Chapter 71

They reached the main tent soon. The soldiers outside straightened up the moment they spotted Xi Heng and greeted him from a distance: “Xi Heng-shen.”
After the greeting, their eyes naturally shifted to Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao. These two were unfamiliar faces—who were they, and why had Xi Heng brought them?
Xi Heng gave a brief nod and asked, “Is He Xu inside?”
“Yes, Xi Heng-shen, He Xu-shen is inside.”
Xi Heng made a small sound of acknowledgement and led Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao in. Luo Han nodded politely at the guard and quickly followed.
The tent was spacious. The outer section served as a guest area, the middle was separated by bookshelves and screens, and the back presumably housed He Xu’s study and bedroom. Xi Heng walked in like it was his own home, completely unconcerned about what the person inside might be doing, and called out loudly, “He Xu, I brought the two newcomers!”
He Xu had already heard them coming. He stepped out from his study, visibly helpless. “I heard. There’s no need to shout.”
Xi Heng plopped himself down like he belonged there and said, “This is Luo Han—the thunderstorm at midnight yesterday was her doing. And this is Ling Qingxiao, a young junior of the dragon clan.”
He Xu turned his attention to them, and Luo Han quickly said, “Greetings, Senior He Xu.”
Ling Qingxiao offered a slight bow. “He Xu-shen.”
He Xu was exactly as recorded in the historical texts—gentle and refined, an expert in civil governance. Now, meeting them in person, he nodded kindly, without a trace of divine arrogance. “You’ve finally arrived. Please, have a seat.”
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao sat down at the short table. He Xu asked, “Was your journey smooth? I originally expected you to arrive by dawn. Rong Cheng even waited a while for you. But when you didn’t show and the matters outside couldn’t be delayed, he had to depart.”
Xi Heng casually poured himself a cup of tea and said nonchalantly, “It wasn’t much. We ran into the Demon God on the way and got delayed a bit. Then we had to stop to treat Ling Qingxiao’s injuries, and before we knew it, here we are.”
“Oh?” He Xu frowned and looked at Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han. “You were injured by the Demon God?”
Ling Qingxiao replied calmly, “It’s nothing serious, just a minor wound.”
“There’s no such thing as a ‘minor wound’ when it’s inflicted by the Demon God,” Xi Heng added lightly, frowning. “He’s growing more and more extreme, acting with complete disregard. When I arrived, he was relentlessly trying to kill these two kids. If I hadn’t intervened, I doubt he would have stopped. I also heard he wanted to wipe out an entire village just to secure a place to rest for the night.”
The more Xi Heng spoke, the deeper He Xu’s frown became. Ling Qingxiao had to add, “The attack on Qingshan Village wasn’t a coincidence. It seems he was trying to seize the rear lines to launch a surprise attack on the front.”
This was news to Xi Heng. He had personally witnessed the Demon God chasing Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao, and had heard about the village attack from the village chief. But this—using the rear as a springboard to ambush the front—was new information. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and frowned. “He’s far too arrogant. Cultivating demonic energy for so long really does make one bloodthirsty and irritable. After being worshipped by the demon race for so many years, even he has begun to adopt their nature.”
He Xu sighed in frustration at the mention of the Demon God. “Once Rong Cheng returns, I’ll bring it up with him. You two don’t need to worry about it. Let’s not talk about that anymore. What do you two plan to do next?”
He Xu abruptly shifted the topic to Luo Han. She was caught off guard and quickly responded, “I don’t really have a plan. If I get the chance, I’d like to learn some self-defense techniques from the senior gods.”
He Xu asked curiously, “How old are you?”
Here it comes again—the question she dreaded. Luo Han resisted inwardly but still answered truthfully, “Nineteen.”
There was a brief pause. Then both Xi Heng and He Xu exclaimed, “Nineteen?!”
“Yes,” Luo Han confirmed.
“So young…” He Xu looked astonished. He’d already sensed Luo Han was young when she entered, but it was considered extremely rude among immortals and gods to probe another’s age with divine sense, so he hadn’t looked deeper. Now that he knew the truth, his expression turned grim. That the Demon God would think of devouring someone so young was beyond disgraceful.
In front of the two juniors, He Xu didn’t criticize the Demon God directly, but suppressed his anger and said, “You’re still very young—you should focus on learning. There are plenty of people here in camp. If there’s anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask. If there’s any danger, go to Xi Heng.”
Xi Heng chimed in, “Yes, I’m the only idle one here. Unlike all these busy people, I’m free all day.”
Luo Han thanked them sincerely. Just as she finished speaking, she sensed someone standing outside the tent. She instinctively paused.
The others noticed as well. Xi Heng stood up to take his leave, and He Xu walked them to the entrance. Luo Han followed the two gods out, and as they exited the tent, they saw a man clad in full armor, with a solemn and upright demeanor, standing outside. Luo Han didn’t react immediately, but Ling Qingxiao clearly flinched in surprise.
Luo Han instantly realized this man was no ordinary figure. For Ling Qingxiao to show such a visible reaction—this man must be someone recorded in history.
The man gave Luo Han a polite nod but seemed to linger a bit longer when looking at Ling Qingxiao. Once he had walked away, Luo Han overheard He Xu calling out to him: “Su Zongshi.”
The name struck her like thunder.
She didn’t recognize the face—but the name was unforgettable. Wasn’t this the very same person who would later become the first Emperor of the Heavenly Palace after the ancient war?
According to the history books, Su Zongshi had been a trusted right-hand to the gods Rong Cheng and He Xu. After the war ended, Rong Cheng—worn down by endless conflict and disillusioned with ruling—passed the throne to his most trusted officer, Su Zongshi. Though nominally a temporary regent, Su Zongshi held actual power. Over time, as god after god—including Nuwa and He Xu—retired from the world, their domains, like the human realm and underworld, gradually merged into the Heavenly Court's control.
Years later, the Heavenly Realm was in dire need of a stable, well-governed institution. Amid widespread support, Su Zongshi formally took the throne, posthumously titled Ming Gao Emperor, becoming the first dragon to rule the heavens. However, Su Zongshi’s body was covered in old war wounds. Not long after ascending, his injuries relapsed. He issued a call across the three realms for capable successors, and ultimately it was Ming Wu Emperor who stood out—becoming the second Celestial Emperor.
From then on, the tradition of dragons passing on the throne had continued.
It all made sense now. No wonder Ling Qingxiao had such a strong reaction—he had just met a living historical legend and ancestral figure of the dragon clan. And it seemed Su Zongshi had taken particular notice of Ling Qingxiao. Luo Han had been puzzled by that at first, but once she thought of Su Zongshi’s surname—Su—she suddenly understood.
Could it be...the first Celestial Emperor was actually a Yinglong?
As they continued walking, Xi Heng gave instructions: “Your quarters are being prepared. Once everything’s ready, someone will come get you. He’s still injured—don’t let him overexert himself these next few days. Focus on resting.”
Luo Han nodded in agreement. Once Xi Heng had finished, he asked, “What do you want to learn?”
“Space-time techniques,” Luo Han replied without hesitation. “We came here by accident. There are urgent matters waiting for us back there—we must find a way to return.”
“Space-time, huh?” Xi Heng clicked his tongue. “Anything involving time and space isn’t easy to learn.”
Of course Luo Han knew it wouldn’t be easy. But if they wanted to go back, they’d have to find a way to reopen the time-space passage. Difficult or not, they had no choice. Luo Han said, “I understand. We’ll do our best. I’ll be relying on your guidance, senior.”
Xi Heng didn’t mind—he had nothing else to do, and it was rare to have someone to pass the time with. “Alright. When do you want to start?”
Ling Qingxiao said, “Whenever it’s convenient for you. We can begin today.”
Luo Han instantly thought, Of course. That’s Ling Qingxiao for you. He was basically a perpetual motion machine—and now he’d included her in the “we” without a second thought. Gritting her teeth, Luo Han braced herself. “I’m ready too.”
Xi Heng was once again surprised—were kids from the future always this eager to learn? As someone who had procrastinated for ages, Xi Heng suddenly felt a tinge of pressure. The younger generation is really surpassing us. Compared to these diligent juniors, the seniors like him were just loafing around.
Since the student had taken the initiative, what could Xi Heng say? He could only take them back to his own residence for their lessons. Because he didn’t participate in the war, Xi Heng’s quarters were much more secluded than He Xu’s, and correspondingly more refined. He lived in a wooden cabin halfway up a mountain. Not far away, a stream flowed gently past—peaceful, serene, untouched by the outside world. Compared to the busy war camp, this place felt like a world apart.
When Xi Heng returned home, he didn’t bother with formality. He gestured for Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao to sit wherever they liked, then sprawled out in a comfortable spot himself and said, “Alright. Ask whatever you want to know.”
While Xi Heng lounged without a care, Ling Qingxiao sat upright and composed, extremely proper. Luo Han glanced over and eventually chose a spot parallel to Ling Qingxiao’s, sitting down with the same composed posture.
Xi Heng might not care about decorum, but as a student, she had to maintain a respectful attitude.
Luo Han asked the question that had been on her mind the longest: “Senior Xi Heng, may I ask how one can travel through time and space?”
That question had troubled Luo Han for a long time. Both times she had time-traveled, it had been an accident. The first was when she tried to go back to the time of Ling Qingxiao’s and Ling Zhongyu’s birth, intending to stop Ling Xianhong from switching the two. But somehow, she ended up in the Dead Spirit Abyss instead, too late to change anything. The second time, on Huaiyin Island, she hadn’t even intended to time travel—yet suddenly she was hurled into the Great War era.
Xi Heng yawned. “Energy, opportunity, and coordinates. You need all three.”
Luo Han could understand “energy,” but the other two were a bit abstract. She asked, “What do you mean by opportunity and coordinates?”
“Energy is the basic requirement for opening a time-space tunnel. But without coordinates—without locking onto a unique and specific moment in the river of time—no amount of energy will help. And yet even those pale in comparison to the opportunity. The opportunity is the true key. Without it, none of the rest matters.”
Luo Han followed this logic in her mind. On Huaiyin Island, the energy was the heavenly thunder; the coordinate was the Demon Suppressing Stone; and the opportunity must have been her life-or-death situation. Then she remembered more. During the immortal-demon war, the Bodhi Tree and others had provided the energy, and her intended target time had been when Ling Qingxiao was born. But something went wrong, and she arrived a thousand years later instead. Yet Ling Qingxiao falling into the Abyss of Fallen Spirits was also a one-time, unique event—so the time-travel still succeeded. So what was the “opportunity” in that case?
Was her return to the past some sort of inevitability?
Xi Heng noticed how intently she was thinking and asked curiously, “What’s going through your mind?”
“I’m thinking about time,” Luo Han said, then hesitated briefly. Her eyes flicked quickly toward Ling Qingxiao. After pressing her lips together for a moment, she asked, “Senior Xi Heng, can the past really be changed?”
Ling Qingxiao’s brows twitched ever so slightly. There was no evidence at all, but somehow, he instinctively knew—this question was about him.
Xi Heng was stunned by the question. He glanced at the two before him, noting every subtle reaction. With a smile of intrigue, he said, “Good question. Ask a thousand people, and you might get a thousand answers. But I’ll tell you the truth—no.”
Luo Han had more or less expected this answer, yet hearing Xi Heng say it so definitively still startled her. “Why not?”
“Because time-travel is part of causality itself. What’s the past to you is already the future from the moment you time-traveled.” Xi Heng scratched his chin. “That sounds like a mess. Did that make sense to you?”
Luo Han shook her head honestly. “Not really.”
Ling Qingxiao suddenly said, “So the past cannot be changed—only the future can?”
Xi Heng’s eyes lit up in delight. “Exactly! See, at least one of you got it. That’s more or less the idea.”
Luo Han turned to look at Ling Qingxiao and suddenly felt...betrayed.
Ling Qingxiao asked again, “If that’s the case, then where does history actually begin? These three conditions for time travel—though seemingly elusive—aren’t really impossible. If someone really wanted to, they could replicate them.”
From what Xi Heng described, a person could only travel to their own past, and the coordinates must come from their own experiences. That creates a paradox—if anyone can travel back, then no history is fixed, and everything is mutable.
“That’s the mystery of time,” Xi Heng said with a smile. “Heavenly logic manifests in four out of five parts—one remains elusive. Anything is possible. But the scenario you fear won’t happen, because from history’s perspective, the moment you time-traveled is already part of the past. And if it’s in the past, then it can’t be changed. So if you did travel through time, it means you were always meant to be there. If you weren’t tied to that moment, you wouldn’t have arrived there in the first place.”
Luo Han was now thoroughly confused. She gave up trying to unravel the paradox and just asked, “Then how do I get back?”
Xi Heng clutched his heart like he’d been mortally wounded, wailing dramatically, “Ah, girls really do grow up fast. You just got here and you already want to leave?”
Too much. Luo Han sighed and replied, “I may be useless, but I do have a job.”
She still had so much to oversee—like the fates of the male and female leads, the rising tensions across the immortal, demon, and beast realms, the mysterious forbidden technique whose origins remained unknown, and the crumbling peace of the world.
She had to go back.
Xi Heng sighed and said, “Alright. Time-travel can be passive or active. You arrived here passively—when and where you landed was all up to luck. But if you want to travel back to a specific time, you’ll have to actively control the space-time vortex.”
Luo Han suddenly had a bad feeling. “So…”
“So you just need to cultivate for a few years until you’ve got enough divine power to support it.”
Luo Han asked cautiously, “And by a few years, you mean…?”
Xi Heng thought about it, then said, not very confidently, “At most, ten thousand years. At least...a thousand. Don’t worry—it’ll go by fast.”
Ling Qingxiao’s brow twitched slightly at Xi Heng’s estimate, but he eventually returned to calm. Cultivation was cultivation, no matter where it happened—what were a few thousand years in the grand scheme of things?
Luo Han, however, didn’t share his serene mindset. When she heard it would take at least several thousand years, she honestly and thoroughly broke down inside.
Oh my god.
After leaving Xi Heng’s house, she was visibly gloomy the entire way back. Ling Qingxiao noticed her silence and guessed she was still worried about returning to the future. He comforted her gently, “It’s alright. There’s no need to rush. Cultivating here or elsewhere makes no difference—a thousand years isn’t long. This will also give you plenty of time to learn from the seniors.”
Luo Han listened...but she didn’t feel comforted at all.
As they approached the camp, someone ran over to guide them to their new quarters. Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao’s residences were not far apart, situated near the rear mountain. Though modest in size, the place was neat and orderly.
After dismissing the young soldier who’d shown them the way, Luo Han quickly called out, “Don’t go yet. I have something to ask you.”
Ling Qingxiao stopped. Luo Han set up a barrier—a spatial technique she had just learned from Xi Heng today. Once the barrier was active, the space inside became independent, temporarily freed from local time and spatial laws.
After securing the area, Luo Han leaned in mysteriously. “What are your plans for the future?”
“Naturally, cultivation,” Ling Qingxiao answered. Then he tilted his head slightly. “Why do you ask?”
Luo Han clicked her tongue. “You think I’d ask you about cultivation? I’m talking about what happened today—you saw Su Zongshi. He’s technically your ancestor. Things are complicated with the Su family...don’t you want to tell him anything?”
Her thoughts were a bit all over the place, but in essence—she was trying to nudge him into “reporting them.”
Ling Qingxiao was momentarily surprised, but when he understood what she meant, he chuckled softly and shook his head. “No need. Why would you think something so adorable? The Tianqi Era is trillions of years away from the Great War. The Su family of our time has nothing to do with him.”
Though Su Zongshi and Su Yifang shared the same surname, that was all they had in common now.
Ling Qingxiao explained, “You might not know the details of dragon clan history. The internal power dynamics have shifted many times. The six mountains—Zhong, Lin, Kun, Li, Qi, and Jia—may have descended from founding families, but by now, none of them have much relation to their original bloodlines.”
“After the Ming Gao Emperor Su Zongshi ascended, he rewarded six of his most meritorious generals during the war, granting them the finest cultivation lands in the Heavenly Realm. These became the Six Mountains: Zhong Mountain of the Ling family, Lin Mountain of the Su family, Kun Mountain of the Yi family, Li Mountain of the Li family, Qi Mountain of the Ji family, and Jia Mountain of the Bai family. These six lineages later developed independently and grew increasingly distinct—leading to the current major dragon clans: Yinglong with wings, Qiu dragons with horns, Chi dragons without horns, Zhu dragons with fire affinity...Eventually, Kun Mountain separated from Zhong Mountain, stopped identifying as Canglong, and instead became the new race known as Qinglong. That’s how the six major dragon branches of the Heavenly Realm came to be—though there are smaller sub-branches too.”
Luo Han tried to sum it up: “So the distinction between Yinglong, Canglong, and the others in modern times was actually a deliberate separation?”
“Exactly.” Ling Qingxiao nodded. “Su Zongshi’s six rewarded generals were the original heads of each mountain. Based on the amount of merit they earned, each mountain received different resources, establishing their rank. Later emperors no longer came from the Su family, other clans rose in power, alliances shifted, and with that, any remaining sentiment disappeared. Once their interests diverged, unity dissolved, and they even changed their names to differentiate.”
Infighting was fierce among the dragon clans. With Zhong Mountain being such a prime target, it was no wonder it had become the center of so much political struggle. Luo Han was just about to suggest Ling Qingxiao use this accidental time-travel as a chance to investigate and maybe retrieve evidence to vindicate his family history—but before she could finish speaking, a violent tremor shook the outside world.
Startled, Luo Han instantly packed away anything not from the Great War and dropped the barrier. “What’s happening?”
Ling Qingxiao stood up, his eyes sweeping toward the mountains. His voice was cold. “We’re under attack—from the mountain.”
“The mountain?” Luo Han frowned. “Isn’t that where Senior Xi Heng lives? Everyone knows he doesn’t take part in the war—why attack there?”
There was no time to talk. Ling Qingxiao gripped his sword and said shortly, “Come on.”
Most of the forces were away fighting. And since Xi Heng was famously neutral, the mountain hadn’t been fortified with guard posts. All these factors added up to one conclusion: they had truly been caught off guard.
By the time Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao arrived, the area outside Xi Heng’s residence was already overrun by enemy soldiers. They didn’t dare provoke the God of Time himself, but precisely because Xi Heng was neutral, they brazenly charged across his territory, using it as a shortcut to attack the camp at the foot of the mountain.
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao were the first to arrive. The moment Ling Qingxiao saw the situation, he drew his sword. Luo Han, thinking of his injuries, quickly cried out, “Wait—you’re still hurt, you can’t fight!”
But there was no way he’d listen. He shoved Luo Han into Xi Heng’s courtyard and quickly said to the god, “The outside is dangerous—please watch over her.”
Of course Xi Heng didn’t mind having one more person to look after. As soon as Ling Qingxiao said his piece, he turned and rushed back out. Luo Han tried to follow, but Xi Heng stopped her. “Where are you going? If you want to stay neutral, you can’t raise a hand against either side. The moment you act, you’ll give the demon gods reason to retaliate. And at your current level, you’re no match for them anyway.”
Luo Han was anxious but blocked inside, unable to do anything. In disbelief, she asked, “So we’re just going to watch?”
“Mm.” Xi Heng nodded, perfectly reasonable. “We’re neutral. Let them fight. It has nothing to do with me.”
Xi Heng’s attitude was pure indifference. Although having his territory intruded on was annoying, the demon race, reckless as they were, didn’t dare lay a hand on him. Since that was the case, why should he get involved?
Luo Han was silent for a moment before asking, “Senior Xi Heng, what does ‘neutral’ mean?”
“It means not siding with any faction—helping neither.”
“To not side with any faction looks like being above it all, but in truth, it also means...having no allies.” Luo Han spoke slowly. “Neutrality has no friends—so every side is your enemy.”