Chapter 83

At Luo Han’s strong request, the Celestial Palace’s private flying vessel did not land grandly at Zhongshan’s main gate. Instead, it descended early in a quiet and beautiful location.
The celestial soldier piloting the vessel was puzzled. “Second Young Master Ling, Miss Luo, this place is still quite a ways from Zhongshan. Are you sure you want to disembark here?”
“Yes, this is far enough,” Luo Han insisted. She politely thanked the soldier. “Thank you for bringing us back. We really appreciate it. Please be careful on your way home.”
Since Luo Han was so firm, the celestial soldier didn’t press further. The Celestial Palace had strict discipline—he firmly declined her offered reward and promptly took off again.
After the soldier left, Luo Han turned to Ling Qingxiao and said, “I can’t believe we’re already at Zhongshan.”
Ling Qingxiao looked at her and replied calmly, “Yes, we are.”
He already had a feeling what Luo Han was going to say.
Luo Han hesitated for a moment, but eventually bit her lip and said, “There’s something personal I need to take care of. You go ahead to Zhongshan first—I’ll catch up soon.”
Ling Qingxiao had expected this, but even so, when he actually heard her say the words, a surge of violent emotion welled up from deep within.
You go ahead, I’ll catch up soon—those exact words had once been his nightmare. She had said the same thing the last time. And the result?
Ling Qingxiao could no longer take any risks. Yet Luo Han was once again trying to push him away.
He stared at her for a long while before speaking slowly: “Wherever you’re going, I can go with you.”
Luo Han was made uneasy by that gaze, but quickly steadied her resolve. “It’s just some personal matters. Nothing important—I can handle it on my own. You haven’t seen your family in years. You go back first, no need to wait for me.”
You can never force someone who doesn’t want to be forced. Luo Han’s tone was so resolute that Ling Qingxiao had nothing left to say. In the end, he gave in to her will. “Alright.”
Whatever she asked of him, he simply couldn’t refuse.
Luo Han watched him leave with her own eyes. Only when his figure completely disappeared over the horizon did she gather a golden light in her palm and, following the hand signs and incantations she had practiced before, opened a passage to the divine realm.
The Divine Realm existed independently of the other five realms. It had no fixed location, yet could be found everywhere.
In the blink of an eye, Luo Han arrived in the Divine Realm. It was exactly as it had been when she last left—dark and sunless at the bottom of a cliff, cold winds sweeping past, shifting black shadows slithering through the void. Not a single living thing in sight.
Everything was the same as before—except that this time, there was no longer a beautiful silver dragon waiting at the bottom of the cliff.
Luo Han sighed and called out, “Are you there?”
Her voice dispersed into the wind, lonely and echoing. For a while, there was no answer. Then, a faint golden light began to glow in the darkness below. The light slowly coalesced into a familiar form that materialized in front of her.
“You’ve come.”
As time faded, you finally came.
He had stubbornly clung to existence, unable to let go—as if waiting for someone, even though he hadn’t known who. But the moment Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao emerged from the time tunnel, Xi Heng finally understood.
He had been waiting for Luo Han—his old friend, his student.
The moment they returned to Tianqi, the memories from the Middle Era surged across time and entered Xi Heng’s mind. He saw all that had happened, and he finally understood the obsession that had kept him anchored for so long.
Luo Han had prepared herself mentally for this, but when she actually saw Xi Heng’s broken, barely humanoid form, she couldn’t stop her eyes from stinging. He had once been so vain, always boasting about the perfection of the gods, smug and powerful. He had always acted lazy, often lounging like a boneless creature. But Luo Han knew—Xi Heng had been one of the most unfathomable among the gods.
And yet even he had ended up like this. One could only imagine the fate of the others.
“What are you crying for?” Xi Heng spoke in his usual laid-back manner, completely unconcerned. “Didn’t we just meet again?”
When they had parted back in the Middle era, Xi Heng had thought to himself—it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. If I live long enough, maybe I’ll see her again someday.
He just hadn’t expected that “someday” would take so long. So long that mountains crumbled, time decayed, the Divine Realm faded, and the gods fell one after another—until even Xi Heng himself had fallen.
What remained now was merely a wisp of will. A wisp of will born from Luo Han.
Xi Heng had long accepted death. Luo Han found it hard to bear, but for Xi Heng, who had lived so long, he truly felt no regrets. His only regret...had now been fulfilled.
He said freely, “Go on then—what did you come here to ask me?”
Luo Han’s heart was heavy. She remembered her true purpose and spoke even more somberly: “I want to ask about Ling Qingxiao.”
Xi Heng chuckled softly. “I figured it’d be about him.”
What else would be worth Luo Han going to such trouble, again and again? Especially when she had deliberately come behind Ling Qingxiao’s back this time. That only made Xi Heng even more curious: “So? What’s so serious you couldn’t ask him directly?”
Luo Han carefully chose her words and said slowly, “What if...someday in the future, he becomes a tyrant? A cold, ruthless, war-driven madman. What should I do then?”
Tsk. That one sentence carried an enormous amount of meaning. Xi Heng looked amused and asked, “And how do you know that?”
Luo Han sighed and admitted, “To tell the truth...I’m from a time even further ahead than this. In the future, I saw...a version of him that wasn’t so good. Ever since I arrived in this era, I’ve been trying to stop it. But I’ve discovered that everything I do—every effort I make—is only pushing things closer to the outcome I most want to avoid. Worse, I’m becoming biased. I’m scared that when the time comes, I’ll care too much...and I won’t be able to stop him.”
After speaking, she deflated completely. She had finally said it—words that had weighed on her heart for so long, almost suffocating her. Yet she had never dared to show it.
How could she tell others that the person closest to her...was the one she guarded against the most?
Xi Heng was the last elder she could turn to. If not him, Luo Han didn’t know who else she could confide in.
Xi Heng hadn’t expected to hear such an explosive confession even after death. He clicked his tongue in amusement. “If it were any other question, maybe I could offer advice. But love...that’s a different story. Love is like water—only the one who drinks it knows if it’s warm or cold. You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”
He didn’t mince words—he called it what it was: a matter of the heart. And Luo Han didn’t deny it.
At first, she had thought her feelings were just a kind of imprinting. When she first arrived in the Celestial Realm, the first person she saw was Ling Qingxiao. The first to help her was also him. He had protected her from the Abyss of Absolute Spirits, introduced her to the realm, even taught her how to read, write, and cultivate.
Like a fledgling who fixates on the first creature it sees, Luo Han had assumed that was all this was.
But she had come to realize that it wasn’t just that. Especially in the Void Domain, when her inner demon emerged and she was at her most lost and confused, the first person she thought of—was Ling Qingxiao.
It was then that she knew she had to face something unexpected.
She had developed feelings for the very person she was tasked with watching. Someone who could, in the future, become her greatest ally—or her worst enemy.
She should have realized it earlier. Back in Qingshan Village, during the rainy night ambush, when Ling Qingxiao was injured and suddenly pressed her down—Luo Han had been surprised, but she hadn’t immediately pushed him away. That, in itself, had spoken volumes.
Or even earlier—back in Da Ming City, when she and Ling Qingxiao were at the flower pavilion, and he, to deceive the demons outside, deliberately posed in suggestive ways with her. Though embarrassed, she hadn’t rejected him. Physical responses don’t lie. If it hadn’t been someone she liked, the moment he came close, her body would’ve instinctively recoiled.
But she didn’t.
Luo Han thought for a while, and the more she thought, the more dejected she became. “This sort of accident should never have happened. I should’ve been able to control it.”
Xi Heng scoffed, “If you could control liking someone, it wouldn’t be called liking. Love and affection don’t follow reason—because they can’t be controlled.”
But that didn’t comfort her. Luo Han still looked gloomy. “We agreed from the start to keep things professional and not cross into personal matters. He might not even like me. He treats everyone with patience and responsibility—he’s probably just acting out of duty.”
Xi Heng rolled his eyes. He really couldn’t take it anymore. “Why don’t you take a good look at how he treats others, and then look at how he treats you? Then you’ll stop having such doubts. Waiting five hundred years for a vague hope, never giving up, searching tirelessly, even casting divinations for you—do you really think that’s how someone treats just a friend?”
Clearly not.
Luo Han fell silent, her expression dazed. Love was always clearer to onlookers than to those involved. When she watched Ling Zhongyu and Yun Menghan’s back-and-forth, she’d seen through it all. But when it came to herself, she became anxious and unsure, unable to tell what was real.
Could it be true? Was it not just Xi Heng seeing things through a biased lens? Was she not just imagining it?
The more she thought, the more confused she became. The truth had already come to light—there was no more need to hide anything. Luo Han said directly, “You must already know—he will become the Celestial Emperor in the future. I don’t know what he feels for me, but I...have developed feelings that perhaps I shouldn’t. What should I do with this? Some lines, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. If I confess and he doesn’t feel the same, wouldn’t that ruin even our friendship? And even worse—if he does become what I fear he will, and I stand by him, I’ll betray my own principles. But if I don’t stand by him...will we become enemies?”
Whether or not they ended things, it would still be painful. Perhaps it was better not to cross that line in the first place.
Heavenly Dao should be impartial and emotionless. Only by being without attachment can one judge right and wrong fairly.
Luo Han, lost and uncertain, asked, “Senior Xi Heng, what should I do?”
“What you should do,” Xi Heng said after a pause, his voice gentle, “depends on what you want.”
“You must ask yourself—do you want eternal glory, distant yet untouchable, or a love with no regrets: to walk together if it succeeds, to part ways if it fails?”
The first option was better for her path. If she maintained an ambiguous, undefined relationship with Ling Qingxiao, as a useful ally, he would no doubt help her with all his strength. She wouldn’t have to risk emotional investment, and she’d still reap the benefits.
The second option was much more straightforward—say it plainly. If they liked each other, they could be together; if not, then they’d part. No regrets. And if it worked, she could end up with the person she loved, perhaps even rule the realm together. But the risks were equally high.
If their relationship fell apart, they wouldn’t even be able to work together anymore. They’d be forced to go their separate ways, estranged forever.
Luo Han fell into a long silence. Understanding her position, Xi Heng sighed deeply and said, “No one can give you the answer. You must choose for yourself.”
Luo Han’s mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t untangle everything at once, so she decided to temporarily set it aside. She looked at Xi Heng in front of her, lips parting as if to ask—but in the end, she didn’t dare.
She wanted to ask what had happened after they left. How were the others?
But she was afraid. Afraid of hearing the worst.
It was too cruel. To her, she had just seen Xi Heng and Rong Cheng not long ago. She had merely stepped through a time tunnel, gone to pick up Tun Yuan Beast at Fusang Island. In those few short days, everyone she knew—was gone.
Xi Heng saw through her hesitation and sighed inwardly. He said, “You already know—they’re all gone. But none of them had regrets. That was their destiny. You don’t need to carry that burden. Oh, right—Rong Cheng and Xiao Ze asked me to send their regards. Xiao Ze eventually became emperor and took the surname Ling. In fact, Xiao Ze was one of Ling Qingxiao’s ancestors. He missed Ling Qingxiao greatly. When you go back, please pass that along.”
Tears welled up in Luo Han’s eyes. Xi Heng looked at the young, beautiful girl before him, her gaze unchanged by time, and felt a thousand things at once.
His form was already beginning to unravel. Finally, Xi Heng looked at her, smiled, and said, “Take care.”
Luo Han’s tears flowed freely. She looked at him with all her strength and whispered, “Take care.”
Xi Heng smiled faintly, finally without regrets—and in the next moment, he dissolved into the world, vanishing completely.
With that, the last ancient god of time was gone.
From now on, Luo Han would be the only one left in the Divine Realm.
She had yet to become the person she aspired to be, but she already had to learn how to say goodbye.
—
Ling Qingxiao appeared at Zhongshan’s Wen Tian Gate, and the moment he showed up, he caused an uproar among the disciples.
No one dared speak openly in front of him, but the communication tokens flashed incessantly—clearly, everyone was frantically spreading the news.
But Ling Qingxiao was no longer the same as he once was. He had just come off the battlefield, and now, when he looked at the disciples living peacefully in prosperous times, he saw them as nothing more than children.
Ling Qingxiao didn’t exchange pleasantries with anyone—he walked straight into the gates. The steward, having received news of his return, rushed over at top speed. “Second Young Master?”
“Mm.” Ling Qingxiao gave a simple response. Seeing the steward gave him a strange, dreamlike sense of dislocation. He was back. Everyone was still here. Even the steward now seemed much more familiar and dear.
Ling Qingxiao cherished this peace dearly, and even his tone softened. “Where are Father and Mother?”
The steward was currently in a state of deep shock. It had only been a little over six months, yet the second young master seemed like a completely different person! The steward was so flustered he could barely speak. “The Patriarch and Madam are in the East Courtyard. The eldest young master has been recuperating from his injuries these past days, and the Patriarch and the two Madams insisted on personally staying by his side to feel at ease.”
East Courtyard was where Ling Zhongyu resided. Ling Qingxiao had heard the phrase "the Patriarch and the two Madams are in East Courtyard" countless times growing up. Now, upon hearing it again, he felt neither surprised nor concerned.
Still maintaining a pleasant demeanor, he told the steward, “Please inform Father and Mother that I have returned and that there’s an important matter I’d like to speak with them about.”
The steward’s cultivation was far inferior to Ling Qingxiao’s and couldn’t detect the changes in him. He only knew that the second young master now seemed completely transformed. For instance, even though Ling Qingxiao’s tone wasn’t harsh at all, the steward somehow didn’t dare to entertain even a sliver of defiance.
Trembling with reverence, the steward quickly went off to notify Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang. Ling Qingxiao, meanwhile, smoothed his sleeves and headed directly toward the Funing Hall.
Funing Hall, Chengtian Hall, and Wentian Gate all sat on the same central axis. Chengtian Hall was used for grand ceremonies, while the more secluded Funing Hall served a more daily, private function. Ling Qingxiao thought that going to East Courtyard now might make the people there uncomfortable, so rather than be unwelcome, he decided not to go.
Funing Hall was just right.
Ling Qingxiao waited there. After a while, Ling Xianhong finally arrived.
As soon as Ling Qingxiao heard movement, he rose slowly to his feet—but before he could greet him, a rebuke came barreling down: “Ungrateful child, so you do know how to come home?”
The words of greeting, the longing of nearly five hundred years—stuck in his throat and could no longer come out.
Ling Xianhong entered the hall filled with fury. He’d just been in East Courtyard tending to his eldest son’s injuries when he heard the steward report that the second young master had returned. He’d been stunned, then stormed over furiously.
He had to see for himself what face this unfilial son dared show upon his return! He’d come brimming with scolding and accusations, but the moment he laid eyes on Ling Qingxiao, Ling Xianhong faltered. The words choked up.
Disbelieving, he asked, “It’s only been a few months—how have you advanced to the upper stage of Celestial Immortal?”
Ling Qingxiao’s heart slowly chilled. He’d been missing twice—once at Western Sea, and again in the South Sea. During this time, he’d spent the majority of it completely out of contact. Yet upon reunion, the first thing his father said wasn’t “Are you alright?” but a scolding—and the second thing, was suspicion over his cultivation.
It was like having a bucket of cold water dumped over his elated heart. Ling Qingxiao made excuses for his father—perhaps he was just overly worried about Ling Zhongyu, hence the sharp tone.
He did his best to speak calmly, “I experienced some things during that time. It was all a matter of coincidence and opportunity.”
“Coincidence?” Ling Xianhong stared at him with suspicion, his gaze gradually growing sharp and wary. He scrutinized Ling Qingxiao from head to toe. At first glance he hadn’t noticed, but upon closer look, he felt more and more uneasy.
Ling Qingxiao hadn’t just leveled up—his entire aura had changed, almost like he was a different person. And beneath it, faintly, there was even a chilling murderous intent.
Su Yifang hadn’t walked as fast as Ling Xianhong and now arrived at Funing Hall. As she hurried in, she heard someone mention “coincidence,” and quickly stepped into the hall, lifting her skirts as she asked, “What coincidence? What happened?”
Ling Xianhong looked at Ling Qingxiao warily. “Ask your precious son. In just eight months, he’s advanced two major levels. Even with heaven-grade treasures, that’s impossible. I’d like to know exactly what he did to stumble upon such good fortune.”
Two levels in eight months? Su Yifang was shocked. She immediately looked toward Ling Qingxiao, and sure enough—she could no longer discern his cultivation level. Even more unsettling, his presence now subtly made her afraid.
How could that be possible? Last year in the ninth month, Ling Qingxiao and Ling Zhongyu had gone off on a campaign. Counting the days, it had only been eight months at most. Advancing from lower-stage Celestial to upper-stage Celestial should have taken two to three thousand years—at minimum. And that’s not even accounting for time lost to inner demons. How could he have risen so quickly?
There had been plenty of rumors lately. Su Yifang hadn’t believed them before, but now...even she started to doubt. Could Ling Qingxiao really have done something behind the scenes? Otherwise, how else could his progress be explained?
Ling Qingxiao laughed inwardly. It was laughable—he had deceived even himself. He’d gone out of his way to excuse Ling Xianhong’s attitude, but now, after all this time, neither of his biological parents asked what he’d gone through while missing—what had happened to him. They only stared at him with suspicion, demanding to know how he’d improved so quickly.
His rapid ascent wasn’t due to ease or fortune. On the contrary, he had faced countless perils in the Middle Era, teetering on the edge of death time and again. He hadn’t had it easy. In those five hundred years, aside from an initial period spent healing, he’d never slept more than an hour at a time.
No one’s success is effortless. He simply chose never to speak of it.
Ling Qingxiao had no interest in complaining or justifying himself. His voice grew cold without him realizing it. “A twist of fate. Nothing more. This matter involves Heaven Palace secrets. I’m afraid I cannot disclose more.”
Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang’s expressions subtly shifted—was he using Heaven Palace to suppress them?
Ling Xianhong now regarded Ling Qingxiao with clear scrutiny. The steward, sensing the growing tension, hurriedly tried to smooth things over: “Master, Madam—the Second Young Master just returned. He’s still adjusting. Why don’t we all sit down and talk calmly?”
With a snort, Ling Xianhong flung his sleeves and sat heavily in the seat of honor. Su Yifang cast a complicated look at Ling Qingxiao, then quickly followed.
After Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang sat down, the immortal attendants nervously brought tea and pastries for the three, but unfortunately, none of them had the mood to touch them.
Ling Xianhong’s gaze, full of wariness, settled on his younger son seated alone as a guest. From the time he was young, Ling Xianhong had always felt he could read Ling Zhongyu like a book, but his second son—he never could quite figure him out. Ling Xianhong had always assumed Ling Qingxiao was merely aloof and indifferent. Though he was disobedient, he never seemed to stray too far from control. But this time, reality had given Ling Xianhong a resounding slap in the face.
He realized now that he had severely underestimated Ling Qingxiao. All these years, Ling Qingxiao had maintained a low profile, seemingly unambitious—but who would have thought, it was this quiet second son who had, without a word, presented Ling Xianhong with such a stunning surprise.
So it turned out all this time, he had completely misjudged. It was Ling Qingxiao who was truly deep and calculating.
Ling Xianhong flicked his sleeve and questioned coldly, “To spare you the excuse that I’m biased or unfair, I’m giving you the same opportunity. I’m asking you now—at Western Sea, why did you do what you did?”
Ling Qingxiao raised an eyebrow lightly. “What do you mean by what I did?”
Su Yifang couldn’t help but interject, accusing, “Isn’t it obvious? That strike you used to harm Yu’er. To strike him in front of everyone—thank the heavens Yu’er was strong enough to survive, or else...I might never have seen my son again!”
Ling Qingxiao disliked arguments, but out of respect for his parents, he still restrained himself and calmly explained, “Because there was demonic energy in his body.”
“What?” Su Yifang was startled. But after a moment’s thought, her expression darkened with anger. “What nonsense are you spouting? How dare you accuse your elder brother of something so damaging to his future? What do you gain by ruining Zhongyu?”
Ling Qingxiao’s gaze grew colder and colder. Just then, he heard footsteps—and saw Ling Zhongyu enter slowly, supported by Su Yinyue.
“Father, Mother.”
Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang immediately stood up. The hall erupted as everyone swarmed toward Ling Zhongyu. He effortlessly drew all the attention. Though pale, a faint smile played at his lips as he calmly met Ling Qingxiao’s gaze across the room.
Their eyes locked. Neither looked away. There was something smug in Ling Zhongyu’s eyes, and Ling Qingxiao understood with just one glance.
Qi Yun Heart Sutra.