Chapter 73

Luo Han wanted to retort that she was younger than Ling Qingxiao and would catch up eventually, but reason stopped her. “Senior Xi Heng, comparing me to him is giving me way too much credit. Once you get to know him better, you won’t be asking questions like that.”
Back on the flying ship, the elite disciples were all arrogant—until they saw Ling Qingxiao’s scores. After getting crushed, they admitted defeat and swore never to be in the same class as him again.
It was brutal, truly.
Xi Heng raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Luo Han looked at him with the weariness of experience. “Give it three days. You’ll see.”
Soon, Ling Qingxiao would show them all what it meant to operate with machine-like precision and unshakeable execution.
With nothing better to do, and both of them being unofficial personnel, Luo Han suggested to Xi Heng that they leave early. She had some questions for him anyway.
There was no need to crowd the war room. It helped no one.
Xi Heng agreed easily, and Rong Cheng gave his permission without fuss. Ling Qingxiao’s brow furrowed slightly when he saw Luo Han leaving.
He wanted to go too, but the strategy discussion wasn’t finished—he couldn’t leave just yet.
He Xu, ever perceptive, immediately understood Ling Qingxiao’s hesitation. Exasperated, he said, “It’s night. The patrols are tight. And with all of us here, she’s not in danger.”
Only then did Xi Heng realize what Ling Qingxiao had been fretting over. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he said, “Relax. With me here, she’s not going to get kidnapped.”
Now that it had come to this, any more worrying would seem like a slight against everyone else’s competence. Ling Qingxiao could only rise and personally walk them to the door, solemnly saying to Xi Heng, “Senior Xi Heng, the path between here and the residence isn’t well-lit. When she comes back, please escort her to the door.”
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—coming to the Middle Era and having the chance to fight alongside the legendary figures that would later appear in history books. What an extraordinary stroke of fortune. Many lineages had been lost by the Tianqi Era, especially martial techniques—countless ones had been lost to the river of time. But now, the founders of those future sects stood before them. If Ling Qingxiao could accompany them into battle, the benefits would be immeasurable.
Ling Qingxiao, of course, understood this was a good thing. The elders’ willingness to mentor him meant they saw potential. His attitude toward cultivation had always been focused and rigorous—under normal circumstances, he would’ve accepted without hesitation. But this time, for some reason, he hesitated.
Ling Qingxiao said, “Once I go to the battlefield, my time won’t be my own. That means...I may not be able to protect you.”
Luo Han let out a quiet gasp. Only now did she realize—so that’s what was troubling him. She immediately said, “It’s alright. Just do what you want to do. That promise...doesn’t have to be so strict. I’ll be staying in the camp anyway, studying under Senior Xi Heng. I won’t be in danger.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t answer right away. After a long silence, he said quietly, “But it could be a long time.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t quite know how to face these feelings. He understood that everyone had to take responsibility for their own path—only by becoming stronger could one stand independently. But if he accepted Rong Cheng’s offer, he might be away from camp for years, fighting on the front lines. During that time, Luo Han would meet new people, experience new things—things he would have no part in.
What if she met another man her age...
Just the thought made Ling Qingxiao’s mind go blank. He didn’t know what he could do. If there were any action he could take to change things—no matter how difficult—he would do it. But this...this was out of his hands.
All he could do was wait for the final judgment.
Luo Han saw he still wasn’t responding and thought maybe he was still hung up on that thousand-year promise. She felt a headache coming on. She’d dug this hole herself, and now she had to climb out. She’d declared so confidently before that “a thousand years means exactly a thousand years, not a day more or less.” Now she couldn’t go back on her word—so she tried to subtly give herself an out.
“You joining the gods in battle, becoming stronger, slaying more demons—that also protects me. The safer the rear becomes, the safer I am. We both have our goals—we’re both working toward going home. Even if we’re apart, it doesn’t matter.”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t respond, and Luo Han wasn’t sure if he’d been convinced. Soon, they arrived at her quarters. Luo Han opened the door, then paused before entering. After a moment of hesitation, she turned around and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Protection isn’t possession. I don’t want this promise to become a burden to you. Growth should mean becoming a better version of yourself—not giving up your dreams for someone else.”
“I want you to do what you want, without compromising for anyone—not even me.”
Ling Qingxiao finally stirred. He nodded slowly and said, “Alright.”
Luo Han breathed a sigh of relief. “Then I’ll go rest. Good night?”
“Good night.”
Luo Han stepped inside and gently closed the door. Outside, the moon was veiled by clouds. The window was ajar, and the room dimly lit. As she walked toward the table to find a lamp, something made her glance back. She saw that Ling Qingxiao was still standing there, unmoving.
Just then, the moon broke through the clouds. The moonlight poured down like water, bathing the courtyard in a cold, silvery glow. Ling Qingxiao stood tall in the middle of it, his lone figure still and silent.
"Were these stars not the same as last night? For whom does the wind and dew stand vigil at midnight?"
The flame-tipped stick in Luo Han’s hand flickered. With a faint crackle, the lamp ignited, flooding the room with light. The sudden brightness stung her eyes, and she instinctively covered them. When she lowered her hand and looked out again—the courtyard was empty.
Everything was calm, as if what she’d seen just now had been nothing but an illusion.
—
In the mountains, time slipped by unnoticed. In the blink of an eye, three years passed.
Luo Han sat kneeling on a meditation cushion. On the table before her sat a small bamboo cup. She cupped her hands around it, dark gold light slowly radiating from her palms.
As the light flowed into it, the bamboo seemed to change. Its fresh green faded quickly into a withered yellow, aging at a visible rate. Eventually, it turned brittle and cracked apart with a soft snap.
Xi Heng lay lazily on a daybed, yawning. “Not bad.”
Luo Han stretched her fingers. Time magic was unbelievably difficult. The bamboo cup was an inanimate object—motionless and without karma—and even so, accelerating its timeline took nearly all her effort. She had to absorb power from the world, direct the time acceleration, and also resist the natural repulsion of the timeline against external interference. It had only been a hundred years of simulated aging, and already she’d hit her limit.
Looking at the desiccated bamboo pieces, Luo Han couldn’t help sighing.
Just a hundred years...And yet the gap between the Middle Era and the Tianqi Era was measured in trillions.
Seeing her mood drop, Xi Heng said, “You’ve only been at it for three years. You’re already doing great. The fundamentals are solid—what’s left is refining your technique and accumulating power. Oh, right—can you reverse time flow yet?”
Luo Han shook her head. So far, she could only speed up time. Slowing it down, freezing it, or reversing it—those were all beyond her.
Xi Heng clicked his tongue in mock concern. “Ah, that’s a problem. This bamboo’s turned to scrap. If you could reverse it, we’d be fine, but since you can’t...well, what should we do about the damage?”
Luo Han was shocked. “Wait—this wasn’t a teaching prop?”
“Nope. That was part of my private tea set,” Xi Heng said, sitting up and brushing off his robes. “That was my last cup, too. You figure it out—when I come back tonight, I expect to see a complete set again.”
After Xi Heng finished speaking, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked out. Luo Han looked at the pile of rotted wood on the table and tried to touch it lightly—immediately, several crumbling fragments fell off.
She didn’t dare touch it again. Focusing her attention, she tried to rewind time, to return the cup to how it was a hundred years ago. But destruction was always easier than restoration. Luo Han tried for a long time, and still couldn’t reverse time.
…Forget it. She’d just go down the mountain and buy a new one. Who was Xi Heng trying to fool, saying it was part of his private collection? Did he think she couldn’t recognize Master Liu’s craftsmanship?
Luo Han left Xi Heng’s house and closed the gate behind her. That man really was carefree—he went out without even bothering to close the door.
Over the past three years, Luo Han had spent so much time on the mountain that she’d simply built a small wooden house nearby, not far from Xi Heng’s hut. After lessons, if she didn’t feel like going down the mountain, she’d stay there for the night.
Her room at the foot of the mountain was still kept for her, but she rarely stayed there anymore. Only when the main force returned from the front would Luo Han go down to visit Ling Qingxiao, Rong Cheng, He Xu, and the others. The rest of the time, she basically shut herself away in the deep mountain woods.
Over the three years, Luo Han had systematically studied cultivation. She now understood what divine power was, the principles behind establishing laws, and how other gods’ laws operated...She had once floundered around with no direction, but now she had a system and structure.
Self-taught prodigies were rare—most people needed a solid system to guide them. With a mentor and a framework built on accumulated experience, one’s progress was much faster than trying to reinvent everything alone.
Luo Han gathered her belongings from her cabin and headed down the mountain.
Though it was technically the frontlines, a settlement had gradually formed near the camp. When there wasn’t fighting, the base of the mountain hosted markets and vendors—it was quite lively. Luo Han had occasionally come down to shop, but today, as soon as she entered, she noticed something off.
Everyone was smiling and excited. Luo Han stopped someone and asked, “What’s going on? Is it a festival today?”
The older woman she stopped grew even more enthusiastic upon recognizing her. “Goddess Luo Han, you’re down the mountain today? You’ve been training up there, so you wouldn’t know—God Rong Cheng just won a battle! Everyone’s celebrating.”
Luo Han blinked. “I really didn’t know. When are they coming back?”
It wasn’t that Luo Han didn’t care about the war, but battles were simply too frequent. Rong Cheng spent most of the year leading troops in the field, and whenever the main force returned—whether victorious or not—the camp would be bustling for days. Now that everyone was involved in the war effort, nearly every household had family members on the frontlines. The army’s return was something all looked forward to.
The older woman wasn’t sure but answered warmly, “I don’t know either. God He Xu didn’t say. Maybe sometime in the next couple of days?”
While they were speaking, a group of children nearby were playing with bamboo dragonflies. One boy was frustrated that he couldn’t get his to fly. On his next try, he twisted his hands hard—buzz—the toy shot free and angled straight toward Luo Han.
She had her back to them and didn’t see it coming. Just as she turned her head at the sound, the dragonfly suddenly froze midair, caught by an invisible force. If one looked closely, a faint white frost clung to the bamboo joints.
Startled, Luo Han looked in the direction the spell had come from. “Ling Qingxiao?”
A group of people appeared at the path’s entrance. Ling Qingxiao said something to the person beside him, and the officer nodded, leading the others toward the camp. Ling Qingxiao, meanwhile, turned and headed toward the marketplace.
As soon as people realized the army had returned today, joyful cries erupted. Parents with children wiped away tears, young girls dashed off to tell their families, and a few bold boys ran after the procession. The market overflowed with joy and energy as Ling Qingxiao walked against the crowd, moving steadily toward Luo Han.
She hadn’t seen him in months. Luo Han felt a faint sense of disorientation—three years wasn’t that long, but the crucible of war was no ordinary experience. In just three years, he had completely transformed.
He had always been reserved, quiet, and disinclined to compete or lead. But now, after fighting alongside Rong Cheng, seeing death sweep across the battlefield like a machine, he’d become more composed, more solemn—and eventually, he too became one of those who slaughtered demons like clockwork. The trials of blood and fire had forged him. If he had once been a crystal-clear sword of ice—pure, cold, untouched—then now, that sword had been quenched in fire, dyed in blood, and gleamed with razor-sharp brilliance.
Ling Qingxiao approached, calm and composed, not intentionally exuding any aura—but the crowd instinctively parted around him. Some greeted him with respectful caution: “General Ling.”
His meteoric rise in the military had shocked many. His stoic, no-nonsense demeanor might have created distance in everyday life, but it was perfect for the battlefield. The higher-ups trusted him, the soldiers respected him, and in just three years, he had become a young general commanding his own forces.
Wherever he walked, the crowd parted. He finally stopped before Luo Han and asked, “Why did you come down the mountain?”
Snapping out of her daze, Luo Han replied, “Oh, I came to buy a bamboo cup from Master Liu. I didn’t expect to run into you returning to camp. Why didn’t anyone send word in advance?”
“There were some matters at the rear. God Rong Cheng is coming back with the main force at a slower pace. Elder Su asked me to return ahead and notify God He Xu—so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding,” Ling Qingxiao said, then asked, “What kind of cup is so important you had to come in person?”
As he walked up just now, Luo Han had almost thought she saw the shadow of the future Celestial Emperor in him. But the moment he spoke—he was still the Ling Qingxiao she knew.
Luo Han said, “It’s nothing, really. I was practicing time magic and accidentally destroyed one of Xi Heng’s cups. Now he insists I replace it. I’m pretty sure he just didn’t want to go buy one himself and tricked me into doing it.”
Ling Qingxiao seemed thoughtful. He recalled that when God Rong Cheng had sent word back to the camp, he’d also sent a message to Xi Heng. Had Xi Heng...figured something out?
For example, the exact time he arrived at the camp.
As they walked, Luo Han was casually complaining to Ling Qingxiao about everyday annoyances. When she turned around, she noticed his calm expression, as if lost in thought. She quietly asked, “What’s wrong?”
Ling Qingxiao quickly snapped out of it, the look in his eyes immediately concealed. “Nothing. Let’s go get a new bamboo cup for Elder Xi Heng first.”
Since they had run into each other midway, the two of them went together to Master Liu’s workshop to have a new cup made. To be honest, Master Liu was a bit intimidated when Ling Qingxiao appeared in his courtyard. But the famously cold-faced young general, when speaking to Goddess Luo Han, was unexpectedly patient, gentle, and even good-natured. Master Liu’s mind was in chaos. He hurried to finish the task and handed them an entire new set of bamboo cups.
He was originally going to hand them to Luo Han, but when he saw that Ling Qingxiao was calmly listening to her while extending a hand to take the box, Master Liu’s heart trembled. Mid-motion, he changed direction and respectfully offered the box to Ling Qingxiao instead.
Ling Qingxiao accepted it, paid in spirit stones, and accompanied Luo Han back to the camp. After they left, Master Liu let out a long sigh of relief.
Too scary. General Ling didn’t need to say a word—just standing there was enough to make even the birds in the yard fall silent. Thanks to his presence, all the bamboo cups Master Liu cut today were exceptionally straight and clean—each one a perfect piece, not a single flaw, as if lined up with a ruler.
He sighed, thinking that probably only in front of Luo Han would Ling Qingxiao show such a gentle, agreeable side.
As they strolled back to camp, Luo Han noticed Ling Qingxiao’s sword and asked, “Did you finish repairing the Jiuxiao?”
Ling Qingxiao unfastened the sword and showed it to her. During the last fight against the Demon God, Jiuxiao had been cracked by a powerful strike. After Ling Qingxiao joined the army, when the senior gods like Rong Cheng saw the sword, they commented on its elegant design but lamented the mediocre materials. They offered to gather rare materials to have the sword reforged.
‘Mediocre’ indeed...Ling Qingxiao hadn’t argued. Compared to the resources of the Middle Era, Jiuxiao’s original materials were definitely average. Anything worthy of a god’s eye had to be extraordinary. The materials used for the reforged Jiuxiao Sword were unbelievably rare. Ling Qingxiao, being skilled in weapon forging himself, needed no outside help—he reforged it personally.
Naturally, crafting it himself ensured the utmost care and perfect compatibility between sword and wielder. After completion, everyone who saw the sword praised it endlessly. Some even believed it to be a divine weapon.
Luo Han hadn’t seen the finished product yet. Last time, the sword wasn’t fully attuned. Ling Qingxiao drew it slightly from its sheath—just a few inches—and an icy aura immediately rushed toward her.
At a certain level of craftsmanship, even laypeople could instantly tell quality. Luo Han nodded, sincerely impressed. “Good sword.”
Middle Age materials paired with future techniques—no wonder the result was heaven-defying.
Ling Qingxiao sheathed the sword and said, “Thanks to the elders.”
Rong Cheng had brought it up initially, and one by one, more people got involved. Everyone nitpicked over the materials, so the final result had to be of the highest grade.
As they chatted, they reached the camp. A teenage boy stood by the entrance. When he saw Ling Qingxiao, his eyes lit up—then shifted to Luo Han, and his movements became hesitant.
Ling Qingxiao noticed and asked, “What’s the matter?”
The boy smiled obsequiously and said, “General, God He Xu is looking for you.”
Ling Qingxiao’s brow furrowed slightly. Luo Han immediately said, “Elder He Xu probably has something important to discuss. Go ahead, I can handle things myself. I’ll drop the cup off with Xi Heng and meet you back down the mountain.”
The boy’s eyes widened, feeling like he had just heard something shocking, but not daring to say a word, he quickly looked down. Ling Qingxiao nodded with a sigh. “Alright, it’ll have to be that way. Be careful on the road.”
“I’ll be fine.” Luo Han had walked this path countless times—it was as familiar as breathing. She glanced at the unfamiliar boy and asked, “Who is this? I haven’t seen him before.”
The boy was thrilled to be addressed by the beautiful goddess, but before he could speak, Ling Qingxiao cut in, “I found him on the road—no parents, no name. God Rong Cheng took pity on him and brought him into the ranks. I assigned him to my squad. Xiao Ze, go report to God He Xu, then return to training.”
Xiao Ze hadn’t even gotten a single word in and was now inexplicably burdened with training. He pouted miserably but didn’t dare linger in front of Luo Han. “Yes, sir.”