Zhu Qinglan was stunned for a moment, her gaze shifting from Zhi Xuan’s shoulder to the two small figures that had just materialized before her. Her clear pupils quivered; she remembered the rainbow-glowing moth that used to perch on Zhi Xuan’s shoulder, and the golden dragon figure—a descendant of the Royal Dragons—who had caused a stir throughout the entire Empire long ago.

  "You two..." Qinglan murmured. An extremely rare, faint smile graced her lips, causing the winter air in the pavilion to suddenly turn as warm as spring. "That little moth now possesses a human form, and the little dragon... your aura is now far more powerful. Zhi Xuan has truly taken good care of you."

  "Oho, so you two have become stronger as well," Zhu Yanghai’s voice suddenly rang out. He flicked his robes and stepped toward Ao Sheng and Xiao Die. "The two of you must come with me. Especially this little moth; I have some ancient peaches belonging to the Ancient Hua Clan. Care to enjoy some?"

  Xiao Die’s eyes widened, her rainbow wings vibrating violently with excitement. "Ancient peaches from the Hua Clan? Senior Yanghai, you are the most generous practitioner Xiao Die has ever met!" Without a care for her dignity as a Heavenly Moth, she immediately flew after Zhu Yanghai.

  Ao Sheng snorted, attempting to maintain the majesty of his Dragon race, but the hungry glint in his eyes could not lie. He glanced briefly at Zhi Xuan, as if silently asking for permission. Zhi Xuan simply nodded, allowing the two entities to be led away so he could have more private time with Qinglan.

  "Greedy little thing," Ao Sheng muttered lowly, yet he still followed after Zhu Yanghai. "Wait for me! Don't eat all the peaches by yourself!"

  After the shadows of Zhu Yanghai and the two creatures vanished down the pavilion corridor, silence once again crept over the jade terrace. The mountain wind, carrying thin snowflakes, swept through the marble floors. Zhu Qinglan slowly straightened her posture, her fingers still touching the edge of the Bu Yao that had just been placed in her hair.

  "Zhi Xuan," she called. Her voice had returned to the tranquility of a Sacred Fairy, yet there was a trace of concern hidden within it. "Your presence here will soon trigger an unimaginable commotion."

  She sighed softly, looking at Zhi Xuan, whose physique was taller and harder, as if he had passed through various tempers to make his body this way. "You look like the people of the ancient era with your current body. Back when the cultivation of Dao had not yet been restored, the ancients tempered their physical forms."

  Zhi Xuan looked at his own palms, filled with the subtle lines of slaughter runes that had seeped into his flesh. "I regret nothing that I possess, as long as you still look at me as if I am the same as I was before."

  He stepped toward the edge of the terrace, staring at the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise, illuminating the golden roofs of the Imperial City. "Commotion is something that has always followed me like a shadow. I did not come here to hide behind the great name of the Ancient Zhu Clan."

  Qinglan walked beside him, her sky-blue robes rustling softly. "Zhi Xuan, you have always been fearless toward Heaven and Earth. I felt it when your Dao Heart cracked because of that flash of slaughter. I was always anxious that you would not return."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his sapphire-blue eyes staring far toward the drifting clouds. He reached for Qinglan’s hand, feeling her delicate, cold fingers that provided a warmth spreading to the darkest corners of his soul.

  "My Dao Heart did indeed crack once, Qinglan," Zhi Xuan said, his voice heavy and resonating with a deep aura. "However, I always return because of many promises, and many things that remain unresolved."

  Qinglan leaned her head against Zhi Xuan’s arm, momentarily forgetting her dignity as a Sacred Fairy worshiped by cultivation geniuses. Under the eaves of this grand pavilion, they were merely two souls reweaving the threads of a fate that had been momentarily severed.

  "I understand," Zhu Qinglan replied, her exhale peaceful and unburdened. "Two days from now is the Dao Discussion under the Sky Moon Tree. You must have heard about Wan Xing and the other geniuses from my brother. Until now, I have never seen faces so bold as to treat me like a prize to be fought over."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, a sliver of cold light radiating from his sapphire pupils as if intended to freeze the bright horizon. "Treating you as a trophy? They have mistaken the silence of the Zhu clan for a sign of weakness, and my disappearance for the end of an era."

  He released her hand briefly, only to tidy a strand of Qinglan’s hair that had been blown by the wind. "Wan Xing of the Western Continent... I wish to see how high the sky he boasts of is, such that he feels worthy enough to look upon your shadow."

  He slowly took Zhu Qinglan’s hand again, leading them to glide gracefully toward the horizon, toward the mortal city. "I do not know if there is a celebration in the city today, but long ago you were the one who brought me, so now I shall be the one to bring you."

  They glided down from the peak of the Zhu clan residence, slicing through the sea of clouds that separated the realm of immortals from the hustle and bustle of mortal life below. Zhi Xuan’s black-and-white robes billowed fiercely, like the wings of a raven protecting the sky-blue light of Qinglan’s robes. This time, there was no sadness overshadowing the departure, but rather a promise brought home across the boundaries of death.

  As their feet touched the ground of Emperor Dragon City, echoes of the past seemed to rise from the crevices of the street stones. The city was still the same—warm, bustling, and filled with the scent of sesame oil and burning agarwood. The thousands of red lanterns had now been replaced with silver-white ones symbolizing the winter season, but the pulse of life remained the same as it was three hundred years ago.

  "Three hundred years," Zhu Qinglan whispered, her voice faint as she looked at Zhi Xuan’s left arm. "Yet, the feeling of when I wrapped this arm of yours from the world with that blue silk... it still feels like yesterday."

  Zhi Xuan looked at his arm, now covered by the fabric of his new robe, but the memory of that blue silk wrap remained eternally etched in his mind as a seal of promise. He did not respond with words, but simply tightened his grip on Qinglan’s delicate fingers.

  They walked among the crowds of people who were unaware that beside them, two entities capable of shaking the foundations of the plains were walking with humility. Zhi Xuan intentionally cast a subtle mental seal, a veil of illusion that made their faces appear ordinary to mortal eyes, so that no disturbance would ruin these precious moments.

  Zhi Xuan stopped in front of a small stall selling sugar-coated fruit skewers, exactly like the one they had visited before. He reached into his storage bag and took out a few gold coins engraved with ancient designs, appearing as if they were from hundreds of years ago, which startled the stall owner.

  The vendor, an old man with a back bent like a bow, received the gold coins with trembling hands. His cloudy eyes stared at the metal pieces, then shifted to the tall man before him who radiated an authority as deep as the ocean, despite his face being obscured by the mist of illusion.

  "Young Master, this... this is a coin from the previous Imperial era," the vendor murmured, his voice hoarse with wonder. "I have almost never seen one again. This is far too valuable for mere candied fruit."

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  Zhi Xuan offered a faint smile invisible to mortal eyes. "Consider it a payment for lost time. Give me two of the reddest skewers."

  After receiving the treats, Zhi Xuan handed one skewer to Qinglan. She took it with a graceful motion, staring for a moment at the sugar coating glistening under the sun.

  "Let go of your burdens for a moment," Zhi Xuan said softly as they walked along the riverbank that divided the city. "Today, let me fulfill every wish you have in this place."

  Qinglan took a small bite of the candy, the sweetness seeping into her soul which had long been filled only with the coldness of cultivation essence. "Zhi Xuan, you do not need to do all this. Your presence by my side is more than enough to quench the thirst of three centuries."

  Zhi Xuan did not answer; he only led Qinglan toward an old stone bridge that arched beautifully over the clear river stream. There, they stood leaning against the railing, watching the reflection of clouds and lanterns swaying on the water's surface.

  "This world feels so peaceful," Qinglan whispered, her eyes following the ripples of the water. "Sometimes I wonder, is the path of Dao we tread worth what we gamble? Losing friends, losing time, and almost losing ourselves."

  Zhi Xuan placed his hand over the back of Qinglan’s hand. "For many, the Dao is the peak of power. But for me, the Dao is merely a long road that never ends. Yet behind it all, the karmic bonds I carry are the only reminders that one day I will not be alone up there."

  Suddenly, from a distance in the city center, the sound of a conch trumpet blared, breaking the tranquility of the afternoon. The sound was heavy, full of an arrogance that vibrated through the air. From the direction of the northern gate, a group of practitioners mounted on giant snow wolves crossed the main street. They wore pure white robes with star embroidery on their backs—the emblem of the strongest faction in the Western Continent.

  Zhi Xuan felt Qinglan’s grip on his hand tighten for a moment. Without needing to ask, he knew who was at the center of that procession. Amidst the guards sat a young man on a floating open palanquin. He wore robes with silver embroidery, and his aura—though suppressed—still radiated strongly, creating a pressure that made the mortals around him feel breathless for no reason.

  "Wan Xing," Qinglan hissed, her eyes turning cold again.

  Zhi Xuan watched the group from behind the veil of illusion on the bridge. His sapphire eyes narrowed, observing the flow of essence surrounding the youth named Wan Xing. It was true; the young man was a solid early-stage Weaver Transformation practitioner who could already sense the ripples of a True Domain.

  "So that's how it is," Zhi Xuan murmured lowly. "A spoiled child who feels he has grasped the horizon simply because he can touch the clouds."

  Wan Xing’s procession continued toward the upper district, unaware that the figure they considered a ghost of the past was standing just a few hundred feet from them, observing their every move with the gaze of a predator assessing its prey.

  "Zhi Xuan, do not act here," Qinglan whispered, her voice carrying a note of warning. "This city is full of mortals. If you release even a fraction of your killing intent, half of this district will be destroyed."

  "I won't," Zhi Xuan replied calmly, a faint smile on his lips. "Besides, there are still many things to do. Want to go eat some soup and meat?"

  "Take me there," Qinglan answered softly, her arm looping through Zhi Xuan’s with full trust.

  They walked side by side toward a stall crowded with mortals enjoying delicious livestock and seafood. Zhu Qinglan suddenly realized she was very close, practically clinging to Zhi Xuan; she quickly released his arm and gave a small cough.

  Zhi Xuan only smiled faintly at the very subtle blush adorning Qinglan’s porcelain cheeks—a sight capable of crumbling the mental defenses of any practitioner. "Go on inside, Sacred Fairy."

  Inside the warm stall, filled with steam from bubbling broth, the savory aroma of beef fat mingled with the scent of ancient ginger spices. Zhi Xuan chose a table in the quietest corner, where lantern light from outside peeked shyly through the wooden window.

  Even though the veil of illusion still enveloped them, the elegance radiating from their movements still made several mortal customers look over for a moment, as if they had just seen a heavenly swan and an endless abyss lost in a muddy pond.

  The waiter arrived carrying two large bowls of meat soup with mountain mushroom chunks and fresh green onion slices. Zhi Xuan handed a pair of bamboo chopsticks to Qinglan, his movements natural, as if the three-hundred-year gap in time was but a blink of an eye.

  Zhu Qinglan received the chopsticks, her slender fingers touching Zhi Xuan’s rough hand for a moment. She looked at the bowl before her with an expression that was hard to decipher.

  "Zhi Xuan," she said softly after sipping the warm broth. "I... have never eaten food like this, not in a long time."

  Zhi Xuan sipped his own broth, his eyes remains alert yet calm. "Sacred Fairy, that is understandable. However, isn't mortal taste the beginning of everything?"

  "I am not a mortal," Zhu Qinglan huffed playfully, yet indicating her true background. "The descendants of the Great Emperor are not mortal from birth, just like me."

  Zhi Xuan chuckled lowly, a sound like the melodious friction of precious metal. He set down his chopsticks and looked straight into Qinglan’s eyes, which sparkled under the dim light of the stall.

  "True, you were born with golden blood flowing in your veins," Zhi Xuan replied, his voice holding a deep philosophical tone. "But aren't hunger, longing, and the warmth of this bowl of soup proof that behind the cultivation that freezes the world, you still have the same heartbeat as those on these streets? A god who forgets the mortal taste is a god who has lost their roots."

  Qinglan fell silent, reflecting on those words while eating the tender meat. The simple yet honest savory flavor seemed to provide a new color to her perception, which had previously been filled only with tasteless spiritual pills and pure natural energy.

  After finishing the simple feast, they stepped back outside. The sky had now turned a blackish-purple, adorned with thousands of stars that seemed to compete in showing off their light alongside the glow of the Imperial Palace’s protective formations.

  "Zhi Xuan," Qinglan called out suddenly as they passed a quiet park on the outskirts of the mortal district. "Wan Xing and those geniuses are not the only problem. There is something else causing them to dare to act like this."

  Zhi Xuan stopped walking. The cold night wind blew his robes, but his aura suddenly became as sharp as a razor. "Sacred Fairy, you may tell me."

  "My father... he has gone to the Upper Realm, along with the Sacred Passage experts from other Plains," Zhu Qinglan began, her face showing seriousness. "It was a pure summons from the Ancient Zhu Clan in the upper realm; my father could not refuse it at the time. The Ancient Hua Clan was the same; Patriarch Hua Ling Tian went to that realm alongside my father."

  Zhu Qinglan sighed, her shoulders trembling slightly. "Therefore, only the Divine Transformation experts of the two Ancient Clans remain here. If we wished to leave, we could use the Emperor Monument to take us to the Upper Realm. However, my father forbade it because the path to the upper realm is extremely dangerous."

  "After my father’s departure, the rats from various factions like Wan Xing began to grow bold," Zhu Qinglan continued. "Emperor Hongmeng also cannot do anything, which is why I am determined to reach Sacred Passage as quickly as possible."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his sapphire-blue eyes now appearing darker, reflecting the shadows of the tall pavilions standing under the starlight. The news of the Patriarchs' departure to the Upper Realm explained why the power structure in the Central Continent felt shifted. Without the presence of Sacred Passage realm practitioners whose majesty suppressed the world, the balance between major factions had begun to wobble.

  "So, the eagles have flown to a higher sky, and the crows have begun to feel they are the new masters of the forest," Zhi Xuan murmured lowly. He reached out his hand, touching Qinglan’s shoulder to channel his inner warmth. "Do not force yourself to step into Sacred Passage merely out of fear of this instability, Qinglan."

  "That path may be easy for you to reach," Zhi Xuan whispered. "But do not let this anxiety bring danger into your own life. I, too, shall protect your Dao."

  Qinglan looked at Zhi Xuan, a sense of gratitude visible in her eyes. "I know. However, the pressure from hidden factions is becoming more real. They want to bind the Ancient Clans through political marriages, and Wan Xing is merely the noisiest pawn."

  Zhi Xuan released his hand, then turned to look toward the north, where Wan Xing’s group had previously disappeared toward the upper district. "The noisiest pawn is usually the first pawn that must be removed from the board."

  He looked back at Qinglan, the illusion masking his face slowly fading, revealing a cold and authoritative handsomeness. "Two days from now, under the Sky Moon Tree... I will accompany you. I want to see the reaction of those geniuses when they realize that even though the eagles have left, there is still a dweller of the abyss who has returned to the surface."

  Qinglan nodded slowly, a sense of security that had been missing for three hundred years now refilled her chest. "Zhu Yanghai will be very happy to hear this. He is already bored of pretending to be friendly to Wan Xing just to get those tributes."

  "Let your brother continue to amass his wealth," Zhi Xuan said as he walked slowly, leading Qinglan back toward the upper district. "Those tributes will serve as a fitting funeral cost for their arrogance."

  The night grew deeper as they re-entered the sacred territory of the Imperial Palace. Guards who had previously prostrated now only bowed in silence, sensing the presence of two figures who seemed to bring winter and eternal night with them. Upon reaching the gate of Qinglan’s private pavilion, Zhi Xuan stopped.

  "Go on in," Zhi Xuan whispered soothingly. "Two days from now, I will be with you."