Chapter 72

If you're caught in the game, how can you truly stand outside of it?
That was why no one had stationed guards on the mountain—why the demons dared to blatantly trespass on Xi Heng’s territory.
Xi Heng was momentarily stunned. He had always considered himself neutral and never imagined that, from another perspective, the picture could look completely different.
But in the end, Xi Heng still didn’t let Luo Han out.
Because Rong Cheng had just returned from the front. Noticing the disturbance on the mountain, he immediately rushed up to support them.
The sounds outside gradually faded, and Luo Han was finally let out. As soon as she stepped outside, she saw many people standing in the forest. One of them, clearly a commanding general, was speaking with Ling Qingxiao.
That must be the leader of the Immortal Clan—God Rong Cheng.
It seemed he was asking about the ambush, then turned to sternly give orders for new defenses. Luo Han rushed over, and the first thing she did was check Ling Qingxiao’s wound.
Ling Qingxiao was still listening to Rong Cheng’s instructions, but when he sensed Luo Han approach, he gently pulled her to his side to keep her from running around.
Luo Han looked down and saw Ling Qingxiao’s injured hand holding her forearm—right where he was hurt.
At the edge of his sleeve, faint traces of blood had already soaked through.
Luo Han was instantly furious. She snapped open his sleeve to check the wound. Ling Qingxiao, caught off guard, noticed his cuff being undone and awkwardly shifted his sword, freeing his hand to press down on hers. “Don’t make a fuss.”
“Fuss?” Luo Han slapped his hand away. Ling Qingxiao didn’t mind the pain, but all the people around them turned to look. One deputy couldn’t help but quietly ask, “Uh...what’s going on with you two?”
Xi Heng strolled lazily over from behind and said, “Ah, kids these days. You see? You’re just too old to understand.”
Rong Cheng coughed once, putting an end to the gossip and glances. Once he had everyone’s attention again, he turned to Luo Han. “You’re the newly-born Heavenly Dao?”
Luo Han quickly glanced at Ling Qingxiao. Just going to drop that in front of everyone? Not even a moment to prepare?
But with so many people present, Luo Han could only grit her teeth and admit it. “Yes, that’s me. Greetings, Senior Rong Cheng. My name is Luo Han.”
Ling Qingxiao lowered his head, quietly redoing his sleeve cuffs, as if he hadn’t heard a word of it.
Rong Cheng noticed their little interactions and, for some reason, felt a faint pang of...something. Was he just too out of touch with young people now? Were they really all starting to fall in love this early?
He had briefly asked Ling Qingxiao about his background—dragon clan, just over a thousand years old. Already thinking about romance at a thousand?
A bunch of gods who had been single for tens of thousands of years suddenly felt an existential crisis coming on. They’d been at war for too long, with no time for personal matters—and now these juniors were outpacing them.
With the demon ambush settled, Rong Cheng led the group down the mountain, rearranging patrol assignments as they went. This attack had clearly sounded an alarm for everyone—there could not be a next time.
Halfway down, Rong Cheng asked casually, “Luo Han, how old are you?”
Everywhere she went, her age got dragged out and beaten again. Luo Han forced a smile and said, “Nineteen. No extra zeroes. Just one-nine.”
She figured the follow-up questions were coming anyway, so she might as well get ahead of them. Rong Cheng was genuinely shocked. “Nineteen?”
He clearly hadn’t expected her age to still be in the double digits. Since Luo Han was a divine being, and gods often had lifespans of tens of thousands of years, Rong Cheng had assumed she was older than Ling Qingxiao.
Who would have guessed he’d get this answer?
Rong Cheng looked at Luo Han in disbelief, then turned to Ling Qingxiao with a complicated expression. Ling Qingxiao was slightly embarrassed—but thanks to his always-cool demeanor, he managed to keep his face composed.
Rong Cheng decided to offer a subtle bit of advice. “A strong morning makes for a strong day. So it is with life. While you’re young, you should explore and learn as much as you can—don’t get distracted too early.”
Luo Han assumed he was just encouraging her to study, so she nodded seriously. “Understood.” Meanwhile, Ling Qingxiao kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to look back.
Rong Cheng, seeing their reactions, asked in passing, “Did you already meet He Xu this morning?”
Xi Heng answered, “As soon as they arrived, I took them to see him. I was planning to bring them to meet you tonight, but by chance, you all ran into each other first.”
“Good.” Rong Cheng said, “Since we’ve got newcomers, let’s hold a small welcome banquet tonight. One, to cleanse the dust of travel; two, to officially introduce them to everyone else. There’s nothing urgent for you two for now—go rest. I’ll have someone come fetch you when the banquet begins.”
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao naturally agreed and headed down another path toward their quarters. Rong Cheng continued walking with Xi Heng toward the main tent. Once the two young ones were out of sight, Rong Cheng asked Xi Heng quietly, “Where did you pick them up? They don’t seem like they’re from around here.”
As the leader of the Immortal Clan and the de facto backbone of the army, Rong Cheng’s insight was unmatched. The more powerful a god was, the deeper their perception of heaven, karma, and fate. Rong Cheng had already sensed it—Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han weren’t ordinary newcomers. They carried karmic weight.
Karma from the future.
Xi Heng knew there was no point in trying to hide it from Rong Cheng, so he simply didn’t bother. “You guessed right—they don’t belong here. About half a month ago, I sensed a disturbance in the temporal order, but I was too lazy to act, so I ignored it. It wasn’t until yesterday, when Luo Han triggered heavenly thunder and startled everyone, that I realized they’d used some spell that didn’t belong to this era. The disruption caused the space-time rejection to intensify. I had no choice but to bring them back. On the way, I happened to run into the Demon God.”
Though Xi Heng hadn’t spelled it out, Rong Cheng, after years of dealing with these old rivals, instantly understood what the Demon God was like. “The Demon God tried to devour her?”
“Exactly,” Xi Heng answered frankly. “She was born with a complete divine core, already carries the aura of four time-space laws, and at only nineteen, she’s already touching the edges of a law. On top of that, she has a protection seal from another high-ranking god. If the Demon God doesn’t devour her now while she’s young and weak, does he wait until she grows up and steals his worshippers? Besides, she is the Heavenly Dao—naturally inclined toward the Immortals. It's no wonder he sees her as a thorn in his side.”
Rong Cheng sighed. The demons resented the gods for favoring the Immortals, causing the imbalance in resources. But how could gods themselves not resent fate?
They were all born from heaven and earth, parentless and alone—yet some gods, like Pangu, Nuwa, and Zhu Rong, were born powerful enough to reshape the world, while others, like the gods of plague or floods, were practically useless.
Those unpopular gods couldn’t attract followers, and without faith, their power waned further—a vicious cycle. A god’s fate was sealed at birth. For the lucky few, it meant a life of glory. For most, it was a curse.
Who would willingly remain in someone else’s shadow forever? Over time, conflict became inevitable.
Luo Han was clearly one of the favored. She might not have the battlefield prowess of a war god, but she was indispensable to the six realms. There could be many war gods, but there would only ever be one Nuwa.
Nuwa created life. Luo Han’s mission was to protect it.
They, the original gods, had existed since the dawn of the world. So many years had passed—many gods were as old as the land itself. Even so, countless of them still hadn’t grasped a single law. The rare ones who did, like Xi Heng, had endured immense hardship and long years of cultivation to even glimpse the edge of a law.
But Luo Han—only nineteen—and she was already unknowingly using laws. She might not realize it, but she was already exuding the faint aura of law. The hardest part of comprehending a law was simply stepping through the door. Once that happened, it was only a matter of time.
And gods had nothing if not time.
She had startled many, while she herself remained blissfully unaware.
Rong Cheng let out a soft sigh and quickly adjusted his mindset. Another’s fortune, whether good or bad, was theirs. He simply had to do his part.
He asked, “You said there’s a high-level god’s seal on her. Who is it? Could someone else have found her before we did?”
Xi Heng thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. The timeline doesn’t line up. The protection spell is incredibly advanced and quite unique—it doesn’t seem to be from our realm at all, but from another dimension entirely.”
“Another dimension?” Rong Cheng said. “I’ve heard of the Great Thousand Worlds, but I’ve never seen them myself, so I can’t say. But whoever cast that seal was likely her guardian.”
“That’s my guess too,” Xi Heng said, frowning with a strange expression. Rong Cheng noticed and asked, “What is it?”
What had Xi Heng discovered that made him hesitate like this?
Xi Heng looked perplexed. “I also found traces of another god’s technique on the seal—someone tried to undo it. Their method is beyond what I can understand even now, but it felt oddly familiar. I just can’t remember who it was.”
Rong Cheng didn’t think too much of it. “Since she’s from the future, maybe it was a future god. Someone you know, only more advanced—so you didn’t recognize them.”
Xi Heng thought about it and nodded. That made sense.
As they spoke, they drew closer to the main tent. Just before lifting the curtain, Rong Cheng asked casually, “What about the other one? I originally thought he was one of your disciples. Turns out he’s only a thousand years old.”
“Seems like kids in the future mature quickly,” Xi Heng said. “Those two are quite amusing. At first, they pretended to be siblings in the village. But when they found out that siblings can marry here, they immediately stopped saying that.”
He Xu came out of the study just in time to hear them and asked curiously, “What’s this about siblings?”
“We’re talking about those two young ones who arrived today,” Xi Heng replied, already helping himself to a seat. “The boy’s name is Ling Qingxiao—you met him this morning.”
He Xu immediately recalled. “Ah, him. Even Su Zongshi asked me about him earlier. He said the boy’s inner energy was solid, great potential—a good seedling. He even asked where we found him.”
The three gods rarely had time to chat like this. In their eyes, Luo Han was a special admission blessed by fate and born into privilege. Someone like that would always be the subject of both admiration and envy—best observed from a distance.
Ling Qingxiao, however, was the diligent, steady, intelligent type. Maybe not the flashiest, but never the kind to inspire resentment.
That’s exactly how the three of them felt about him.
After a bit of chatting, they returned to business. He Xu asked, “How’s today’s battle?”
Rong Cheng shook his head. “Not great. We technically won, but we suffered losses—and we can’t replace them quickly. The demons, though...they recover instantly. They don’t care about long-term cultivation, only immediate strength. So they level up fast and hit hard. The upper echelon of their forces still can’t match ours, but their mid- and low-level troops replenish faster than we can. Right now, we’re relying on high-level gods and commanders to suppress them. But we can’t hold out forever. And besides, some gods are wavering—they may very well side with the Demon God.”
This unsolvable dilemma had plagued the Immortal Clan for many years. Rong Cheng and He Xu had long understood the problem, yet could do nothing about it. Whether it was the method of cultivation, the pace of growth among juniors, or the power curve itself—warfare simply didn’t suit Immortal society. The only race that truly thrived through war was the Demon Clan.
With the Immortals weakening and the Demons growing stronger, and the war being fought on the Immortals’ own homeland, it was painfully clear which side had the upper hand.
He Xu tentatively asked, “What about Father God and the Earth Empress...?”
Before He Xu could finish, Rong Cheng shook his head firmly. “They won’t take a stance.”
Nuwa and Pangu remained neutral. At their level, they couldn’t afford to show favoritism. All gods were like their children—whether from the Immortals or Demons—and to favor one was to betray the other. The backlash would be too great, so they chose not to interfere at all.
But the current state of the war had already strayed far from what Rong Cheng had intended. He never imagined it would drag on for so long.
If only he had known…
He scoffed bitterly to himself. But even if he had known, what could he have done? The Demon God, along with gods like the Plague God, had long held resentment, and they used the imbalance between Immortals and Demons as a reason to declare war. Even if Rong Cheng had foreseen the current outcome—something he had desperately wanted to avoid—at that moment, he still had no choice but to fight back.
There was no solution. Perhaps this was the fate of all gods. In a jungle with too many beasts, survival meant the strong preyed on the weak. Among gods, when there were too many, internal elimination became inevitable.
He Xu wasn’t surprised by the answer. He sighed deeply. “When will this war ever end?”
Both of them had already noticed the drastic depletion of vitality and spiritual energy across the world. They’d wanted to end this meaningless war long ago—but it wasn’t up to the Immortals anymore. If they stopped now, the Demons would only grow bolder. Rong Cheng had no choice but to lead the Immortals in a desperate resistance, hoping—praying—for a future turning point that might never come.
When the topic turned to the war, Xi Heng excused himself from the conversation—it wasn’t his place. Rong Cheng and He Xu began to discuss internal matters within the camp. Rong Cheng, as the spiritual leader and commander, handled the battlefield; He Xu oversaw internal affairs. Without He Xu, Rong Cheng couldn’t wage war with any peace of mind.
After a while, the conversation shifted to Luo Han.
“She’s already brushing against the threshold of a law,” Rong Cheng said, “but each time she uses it, it’s unconscious. That’s a bit tricky. What should we do?”
Rong Cheng thought for a moment. “Let her study under Xi Heng for now. At her age, there’s no need to rush anything. Of all of us, Xi Heng understands laws the best. She won’t be wasting her talent under him, and she won’t get dragged into the war either.”
Xi Heng nodded lazily. “I’ve got nothing better to do anyway. Taking on a disciple sounds like a good way to pass the time. What about the other one?”
“You mean Ling Qingxiao?” Rong Cheng paused, then said, “Let him decide for himself. After all, he’s not from here—it’s not our place to assign him anything.”
Surprisingly, He Xu—usually so gentle and tactful—spoke with unusual firmness: “He belongs on the battlefield.”
Everyone grows in their own way. Luo Han wasn’t suited for violence, but Ling Qingxiao absolutely was. Though they came from the same time, their temperaments and abilities were completely different. It made one wonder—what sort of environments had shaped them so differently?
Rong Cheng seemed to agree, but still didn’t make any final decision. “Let’s leave it to him.”
While they were speaking, an officer outside the tent announced, “Lords, the welcome banquet is ready. Shall we begin?”
“Go invite Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao. We’ll start once they arrive.”
“Yes, sir.”
—
At that moment, in the courtyard, Luo Han had just finished rewrapping Ling Qingxiao’s bandages. As she tidied the medicine kit, she scolded him, “I told you not to exert yourself—what did you do? Now the wound’s torn open again.”
Ling Qingxiao truly didn’t think it was a big deal. Dragon Clan healing was fast—if it weren’t for the demonic energy constantly tearing at the wound, it would have healed already. But Luo Han treated him like a fragile human, and Ling Qingxiao was helpless to argue. He could only appease her: “Alright, I’ll be more careful next time.”
Luo Han raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”
Ling Qingxiao answered very seriously, “Of course there’ll be a next time. First, we’re stationed at Xiangshi—the fiercest front of the Ancient War. Second, the troops are exhausted, and the Demons keep launching sneak attacks. We have to be ready to fight at any moment. And from Lord Rong Cheng’s perspective…”
Luo Han stared at him silently, her expression growing increasingly blank. She was determined to be zen. She wouldn’t get mad—truly.
Finally, Ling Qingxiao realized something was wrong with her expression. He retraced his reasoning—it was sound, logical, and well-argued. Why was she upset? Luckily, at that moment, someone came to call them.
“Miss Luo, Lord Ling—the banquet is starting.”
Ling Qingxiao immediately stopped mid-thought, sparing himself from finishing his five-point dissertation. Luo Han stormed down the path without saying a word to him. When they arrived, Xi Heng noticed the mood and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
Luo Han had already composed herself and smiled. “Nothing.”
Xi Heng didn’t press. When Luo Han went to greet Rong Cheng and He Xu, Xi Heng pulled Ling Qingxiao aside and asked, “What happened?”
To his surprise, Ling Qingxiao looked just as serious, thinking hard. “I don’t know.”
The banquet was also the official moment Rong Cheng used to introduce Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao to the others, formally welcoming them into the camp.
As with all social events, the real purpose was connection, not dining. Most of the attendees were military, and the conversation quickly drifted back to battlefield matters.
Luo Han ate quietly. She still believed neutrality would eventually collapse—but for now, both she and Xi Heng needed its protection. As such, she knew to stay far, far away from anything related to war.
At first, Ling Qingxiao hadn’t planned to say much either, but when he overheard Rong Cheng and the generals discussing troop formations on the plains, he couldn’t help but quietly interject, “Why must the two armies form ranks to fight?”
The Lu Plains were flanked by forests, and not far off lay a canyon. The terrain and weather could all be leveraged—so why line up in neat formations and wait for the enemy to do the same before charging into battle?
Though Ling Qingxiao’s voice wasn’t loud, everyone present had strong cultivation and naturally heard him. Su Zongshi, who had taken note of this junior earlier in the day, asked, “How would you do it?”
Ling Qingxiao hadn’t expected the one to reply would be Su Zongshi—the very first Celestial Emperor and a clan elder he deeply admired. He immediately set down his chopsticks, straightened up, and respectfully said:
“The Lu Plains slope down in the center, with higher terrain on either side. Attacking downhill provides an advantage for both archery and charging, making it ideal for an ambush. Not far from there is the Sang River—if we use a water diversion technique to flood the low ground, the enemy will be forced uphill. At that point, archers hidden in the highlands could drive them into the southwest corner. The southwest terrain is rocky, like a natural stone forest. With formations, it could become a maze, allowing us to isolate and defeat them one by one.”
When Ling Qingxiao finished, the entire hall fell silent. Everyone—talking, drinking, sobering up—paused to listen.
Ancient battlefield strategies were still very straightforward. Armies typically stood in ranks and called out to each other. Generals dueled upfront, then the soldiers charged en masse. This method placed little demand on individual ability; victory largely depended on numbers.
That kind of “fair” combat wasn’t bad per se—but...to people from the Tianqi Era, where scheming and power plays had become sophisticated art forms, such simplicity seemed laughably naive.
Ling Qingxiao paused. “That’s just my initial idea. We’d need calculations for timing and pathing. If we coordinate with the surrounding forest and canyon, it could offer more adaptability.”
Though some thought his ideas naive, Ling Qingxiao remained calm, and for every doubt raised, he had clear and well-reasoned responses. The depth of his details and the structure of his plan made it obvious—this was no idle speculation.
Even Rong Cheng and He Xu began chiming in. Luo Han, who had already finished eating, didn’t want to leave mid-discussion, so she poked aimlessly at the herbs on her plate with her chopsticks.
She was poking quite intently when her wrist was suddenly caught by Ling Qingxiao. Having just finished explaining his strategy, he used the same serious tone to say, “Finish your dill.”
Luo Han looked down. Half her plate was still full of dill. She didn’t like dill and had subconsciously pushed it aside—only for it to all be noticed.
Now even this had to be micromanaged? Luo Han, unwilling, reluctantly picked up her chopsticks again to finish it all at once.
The others were still deep in thought over Ling Qingxiao’s strategy—something completely unprecedented—yet when they looked over, he was...enforcing vegetable consumption.
…No one quite knew what to say. It felt bizarrely disjointed.
Of course, Ling Qingxiao couldn’t copy battlefield strategies from the future outright. Doing so would disrupt the temporal order, and if the real inventor couldn’t make their mark later, he’d owe them a karmic debt. In the cultivation world, debts of all kinds could be borne—except karma.
But he could still explain the principles. Once a concept was internalized, it became part of himself—his own knowledge. That was fair game.
Luo Han sulkily picked at the dill while they discussed tactics. Bored, Xi Heng scooted over and asked, “Wasn’t he a sword cultivator? Why does he know so much about warfare?”
Luo Han didn’t even blink. “Totally normal. Before we came here, he was first place in both the civil and martial exams for many years. No matter how they adjusted scoring weights, he was always first—like clockwork.”
Xi Heng let out a sound of surprise, then asked, “Didn’t you come here at the same time? Why does he know everything, while you seem...less well-versed?”
Luo Han was stunned by the sneak attack. What did she ever do to deserve being thrown under the bus?