Above the chaotic winds, a figure as cold and distant as the moon hovered in the air. The forehead ribbon fluttered in the wind as he slightly lowered his gaze, his expression indifferent. The unhealed wound on his chest continued to bleed.
"Heavens! Earth!" True Lord Pangyue wailed beside him, his voice strained. "This is bad, this is bad! If something happens to the Divine Palace’s Holy Maiden here, we’ll be in deep trouble!"
Yue Wugou flicked his wrist, and the silver glow of the moonwheel artifact behind him flashed. With a metallic clang, it embedded itself into the entrance formation of the forbidden domain.
Having completed his task unhurriedly, he turned his calm gaze toward True Lord Pangyue.
"Father," Yue Wugou said flatly, "you’ve been robbing Peter to pay Paul—using this forbidden domain to patch the gaps in the Sealed God Hall. Sooner or later, disaster will strike, and you know it."
"What choice did I have?!" True Lord Pangyue’s face flushed red with anger as he flicked his sleeve. "It was all because of that useless brother of yours! And now you’re blaming me? What, are you planning to turn against your own father?"
Yue Wugou sighed faintly.
Behind him, the radiant moonwheel artifact had already begun rotating at the formation’s core, casting beams of silvery moonlight.
"I’m cleaning up your mess, Father," he said.
True Lord Pangyue paused, then let out a long breath, patting his chest with a relieved laugh. "Hah! I knew I could always count on you! So, you have a way to save the Holy Maiden, right? Need your old man’s help?"
Before he could finish speaking, the formation suddenly expanded with a resonant hum, its silver-white light flooding the entire forbidden domain.
"It’s time to go, Father."
"Huh?" True Lord Pangyue blinked in confusion. "What about the Holy Maiden? What’ll happen to her?"
Yue Wugou didn’t answer. Instead, he took his father’s arm and pulled him back. In a flash, the two figures vanished beyond the formation’s glow.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shook the entire sacred tree, as if a colossal lock had slammed shut, sealing all movement within the "gate." The formation’s light rippled before the moonwheel artifact shot out like a streak of silver, and the entrance was completely sealed.
True Lord Pangyue’s pupils trembled. "What?!"
Weren’t they supposed to save the Holy Maiden? Why trap her instead?
Yue Wugou lowered his eyes slightly, his voice serene. "No need to worry, Father. The Divine Palace’s Holy Maiden bears a great responsibility. For the sake of the world, she will surely find a way out."
True Lord Pangyue frowned. "What…?"
After a moment of thought, realization dawned on him. "Ah—if they want to escape, they’ll have to break the Sealed God Hall! And if the Sealed God Hall is destroyed by them, then no matter what happens afterward, they can’t pin the blame on me! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
Once he grasped the plan, he immediately jabbed a plump finger toward Yue Wugou.
"Hurry, hurry! Seal this place tight! Let them cause trouble somewhere else!"
"Rest assured, Father."
Yue Wugou gave a slight nod.
This Heart-Trial Illusion Formation was originally meant to determine the top fifty in Qingyun.
His father had employed some underhanded tricks to favor their own sect.
Disciples of the Heavenly Dao Sect faced trials filled with gold, jewels, luxury carriages, beautiful men and women, and worldly power—temptations that, to ordinary mortals, represented the pinnacle of desire.
But to cultivators, these things held little meaning. The Heavenly Dao disciples would naturally remain composed, completing their trials with grace and earning the admiration and awe of the masses.
Other sects’ disciples, however, were not so fortunate. Their trials dredged up personal regrets or deep-seated fears—things that might seem trivial to outsiders but could easily break them.
One side remained unshaken; the other, humiliated.
The contrast was stark, and the Heavenly Dao Sect’s disciples effortlessly outshone the rest. As the sect leader, True Lord Pangyue naturally reveled in the prestige.
Pathetic tactics, Yue Wugou mused.
But today, they might just make things inside the Sealed God Hall a little more interesting.
---
Inside the Sealed God Hall
Li Zhaoye and Feng Guanhai worked in perfect sync—one silencing, the other restraining—quickly taking control of the situation.
Not a single one of the countless motionless demonic statues surrounding them stirred.
After a sweep with divine sense, Feng Guanhai tilted his head slightly and led the way toward the corridor leading out of the hall.
Luo Luo glanced around in amazement.
The vast hall was pitch-black, its materials unidentifiable, but its walls and floors were carved with intricate, delicate patterns.
Eternal lamps embedded in the walls cast a dim, yellowish glow, illuminating only small patches of the space.
The interplay of light and shadow made the statue-like demons appear even more eerie and sinister.
The two Holy Maidens from the Divine Palace kept a cautious distance from the group.
Wu Xie shot them a warning glare: With so many deadweights in tow, don’t you dare make a sound and ruin this!
No one paid her any attention. Li Zhaoye was already using sealing threads to guide the group as they slipped beneath the towering forms of two massive demons, heading for the corridor.
The demons stood like sentinels, their gray-black scaled claws occasionally glinting in the dim light.
The thunderous pounding of their own hearts filled everyone’s ears. One by one, they squeezed through sideways, holding their breath, moving with painstaking care.
Even after making it past, no one dared exhale fully, their faces reddening from the strain, old injuries aching.
Not a single sound escaped them.
Huff… Huff… Huff!
Then came Zhao Yu—and disaster struck.
His round belly proved too much of an obstacle. No matter how hard he sucked in, he still got stuck in the narrowest gap between the two demons.
This is what you get for being such a glutton!
His senior brothers and sisters from the Old Peak Sect glared at him in silent fury.
Zhao Yu had always been the first to snatch up any delicacies, stuffing himself without restraint.
Now, his greed had come back to bite him.
Fuming, they crept forward to help, pushing his waist and pressing his belly, trying to squeeze him through.
Zhao Yu was sweating bullets, tears streaming down his face.
Then—
A silvery sliver of moonlight flickered through the hall, casting an eerie glow.
Heart-Trial Illusion Formation.
Zhao Yu froze, his eyes glazing over.
In an instant, he found himself sitting on a familiar bed, a bundle of sticky-sweet date cakes laid out before him.
"Eh…?"
He blinked.
Suddenly, he couldn’t remember where he was or what he’d been doing.
A vague sense of urgency lingered in his chest, but he couldn’t recall why.
His gaze fell on the date cakes.
Dimly, he remembered—these must have been made by Gu Meng. She’d once said that if she could find crisp, sweet green dates, she could make the most delicious cakes.
Zhao Yu’s eyebrows shot up in delight.
So many date cakes! All for me!
He eagerly reached for one, about to take a bite, when he paused, frowning.
Something felt… off. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Ah, forget it. If I can’t remember, it can’t be important.
He took a big bite.
Sweetness flooded his senses.
Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed a handful of jujube cakes, devouring them ravenously.
"Burp~"
After who knows how long, Zhao Yu suddenly raised his hand and touched his cheek.
One of his upper molars had begun to tingle faintly, an itch mixed with a dull ache.
When he ran his tongue over it, he realized the gum had swollen alarmingly.
The slightest pressure between his teeth made the tooth throb with pain and itchiness.
"Ah—hiss!"
He prodded it with his tongue and found it had already loosened, wobbling slightly in the swollen gum at the slightest nudge.
A sense of foreboding crept up Zhao Yu’s spine.
As a child, whenever he ate sweets, the old neighbor would scare him, saying too many sweets would make his teeth fall out—all of them—and he’d choke to death in his sleep after swallowing them.
…Well, now it’s actually happening. His tooth is falling out.
Zhao Yu sat frozen on the bed, carefully nudging the molar back into place with his tongue, trying not to think about it.
But the itch quickly spread elsewhere.
With growing alarm, he touched the smaller tooth next to his left front incisor with his tongue.
Loose—it was loose!
Wobbling dangerously!
A gentle push from his tongue lifted it entirely, tilting it sideways into his upper lip, leaving behind a gap that sent shivers down his spine.
Zhao Yu sat dumbstruck.
When he lowered his tongue, the tooth swayed and settled back crookedly. The slightest contact made it tilt outward.
This tooth was beyond saving—might as well pull it out!
Zhao Yu took a deep breath, pinched the tooth between two fingers, and dug his nails into the crevice between gum and root.
With a decisive yank—
The sensation of the root tearing free was indescribable.
Before he could even sigh in relief, horror struck him—what he’d pulled out wasn’t just the long, narrow root.
Blood and flesh came with it.
A fountain of blood gushed out, the flesh clinging to the root seemingly connected to some unseen depth inside him, endlessly unraveling.
Zhao Yu was too terrified to make a sound.
Hands trembling, he didn’t know whether to snap the flesh off the root or shove it back into his gum.
Aaaaaaaah—
Then, something even worse happened.
Every molar in his mouth began loosening. The slightest pressure made them tumble out like corn kernels stripped from a cob, clattering down in a cascade.
Zhao Yu’s vision swam.
The childhood nightmare had become reality.
Panic and confusion overwhelmed him.
His mouth filled with fallen teeth, mixed with bloody foam.
He opened wide, desperate to spit them out.
Spit! Spit them all out!
No… he couldn’t.
Why not? Why couldn’t he? If he didn’t spit them out, wouldn’t he choke to death?
But… he just couldn’t.
It felt like someone was gripping him, stopping him.
Somewhere in his haze, he knew—he must not spit. But why?
His wavering gaze landed on the jujube cakes before him.
…No.
Those were Gu Meng’s.
And he would never eat anything from Gu Meng again.
Why? Because… because… right! Because Gu Meng was a snake—humble in defeat but arrogant in victory, discarding old ties the moment he rose to power.
When had that happened?
The Qingyun Assembly.
And then? Before they even left Jianmu, he’d fallen from the underworld into… into…
A bolt of realization struck Zhao Yu.
The Divine Seal Hall!
He was in the Divine Seal Hall, not his own bed!
The moment he understood, the light around him dimmed abruptly.
To his horror, Zhao Yu realized he was currently sucking in his stomach, squeezed between two towering demonic statues.
If he’d spat just now—the consequences would have been unthinkable!
Terror seized him. His organs clenched, his stomach tightened—
"Whoosh!"
He slipped through the narrow gap between the two demons.
The moment Zhao Yu froze, Luo Luo also felt a wave of dizziness.
Like a stone dropped into still water, the grand hall and the demonic statues rippled and wavered before her eyes.
Huh?
She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head.
But her mind only grew foggier.
Her hands found the armrests of a wheelchair.
A wheelchair?
Sunlight warmed her eyelids, a comforting orange glow.
Luo Luo opened her eyes and looked down—she was sitting in a wheelchair.
Something felt off, though she couldn’t place it.
She had a vague sense that the wheelchair should’ve been lost, that Li Zhaoye had been carrying her… Wait, why would he be carrying her?
The thought made her cheeks flush.
As she floundered, a hand reached over and plucked a chicken feather from her hair.
Her eyes followed the feather to a slender, elegant hand—well-maintained, pale and delicate. The sleeve of a sky-blue robe revealed a fine-boned wrist.
"Tch!" The owner of the hand launched into a grumble. "What, are there no horses, donkeys, or mules left in this world? Hah? Riding back in a chicken coop, crowned with a feather—you two are truly something!"
Luo Luo blinked up at a youthful, handsome face.
A strange thought flickered through her mind—back then, her master and the sect leader hadn’t started their feud yet. His bone age hadn’t been set to his thirties.
He still looked like an older brother.
But the moment he opened his mouth, his fussy paternal instincts shone through: "Tell me, just tell me—what were you doing in that godforsaken Eastern Fish Prefecture? What did you gain? Oh, right! A broken leg and a chicken feather! Ha! A chicken feather!"
He pinched the speckled feather between two fingers and waved it in front of her nose, tickling her with the tip.
Luo Luo wrinkled her nose in protest. "Li Zhaoye and I saved a lot of people. We didn’t just get a chicken."
Her mind wavered again.
She knew exactly when and where this was—after her leg was broken, Li Zhaoye had hauled her back in a chicken coop for the Qingyun Assembly hosted by the Tai Xuan Sect.
But something felt strange, as if time itself had blurred.
Looking down: broken leg, wheelchair—correct.
Looking up: her master, arms crossed, tapping his foot as he cheered for Li Zhaoye on the stage—also correct.
So why did her heart ache like needles were pricking it when she saw his familiar face?
Unconsciously, sorrow crept into her expression.
"Why are you staring at me?" Her master suddenly glared down. "Watch the stage—you think the word ‘champion’ is written on my face?"
Luo Luo: "...Oh."
On the Qingyun Platform, Li Zhaoye’s sword strike secured his victory, met with thunderous applause.
The guy loved playing the aloof swordsman in public—eyebrows slightly raised, expression indifferent, as if he couldn’t care less.
A true transcendent master.
Luo Luo: "..."
Did he forget everyone saw him arrive with a giant chicken coop? And now he’s putting on airs.
"Let's go." Qing Xu waved at him. "First, we'll take Luo Luo back, then I'll head to your Zhaoye Pavilion. There's something I need to discuss with you."
Li Zhaoye responded indifferently with a hum.
He tossed the prize Qiankun pouch to Luo Luo and said generously, "Find something to treat your injuries. Help yourself."
Without glancing at her, he casually carried his long sword and led the way under the setting sun.
The youthful arrogance of a young man, unrestrained and free.
Luo Luo stared at his back for a moment before murmuring a belated, "Oh."
Creak, creak…
The wheelchair rolled along the mountain path. Without flying on swords or teleporting, the three of them leisurely made their way back to Mirror Twin Peak, drawing countless admiring gazes along the way.
Qing Xu spent the journey clasping his hands in modest acknowledgment. "Ah, no, no, not at all! I just teach casually, very casually! My disciple is alright, just alright! Compared to Lingxue? Pah, why even compare? She’s too busy with power struggles and endless duties—who has time to mentor disciples properly?"
Luo Luo: "…"
Li Zhaoye: "…"
By the time Luo Luo was returned to Radiant Pavilion, the sky had darkened.
She didn’t look much at Li Zhaoye, and he didn’t look much at her either. When their gazes occasionally met, it seemed accidental—one raising a brow, the other blinking nonchalantly.
Qing Xu waved dismissively. "Alright, with your leg broken, you can’t cause trouble anyway. Rest early—we’re leaving!"
The stubborn sunset cast its final ray of light from the distant mountains.
The azure sky tinged faintly with red.
Back in his own territory, Li Zhaoye no longer carried his sword with solemnity. Instead, he slung Changtian over his shoulder, hands resting lazily on the scabbard, swaying left and right with an utterly carefree demeanor.
As Qing Xu announced their departure, Li Zhaoye raised a hand and waved behind his back without turning to Luo Luo.
Watching their retreating figures, Luo Luo’s heart suddenly twisted, a dense, prickling pain spreading through her chest.
"Wait—don’t go!"
The words escaped her lips before the thought fully formed in her mind.
The two turned back. "What’s wrong?"
Luo Luo didn’t know why either. She just felt an inexplicable sorrow, an unwillingness to see them disappear into the sunset.
As if it would haunt her for life.
She pressed her lips together.
Her master and Li Zhaoye had matters to discuss—she had no reason to keep them. Yet she couldn’t bear to let them leave.
After a long silence, she forced out a strained sentence: "…I don’t make noise when I sleep. You can stay here."
Qing Xu was speechless. "How old are you, needing company to sleep? What kind of habit is that?!"
Grumbling aside, he still turned back, lifting the wheelchair with one hand and carrying Luo Luo into the bedroom.
Li Zhaoye nimbly climbed onto the windowsill.
After tucking Luo Luo in, Qing Xu glanced back and saw his lazy posture, his eyelid twitching in exasperation.
A closer look made him click his tongue. "You brat! You’ve polished your shixiong’s windowsill to a shine!"
His gaze swept further, realizing it wasn’t just the windowsill.
The grooves near her low couch bore marks of his restless fidgeting. The edges of her teacups were worn smooth from his fiddling. Even the wooden window frame had been sanded free of splinters, ensuring it wouldn’t prick fingers no matter how it was opened or closed.
Qing Xu: "Tsk."
His eyes widened. "You—you two! Can’t stand to be apart for even a moment, huh?!"
Luo Luo’s mind buzzed.
‘Don’t blush, don’t blush! Stupid face, stay pale!’
But the heat betrayed her, flooding her cheeks and ears.
Qing Xu leaned in with a teasing grin. "Oho—blushing! Li Zhaoye, come quick! Your shimei’s face is red!"
Luo Luo wished she could vanish into the ground like an ostrich.
Qing Xu: "Tsk tsk, no wonder you wouldn’t let us leave. Couldn’t bear to part with Li Zhaoye, could you? Unless you actually wanted to keep this old man around?"
There was no way Luo Luo would admit she didn’t want Li Zhaoye to leave.
Besides, that wasn’t it.
She just… felt an inexplicable sadness.
Pursing her lips, she huffed, "I meant you, Master."
Corridor of the Sealed Divine Hall.
The group had fallen into the Trial of the Heart array, their faces contorted in agony.
At least there were no demons in the corridor.
Li Zhaoye remained unaffected.
Glancing down, he saw Luo Luo’s expression caught between sorrow and joy.
Feng Guanhai nudged him and whispered, "That doesn’t look like fear—more like regret. Do you know what she regrets?"
Li Zhaoye smirked. "Obviously, it’s me."
Feng Guanhai scoffed.
With a soft click of his tongue, Li Zhaoye reached out and gently brushed her forehead. "I’m right here. No regrets now—wake up."
As her lips moved slightly, he tilted his head, arching a brow as he leaned closer to listen.
Her faint whisper escaped: "…Master."
Li Zhaoye: "…??!!"
He straightened with forced composure, about to casually say, "That’s me," when he caught Feng Guanhai stifling laughter behind his hand.
The old man had heard.
Not only heard, but Feng Guanhai now grinned and teased, "Hey, feeling jealous, kid?"
Li Zhaoye slowly stretched his lips into a smile. "Me? Jealous? Ridiculous!"
The corridor fell dead silent.
A beat later, Li Zhaoye chuckled coldly. "That old man is uglier than you."
Feng Guanhai: "…"
