusation was absurd. Luo Han immediately retorted, “They tried to kill me first. I only fought back.”
The demon god looked the pair up and down, smiling. “How amusing.”
Truly amusing. One carried the aura of temporal laws—the dragon—while the other was a young, freshly emerged god. These two had appeared alone behind the battle lines with no companions in sight. What were they up to?
His expression remained inexplicably amused as he asked Luo Han, “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Just passing through,” Luo Han replied warily, not giving a real answer. Instead, she turned the question back on him: “Why do you ask?”
Why ask? The demon god chuckled. A young, weak, yet fully-formed god—what could she possibly do?
He had originally planned to circle around the frontlines for a surprise attack. As a supremely noble god, he naturally deserved the finest accommodations wherever he went. He’d sent a group ahead to prepare his resting place. But they never returned—instead, he received an urgent report.
The advance party had run into an ambush while sweeping through Qingshan Village. All were killed save for one who barely escaped. That demon, once safe, immediately sent word to the demon god to report what had happened.
The demon god didn’t really care about those few demons’ lives—but the fact that immortals had killed his people was an affront. His pride couldn’t tolerate it. Furious, he casually dispatched a spiritual projection to deal with the pests.
He hadn’t expected to stumble upon a newly-formed god.
The moment he laid eyes on Luo Han, the demon god had a thought—if he could devour her, his own divinity would grow more complete and his power would increase dramatically. Once he mastered a law of his own, would he still need to fear Rong Cheng?
The demon god smiled and said slowly, “There’s war everywhere right now. Not far from here is a battlefield. You’re so young—wandering around alone is dangerous. I know a safe place. Why don’t you go there and hide for now? Come out again when you’re stronger.”
“And where would that be?” Luo Han asked. “The Demon Realm?”
“The Demon Realm isn’t some place that eats people,” the demon god said with a smile. “The difference between immortals and demons is just a matter of cultivation paths. You don’t even cultivate spiritual power, so what difference does it make where you stay?”
The Demon Realm might not eat people—but this demon god certainly might. Luo Han didn’t believe a word he said. Still, she didn’t want to provoke him, so she politely declined: “Thanks, but no need. I’m fine where I am.”
“You don’t want to go?” The demon god let out a long sigh, then suddenly reached toward Luo Han. “Then I’m afraid it’s not your choice.”
The moment he moved, the ground lit up with lines of an array beneath his feet. He looked down at the glowing lines of formation beneath him, surprised. “You’ve been planning to ambush me this whole time?”
This formation clearly couldn’t have been laid down in a few moments. That meant they had set it up before the demon god even arrived.
Luo Han said, “If you hadn’t attacked, it never would’ve been used.”
The demon god actually laughed out of anger. “Well, well. Impressive. But it’s just petty trickery. Let’s see whether a mere formation can hold me.”
With that, the demon god struck at the array. In his mind, formations were fancy but flimsy toys crafted by the immortals—resource-intensive, rigid, and ultimately useless. Just decorations, really. He had no respect for such “techniques.” In his view, raw power triumphed over everything. Strength could solve it all.
And breaking a formation was simple: just hit it hard enough.
But when his strike hit the formation, it felt like punching into water. The array rippled gently. His magic force spread out like waves, absorbed and diffused into the formation itself, as if it had become part of it.
The demon god was startled. What kind of array was this? Why did it feel so different from the ones he’d seen before?
Ancient formations were nothing like those of the later era. Formations were born of war but thrived in peace. In times of battle, individual power was limited, and the immortals desperately needed a method for large-scale attacks—thus, formations came into being.
After the wars of the Middle Era ended, Ming Wu Xianzun of the Immortal Sect dedicated his life to researching spatial formations, elevating their status tremendously. In later generations, more and more people studied formations, until they transformed completely, becoming the most refined of the Four Great Arts: talismans, pills, weapons, and formations.
Ancient arrays were rigid and single-purpose, poor at adapting. But by the Age of Enlightenment, formations had become highly flexible.
The one Ling Qingxiao laid down now was the Celestial Realm’s most important and thoroughly studied—the Demon-Suppressing Array.
The Demon-Suppressing Array and the Demon-Slaying Array were the foundation of the Celestial Realm. Every generation of Celestial Emperor placed great importance on them, and demon-targeting arrays had always been the most extensively studied. Ling Qingxiao no longer cared whether his identity would be exposed—between two dangers, he chose the lesser. For now, avoiding death at the hands of the demon god was far more important than keeping secrets.
The Celestial Realm had poured vast effort into figuring out how to construct the most lethal formation possible without alerting the demons. Thanks to the efforts of generations past, the method for deploying the Demon-Suppressing Array had been simplified to the extreme. Ling Qingxiao had already started his setup as soon as they reached the summit. While Luo Han kept the demon god talking, he silently completed the array.
Fortunately, what arrived today was not the demon god’s true body, but merely a sliver of divine consciousness. His power was greatly diminished, giving them a chance to fight back. Ling Qingxiao didn’t hope to kill or defeat the demon god—he only needed to trap him for a short time.
When the first strike failed, the demon god was shocked. He withdrew some of his arrogance and unleashed a second, fully-charged blow. Previously, he had never taken the immortals’ toys seriously—spiritual tools, elixirs, formations. To him, they were like children's playthings. He had assumed the earlier failure was due to a lack of effort. Now that he was serious, this formation should collapse easily.
Yet to his surprise, the formation only trembled violently, remaining firmly intact.
The demon god’s wariness grew. What was this thing, and why was it so strange? What alarmed him even more was that the power sustaining this array wasn’t spiritual force—it was natural force.
Gods had created the world, creating spiritual energy and demonic energy, and establishing the laws of existence. Though immortals and demons cultivated power, they did so within a framework crafted by gods. The power of immortals and demons came from spirit or demon energy, but a god’s power stemmed from nature itself. Just as lightning trials tested ascendant immortals and karmic flames scorched advancing demons, lightning, fire, wind, and water were forces beyond spirit and demon power.
This was why immortals, demons, and beasts could not harm gods.
Because of this, the demon god looked down on them all—immortals, beasts, humans—even his fellow demons. To him, they were servants, sacrifices meant to worship him. He could never understand why Father God created heaven and earth, or why Nuwa molded humans from clay. Why go to such trouble for such weak, pathetic insects?
In his opinion, these lowly beings had never needed to exist. At most, they served as laborers to handle mundane chores. But now, immortals and humans had proliferated far too much, expanding their reach into the gods’ domain. A faction of gods led by the demon god wanted to eliminate the surplus mortal population. Rong Cheng and He Xu disagreed, and so the ancient war began.
The demon god had always been arrogant—but now, inside a formation crafted by the very ants he scorned, he was sensing a power on par with his own: the force of nature.
Formations converted the energy of heaven and earth into weapons, and there was a reason they stood above all other mystical arts.
The demon god was shaken. Escaping this formation was possible—but the realization alone sent chills through him. He remained trapped far longer than Luo Han had expected, giving her time to gather her power.
Wind and frost, rain and snow, thunder and lightning—any natural force could be her weapon. Thunder rumbled at the horizon as a faint golden glow began to bloom in Luo Han’s palm. It wasn’t dazzling or bright, but it carried an ancient, boundless aura.
Another bolt of violet lightning flashed through the clouds, and this time, instead of dispersing, it was drawn downward. Like serpents of energy, the bolts arced from the clouds to the mountain, crackling violently before merging into the formation like a cage of thunder.
As Luo Han infused lightning into the array, Ling Qingxiao’s control over it became noticeably more difficult. Lightning was an immense force, and channeling so much of it at once was beyond his current cultivation level.
The demon god was the first to notice the change. Thunder was the bane of evil; even gods like him instinctively avoided it. For the first time, he felt real danger. No longer holding back, he launched a full assault on the formation, trying to destroy it and eliminate the two of them before they became a threat.
Now that he had seen what they were capable of, he couldn’t let them live.
Even as just a wisp of divine consciousness, the demon god’s power was still formidable. Ling Qingxiao constantly adjusted the array—every time a part was destroyed, he would shift the structure to seal the gap. It required not only precise control but immense computational speed.
The array shifted so rapidly that even Luo Han gave up trying to follow it after a few moments. She knew the formation alone couldn’t hold out for long. If this dragged on, it wouldn’t be the enemy who wore out first—it would be them.
But she still hadn’t mastered her divine power. She didn’t even fully understand how to control it. A god’s strength lay in creation—which meant she shouldn’t be limited to using lightning only during storms. She should be able to summon thunder at will.
She remembered what had happened on Huaiyin Island, when she was on the brink of death and her will exploded outward, summoning a thunderstorm from thin air. The energy had been so immense that it hurled her back into the Middle Era. If her focus was sharp enough, if her will was strong enough—could she create thunder?
The rain around her had grown heavier without her noticing. Wind and water blurred together, clouding her senses. Luo Han simply closed her eyes, shutting out all distraction.
In her mind, a vast night sky unfurled. The universe was endless and silent. She imagined how lightning formed—giant clouds colliding, gray and black stormbanks flickering with purple-blue sparks.
Unbeknownst to her, a thundercloud formed above their heads, just as she imagined it. Ling Qingxiao and the demon god looked up as one, both startled by the enormous, menacing cloud looming overhead. Neither spoke, but both knew—the moment had come.
Ling Qingxiao pushed his control of the array to the limit. The demon god, desperate, threw all his strength into escape. As the formation shattered, a bolt of lightning as thick as a tree trunk fell from the cloud. Unstoppable and brilliant, it split the sky in half.
Like a slow-motion scene, the demon god had just broken free and was retreating—only for the thunderbolt, twisting unpredictably like a living serpent, to bend suddenly and strike him head-on in midair.
A thunderous boom echoed through the air—so loud that Luo Han briefly lost her hearing. Ling Qingxiao didn’t have time to worry about the formation anymore. He grabbed Luo Han and flew swiftly down the mountain.
The entire mountaintop began to crumble with a slow, rumbling roar. Rocks shot out in all directions, trees were uprooted, and the mountain itself started to fall apart.
Ling Qingxiao weaved through the chaos, narrowly dodging massive boulders. They didn’t know how far they flew, but eventually, the sound of breaking stones faded, and only then did they come to a stop.
Luo Han turned to look back and saw the mountain collapsing before her eyes, animals fleeing in panic.
They hadn’t seen any sign of the demon god since the lightning strike. It was likely that the fragment of his divine consciousness had been utterly destroyed.
Luo Han knew that their success had relied on a perfect combination of timing, geography, and cooperation. First, the demon god’s projection was already weakened. Second, he underestimated them and walked into their trap. Third, she had a formation genius beside her controlling and adapting the array. And lastly, lightning was especially effective against demonic beings, giving Luo Han a huge advantage. If it had been any other god—even just a fragment—lightning alone wouldn’t have done anything.
It had been dangerously close, but at last, it was over. Luo Han watched the scene for a moment, then asked quietly, “Does this mountain have an owner?”
Ling Qingxiao paused, unsure what she meant. “Why do you ask?”
Luo Han had to simplify it further: “Do we have to pay for it?”
Ling Qingxiao was silent for a moment, then said, “Probably not.”
“Then let’s go quickly,” Luo Han said, still shaken. “The mountain’s wrecked like this, and any traces we left at the summit are probably gone. That’s perfect. As long as we don’t say anything, no one will know it was us.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t expose her little scheme and simply walked with her down the mountain. But for some reason, his heart was racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
And before the thought was even finished, a deafening explosion erupted from the collapsed mountain. Rocks flew everywhere as a dark figure shot out from the rubble.
Ling Qingxiao’s expression changed drastically. He suddenly remembered: in ancient texts, it was said that some avatar techniques used a part of the user’s true body as the core. If the avatar was destroyed, the true body would be summoned to that location, resurrected on the spot to take revenge.
That was probably the technique the demon god had used.
The figure before them was the demon god’s true form.
They had destroyed his fragment of consciousness. With the demon god’s vengeful nature, there was no way he would let this go.
Without even turning back, Ling Qingxiao grabbed Luo Han and bolted. But it was too late. The difference between a god’s true form and an avatar was immense. The moment the demon god attacked, Ling Qingxiao could feel the terrifying difference in pressure.
He turned to block the blow, but when the demon god’s strike met his sword, Ling Qingxiao realized just how vast the power gap really was.
The Jiuxiao shuddered violently, and a spiderweb of cracks spread across the blade. A thread of demonic energy grazed Ling Qingxiao’s arm, instantly tearing a deep gash in his flesh.
Luo Han was stunned. The attack came too quickly—she barely had time to catch Ling Qingxiao before he collapsed, let alone summon a counterattack.
The demon god emerged from the wreckage, his face unchanged, but his presence completely different.
Rage churned around him, almost solidified into a physical force. This time, he didn’t bother speaking. His hand formed a claw, dark mist gathering within it, and with a flick, he hurled it at Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao.
Just as the dark mist was about to strike them, a white barrier appeared in front of them. The demonic mist hit the shield and rippled like water, fragile in appearance but utterly unbreakable.
A lazy male voice drifted from behind them: “Bullying children? Even you’ve sunk that low?”
Luo Han spun around in shock. A man strolled out of the forest, raising an eyebrow when he saw her expression. “Do you recognize me?”
Luo Han was so surprised she couldn’t speak. Recognize him? Of course she did. Back in the Divine Realm, the very first being who guided her into this world was him.
The one who had long since faded away, who had waited in solitude for millions of years in the Divine Realm—his remnant consciousness.
Ling Qingxiao felt the divine pearl within his body tremble faintly. He instantly knew who this was.
The God of Time—Xi Heng.
The demon god sneered when he saw Xi Heng. “Aren’t you supposed to be above all factions, never meddling in the affairs of the six realms? What’s this—are you stepping in now?”
Xi Heng sighed. “I really don’t care about your petty squabbles. But your infighting is your business. Picking on a child who only just came into being—that, I can’t ignore.”
The demon god knew the moment Xi Heng appeared, things were over. Still furious about the pain from his shattered divine projection, he glared at Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao. “They ambushed me. I’m just retaliating—it’s only right. Now you’re interfering, clearly choosing sides. Are you trying to become my enemy?”
Xi Heng clicked his tongue, his gaze full of disdain. “I was giving you face by not mentioning it, but you just won’t let it go. How old are you? She’s just a kid. You got beaten by two juniors and you still have the nerve to brag about it? If it were me, I’d hide in a cave for the next ten thousand years. But you? You’re out here trying to throw your weight around?”
The demon god had shown no hesitation in threatening Luo Han earlier, but now that one of the twelve Creator Gods had shown up—especially the Time God Xi Heng—he didn’t dare act rashly.
Xi Heng ruled over time and created the calendar. Time was the great equalizer. All beings—light or dark, divine or mortal—had to obey it. Xi Heng remained neutral, detached from all factions. Even during the current immortal-demon war, he hadn’t shown the slightest preference.
It was only because the higher gods had remained neutral that the demon god had dared to expand so freely. But now that Xi Heng had appeared, no matter how furious the demon god was, he couldn’t touch the two juniors.
The demon god swept his gaze over Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, his eyes full of venom. But in the end, he said nothing—he simply waved his sleeve and vanished from sight.
Luo Han let out a long breath of relief. Once he was gone, she finally had time to turn to Ling Qingxiao and ask, “How’s your arm?”
Blood still flowed freely from the gash. Ling Qingxiao pressed a hand to it and shook his head to say he was fine. But the blood hadn’t even started to clot. It poured through his fingers, staining his entire hand a vivid red.
Luo Han’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. She was truly exasperated—Ling Qingxiao’s last injuries had only just healed, and now he had new ones. What kind of constitution did he even have?
Xi Heng watched the two interact, his eyes full of amused curiosity. With a smile, he asked, “Why are you two here?”
The “here” in his question clearly didn’t refer to the location—it meant space and time.
Luo Han had never expected to fool someone whose power was rooted in time. She answered honestly, “I don’t know. I picked up a stone, then got struck by lightning...and somehow ended up here.”
Ling Qingxiao softly added, “Aside from a twist of fate, perhaps...we came because we share some kind of connection with Senior.”
The divine pearl within Ling Qingxiao had been filled with Xi Heng’s power. One reason they had been drawn here was the Demon-Suppressing Stone, but the divine pearl likely played a role as well.
Xi Heng sensed the energy in Ling Qingxiao’s body and smiled. “I can feel it. Since you’ve arrived, that’s fate. So—what do you plan to do next?”
Luo Han quietly looked toward Ling Qingxiao. He met her gaze with warmth and calm, giving her a gentle nod.
It was as if no matter what Luo Han chose to do, he would support her unconditionally.
With his reassurance, Luo Han felt emboldened. She said, “I want to follow you—to the place where the gods reside.”
At this point, she no longer hid her identity. Both of them had long since known the truth—they just hadn’t spoken it aloud. Now that they had finally encountered a god who bore them no ill will, Luo Han didn’t want to miss the opportunity. She chose to be open.
As expected, Ling Qingxiao’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. He had known since the Abyss of Absolute Spirits.
“Oh?” Xi Heng raised an eyebrow with interest and said, “But that’s the front lines.”
When they had first arrived, the villagers in Qingshan had said this wasn’t the front line. The real battlefield was far more brutal.
Luo Han clenched her teeth. “Fine. The front lines it is.”