They sat on a long bench beneath the swaying willow tree. Zhi Xuan let Mei Hua sleep with her head resting on his lap, while Zhu Qinglan sat beside him, placing Lulu between them.

  "Zhi Xuan," Zhu Qinglan called after a long silence.

  "Yes?"

  "Regarding the Three Plains Competition... you know that every genius there carries at least one immortal artifact, right? The Yao Gu Plains possess mysterious practitioners who use pure power and are blessed by Heaven."

  Zhi Xuan nodded, his expression becoming serious once more. "I understand. For me, the Heavenly Sword is enough to settle that competition. And I am not afraid of Heavenly blessings, even though their foundations are certainly very strong."

  Zhu Qinglan sighed, her fingers stroking the blue cloth wrapped around Zhi Xuan's left hand. "Do not rely too much on that bloodlust. Use your sharp mind, and remember your experiences in the wilderness. The most dangerous enemy is not the strongest, but the one who has nothing left to lose."

  "I know," Zhi Xuan stared at his own hand. "I have nothing but this messy soul of mine to stake. That makes me dangerous enough, does it not?"

  "You have me," Zhu Qinglan interrupted softly, her voice nearly drowned out by the festival noise. "Never say you have nothing."

  Zhi Xuan was stunned. He gazed at Zhu Qinglan's face, which now looked so sincere under the moonlight. He took her hand with his right, gripping it firmly. "Forgive me. You are right. I have a reason to return alive."

  "Good," Zhu Qinglan smiled, then she leaned her head on Zhi Xuan's shoulder, a bold action for a Holy Fairy in a public place, even if covered by the willow's shadow. "Now be quiet. Let me enjoy these fireworks for a little longer before dawn brings us back to reality."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, savoring the small warmth on his shoulder. He watched the sky continue to explode with colors, feeling that for these few hours, he had truly won the most difficult war in the universe—the war against his own loneliness.

  "Qing'er..." Zhi Xuan whispered after a few moments.

  "Hmm?"

  "Thank you for this blue cloth. And thank you for not letting go of my hand when I turned into a monster in the pavilion earlier."

  Zhu Qinglan did not answer with words; she only tightened her grip on Zhi Xuan's fingers, while in the man's lap, Mei Hua snored softly, as if the whole world were in the safest embrace.

  Dawn began to break on the eastern horizon, sweeping away the remnants of darkness with streaks of indigo and orange. The last fireworks had died out, leaving a faint scent of sulfur and a stifling silence in the air. For the residents of Emperor Dragon City, this was the end of a celebration, but for Zhi Xuan, it was the war drum beginning to beat in the distance.

  Zhu Qinglan slowly lifted her head from Zhi Xuan's shoulder. Her gray eyes had returned to being a calm lake of ice, though there were wisps of sorrowful mist she could not entirely hide. She stood up, wearing her shimmering pearl veil once more under the cold morning light.

  "The time has come," Zhu Qinglan said, her voice reclaiming the authority of a Holy Fairy of the Ancient Clan.

  Zhi Xuan rose carefully so as not to wake the still-slumbering Mei Hua. The little girl remained curled peacefully, as if her weight were merely an illusion of gathered clouds. Zhi Xuan rested Mei Hua against his chest, using a silk cloth to tie her securely so she would not fall when he moved.

  He reached for the Lulu doll lying on the bench and tucked it into the embrace of Mei Hua's arm. Strangely, as soon as the doll touched Mei Hua's skin, the little girl reflexively hugged it tight in her sleep, as if the doll were an inseparable part of her body.

  Zhu Qinglan stepped back two paces, maintaining the distance that served as the ethical boundary for a great cultivator in public. The sharp dawn wind swept through their silk robes, creating a rustling sound that separated the warmth of last night from the coldness of today's fate.

  "Go to the peak of the Imperial Mountains," Zhu Qinglan said, her eyes fixed on the figure of Zhi Xuan, who now looked like a lone wanderer carrying secret burdens. "The Empire's Elders will open the Heavenly Star Gate; the envoys of the Xing Luo Plains have already arrived there. Go, I can only see you off this far."

  Zhi Xuan looked at the figure of Zhu Qinglan standing still under the willow tree's shadow. The pale dawn light refracted her silhouette, making her look like a goddess made of ice crystals—beautiful, majestic, yet untouched. He felt a pull in his chest, a weight far more real than the mass of Xuan-Huang Energy residing in his soul.

  "I will go," Zhi Xuan said in a low tone vibrating with determination. He gently patted the back of Mei Hua, who was still asleep in her binding, and then adjusted his Ghost Veil. "Take care of yourself, Holy Fairy Zhu."

  Zhu Qinglan did not answer, but her fingers hidden behind her wide sleeves squeezed her silk cloth until they turned white. She only gave a slight nod, the heaviest gesture of release she had ever performed throughout her path of cultivation.

  Zhi Xuan turned, walking away from the riverbank now filled with the remnants of destroyed lantern paper. Each of his steps left a subtle vibration on the mortal soil of Emperor Dragon City, as if the earth itself recognized the Anchor of the World he carried. He did not look back, for he knew that a single glance behind would crumble all the mental defenses he had painstakingly built.

  The journey toward the Peak of the Imperial Mountains was covered with astonishing speed. Zhi Xuan moved like a silver shadow cleaving through the morning mist, leaping over treetops and steep cliffs with the agility of a Kun Peng. On his chest, Mei Hua remained peacefully asleep, as if the jolts from Zhi Xuan's extreme movements were merely the gentle swinging of a cradle.

  When he reached the highest peak, the view that greeted him was a breath-taking majesty. There, atop a giant jade altar carved with ancient runes, a large-scale space formation was pulsing with intense bluish light.

  Dozens of cultivators in magnificent robes—the envoys of the Xing Luo Plains—stood in a state of readiness, radiating an aura capable of suppressing the clouds around them. Zhi Xuan removed his hood; he did not need to hide himself if the Empire's Elders were here, for it was easy for them to pierce the perception brought by the ghost veil.

  The Young King of the Central Star, Ye Ming, had been standing there from the start. His gaze was cold, and his dark black robe layered with gold runes added to the mysterious impression he always carried. However, when the fluctuation of a familiar aura belonging to Zhi Xuan caught his sight, his face immediately turned slightly relieved.

  "Daoist Zhi Xuan," Ye Ming called, stepping calmly toward the newly arrived Zhi Xuan. "You disappeared for a month after the competition selection; I thought you went to find a higher Dao."

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  Zhi Xuan landed lightly on the jade surface of the altar, creating subtle energy ripples enough to make several cultivators around him turn. He looked at Ye Ming, a figure who now appeared more established in his cultivation since their last meeting. A thin smile containing a hint of sarcasm—a characteristic that never left Zhi Xuan—appeared at the corner of his lips.

  "Finding a higher Dao is a term too beautiful for someone who is just trying to survive under this Heaven, Daoist Ye," Zhi Xuan answered casually, though his eyes remained alert, scanning the surroundings.

  On the other side, the Young King of the East Star, Liu Feng, and the Young King of the South Star, Ling Huo, slowly turned their faces as they saw the fifth emissary, specifically Zhi Xuan. With one step, they arrived in front of Zhi Xuan, standing beside Ye Ming with the surrounding air vibrating under the weight of their visibly improved cultivation; their Dao had become more solid.

  "Well, is this not the fifth emissary himself?" Ling Huo began with a soft snort, smoothing her fiery red robe and hair adorned with fire gems. "Daoist Zhi Xuan must have found a dragon's egg, for he feels like a walking mountain."

  Ling Huo crossed her arms over her chest, making the curves of her tight red robe emphasize her upright and challenging posture. Her ember-red eyes flashed as she scanned Zhi Xuan from head to toe, pausing for a moment at the cloth bundle on the youth's chest.

  "And what is this? You brought a small child to the Heavenly Star Gate?" Ling Huo raised her sleek eyebrows, her tone sharp yet filled with undisguised curiosity. "Do you plan to turn the bloody competition in Yao Gu into a nursery?"

  Zhi Xuan merely snorted softly, unaffected by the pressure of the fire aura radiating from Ling Huo's body. "This girl is just a younger sister who enjoys sleeping, Daoist Ling. There is nothing interesting about this."

  Liu Feng, the Young King of the East Star known for his calmness, rubbed his chin while staring sharply into Zhi Xuan's sapphire eyes; he clasped his hands in front of him in greeting. "Daoist Zhi Xuan, I only now have the opportunity to meet you directly. I heard that you and the Empire's Eighth Prince each carry an Eternal Artifact."

  "Daoist Liu, it is a pleasure to speak with you," Zhi Xuan replied calmly, clasping his hands in return. "That is true; I have the Heavenly Sword which I used to counter the Eighth Prince's Seven Eternal Gods Bell at that time."

  "Alright, alright, look who has come here," the voice of a youth in a deep red imperial robe with striking qilin decorations echoed as he approached Zhi Xuan. "Look, here is the fifth emissary who arrived late."

  Arrogant and rhythmic footsteps accompanied the arrival of the figure. The Eighth Prince of the Empire, the figure who once traded lives with Zhi Xuan at the peak of the selection, now stepped forward. The small gold crown binding his black hair sparkled under the formation's light, and at his waist, a seemingly simple small bell that radiated space ripples—the Seven Eternal Gods Bell—hung gracefully.

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, staring at the Prince who now stood only a few paces in front of him. "Eighth Prince, it is a pleasure to see you here again."

  The Eighth Prince snorted, his sharp eyes briefly glancing at Zhi Xuan's left hand wrapped in pale blue cloth, then turning toward the still-sleeping Mei Hua. "I am not pleased to see you; do not act as if you have suddenly become an emotional person."

  "Emotional?" Zhi Xuan raised an eyebrow, his cocky smirk appearing even though he was carrying the weight of Xuan-Huang pressing against his meridians. "Eighth Prince, I am merely trying to be a good colleague. Besides, do you not miss the sound of my sword clashing with that little bell of yours?"

  "In your dreams!" the Prince snapped, though he could not hide a sliver of respect hidden behind his arrogant eyes.

  Ling Huo, who had been watching with arms crossed, suddenly stepped closer until the hot scent of fire spices stung Zhi Xuan's nose. She leaned forward, staring at Mei Hua with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "But seriously, Zhi Xuan. You are bringing a five-year-old to Yao Gu? It is true that it is cooler and purer there than in Xing Luo."

  She then glanced at the Lulu doll tightly held by Mei Hua. "And that doll... your taste in choosing toys for your sister is terrible. It is dull and looks like it has passed through three eras of destruction."

  Zhi Xuan chuckled, intentionally adjusting his hold so that Mei Hua's peaceful face was clearly visible to the beautiful Young King of the South Star. "If you do not like it, you can give one of your fire gems to decorate her dress, Daoist Ling. I am sure it would make her look more cheerful."

  Ling Huo glared, as if she were about to shoot fire from her fingertips. "You think my gems are cheap items that can be stuck onto a child's clothes? How insolent!"

  "Enough, we are here to discuss," Liu Feng mediated with his calm voice like a flowing river. "Ye Ming and the Eighth Prince have prepared a plan for the five of us, how we will face the emissaries from the Yao Gu Plains and the Feng Mie Plains later."

  "It was not 'us' who prepared the plan," the Eighth Prince interrupted curtly, his fingers tapping the surface of the Seven Eternal Gods Bell hanging at his waist. "I prepared the plan. Ye Ming only acted as a scribe because his writing is quite neat for someone who only knows how to meditate."

  Ye Ming could only sigh in resignation, shaking his head slowly at the Prince's deep-seated arrogance. He turned toward Zhi Xuan, giving a signal with his eyes that this debate would have no end if continued.

  "The plan is simple," Ye Ming took over the conversation, his clear voice cutting through the energy noise from the Heavenly Star Formation. "The Yao Gu Plains are inhabited by cultivators who worship Heavenly Laws. They are so pure; their foundations are very strong. As for the Feng Mie Plains... the emissaries sent are masters of illusion and cunning soul attacks."

  "The five emissaries of each plain each have an immortal artifact," Ye Ming continued, looking toward Zhi Xuan and the Eighth Prince. "We only have Daoist Zhi and the Eighth Prince. I, Liu Feng, and Ling Huo will use Heavenly Artifacts to hold back the Immortal Artifacts and seek the weaknesses of each practitioner."

  "A reasonably sensible strategy for a 'scribe'," Zhi Xuan remarked with a cocky tone that made the Eighth Prince glare sharply. He glanced at Ye Ming, then at the other two Young Kings. "But holding back Immortal Artifacts with only Heavenly Artifacts... the three of you are gambling with your lives."

  Liu Feng smiled thinly, his composure undisturbed. "That is why we are called Young Kings, Daoist Zhi. We do not only rely on sacred items, but also on the resonance between soul and element. Since the reward we receive is the same—each obtaining an Immortal Artifact and the chance for Soul Transformation in the second Great Constellation—there is nothing wrong with working together."

  "And you," Ling Huo interrupted, pointing toward Zhi Xuan, or more precisely toward Zhi Xuan's appearance where a faint pattern sat on his forehead. "I do not know what you gained during this interval. However, the five of us will carve history, and you will be involved in it."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the pattern on his forehead pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat, which now more closely resembled the beat of war drums. He looked at Ling Huo, then turned to Ye Ming and Liu Feng. The determination radiating from their eyes proved that although he often felt alone in his suffering, this time he stood among people who shared the same fire.

  "Carving history, eh?" Zhi Xuan murmured. He tightened the silk binding holding Mei Hua to his chest, ensuring the little girl remained stable amidst the energy storm beginning to rage atop the altar. "I prefer to call it an effort to not let history erase us."

  Suddenly, a thunderous roar split the sky. The Heavenly Star Formation beneath their feet exploded with a blinding white light, sending a pillar of energy piercing through the cloud layers until it reached the vacuum above. The air pressure at the mountain peak increased tenfold, forcing several low-level cultivators at the altar's edge to their knees.

  However, the five emissaries remained standing tall. The Eighth Prince gripped his Seven Eternal Gods Bell, which began to chime wildly, while Ye Ming, Liu Feng, and Ling Huo began to release their elemental auras to form individual shields. Finally, a subtle wave hit the air and neutralized the Heavenly Star Gate; the figure of the Empire's Elder appeared from the air with a promising flying ship.

  Beside him, the Holy Son Hua Tianming and Holy Daughter Hua Lian Xi from the Ancient Hua Clan stood gracefully; between them stood Zhu Yanghai, the Holy Son of the Ancient Zhu Clan who had come to see the emissaries off to the Yao Gu Plains. The Soul Transformation aura of these three descendants of the Ancient Clans felt heavy and pressing, while the Empire's Elder, whom Zhi Xuan had seen before—an Elder with Divine Transformation cultivation—appeared calm and radiated a lofty majesty.

  The flying ship, a masterpiece made of black jade wood with silver dragon carvings that seemed to breathe, landed silently in the center of the altar's energy vortex. The presence of the descendants of the Ancient Clans—Hua Tianming, Hua Lian Xi, and Zhu Yanghai—made the atmosphere, which had been full of jests, instantly freeze. Their auras were tangible proof of the peak of cultivation reachable by blessed bloodlines: heavy, pure, and without flaw.

  Zhu Yanghai only nodded his head slightly, unusual for his playful demeanor when meeting the youth he considered his brother-in-law. Meanwhile, Hua Tianming swept his gaze over the emissaries with a searching look and nodded faintly as the emissaries' cultivation was perfect for the foundation of Five Element perfection.