Chapter 76

After those words, that strange feeling in Luo Han’s heart returned.
She couldn’t quite make sense of the current situation. To be honest, the Ling Qingxiao standing before her now was very different from the one in her memory.
For Luo Han, time still felt frozen at the moment he accompanied her to buy that cup, and they said goodbye at the foot of the mountain. Later, she had accidentally fallen into the Void Realm. With no light and no sound, her sense of time blurred; to her, it felt like she had simply gone on a short trip and returned shortly after.
The Ling Qingxiao she remembered was meticulous, aloof, stubborn, serious—and at times, even a little fragile and sensitive. He would never have naturally emanated such pressure, calmly interrogated, and then seamlessly smoothed over the conversation like now.
This wasn’t just “different.” It was like he had become a completely different person.
Seeing that she was a little uneasy, Ling Qingxiao didn’t speak further. Instead, he said, “God Xi Heng has been searching for you for a long time. God Rong Cheng and God He Xu have also been concerned about your whereabouts. Let me take you to see them.”
Luo Han nodded. “Alright.”
Ling Qingxiao turned first. Luo Han followed behind. There was a sharp, bloody aura radiating from him now. Unconsciously, she stayed a step behind, no longer walking beside him as she once had.
When they crossed the hilltop, Luo Han realized there was a large group waiting for Ling Qingxiao. All were fully armed, prepared for action. They looked like they were about to depart on a mission and were waiting for orders from their commanding officer.
She understood now—Ling Qingxiao had other duties today. Their meeting was pure coincidence. Luo Han immediately spoke up: “I can go on my own. You should take care of your tasks first.”
This time, Ling Qingxiao answered without hesitation: “No. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”
That was the answer he should have given five hundred years ago. He had failed once. He would not make the same mistake again.
Luo Han froze, remembering that his experience of time had been vastly different from hers. In the end, she didn’t argue. Ling Qingxiao was always strict with himself and lenient with others. His expectations of himself were extraordinarily high. When something went wrong, he would take all the blame.
Her disappearance into the time-space rift had been half coincidence—but also partly due to her triggering the rift. But no matter the reason, it had nothing to do with Ling Qingxiao.
Yet from his behavior now, it was clear that he had been blaming himself for a long, long time.
Luo Han felt the current Ling Qingxiao was very different. She didn’t dare push him too hard, so she simply let him make the arrangements. Ling Qingxiao signaled for her to wait and called over a vice general, giving him a series of detailed instructions.
Luo Han realized that whether as a subordinate or a leader, Ling Qingxiao was the kind of person everyone respected. As a subordinate, he was meticulous and efficient; as a commander, he assigned tasks with perfect clarity—everything laid out in order, nothing overlooked. All the others had to do was follow his instructions to the letter.
She stood quietly off to the side, trying not to listen in. But inevitably, scattered fragments of conversation reached her ears.
To Luo Han, she had only been gone a year—and during that year, she’d barely heard a single voice. So her memories of the people and things before she disappeared were still vivid. She hadn’t recognized the face just now, but this voice…
Wasn’t that Xiao Ze?
Luo Han turned her gaze in surprise to the other man. Yes—now that she looked closely, she could still see traces of the young Xiao Ze in his features. But five hundred years had passed. That half-grown boy had become a full-grown man, his facial contours changed significantly, and his entire aura was utterly different.
Which explained why she hadn’t recognized him at first. The old man she met on the mountain path hadn’t stirred much emotion, since she’d never interacted with him. But seeing someone she knew...it finally hit her how much time had passed.
Children had grown old. The once-lively youth had become a tall, stern, composed man.
Luo Han silently sighed.
Not everyone could remain ageless. The more powerful a person, the younger they appeared. Though everyone in the Immortal Realm practiced cultivation, not all were equal—most had average talent, unremarkable bloodlines, and only moderate effort. They were like the common people of the mortal world—the true majority.
If Xiao Ze was considered nobility among mortals, then that old man was the common folk. Xiao Ze had preserved his appearance and grown stronger, while the elder was still subject to the cycle of life and death. Even so, his immortal roots gave him longer life than a typical mortal.
But all life ends in death. If everyone in the Immortal Realm could cultivate eternal youth, and new children continued to be born while none ever died, the world would collapse. Only a tiny fraction—those with both talent and tenacity—could ever chase after true immortality.
Ling Qingxiao soon finished his orders. Xiao Ze was now his vice general, with countless military merits to his name. It was no problem for him to temporarily take over command. He saluted, but as he turned to leave, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Luo Han.
Was that really the Goddess Luo Han? After all these years, General Ling had finally found her?
He should be happy for his general, but Xiao Ze unexpectedly felt a twinge of sorrow. Five hundred years. At last, they were reunited. And judging by what God Rong Cheng had once implied—Ling Qingxiao didn’t belong in this world. He had been stranded here alone all this time...wasn’t that even lonelier?
Xiao Ze didn’t dare look again. He turned briskly and led the troops away. The massive army moved in perfect formation—no extra sounds, no disorder. Their discipline and unity spoke volumes about their commanding officer.
Once they were gone, Luo Han turned to Ling Qingxiao and said, “That was Xiao Ze just now? He’s changed so much, I almost didn’t recognize him.”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. “It was him. In wartime, he had no choice but to grow.”
Luo Han hesitated, then followed her heart and said softly, “You’ve grown too.”
When they first met just now...she had nearly mistaken him for someone else.
Ling Qingxiao smiled faintly, not giving a direct response. “Come on, I’ll take you to see Gods Xi Heng and He Xu. God Rong Cheng is on a different front. You probably won’t get to see him today.”
Ling Qingxiao’s sudden return to camp made He Xu think something big had happened. When he saw the woman beside him, he thought—well, something had happened.
This was even more thrilling than any change on the battlefield.
He Xu immediately stood up and invited the two of them to sit. Once they were seated, he poured tea and, with a touch of divine power, floated the cups in front of them. “You two are truly rare guests. Luo Han, it’s been a long time.”
Luo Han greeted him respectfully. “It has been, God He Xu. You’re as graceful as ever—perhaps even more so.”
He Xu smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. Where on earth have you been all these years?”
Luo Han was about to reply when a hurried voice came from outside the tent: “Luo Han is back? Where is she?”
The tent flap was flung open, and Luo Han instinctively stood up. “Senior Xi Heng.”
Xi Heng stared at her for several moments, clearly in disbelief. “It really is you!”
The words were odd—she’d always looked like this. Who else could she be? Luo Han was momentarily confused, but the situation didn’t leave room to dwell on it. “Yes, it’s me. Oh—about that teacup you asked me to buy…”
“Don’t mention it! Forget the cup!” Xi Heng quickly interrupted. Just hearing the words “teacup” made him feel uneasy. Even though he knew the ambush by the Demon God was meticulously planned and had nothing to do with the cup, he couldn’t help but think—if Luo Han hadn’t gone out, hadn’t gone to buy that cup, would none of this have happened?
Ling Qingxiao rose slowly and nodded slightly toward Xi Heng. “God Xi Heng.”
With Xi Heng’s arrival, He Xu had an extra seat and fresh tea brought out. Once everyone was settled, Xi Heng immediately asked, “Luo Han, where did you go after disappearing?”
Given their master-disciple bond, it was better for Xi Heng to ask these questions. He Xu quietly stepped back and let Xi Heng take the lead.
Luo Han sighed. “It’s a long story.”
He Xu and Ling Qingxiao both blinked, thinking she didn’t want to talk about it. He Xu was just about to change the subject when Luo Han launched into a rapid-fire explanation: “I’m never buying tea sets again. It’s such bad luck! I got pulled into a time rift that day and accidentally fell into the Void Realm. I didn’t even see where I was—I had to dodge debris and space beasts right away. There was no light, no sound. I wandered for a whole year before I finally stumbled my way back.”
He Xu was surprised. Five hundred years had passed, and everyone had changed—yet Luo Han was exactly as she had been. He briefly dazed out, then snapped back to focus, catching a key word: “A year?”
“I’m not sure,” Luo Han said. “It felt like a year. Maybe a year and a half?”
He Xu and Xi Heng exchanged a glance, then both looked at Ling Qingxiao. For Luo Han, only a year had passed. But for Ling Qingxiao...it had been five hundred years of searching.
Ling Qingxiao remained very calm. He even smiled a little and said, “That’s good. Only a year—you didn’t suffer too much.”
His response made both Xi Heng and He Xu hesitant to speak. Xi Heng chuckled awkwardly to lighten the mood. “It’s fine, then. You’re back, and everything’s okay—that means it was fate. Say, you were in the Void Realm? You must have seen exposed Laws. What was the Law of Time like over there?”
This was a topic both Luo Han and Xi Heng were interested in. Luo Han picked out the non-sensitive parts to share, skipping over anything involving Nuwa or her parents.
Even the others—less familiar with Law studies—could occasionally chime in. After all, the Void Realm's Laws were pure and primal. Who wouldn’t want to know more?
As their conversation deepened, He Xu noticed that Xi Heng had the look of someone ready to talk all night. He quickly cut in: “That’s enough, Xi Heng. Luo Han just returned—she hasn’t even rested yet. It’s late. Whatever else you want to discuss can wait until tomorrow.”
He gave Xi Heng a meaningful look. Xi Heng finally remembered there was someone else here and reluctantly said, “Fine, tomorrow it is. I believe the time flow in the Void Realm not only differs in pace—it also twists between regions. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll bring diagrams tomorrow, and we’ll talk more then.”
Luo Han agreed immediately. With the topic settled, they said their goodbyes. He Xu saw them off at the tent entrance. “There have been frequent demon ambushes lately. Even inside the camp, don’t let your guard down.”
Complete nonsense—but Xi Heng just raised an eyebrow and let it go. He Xu’s words gave Ling Qingxiao the perfect excuse to escort Luo Han back.
As they walked, Luo Han couldn’t help but think: No wonder He Xu is in charge of internal affairs. That emotional intelligence! That wording! A true master!
Normally, conversation flowed easily between her and Ling Qingxiao. But for some reason, tonight the atmosphere was strangely tense.
Luo Han racked her brain for something to say. Ling Qingxiao spoke calmly: “God He Xu is cautious by nature. Things aren’t as serious as he made them sound. Though the front lines are tight, there’s no danger here in camp.”
Luo Han followed along. “I see. You seem very familiar with the camp’s defenses. Have you been stationed on the front lines all this time?”
“Not all the time—it depends on God Rong Cheng’s arrangements.” Talking about the years apart naturally opened up their conversation. Ling Qingxiao guided her to the right, then opened a door for her. “This is the place. It was prepared today—done in a hurry, but at least it’s safe. All the furnishings are new. If anything isn’t comfortable, just let me know.”
Luo Han thanked him, then sighed softly and asked, “How have you been these years?”
The question froze the air between them for a moment.
Ling Qingxiao had truly changed. In the past, he would never have cared about polite conversation. But now, if he chose to, he could easily smooth over an awkward moment or subtly guide the topic. He carried both authority and killing intent, along with ambition and edge.
He had grown—in every sense of the word.
Luo Han truly wanted to know what he had experienced these past years.
Ling Qingxiao smiled faintly. “Nothing much, just following the elders to war. Aside from many names of places and people, nothing particularly interesting. You wouldn’t care for it.”
“No, I would care,” Luo Han said. “Last time, I was the one who broke our promise. I made you wait all this time—that was my fault. Even if I didn’t experience it with you, now I can rejoin you.”
After she finished, she glanced inside the room. “Do you want to come in?”
Ling Qingxiao stood at the doorway for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright.”
Although this was Luo Han’s room, she wasn’t yet familiar with the layout. For a moment, she couldn’t find where the tea was, and it ended up being the guest—Ling Qingxiao—who helped her: “The tea set is over here. What kind of tea would you like?”
“Anything is fine, whatever’s convenient for you.” After she said that, Luo Han suddenly remembered something. “Oh, I said I’d return the teacup to Xi Heng. I forgot to give it to him when we left.”
She took out the last remaining bamboo cup from her storage ring and sighed. “Pity...only one left.”
Ling Qingxiao cast her a quiet glance, then brewed the tea and wordlessly took out an identical cup.
Luo Han was surprised. “You have one too?”
“The others were crushed by magical force that day. Only this one fell into the grass and survived. I thought you might want it when you came back, so I kept it for you.”
And he kept it—for five hundred years.
Luo Han’s bamboo cup was smooth and vibrant, as if newly made. But the one in Ling Qingxiao’s hand, while clearly well-kept, showed signs of age—its edges rounded from frequent handling, the surface slightly dulled.
Placed side by side, the contrast was stark. Luo Han felt another pang in her chest. She gently arranged the two cups next to each other and picked up the teapot. “They were meant to be used anyway. Since Xi Heng doesn’t want them back, let’s use them ourselves.”
Boiling water flowed into the cups, steam curling above pale green bamboo and clear tea foam, lending the whole moment a quiet elegance. Luo Han handed Ling Qingxiao a cup—coincidentally, the one she’d just brought out.
Ling Qingxiao said nothing, accepted it, and took a slow sip.
Luo Han held her own cup and sat down. As soon as she touched it, she realized it wasn’t just her imagination—the cup really was incredibly smooth. Its previous owner must have polished it often, kept it close for many years.
Her fingers lightly traced the rim. Was this the same cup Ling Qingxiao had held over and over through all these years? She had disappeared without warning—this teacup might’ve been the only trace she left behind.
Luo Han sighed softly. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Ling Qingxiao replied. “It was my fault.”
It was a mistake he hadn’t forgiven himself for in five hundred years.
“No, no.” Luo Han quickly shook her head. “It had nothing to do with you. You’ve already done so much for me. This wasn’t your fault in any way. If anyone deserves blame, it should be the Demon God—not us turning on each other.”
Ling Qingxiao lowered his gaze without replying. From his expression, he clearly didn’t agree.
He was still the same as always—holding himself to impossibly high standards.
Luo Han didn’t want to dwell on this topic anymore. It was a situation with no good answer—what was done was done, and blame helped no one. They were both victims, and it made no sense for either of them to shoulder the guilt.
She switched to a lighter subject, hoping to avoid any emotional landmines. “What have you been doing all these years?”
“Nothing special. Accompanying God Rong Cheng to the battlefield, cultivating in my free time. Occasionally I evaluate the junior cultivators’ formations. When God Xi Heng is in camp, I sometimes practice time spells with him.”
He said it so simply, but Luo Han could read between the lines: daytime battles, nighttime cultivation, studying formations and time laws simultaneously—while also training others in formation magic.
Terrifying.
The spiritual energy, the divine treasures, and the environment in the Middle Era far surpassed those of the later Tianqi Era. Ling Qingxiao had once said that a day of cultivation here equaled five days there. He was already a prodigy in the Tianqi Era—which meant, by now, he had trained for the equivalent of two thousand five hundred years.
And even that wasn’t the full story. His actual combat experience, gained through years of war, far outweighed any gains from cultivation alone.
His current battle prowess was worlds apart from what it used to be. Luo Han had seen it for herself during the day—he casually struck with his sword, and nearly leveled half a mountain. That wasn’t just about five centuries of cultivation.
She stared, stunned. “What level is your cultivation now?”
Even if Ling Qingxiao said he’d already reached Immortal Lord, Luo Han wouldn’t have been surprised.
He seemed to sense her thoughts and shook his head slightly. “Nothing like that. Just Celestial Immortal.”
Luo Han paused, unsure how to react. “...Just?”
Ling Qingxiao was only fifteen hundred years old. He’d already reached the High Stage of the Celestial Immortal realm. She couldn’t help but wonder what Ye Zinan—who was still stuck in the Early Stage after eighty thousand years—would think if she heard this.
“With the spiritual energy here, it’s not that fast,” Ling Qingxiao said seriously. “Besides, I’m not from this world. I’m not acknowledged by the Heavenly Tribulation. I reached the Celestial Immortal Stage a hundred years ago, but I haven’t sensed any signs of the next breakthrough. I’m guessing I’ll need to return to the Tianqi Era to face the Golden Immortal tribulation.”
Every time a celestial ascended, they had to undergo the trial of heavenly lightning. The higher the level, the more dangerous the tribulation. It wasn’t rare for great cultivators to be reduced to ashes, soul scattered, in a single moment of failure. Since Ling Qingxiao did not belong to this timeline, his ascension tribulation would clearly only be triggered upon returning to the Tianqi Era.
Luo Han gave a quiet “oh,” realizing that returning to the Tianqi Era had to be prioritized. She also now fully understood just how monstrous Ling Qingxiao’s cultivation speed was.
He had reached the peak of the Celestial Immortal realm a hundred years ago—at this pace, wouldn’t reaching the next level be practically a given?
They had to return soon, or else a few more years of cultivation in the Middle Era would mean he’d trigger his ascension thunder tribulation the moment he exited the time tunnel. Worse, he might be struck mid-crossing.
Heavenly lightning was no joke. Luo Han knew better than anyone how terrifying a tribulation could be. There was no way she’d let Ling Qingxiao risk that.
Suddenly, she felt immense pressure—like being the student who hadn’t done her homework while the neighbor’s kid just scored another perfect grade. In her mind, only a year had passed. She hadn’t changed much since falling into the temporal rift, but Ling Qingxiao had truly lived through five hundred years.
He had already been a model student—and now he’d jumped the starting line. Absolutely outrageous.
After Ling Qingxiao briefly finished recounting his years, he turned the question back to her: “And you? How was this...year?”
At the mention, Luo Han couldn’t hold back her outrage. “I can’t even describe how boring the void realm was. That place was worse than the Abyss Of Absolute Spirits. No light, no sound, no people—just space beasts! Do you even know how huge those things are? Calling them mountains isn’t enough—oceans! When they fall, their bodies cover entire regions. I once spent fifteen minutes just walking from the tail to the heart. And somehow, I only experienced a year—no idea how it’s been five hundred here. Honestly, I’m glad it wasn’t five centuries, or I would’ve gone mad on my own.”
She spoke in the same tone she had before they parted: lively, casual, a little pouty—the spirited voice of a young woman still full of life. And indeed, she was only twenty-three.
Ling Qingxiao watched her, unable to hide the waves in his heart. She didn’t feel like she had changed, and in truth, she hadn’t—but to him, there lay between them five hundred years of silence, of unrelenting war, of hope and despair, back and forth, again and again.
She still brimmed with youth and vitality, while he had grown old in ways that didn’t show on the face, but within.
Luo Han didn’t want to expose the fact she had help returning, so she left out the part about her parents and brushed over her time in the void. Eventually, she mentioned Nuwa: “...Later, Nuwa discovered me and brought me back to the immortal realm. I didn’t say anything earlier in the main tent because of her status, and how sensitive it would’ve been, given the war…”
“I know.” Ling Qingxiao raised a hand gently, stopping her. “There’s a sound-sealing formation outside. No one will hear, and I won’t tell anyone. You don’t need to explain.”
Alright then. Luo Han swallowed her words and, with renewed enthusiasm, pulled out something to show him: “This is a core I dug out of a space beast. What do you think?”
Ling Qingxiao glanced at it and smiled. “The energy is immense. Very useful. If you like, I can craft a weapon from it for you. You’re still lacking an offensive artifact. I once promised to forge a sword for you, but swordsmanship doesn’t really suit you. This is much more appropriate.”
Luo Han was stunned for a moment—she hadn’t experienced the intervening centuries and had nearly forgotten that promise. Back then, they were at Mount Zhong, preparing to head to the Western Sea. Ling Qingxiao had taken her to pick out a weapon in the city, but when she couldn’t find one she liked, he promised to make her one himself. So much time had passed, Luo Han had nearly forgotten—but he hadn’t.
He had lived through far more time than her, yet he remembered even that.
Luo Han suddenly felt a quiet sense of peace. The invisible barrier in her heart melted away. Yes, Ling Qingxiao had changed. He did resemble the future Celestial Emperor. And no, he wasn’t quite the same person she once knew. But so what?
Even with all his changes, he still looked after her. Still remembered her every word. To Luo Han, that meant he was still him.
People were meant to grow. How could she blame him for changing? In fact, it might even be a good thing. He had once been too emotionless, too detached. Now, he was like a sharpened blade—cold and lethal, yes—but capable of love, anger, and sorrow. Compared to the despairing, numb silver dragon she’d once met in the abyss, Luo Han preferred the version of him who stood before her now.
That future Celestial Emperor had been more like Nuwa—noble, remote, divine rather than human. But this Ling Qingxiao, even if he had the tendency to darken, was still within reach. If she could stabilize him, she could fulfill her mission.