Chapter 90

He had always assumed: if Luo Han hadn’t said she liked him, then she didn’t. It was all black and white. But now, with a few offhanded words, the shopkeeper had cracked that certainty.
The world didn’t operate by his standards alone.
Once the dam broke, the thoughts came flooding in. He recalled the moment when the shopkeeper asked if she was engaged—how Luo Han had instinctively glanced at him. He remembered back at Zhongshan, when he asked for her help greeting guests and she picked up on the key phrase—“no mistress of the house”—and responded with a question of her own.
And maybe...it went back even further. So many moments, so many signs—if one simply chose to see them.
Ling Qingxiao fell into silence.
The shopkeeper, seeing his introspection, couldn’t help but ask, “So...the red cord?”
“Wrap it up,” Ling Qingxiao replied.
Then he looked at the man and asked, “Just now...what did you think our relationship was?”
The shopkeeper blinked. “You mean you aren’t a couple? I must’ve misunderstood.”
But Ling Qingxiao’s heart finally settled. A smile flickered in his eyes—clear skies after rain, warm wind stirring snow.
The shopkeeper was momentarily stunned. But the moment passed quickly. Ling Qingxiao nodded politely and said, “Thank you.”
Then he left a mid-grade spirit stone on the stall and turned to go.
He recalled how back in the Middle Era, people had often misread their relationship. Now, even a random bystander—someone with no bias, no context—had assumed they were together.
That meant something. Somewhere along the way, they’d begun projecting a certain kind of closeness.
He didn’t know how he appeared to others, but clearly, Luo Han had never shown rejection.
Ling Qingxiao’s heart finally steadied.
He’d held himself back all this time, afraid to cross the line. And yet he’d wanted to understand her feelings, dropping subtle hints again and again—yet never daring to step forward.
Now he realized...maybe the boundary between them was much farther back than he had feared.
—
Luo Han had walked off down the street, expecting him to catch up.
When he didn’t, she slowed near the riverside and waited.
Evening had fallen. Lanterns now hung on both sides of the street, their red glow reflecting across the rippling water. The great river sparkled with drifting lights, golden like scattered stars.
A single arched bridge stretched over the river. People flowed across it in both directions, and the water beneath shimmered with ever-shifting reflections—like another world mirrored below.
On the stone path, the silhouette of a white-robed woman rippled across the water’s surface. A few floating lanterns drifted closer, scattering her reflection.
When the water calmed again, there were two reflections.
Both clothed in white, touched by the warm hues of red and yellow lanterns, bathed in a soft, hazy glow.
Luo Han saw Ling Qingxiao and looked up in surprise. “What did that shopkeeper say to you? You took forever.”
“Nothing much,” he said, stepping close. Then, without warning, he took her wrist and began to tie the red cord around it.
As he did, he watched her carefully. If she showed even a flicker of resistance or discomfort, he’d stop immediately.
Luo Han tensed at first, her wrist twitching slightly—but when he didn’t let go, she stilled and let him continue. Curious, she asked, “You really bought one? I thought you didn’t believe in this kind of thing.”
“I don’t,” Ling Qingxiao said softly, the hint of a smile in his eyes. Now that his heart was calm, even his hands moved slower, more relaxed. The knot he was tying seemed to take ages. “But when in Rome, do as the locals do. Since it happens to be the Goddess Festival, joining in the fun isn’t so bad.”
What he said sounded perfectly reasonable...but from him, it felt oddly off.
Ling Qingxiao wasn’t the kind to “join in the fun.” They had passed through countless regions over the years, each with its own festivals and customs. Not once had she seen him partake in anything like this.
Luo Han didn’t press. She quietly watched him work.
His fingers were slender and pale, long and steady. Hands trained to wield swords and craft talismans, full of precision and strength—beautiful to look at.
She stared for a long moment. Eventually, she couldn’t help herself. “Is this knot really that hard to tie?”
He’d been working at it for quite some time now. And considering his skill with his hands, this should’ve been effortless.
The moment she spoke, Ling Qingxiao finished. He let go and said calmly, “Done.”
Luo Han raised her wrist and examined the knot. It was perfectly symmetrical, tight and clean, with both ends even—undoubtedly Ling Qingxiao’s handiwork.
She stared at it thoughtfully. It was well done, yes—but not exactly difficult. So why had he taken so long?
Luo Han didn’t dwell on it. The two of them strolled slowly along the riverbank.
More and more floating lanterns now dotted the water. As she glanced over her shoulder by chance, Luo Han froze—utterly stunned by the sight on the other side.
She quickly tugged on Ling Qingxiao’s sleeve and gestured across the river. “Look—the Milky Way!”
Night had fallen. The river’s surface was now a dark, velvety expanse, and even the outlines of ships had vanished into shadow. But amid that stillness, silvery points of light began to glimmer beneath the water’s surface—like shattered diamonds, bright and mesmerizing.
Luo Han stared in awe, whispering, “Those lights under the water...are those the stars that mortals see from below? Are we...looking at the same Milky Way as the people on the ground?”
Ling Qingxiao rarely paused to admire scenery, but now, standing beside her in the quiet breeze, he gently nodded. “Yes.”
Endless constellations, shared by heaven and earth.
Colorful floating lanterns from the many canals converged into the Milky Way, drifting like a second set of stars. Beneath the water were stars, above it lanterns. Two layers of light merged and danced—so alike it was impossible to tell which was real, which the reflection.
Ling Qingxiao lowered his gaze to Luo Han. Then he said, unexpectedly, “Since we’re here...shall we each release a lantern?”
“Sure,” Luo Han agreed immediately. But after a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Isn’t that a bit childish?”
“Not at all,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, you are a child.”
Luo Han shot him a fierce glare. “Watch your mouth, True Immortal. You haven’t passed your tribulation yet—say one more word and I swear I’ll take personal revenge.”
Ling Qingxiao laughed, following her as she stormed toward the lantern vendor.
Luo Han browsed carefully and finally picked two: one shaped like a moonflower, and the other like a fusang tree.
Ling Qingxiao raised a brow. “Why two?”
“One is for you,” she replied as if it were obvious.
Ling Qingxiao had intended to say he didn’t need to make wishes. But the words caught in his throat.
He had never believed in divine favors. Any wish he could achieve didn’t need to be prayed for; and anything he couldn’t achieve—no god could help him.
But now...now he harbored one outrageous, blasphemous desire. And only Luo Han could make it real.
At last, he reached out and accepted the moonflower lantern.
They were supposed to write their wishes inside. Luo Han took up a brush, her face serious as she wrote in the heart of the lantern:
“World peace.”
…It sounded vague and idealistic, but heaven as her witness, it was genuinely what she wished for.
After writing, she refolded the lantern with care. She assumed Ling Qingxiao wouldn’t take part in such childish games—yet when she turned back, she found him still writing. Earnestly.
Luo Han was genuinely surprised. He had a wish?
She clearly remembered asking him about this once before. Back then, he had brushed it off—saying he had no need for wishes.
With his discipline and self-control, he never placed hope in anything external. If he wanted something, he would plan for it. Execute it. Slowly but steadily make it happen. His world had no room for prayer—only purpose.
And yet now, he was writing by lantern-light, the soft glow casting shadows across his elegant profile and long lashes.
He was...serious about it.
Luo Han's curiosity flared. She edged closer, trying to sneak a peek—but he finished just then and folded the lantern closed, hiding the writing from view.
She clicked her tongue in frustration and gave up on stealth. “What did you write?”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she offered slyly.
Ling Qingxiao declined without hesitation. “If you say it out loud, it won’t come true.”
“...” Luo Han stared at him. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
A man so analytical, methodical to the point of madness, a walking planner with zero tolerance for superstition—actually said that?
Ling Qingxiao looked slightly awkward. He turned to the river. “The wind’s picking up. Let’s release them.”
Luo Han followed. Kneeling by the water’s edge, she gently pushed her lantern onto the surface. It wobbled, but eventually steadied and joined the current of glowing lights.
She watched the two lanterns drift away and murmured, “Stars above and stars below...So it turns out, when mortals and immortals make wishes, they speak to the same river of light.”
Ling Qingxiao had never released a lantern before—this was perhaps his one and only indulgence in romance.
The river wind stirred. After a while, he asked, “What did you write?”
Luo Han stood, tossing her hair with exaggerated grace. “Not telling. If I say it out loud, it won’t come true.”
Ling Qingxiao chuckled softly, shooting her a sidelong glance. “Mine’s not affected by being spoken. Whether I say it or not—it stays the same.”
Luo Han sensed something in his tone. “Why?”
“Because only you can make it happen.”
She turned, eyes wide, stunned.
Starlight shimmered on the water, casting soft light on his face—clear, radiant, and impossibly pure.
Luo Han’s gaze flickered. She looked away. “If even you can’t do it, why tell me?”
A star suddenly fell from the heart of the Milky Way, trailing a silver tail as it streaked toward the mortal world.
In Ling Qingxiao’s eyes, the star and water ripples reflected together. “Because it does matter. In this lifetime, all I wish...is for you, my heaven, to live in peace and joy, in health and happiness.”
Luo Han had meant to stay composed. She kept her eyes fixed on the river, but a smile crept unbidden across her face.
Ling Qingxiao also smiled, gaze drifting toward the vast flow of water. “So yes—only you can make it come true.”
He had many wild, impossible dreams. But the one he wrote down...was this.
The rest were too brash, too daring to entrust to paper. If he had to entrust them to anything, he’d rather entrust them to himself—to careful planning, step by step.
He had enough patience. As long as Luo Han didn’t push him away, time, distance, or fate—none of it would matter.
The two of them wandered alongside the Milky Way, letting their lanterns drift with the stars, until the wind grew colder and they finally turned back toward the inn.
As they returned from the riverbank to the winding alleys, it was like stepping into another world entirely.
In Jiuren City, cultivators who reached the Spirit Immortal were rare. Most residents lived only slightly better than mortals—longer lives, bodies free of illness—but their day-to-day lives were much the same. Now that night had deepened, the city had truly come alive. Street lamps flickered on, alleys lit up with theaters and night markets, and the air rang with hawkers shouting out delicacies and vendors peddling snacks.
Somewhere in a narrow lane near the harbor, another sort of business was also beginning to stir.
Luo Han had intended to return to the inn, but faced with the lively night scene, she found herself reluctant to leave. Ling Qingxiao noticed her gaze drifting in a certain direction and shut it down mercilessly. “No.”
The last time he’d entered a brothel was purely for tracking a target in Da Ming City—that had already been his bottom line. Anything else? Absolutely not.
Luo Han sighed. She had expected as much. “I wasn’t going to go. I was just curious. I know the demon realm doesn’t frown on such things—but I didn’t realize even the immortal realm allows them?”
“It doesn’t,” Ling Qingxiao shot her a wary glance, his tone deadly serious. “Where did you hear something like that? The immortal realm strictly forbids gambling and debauchery. Brothels are expressly outlawed. Jiuren City lies in the Lower Heaven—it’s chaotic, hard to govern, and dragons mingle with fish. That’s how such filth slips through. But it won’t last. When we return, I’ll submit a report to the Celestial Court and have the Heavenly Oversight Division rectify Jiuren’s governance.”
“…” Luo Han was silent for a moment. Then she nodded, deadpan. “Yes, yes. You’re completely right.”
Jiuren wasn’t exactly known for its public safety, and danger only grew after dark. Luo Han’s face was far too eye-catching. In the short time she’d been walking, she had already drawn multiple lingering gazes.
Ling Qingxiao subtly released a wave of pressure, quashing those ill intentions before they could take root.
“It’s late,” he reminded softly. “We should head back.”
He had booked their inn well in advance—private entrance, independent courtyard, secure and quiet. Whenever they returned, all it took was unlocking the ward. No staff, no interference. Luo Han had nothing in particular she wanted to do...yet somehow, she just didn’t want to go back. “No. I’m staying out late tonight.”
She had never come home after midnight before. But now she didn’t need to worry about safety, and the streets were full of interesting stalls. Just once, she wanted to try it.
Ling Qingxiao was internally helpless. He’d heard young cubs would hit a rebellious phase—always going against authority, sneaking out late, refusing to obey. Was Luo Han entering that stage now?
And cubs in this phase were notoriously sensitive. Ling Qingxiao dared not scold her too harshly. He could only coax her gently: “Very well. But it’s already very late. Even if we head back now, it still counts as staying out late.”
Classic parental rhetoric. Luo Han gave him a strange look. “Did you ever go through a rebellious phase?”
She worried he wouldn’t understand the term and clarified, “You know, that stage when kids transition to teens. For you, I guess that was...fifteen hundred years ago?”
She broke into giggles before she could finish.
Ling Qingxiao gave her a sidelong look, helpless. “No.”
“Really? You never felt irritable for no reason? Didn’t want to study, didn’t want to listen to your elders? Bullied girls in your class just because you didn’t know how to talk to them?” Luo Han leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief.
Ling Qingxiao mulled this over thoughtfully. So that’s how adolescent girls viewed it? Avoiding study, ignoring lectures, bullying peers…?
What a strange collection of vices.
He took a patient tone and began earnestly, “If you’re feeling restless, you could try reciting the Calming Heart Sutra. Not wanting to study likely stems from lack of comprehension—if there’s anything you don’t understand, come to me at once. No—better yet, I’ll study with you. Your solo progress has been inefficient. As for the other habits...most are tolerable, but bullying your peers isn’t a good look. If your hands really itch, why not try sparring with a sword?”
Luo Han fell completely silent. She sighed, muttering to herself, “Did water get into my brain? Why would I ask you something like that? Of course a model student never had a rebellious phase.”
Ling Qingxiao heard every word but pretended not to.
They walked shoulder to shoulder down the cobbled streets. The moonlight stretched their shadows far ahead. The bustle of the night market faded behind them. For a time, only their quiet conversation echoed down the road.
“So, where are we headed tomorrow?” Luo Han asked.
“Let’s explore nearby first. No rush to jump into the main objective—getting familiar with the terrain comes first.”
“Does that mean we’ll still be here for the Xuan Nu Festival? I’ve never even heard of it before.”
“If you like it, we’ll stay a few extra days,” he replied calmly. “Xuan Nu is a mortal-world deity—she grants blessings, love, and children. The festival marks her birth. Not many still worship her—only a few areas in the Lower Heaven, so it’s normal if you haven’t heard.”
As he spoke, Ling Qingxiao gradually slowed. Luo Han also stopped and stared ahead with a blank expression.
This alley was narrow, dim, and poorly lit. Late at night, it was the perfect spot for a robbery.
Sure enough, a few masked men stood blocking the way. They held spiked clubs and spoke in forced, gravelly tones: “Hand over your storage pouches, and we’ll let you live.”
Luo Han turned to Ling Qingxiao, deadpan. “Do I look weak to you?”
Why would anyone dare try to rob her? Did she somehow scream "easy target"?
Ling Qingxiao used the opportunity to impart a lesson. “It’s because you’re still out this late. That proves how dangerous staying out can be. Next time, you should head home earlier.”
The thugs grew furious at being ignored. “You little shits! Fine, you want it the hard way—get ’em, boys!”
They charged with clubs raised, snarling like beasts.
Luo Han blinked, stunned. She had never seen weapons like these before—actual physical clubs. Since coming to the cultivation world, she hadn’t encountered a single one. Everyone used magic tools. Even the poorest cultivator could throw a few mid-grade talismans.
This? This was straight out of mortal-bandit territory.
She and Ling Qingxiao didn’t move an inch. The thugs crashed into an invisible wall—bang!—and fell flat, groaning.
Still on the ground, they clutched their heads and wailed.
Luo Han sighed. “I still don’t get why they thought they could rob me.”
But that was the audacity of the ignorant. These men hadn’t even touched the threshold of cultivation—they couldn’t sense the sheer spiritual pressure both Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao passively emitted. Their robes, while plain in design, were of clearly exquisite make. But the thugs lacked the knowledge to recognize any of it.
Luo Han reached out, and with a flick of her will, the storage pouches on the thugs were all drawn to her by an invisible force. One by one, she looted them clean, sighing with mock guilt. “This feels like bullying primary schoolers. But hey, what’s life without a few hard knocks? I’m giving you a free lesson—this is what it means to pluck feathers from a flying goose. If you’re going to rob people, learn to expect being robbed in return. You’re welcome.”
Her spiritual perception was razor-sharp—she even managed to pry loose the coins one of them had hidden in the soles of his shoes.
Ling Qingxiao sighed, helpless. “That’s enough. They’re not well-educated, lacked proper guidance growing up. It's not entirely their fault they ended up like this.”
Luo Han gave the pouches a cursory sweep. The contents were laughably pitiful—small-time thieving, yes, but nothing outright evil. Since they hadn’t crossed the line beyond redemption, she decided to let them off. “Because you’ve managed to retain a shred of decency, I’ll spare you this once. But if there’s a next time…”
The thugs, having realized they'd tried to rob the wrong people, scrambled to beg for mercy. “We won’t do it again, Fairy, please spare us!”
“Swear it.”
“We swear! From now on, we’ll be upright citizens—earn our keep, no more shady business!”
One after another, they took their vows. Luo Han sensed the oath take root. Her voice dropped cold: “Don’t think you can fool me with sweet words and break your promise once you're out of sight. Oaths hold power. Once spoken, they must be honored. If you dare break them...no matter where you run, the Heavenly Dao will come for you.”
The thugs paled. That had been their plan—to stall now, forget later. But every cultivator, even those with the faintest spiritual root, could sense when fate had been altered. And now...they could feel it. Their destiny had become entangled, anchored by divine force.
They might not be struck by lightning, but fate always collected its dues—lifespan cut short, misfortune drawn near, bloodlines severed...one way or another, they’d pay.
They looked as if they'd swallowed bitter gourd. Lowly as they were, they could still tell they’d kicked the hornet’s nest. Luckily, they were so low-level they didn’t even understand how terrifying it was that Luo Han had been able to form a spiritual contract with just a few words.
Luo Han pocketed all the storage pouches and cast a glance down at them. Her brow lifted. “Still here?”
With her clear warning, the thugs scrambled to their feet and fled in a blind panic, not daring to look back.
Once they were gone, Luo Han opened the pouches and swept her divine sense across their contents—completely useless.
“What do we do with this junk?” she asked.
Ling Qingxiao gave her an amused glance. “You stole them, and now you don’t know what to do with them?”
“I have no use for this stuff,” Luo Han said. “These guys don’t even know proper spells—what am I going to do with their trinkets? Still, people should face consequences for their actions. They were lucky it was us. If they had targeted a lone girl without background or strength, the outcome might’ve been much worse.”
She prepared to store the pouches away to donate to a charity hall tomorrow. But just as she closed one of them, something red caught her eye.
Luo Han pulled out a thin red cord. “Why would they have a red string? There’s a bunch more in here.”
Ling Qingxiao’s expression changed in an instant. He grabbed her wrist, startling Luo Han. When she turned around, his expression was grave. “Don’t touch those. Give me the pouches—and the strings.”
Realizing he had noticed something dangerous, Luo Han obediently handed everything over.
Ling Qingxiao pinched the red string between his fingers. A cold, ice-blue flame sparked from his fingertips. It looked frigid, but the moment it touched the red string, it erupted in fierce, violent heat.
The cord was reduced to ash in seconds—and from the ash, a wisp of black smoke rose, only to be instantly devoured by the azure fire.
Luo Han’s face darkened. “Demonic Qi?”
“Yes.” Ling Qingxiao’s gaze turned razor-sharp as he stared in the direction the thugs had fled. “That one—he may be connected to the disappearances in the Lower Heaven. Go after him.”