Chapter 88

When Luo Han heard Ling Qingxiao ask her to help receive the guests, she was momentarily caught off guard. She had no real experience with such things, but her instincts flared—just for a second, she felt something was off.
Maybe she was just overthinking it, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that when Ling Qingxiao said “there’s no mistress of the house,” his tone carried something deeper, something implied. Luo Han didn’t know what possessed her, but she ended up probing back—tentatively.
Xi Heng had once given her two pieces of advice. One, to keep things ambiguous, push and pull, reel him in then let him go—in simpler terms, keep him hooked. The other: speak plainly and act decisively. If both parties liked each other, then just be together. If not, then walk away clean.
Luo Han didn’t agree with the first approach, but she didn’t have the courage to try the second either. To her, loyalty was sacred—no matter if it was a man or a woman. Ling Zhongyu had been a two-timing, spineless bastard, and if the roles were reversed, Luo Han would look down on the woman just the same.
So she had never even considered the first path. But the second...it was just too risky.
She truly couldn’t read Ling Qingxiao’s thoughts. Especially someone like him—he always gave back double what others gave him. Yun Menghan had saved him once, and he spent seven hundred years protecting her without a word of complaint. For her sake, he had even taken heavenly lightning meant for Ling Zhongyu—twice. And Luo Han, who came from the future, knew all too well that eventually, Ling Qingxiao would fall deeply for Yun Menghan. So deeply, in fact, that he would one day go to war with the demon realm just to win her back.
Sure, wars are complex—there are always layers of cause and consequence—but Ling Qingxiao’s boundless compromise when it came to Yun Menghan was something that couldn’t be denied.
Right now, the story hadn’t progressed that far. Ling Qingxiao hadn’t fallen for Yun Menghan yet. But they had already shared seven hundred years as fellow disciples. Luo Han wasn’t willing to gamble on this. What if she was just the next Yun Menghan—thinking herself different, while in truth, he never truly cared?
Seven centuries hadn't been enough for Yun Menghan. And she? She had barely known Ling Qingxiao for what, a few months?
Luo Han had no idea where Xi Heng’s blind confidence in her came from. But emotions are a one-way street. Once that thin veil of ambiguity is torn, there’s no turning back. If it went wrong, not only would there be no romance—they wouldn’t even be able to stay friends.
And now, the moment the words left her mouth, she instantly regretted it. It was totally normal to ask a friend for help when shorthanded. Her question now just sounded frivolous. She opened her mouth to backtrack—but before she could, Ling Qingxiao had already replied.
She had asked too quickly. He answered just as fast. Luo Han froze.
What did he mean by that? With someone as straightforward as Ling Qingxiao, was he trying to hint at something...or was he simply answering the question?
When Ling Qingxiao saw the stunned look on her face, alarm bells rang in his head. Too impulsive, he scolded himself. She’s still young—how could she be thinking about things like that already? His question might’ve crossed a line.
Trying to smooth things over, he continued calmly, “You’re my friend. Naturally, I thought of you first. But if it’s inconvenient, it’s fine.”
Luo Han’s heart swelled, then sank. She took a moment to calm herself, then finally answered, “It’s fine. I’m happy to help.”
Ling Qingxiao nodded. “Thank you.”
After that, both of them fell into silence. The awkward tension lingered. They had both tried probing the waters...and both backed off immediately. Ling Qingxiao sensed the atmosphere had soured, so he stood up and said, “It’s getting late. You should rest. I’ll take my leave.”
“Mn,” Luo Han mumbled in reply, quietly walking him to the door. As Ling Qingxiao took a few steps out, he turned back with a gentle reminder, “Don’t stay up too late. Go to bed soon.”
“I’m not playing,” Luo Han protested. “I’m working.”
“Even work has its limits,” Ling Qingxiao replied. “Pace yourself. If you keep staring at those things this late, it’ll harm your eyes. If you're worried about finishing in time, I can help you tomorrow.”
Luo Han agreed. By now, they had reached the doorway. She said offhandedly, without thinking, “Has anyone ever told you...you’re really a father sometimes?”
The words hit Ling Qingxiao straight in the heart.
His expression froze. “No,” he said, face turning cold.
“They probably didn’t dare to say it,” Luo Han added. “But you really do act like that.”
She looked up and caught his expression. Puzzled, she asked, “What’s wrong? Why do you suddenly look so upset?”
Ling Qingxiao’s face was unreadable. “Nothing. Rest well. I’m going now.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned and left.
She said something?
Luo Han tilted her head, puzzled, then quietly closed the door behind her. With Ling Qingxiao’s reminder in mind, she felt no guilt whatsoever about skipping work. She blew out the lamp, ready to sleep.
But before turning in, habit took over. She reached for her tablet and swiped it absentmindedly.
She didn’t expect that single swipe to bring her shocking news.
Ling Zhongyu—or rather, Ye Zhongyu, as he now called himself—was cloaked in an ominous black glow.
He had succumbed to demonic cultivation. And from the looks of it, his demonic energy was rising at an alarming rate. Luo Han pulled up the map and examined it in detail. As expected, he had awakened the demonic bloodline within him, allowing it to devour the spiritual energy in his body. The ways of the immortals and demons were fundamentally opposed—light could not purify darkness, but darkness could easily corrupt light.
That’s why, throughout history, cultivators could fall into demonic paths, but demons never became immortals.
Ye Zhongyu’s demonic energy had exploded in growth and eventually stabilized at the mid-tier Demon General rank—equivalent to mid-tier Celestial Immortal.
Luo Han was stunned. Before his descent, Ye Zhongyu had only reached the early stages of the Celestial Immortal realm. He had abandoned the immortal path and forcibly converted his spiritual energy into demonic Qi. Even with high talent for demonic cultivation, such a transformation couldn’t be 100% efficient—some energy was always lost in the process. So how had Ye Zhongyu grown stronger after falling?
She thought back to his recent encounters. For the past three months, Ye Zhongyu’s life had been...less than ideal. Constant misfortunes, running into the worst sort of people.
But were those truly just random thugs? Was his string of bad luck really just coincidence?
Luo Han had never questioned it before. But now...she wasn’t so sure.
—
All of Zhongshan was buzzing these days with preparations for the succession ceremony. Ling Qingxiao was to formally assume the mantle of clan head—a monumental event for a family that had stood for thousands of years. His duel with Ling Xianhong had made waves throughout the cultivation world, and tales of it were still being passed around in the Thirty-Six Heavens.
Naturally, the ceremony was attracting immense attention. Waves of guests were pouring in from across the realm.
The celebration would last five full days. On the first day, those closest to the clan began arriving one after another. Among them were Ye Zinan and Zou Jibai, who greeted Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han as soon as they entered the mountain gate:
“You two are unbelievable,” Ye Zinan said with mock outrage. “Not even a word, and suddenly you’re stirring up the heavens again. We’ve only been gone a few months, and you’ve already turned the world upside down. I was just planning to introduce some new friends I met on the road to my parents—but before I could even say a word, my father had already seen your names in the imperial gazette!”
Though joking, Ye Zinan still offered a solemn congratulation: “Truly...congratulations.”
He could make light of things on the surface, but being from a noble family himself, Ye Zinan understood perfectly the weight behind such a shift. Ling Qingxiao had banished his own brother, challenged his father, and seized control of the clan. Now, everyone sang praises of his brilliance—but how desperate had he been at the start to take such a path?
Ye Zinan knew better than to speak of hardship now. That was just inviting bad luck. Instead, he slipped back into a playful tone: “Who would've thought! Back in March at the Heavenly Court, we said our goodbyes as equals. Now we meet again, and you’ve ascended a whole generation. Good thing you’re still young—if you were any older, I might’ve had to call you Uncle!”
Ling Qingxiao had never held the title of young master. He had gone straight to Clan Head, skipping every rung in between. In the world of immortal clans, that made him an elder among elders. By their lineage ties, Ye Zinan and Yi Huaxuan would technically address him as Elder Uncle—and not be wrong.
Luo Han couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter.
Ling Qingxiao’s expression froze. The cold aura around him thickened like a winter storm.
He didn’t particularly mind the talk of age—what stung was Luo Han. She was so young, barely twenty-six. According to the Heavenly Calendar, she was only nineteen.
If someone really did call him “Uncle”...wouldn’t that put him in the same generation as her father?
The thought alone made him tense. Luo Han’s offhand comment a few nights ago—“You remind me of my dad”—had already hit a nerve. And now Ye Zinan’s teasing about being a generation older?
It was too much.
Ye Zinan immediately noticed the shift in his aura and took two instinctive steps back, clutching his chest. “Hey hey—relax. I was joking. You’re not seriously going to attack me over that, right?”
Ling Qingxiao’s expression darkened as he declared, “Age is an illusion. What matters is substance. Obsessing over years accomplishes nothing. From now on, let’s refrain from mentioning age.”
“Huh?” Zou Jibai blinked in confusion. “But you’re only a thousand years old and already at the pseudo-Ascendant stage. People out there are calling you the prodigy of the century, you know? You seriously don’t like people praising your youth?”
That...was exactly Ling Qingxiao’s sore spot.
He corrected stiffly, “Pseudo-Ascendant. Not Ascendant. And as for that ‘thousand years’...better left unsaid.”
The truth was, he wasn’t actually a thousand. He had lived five hundred years during the Middle Era. But after returning to the Heavenly Era, only a month had passed in the mortal realm. He couldn’t exactly report those five centuries—so he hid them.
Unfortunately, everyone insisted on praising his meteoric rise as if he were barely out of his teens, and every time he heard it, it made his skin crawl.
Ye Zinan and Zou Jibai didn’t understand why this topic rubbed him the wrong way, but since he didn’t want to talk about it, they respectfully dropped it.
As the four of them exchanged pleasantries, more guests began to arrive. Luo Han noticed Ling Qingxiao was being pulled in every direction and took the initiative to relieve him: “Guests from Qishan have arrived. I’ll go entertain them with Zinan and Jibai—we won’t get in your way.”
Ye Zinan and Zou Jibai understood well. This day would be nothing short of chaos for Ling Qingxiao.
As the three of them walked off, Ling Qingxiao hesitated, then quietly called after her, “Is that what made you say it? What they said?”
Luo Han paused mid-step, confused. “Say what?”
He pressed his lips into a line, then clarified, “What you said the other night.”
The other night…?
Luo Han wracked her brain—then remembered. That rainy night, three days ago. She had casually joked that he fussed over her like her father.
Her feelings were hard to describe. She had only meant it as a tease...but he had actually taken it to heart—and remembered it for days?
“It wasn’t like that. Don’t overthink it,” she said, exasperated. “I was just joking. Sure, you’re way older than me, but you’re not that old. Definitely not dad-material.”
Ling Qingxiao had just begun to relax—only to be immediately struck down again by Luo Han’s casual line: “You’re a lot older than me.” Every word hit squarely where it hurt.
Zou Jibai hadn’t gone far. Overhearing the exchange between Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han, he clapped a hand over his mouth, his expression screaming: juicy gossip just dropped.
He exchanged a look with Ye Zinan, and sure enough—they both saw the same thing in each other’s eyes.
The other night? At night?!
When Luo Han returned from the front gate, she found the two men exchanging glances, acting like a pair of conspiratorial imps. She raised a brow. “What’s going on?”
Ye Zinan and Zou Jibai immediately shook their heads, smiling with mock innocence. “Nothing at all.”
Luo Han looked at them suspiciously. What were they scheming now? She asked twice more, but the two just kept shaking their heads, refusing to speak. Seeing that they wouldn’t budge, she let it drop.
The three of them settled into a quiet pavilion, tucked away among the greenery. Outside, the rustle of people coming and going never ceased. Zou Jibai watched the silhouettes moving past the trees and sighed. “So many guests today.”
“No kidding,” Ye Zinan nodded with feeling. “In all my years, I haven’t seen a gathering like this—other than the Peach Banquet that only happens once every ten thousand years. For so many high-level cultivators to flock here...Ling Qingxiao’s influence is truly extraordinary.”
“These past months, his name has spread like wildfire,” Zou Jibai added, with a slightly bitter twist to his tone. “Young, powerful, and the newly crowned master of Zhongshan—who wouldn’t want to get close to him?” Then he gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m almost a thousand years old too. Same generation. Why is the difference so huge?”
Ye Zinan felt personally attacked. “If you want to sulk, sulk by yourself. Leave me out of it.”
“Who said I meant you?” Zou Jibai snorted and turned to Luo Han with exaggerated trust. “Right, Luo Han? You get it, don’t you?”
He remembered her once saying she was around a thousand as well. Clearly hoping to find a kindred spirit, he sought her agreement.
But Luo Han fell silent.
Zou Jibai suddenly had a bad feeling. He recalled how many times she had played him like a flute, and his chest began to tighten. “Wait...don’t tell me—you’re not around a thousand?”
Ye Zinan immediately grinned like a cat who’d found the cream and jumped in gleefully: “You didn’t know?”
Zou Jibai’s sense of doom grew. He clutched at his spiritual core, voice trembling. “Know what?”
Ye Zinan beamed with unholy joy. “Luo Han’s not your peer. She’s only eighteen.”
Luo Han flushed with embarrassment at the ludicrously young age. In that moment, she truly understood how Ling Qingxiao had felt earlier. It was just...awkward beyond belief.
She quickly tried to clarify: “I’m not eighteen.”
Zou Jibai practically keeled over in relief. “I knew it! Zinan, be decent, will you? Stop messing around. Luo Han being a prodigy is already mind-blowing enough—her spirit control is insane. But eighteen? That’s just ridiculous!”
He spoke so fast, Luo Han couldn’t even get a word in. After a long pause, she finally finished her sentence with guilt:
“I’m not eighteen. I’m...nineteen.”
Zou Jibai: “……”
Ye Zinan burst into helpless laughter. Zou Jibai felt like he’d just taken a spiritual weapon straight to the chest. Ever since he’d met Luo Han, his poor heart had been through far too much.
He clutched his chest in anguish and muttered bitterly, “Luo Han, I beg you—please just be a normal person. I trusted you. I actually believed you. I must’ve been blind. All women are tricksters. I’m never falling for it again.”
Their shared identity as “fellow academic slackers” had already crumbled back on the flying vessel. Luo Han had told him she was bad at studying, clueless about formations, dirt poor, and morally gray. Zou Jibai had believed every word. He’d bought the whole act.
But in the end, he was the only one playing a part that was real.
Luo Han was neither poor, nor mediocre, nor weak. Zou Jibai had poured out his sincere heart—only to be betrayed at every turn.
Emotionally devastated, he no longer wanted to speak. Meanwhile, the other two were completely unmoved by his heartbreak and were already excitedly discussing gossip.
“Was that the Yi Clan just now?” one asked, hearing distant ceremonial music. “I thought Yi Huaxuan would represent Kunshan, but it looks like his father came too.”
“Ling Qingxiao is now a Clan Head. Yi Huaxuan’s still just a Young Master. There’s a full generation between them. Sending Yi Huaxuan alone wouldn’t be proper,” Ye Zinan remarked with a click of his tongue. “The Yi Clan’s been riding high lately. Clearly they want to strengthen ties with Ling Qingxiao.”
He stopped there, but Luo Han understood the implication.
The Yi Clan trying to cozy up to Ling Qingxiao—it was a move for the future. Most likely, they were positioning themselves for the next competition for the throne of the Celestial Emperor.
Unfortunately, Ling Qingxiao was a dragon too. And he was one of the contenders.
The Yi Clan’s ploy...was a miscalculation.
As they spoke, another ceremonial melody echoed from afar. Though muffled, the name being announced seemed to carry the syllables of the Su Clan of Linshan.
Luo Han’s brows arched. Now this was interesting.
The Su Clan had once been deeply intertwined with Ling Xianhong. Now he was under house arrest. Su Yifang was all but grounded, and their prized son-in-law, Ling Zhongyu, had been expelled from Zhongshan altogether.
The relationship between Linshan and Zhongshan...was complicated, to say the least.
The Su elders had spent years paving the road for Ling Zhongyu—only to watch everything fall into the hands of Ling Qingxiao, the very one they had never even considered. Luo Han honestly didn’t know what kind of mood the Su Clan’s heads were in as they came to offer congratulations.
She leaned in and whispered, “The Su Clan’s Patriarch came himself? I would’ve thought they’d distance themselves after all that’s happened.”
“He might want to show backbone,” Ye Zinan said dryly, “but that depends on whether he can.”
He lowered his voice. “I heard the Patriarch has been trying to retrieve Su Yinyue in secret—no one knows whether he failed or if she refused to leave. Either way, she’s still with that demonic cultivator. She’s Linshan’s only heir, and her talent was mediocre to begin with. Now her dragon core is shattered, and she’s a cripple. On top of that, she’s entangled with a devil cultivator. I doubt the Patriarch’s been sleeping well.”
Internal strife in the dragon clans was merciless. There were no clear lines between legitimate and illegitimate heirs, no unshakable hierarchies. Strength determined legitimacy. And now, the heir the Su Clan had bet everything on had fallen so low her name was being quietly scrubbed from every list of successors.
With no more bargaining chips, how could the Su Patriarch hope to keep the branch families in line?
It came as no surprise to anyone that the Patriarch of the Su Clan had come seeking Ling Qingxiao.
With both his daughter and younger sister now disgraced beyond redemption, if the Su Patriarch wanted to hold onto his position, his only option was to seek aid from his last remaining blood tie—his nephew, Ling Qingxiao.
Though there had never been much closeness between Ling Qingxiao and the Su Clan, he still carried half the blood of the Yinglong, and at the end of the day, keeping the benefits within the family was still preferable to letting outsiders claim them.
Luo Han sighed quietly. “The bustling world is all for profit; its clamor, all for gain. There really are no eternal friends—only eternal interests. It's all far too real.”
Ling Xianhong had only just been placed under house arrest, and in the blink of an eye, his long-time ally, the Su Patriarch, had turned around to curry favor with the new clan head. Su Yifang and Su Yinyue had both fallen into their current states because of Ling Qingxiao, yet the Su Patriarch swallowed his pride and still came smiling like nothing had ever happened.
Su Yifang must’ve known her family wouldn’t stand up for her. That was likely why she’d suddenly “fallen ill”—to preserve the last shred of dignity for herself. In this world, no good husband, no good brother, no supportive natal family could compare to being strong yourself. People used to envy Su Yifang and Su Yinyue for their “blessed fates.” But in the end, when it was time to abandon them—they were abandoned.
Hoping for luck was nothing next to the strength of self-reliance.
The three of them sat in somber reflection for a moment, each lost in thought.
Zou Jibai suddenly glanced down—and realized the jade pendant he’d just bought was missing.
The Devourer Beast had somehow gotten loose and was now suspiciously chewing something.
Zou Jibai's hands began to tremble. “So many things lying around, and you just had to pick my pendant. You eat mine but not Ling Qingxiao’s. Are divine beasts these days really that practical?!”
—
Time passed, and with most of the guests having arrived, the floating banquet at Chengtian Hall officially began.
There were no assigned seats—everyone wandered freely, conversing and gathering with friends or cultivators of like mind. With such long life spans, it wasn’t uncommon for immortals to go centuries or even millennia without seeing one another. The atmosphere was relaxed, familiar, vibrant.
In the midst of the lively crowd, an ethereal melody suddenly rose from outside the hall.
The moment Ling Qingxiao heard it, he stood at once and made for the entrance. Others fell silent as well, turning toward the sound.
Ye Zinan murmured in awe, “Even the Heavenly Palace has sent a representative...This really is a grand occasion.”
Only then did Luo Han realize—the music was the ceremonial tune exclusive to the Celestial Court. The one arriving to offer congratulations...was none other than Star Lord Baibiao.
In the heavens, there was no one who didn’t know his name. Star Lord Baibiao was the voice of the Celestial Emperor—his presence was the Emperor’s will made manifest.
When he saw Ling Qingxiao, Star Lord Baibiao smiled and offered a formal salute. “Congratulations, Young Lord Ling, on your ascension as clan head.”
“Thank you, Star Lord,” Ling Qingxiao returned the salute with perfect composure. “I have yet to pay my respects to His Majesty since taking the mantle. I must apologize. May I ask...how has His Majesty been of late?”
“His Majesty is in excellent health,” Baibiao replied pleasantly. “He has taken great interest in your recent feats. In fact, he instructed me to relay a personal message: the Emperor hopes you will continue to cultivate diligently and ascend to the true Celestial Rank soon, helping to redefine the standard of Ascension for the Six Realms. He looks forward to welcoming another powerful general into the Celestial Court.”
His words stirred a ripple through the grand hall—an invisible tide of tension rising.
And when it became clear that the Celestial Emperor himself had sent a verbal decree, even the most composed among them exchanged glances. Everyone could sense it—something monumental was happening.
The Patriarch of the Yi Clan turned pale.
For years, the Yi Clan had relied on their proximity to the Three Pure Heavens, and everyone had assumed the next heir to the Celestial Throne would come from their ranks. It was an open secret that the Emperor was likely to choose a successor from the Yi bloodline.
But now...the attention the Emperor was showing Ling Qingxiao—so pointed, so public, so full of praise—hinted at something else.
The Emperor’s expectations were high. Possibly far beyond the level of a mere Ascendant Immortal.
The Yi Patriarch’s expression darkened. The Su elders exchanged glances, a flicker of regret flashing across their faces. Delegates from Qishan, Lishan, and Jiashan remained outwardly calm, but everyone was quietly reassessing their strategies.
Until the very last moment, no one could say for sure who would come out on top. The Yi Clan had invested for centuries—who would’ve thought a dark horse would suddenly seize the lead?
Zhongshan had once been glorious, but in recent centuries, it had stagnated. Among the six dragon clans, it ranked squarely in the middle. But perhaps...the time for Zhongshan’s resurgence had arrived.