Chapter 87

This battle lasted three days and three nights. The skies churned with storms, thunder and lightning unceasing. Beneath the clouds, Zhongshan and Tianzhao City endured three full days of torrential rain.
The world was drenched, the drumming of rain drowning out all other sounds. In Zhongshan—normally a hub of constant, bustling activity—the grand task hall now stood desolate. Only the sound of rain hitting stone echoed through the empty corridors.
Everyone knew change was coming. Until the result was certain, not a single soul dared speak above a whisper.
No one knew exactly when the battle ended. But in a strange moment of stillness, people suddenly felt an invisible pull. They looked up. The rain still poured—but the clouds had gone still.
The outcome had been decided.
Ling Qingxiao descended to the ground, battered and bloodied, barely able to stand. But he was the better off of the two—for the other had fallen.
Ling Xianhong had fallen from the sky.
Ling Qingxiao was gravely wounded, but Ling Xianhong was even worse off. When cultivation was matched, what determined victory was willpower. Ling Xianhong had lived long, with vast experience in combat and spellcraft. But no matter how many battles he had fought—it was nothing compared to what Ling Qingxiao had endured.
Ling Qingxiao had survived five hundred years of the ancient war. As the conflict neared its end, the demon backlash only grew fiercer. A single year there was equivalent to a thousand years of peacetime battle.
In the end, it was Ling Xianhong who faltered first and fell from the sky. Ling Qingxiao didn’t even know—or care—where he had landed. Likely, somewhere nearby.
He himself collapsed the moment he touched the ground. One hand clutched his sword to stay upright; the other gripped his chest. There, a deep, gaping wound poured blood.
Dragons were nearly invincible—their bodies highly resilient, their healing unmatched. For Ling Qingxiao to be so gravely wounded, the only explanation was that it came from another dragon.
He hadn’t felt it during the fight, but now that it was over, the damage was clear. Not a single part of his body remained unscathed. But the wound on his chest was the worst of all—caused by Ling Xianhong’s dragon claw, nearly piercing through his entire ribcage.
Ling Qingxiao pressed down on the wound with all his might. Blood seeped through his fingers, mixing with the rain, and trickled onto the ground—forming a muddy, red stream.
Normally, not even a drop of rain would touch Ling Qingxiao’s body, but now, with his spiritual energy completely depleted, he couldn’t even maintain the most basic aura shield. Not that it mattered—dragons had thick skin and strong bodies. Rain didn’t hurt, so Ling Qingxiao couldn’t be bothered to care.
In the silence, the endless rain seemed to pause. Countless droplets froze midair, suspended like a grand and fantastical dream. Soft, unhurried footsteps approached from behind. A bamboo-framed green umbrella appeared over his head. The suspended rain resumed at once, crashing to the ground in deep and shallow splashes.
Luo Han stood behind him, holding the umbrella to shield him from the downpour. After a while, she spoke softly. “Congratulations.”
Congratulations—for getting what he wished for. And congratulations—for finally taking revenge for the past.
That Luo Han had come here meant she already knew the outcome. Ling Qingxiao looked at the rain beyond the umbrella, wanting to speak but realizing there was nothing he really needed to say.
He had won. He had defeated his father. From this day on, the head of Zhongshan would change.
Ling Qingxiao stayed silent for a long time before finally asking, “Am I really that extreme?”
Too much had happened in these three days. Now, his hands were stained with the blood of his father and brother. Su Yifang said he was insane. Bai Lingluan said he wasn’t even human anymore. Yun Menghan said he was obsessed and deranged. Everyone avoided him like the plague. Was he truly so heartless, so cold and terrifying?
“No.” Luo Han stood behind him, holding the umbrella steady. “You’re just different from most people. Your achievements surpass the vast majority of this world, so it’s only natural that they don’t understand you. Before you, people used to say it was impossible to reach Celestial Immortal by a thousand years old. But you didn’t just become a Celestial—you nearly reached Golden Immortal. You rewrote history. Not only did you break the record for fastest cultivation, but you also redefined the boundary between True and Golden Immortal. From now on, disciples across the six realms will probably have to memorize your name.”
“This isn’t a monster,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”
Ling Qingxiao’s heart was as blank as the falling rain. He had overthrown Ling Xianhong. He had taken revenge on Ling Zhongyu. But in the end, he felt no joy at all. He had many doubts, but after hearing Luo Han’s words, his heart slowly settled. Somehow, none of it seemed so important anymore.
When he was wronged by his parents and acted out in extreme ways, Luo Han had stood up for him without even knowing the full story. When he drew his sword to kill Ling Zhongyu in front of everyone, while the others feared, blocked, or cursed him—only Luo Han stood quietly behind, her eyes calmly saying, It’s okay. If things get bad, we’ll just leave.
Now she told him, You are not a monster. You’re just different. You were born to be unlike them, and so loneliness was always your fate.
You are a miracle.
Whether or not Ling Qingxiao was a miracle, he wasn’t sure. But Luo Han—she was the miracle of his life. Now that the storm had passed, Ling Qingxiao saw a lot more clearly. He realized that cutting open his own core in public was indeed extreme. At that moment, he had been consumed by resentment.
If not for Luo Han...he didn’t dare imagine what he might’ve done in his madness—or what he might have become if he had lost control.
He thought of many things, and in the end, only managed two words: “Thank you.”
“What for? You’ve saved me more times than I can count. This is just me returning the favor. Oh, right—the Devourer Beast bit a piece off the relief sculpture on the Celestial Hall’s stairs. Since you’re the Clan Head now...does that mean I don’t have to pay for it?”
Switching to a lighthearted topic so suddenly, Ling Qingxiao couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t.”
Of course she didn’t need to pay. If she wanted, he’d give her everything in Zhongshan.
Luo Han let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was already broke. And it keeps racking up debts on me. One day, it’s really going to bankrupt me. I didn’t bring it with me this time. Without me watching, who knows what it’s biting now. Let’s go back.”
She reached out her hand to him. Ling Qingxiao stared at that pale, delicate hand for a moment, then softly said, “Okay.”
He placed his hand in hers, and the moment they touched, their fingers locked tightly. Rain and blood still dripped from his hand, staining hers instantly.
Ling Qingxiao struggled to stand. Once he was upright, he naturally took the umbrella from Luo Han’s hand. She wanted to protest, but after glancing at their height difference, she gave up.
The two of them walked slowly together, their other hands still intertwined. Luo Han wanted to say something but hesitated. Eventually, she asked indirectly, “Are your injuries serious?”
She had already prepared a whole speech—something like, “If it’s not serious, then let go of my hand first.” Given Ling Qingxiao’s nature, she was sure he’d say he was fine no matter what.
She was ready. But then Ling Qingxiao answered calmly, “Serious.”
Luo Han was caught off guard, stunned for a moment. “...Then let’s walk even slower?”
“Okay.”
Once again, Luo Han was speechless. She had expected him to say, It doesn’t matter.
He had changed. Really changed. She sighed internally. He used to be such an easy man to read. Now, she couldn’t predict him at all.
The two walked together through the quiet forest, rain pattering steadily around them. After a while, Ling Qingxiao suddenly asked, “The stronger something is, the easier it is to break. The more extreme, the more disgraceful the fall. Do you think...someone like me—is cultivating the path of immortality, or the path of demons?”
When fighting monsters, beware of becoming one. The slayer of demons might one day become a demon himself.
Outwardly, Luo Han remained composed, but inside, she let out a long sigh.
It had finally come.
After a pause, she said softly, “I believe in you. You won’t.”
“Even if that day really does come, I’ll wait to hear your explanation first. With your nature, if you truly reached that point, there must be a reason.”
Ling Qingxiao stayed quiet for a long time, then gave a faint smile. “You trust me that much.”
Or rather...you trust that person.
Luo Han opened her mouth to reply, but outside, voices suddenly rang out—someone had come up the mountain searching for Ling Xianhong, calling his name again and again.
Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao both fell silent, and the conversation naturally came to an end.
·
Su Yifang had only seen a figure fall in this direction. She had already sent disciples up the mountain to search for Ling Xianhong—perhaps even Ling Qingxiao. They braved the pouring rain for a long time, and finally, one disciple pushed through the underbrush only to find the area empty...save for a pool of blood on the ground.
The disciple panicked and rushed back. “Madam! There’s blood here! Someone was just here!”
·
In Sanqing Heaven, today was the day of the regular morning court session. As always, the Celestial Emperor sat in the palace, listening to the immortal officials report on the matters of the Six Realms.
Each division gave their standard administrative summaries. Just as the session was nearing its end, a small interruption occurred. The Imperial Censor stepped forward with a stern expression and said, “Your Majesty, I have a matter to report.”
The Celestial Emperor raised his hand indifferently. “Speak.”
“Among the six ancient dragon strongholds, the oldest—the Canglong lineage at Zhongshan—has recently experienced a most shocking and vile event. The second son of the Zhongshan clan head openly cut out his elder brother’s core and heart before the eyes of numerous disciples, causing a deeply negative impact. Following that, he defied seniority and clashed violently with his own father. Since this occurred within the dragon clan’s territory, and given the scale of battle between two dragons, the matter has spread rapidly in just a few days—already circulating through the Eighteen Heavens, and even reaching whispers in the Upper Heavens. Your Majesty, though the Heavenly Realm has enjoyed peace for years, morals are clearly declining. To now face such disgraceful conduct—this is blatant rebellion and filial impiety. I urge Your Majesty to punish this severely, to restore order and righteousness.”
“Zhongshan…” The Celestial Emperor seemed to recall seeing that name in a memorial earlier. He gently flicked his sleeve, and a scroll floated out from the stack of reports, landing neatly before him.
Opening it, the very first thing he saw was the signature: the name had already changed to Ling Qingxiao.
The Celestial Emperor smiled. Ignoring the censor’s words, he asked out of the blue, “Did he win?”
The Imperial Censor blinked, stunned. “Ah?”
“The six dragon peaks don’t follow the same customs as other clans. Brothers fighting brothers, sons challenging fathers—that’s normal for dragons. They don’t care for all that ‘fatherly kindness and filial piety’ nonsense. To them, strength is the only law. If he won, then according to their rules, crown him. If he lost, then punish him by the rites.” The Celestial Emperor paused, smiling faintly. “Censor, your information is already outdated. There is no more ‘second son of the Zhongshan clan head.’ From today forward, he is the new clan head of Zhongshan—Ling Qingxiao.”
·
Since the start of May, it had rained nonstop. Two whole months of relentless drizzle.
The night rain fell softly, veiling the usual immortal glow of the blessed realm in darkness. The celestial mountains now resembled hulking beasts, hidden in shadow. The mountain paths were so dark you couldn’t see your own fingers. Trees on both sides were whipped by the wind and rain, wailing like ghosts.
Yun Menghan carried only her most essential belongings and wore plain black robes, bolstering her courage as she ran through the mountain road. Traveling these paths in a storm required real bravery—something she usually lacked. But now...love was her courage.
She didn’t dare look back and stumbled forward through the rain. Finally, she reached the boundary of the main peak. Yun Menghan let out a silent breath of relief. So long as she passed the array around the main peak, the way down would be much easier.
She had just begun to relax when she rounded a bend—and froze.
There, beneath the stone stele marking the Zhongshan main peak, stood a man in white.
Though night was deep, his robes seemed to glow with an ethereal light. Despite the downpour, he stood spotless, untouched by even a drop of rain.
Yun Menghan’s heart sank instantly. “Second Young Master...no, Clan Head.”
Ling Qingxiao turned slowly. It was clear he had been waiting here for a long time—calm and composed, silently observing her every move: her anxious escape, her frantic descent, her false sense of relief when she thought she’d made it out.
All of it had fallen into his eyes.
Yun Menghan’s spirit crumbled. Of course. The second young master was always meticulous. How could she possibly outwit him? He had been waiting at her destination from the very beginning.
And the most humiliating thing was—he didn’t even bother to trap her. He simply stood there, calmly watching. “You’re going to find Ling Zhongyu?”
Yun Menghan bit her lip. At this point, there was no point in hiding it. She might as well go all in. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath and declared, “He and I share life and death, unwavering in heart. Even if the whole world abandons him, even if he’s scorned as a demon—I will never leave him. That kind of love...someone like you would never understand.”
Ling Qingxiao remained calm, his gaze soft with something like pity. “I understand.”
Yun Menghan was caught off guard. “What?”
“The love you speak of—where one is willing to live and die for another—I probably understand it even more than you do.”
She was stunned. Ling Qingxiao? Understanding love? That was impossible...Her thoughts were a mess, and she blurted, “You don’t even know what love is! How could you possibly understand the feeling of wanting to share life and death with someone?”
Ling Qingxiao didn’t repeat himself. If she didn’t understand, then so be it.
He looked at her, voice level. “Maybe I don’t know what love is. But what you have with him—isn’t love. Out of respect for our years as fellow disciples, I’ll say this just once more: he’s not a good man. Turn back now, and I’ll act as if none of this happened.”
Yun Menghan stood motionless. After a long pause, she smiled bitterly. “I know he’s not a good man. But...I love him.”
Of course she knew Ling Zhongyu was already with Su Yinyue. After this, she probably had no chance of competing with Su Yinyue anymore. But what did that matter? She loved him anyway.
Ling Zhongyu was gravely wounded and stripped of his family name—officially erased from the Zhongshan clan. In the immortal realm, he was now no better than a stray dog, open to humiliation. How could Yun Menghan bear to let him face all this alone?
Three months ago, Zhongshan had quietly undergone a seismic change. The mighty Ling Xianhong, who had held the position of clan head for centuries as a Golden Immortal, was defeated by his thousand-year-old son. He lost not only the battle—but also his throne.
Ling Qingxiao had suffered serious injuries in that battle as well. Upon taking power, he did not install new allies or purge the old guard. Instead, he secluded himself to heal, avoiding the public eye completely. In the three months since, he issued only two decrees:
The first—Ling Xianhong was to be relocated to a separate palace to recover from his “voluntary abdication,” attended by his concubine Bai Lingluan.
The second—Ling Zhongyu was to be erased from the family registry, stripped of the surname “Ling,” and expelled from the clan. He was never to set foot in Zhongshan again. Not in this lifetime.
As for the decrees issued by Ling Xianhong—sealing Zhongshan, closing the gates, banning communication talismans—now that even he, the former clan head, had been dismissed, what weight did his commands still carry?
Zhongshan remained wide open, unafraid of public scrutiny. As for the punishment he had declared—locking Ling Qingxiao in the Spirit-Binding Mountain and whipping him ten thousand times—not even the Chief of the Disciplinary Division dared mention it anymore, afraid of offending Ling Qingxiao in his current position.
A new ruler brings new ministers. A painfully realistic truth.
Yun Menghan, being amidst it all, felt the shift in attitudes more keenly than anyone. Those who once scorned Ling Qingxiao for being aloof now sang his praises. Even his act of slicing open Ling Zhongyu’s chest without blinking an eye was now reinterpreted as a show of resolve—proof that he had the heart of a great leader.
The world always flattered the powerful and trampled the weak. The more radiant Ling Qingxiao's future became, the more Yun Menghan’s heart ached for Ling Zhongyu. At last, tonight, while everyone was busy preparing for the grand ceremony in three days and the night rain fell heavily unnoticed, Yun Menghan made her decision. She would leave Zhongshan to find Ling Zhongyu.
When Yun Menghan had personally declared, “I love him,” there was nothing more Ling Qingxiao could say.
He stood beneath the stone stele and watched silently as she headed toward the edge of the mountain. Just before she crossed the boundary of the Zhongshan main peak, Ling Qingxiao spoke:
“Cross that line, and you will no longer be of Zhongshan. From then on, Zhongshan and you will have nothing to do with each other—your life and death, your fate, will no longer concern us.”
Yun Menghan’s heart twinged painfully. She turned back and solemnly bowed to Ling Qingxiao, then walked away without a word.
The moment she crossed the boundary, the token of her disciple status lit up briefly, then dimmed completely, becoming nothing more than a lifeless chunk of jade. Yun Menghan was suddenly overcome with grief. She turned back in a panic—but the man under the stele was already gone.
The night rain was cold and sharp, as though it could pierce through her bones. Yun Menghan wiped her face harshly. The rain was too heavy—she couldn’t even tell whether it was tears or rainwater on her cheeks. Just like Ling Qingxiao would never know why she had to leave.
·
In the east wing of the Hall of Radiance, Luo Han sat beneath the lamp, reviewing the Six Realms’ wishes.
Truly, it was enough to make the gods weep. Every day, she worked hard to process these prayers—but they never ended. The job of the Heavenly Dao was nothing short of cruel: no days off, constant overtime, and no matter how hard you worked, there was always another task waiting.
Others had off-hours—she never did. Luo Han’s heart was breaking.
The heavens said nothing, yet recorded everything. Any words uttered by those in the Six Realms that invoked heaven would become a “wish” and be heard by the Heavenly Dao. People might speak casually, but the heavens took it seriously, and would solemnly record the vow, awaiting its fulfillment.
Especially those men who liked to open their mouths with “I swear to the heavens.” They were the worst offenders—daily increasing Luo Han’s workload and stealing her precious rest time.
She mechanically scanned through the endless oaths—swearing loyalty, asking for money, luck, blessings for exams. She assigned each category a color to speed things up: gold for wealth, pink for romance, green for fortune. Then, amidst all the bright colors, one single black message caught her eye.
Luo Han stared at it for a while before opening it.
Gold was for prosperity, pink for love, green for good luck—positive wishes. But black and gray? Negative. Very negative.
Especially black—it indicated someone whose despair had reached dangerous extremes. It was a heavy, ominous color.
As expected, when she clicked it open, the sender was someone she knew.
Though she hadn’t witnessed it, the moment Luo Han opened the message, the scene played out before her eyes.
The rain poured heavily. The night was suffocating. Ling Zhongyu had just ended a battle. Once so radiant and proud, now he was like a stray dog, so low that even street thugs dared lay hands on him.
They would normally be no match for Ling Zhongyu, but he was gravely injured, carrying the unconscious Su Yinyue with him, and couldn’t fight properly. Surrounded and beaten, he was finally forced to use a self-detonating artifact to escape.
The explosion killed the thugs—but also injured him further. Old wounds torn anew, Ling Zhongyu collapsed in the rain, a bloodied mess.
He lay there in the filth, drenched and battered, feeling like discarded trash.
Staring at the endless black sky, he cried out in despair:
“I once had a happy family, a righteous path of cultivation. Now I’ve had my dragon core torn out, my bones broken, my name stripped. My father is under house arrest, my mother surveilled, my cousin unconscious—While my brother parades in glory, and the woman I love stays behind for power and wealth. Heaven, how can you be so unjust? What did I do wrong to deserve this? And why is someone as hypocritical as him blessed with opportunity and exalted to Golden Immortal?”
“I once wished to be good. It was the Heavenly Dao that forced me into darkness.
If this is what the Immortal Path looks like—I’d rather become a demon.”
“If the heavens are unjust, then I shall defy the heavens.
If the Immortal Realm is corrupt, then I will overturn it!
From this day on, Ling Zhongyu is dead.
I rise from the darkness—my name is Ye Zhongyu.”
Luo Han clicked her tongue. Oh please, stop acting like a victim. Your poor cultivation is your own fault—don’t blame the Heavenly Dao. Who do you think you are, for Heaven to personally target you?
She was honestly fed up. Every generation in the Six Realms had its share of self-important young men—mostly inexperienced boys just stepping into the cultivation world. When things went well, they praised their own talent. When things went poorly, they cursed the heavens for suppressing them.
If you’re sick, go get treated. Always shouting about defying the heavens—then the next time the Heavenly Dao offers a miracle, you’ll be the first one rushing to grab it.
Can you not?
Luo Han angrily closed the message. The Heavenly Dao is busy. Don’t bother me unless you absolutely must—and definitely don’t add more to my workload!
Just then, Ling Qingxiao entered from outside, and happened to catch Luo Han fuming at the screen. He glanced at it and asked, “What happened?”
Luo Han turned and saw it was him—immediately snapping, “Oh? Out in the rain? Where did you run off to?”
She froze. Why did she sound so...passive-aggressive?
Of course, Ling Qingxiao’s trip to see Yun Menghan hadn’t gone unnoticed. He didn’t bother hiding it from Luo Han. Taking a seat across from her, he calmly flicked his sleeve and said, “I went to send off an old acquaintance. From now on, she has nothing to do with Zhongshan.”
“Seeing her off in the night rain—how deeply sentimental. Truly moving.”
Luo Han couldn’t resist getting a jab in. Ling Qingxiao, knowing he couldn’t win an argument with her, didn’t bother responding. He simply changed the subject:
“The matron has not been feeling well lately. She says she wishes to withdraw from the world and recuperate in peace, and does not wish to receive visitors. Since she is unwell, it is only proper for me as her junior to respect her wishes.
However, the succession ceremony is in three days, and if the matron does not attend, I fear there will be no one to host the female guests.”
The “matron” in his mouth was Su Yifang. After the incident where he had his core cut out, Ling Qingxiao no longer even addressed her as “mother.”
Ling Xianhong and Bai Lingluan had already been sent to a secondary palace for “recovery”—in truth, soft house arrest. Su Yifang was still kept on Zhongshan, but after suffering a heavy emotional blow, she claimed illness and secluded herself ever since the fight ended. She remained behind closed doors, which amounted to a semi-house arrest as well.
This was a tacit agreement between both sides. Su Yifang remaining hidden benefited everyone—herself, Ling Qingxiao, and the Su clan of Linshan.
Luo Han paused upon hearing this. Although many traditions in the mortal realm had carried into the immortal world, the two were still inherently different.
For example, in the mortal world, banquets were sometimes segregated—men hosting male guests, women hosting female guests. But in the immortal world, such customs didn’t apply.
So why was the absence of Su Yifang such an issue when it came to hosting female cultivators?
Luo Han asked, “Everyone attending in three days is already familiar with one another. Isn’t it perfectly fine if we all just greet each other casually?”
“Without a hostess, it still feels improper. May I ask you to assist me?”
Luo Han raised an eyebrow, giving no definite answer. Then she suddenly asked:
“And in what capacity would I be helping you?”
Ling Qingxiao looked at her calmly:
“What identity would you like to have?”

Author’s Note:
"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster."
— Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil