"I already have," Zhi Xuan replied within his mind. He walked alongside Zhu Qinglan toward the Ancient Zhu Clan Pavilion. "Great Saint, sometimes pawns are necessary once the eagles have taken to the high heavens. By defeating Wan Xing today, I have indirectly resolved the matter without a single drop of blood spilled. Furthermore, I still have a goal—to keep a promise."

  "Oh?" Ruo Xianxue responded. "The promise you mean is to find that crane Daoist? Are you truly going to the Ruined Wilderness?"

  "Why not?" Zhi Xuan retorted internally. "I accepted Xu Han's invitation back then. Of course, it is not my style to linger on problems that can be solved as easily as Wan Xing. Rather, I am preparing myself to wander once more."

  They arrived back at the Ancient Zhu Clan Pavilion after crossing the magnificent Imperial grounds. Zhu Qinglan stopped, turned, and looked up to meet Zhi Xuan's gaze. Her eyes, as deep as an autumn lake, were now fixed entirely on his face. Under the rising moonlight that replaced the brilliance of the afternoon sun, the man’s face looked like a cold carving, yet it carried a warmth reserved only for her.

  "This technique disk belongs to you," Zhu Qinglan began, levitating the disk toward Zhi Xuan’s hand. "I do not need this. As long as you are my Dao Protector, you will surely protect every step of my cultivation path."

  Zhi Xuan caught the technique disk, feeling the weight of one of the Ten Great Secrets in his hand. He did not refuse, but his fingers gripped the disk as he stared deep into Qinglan’s eyes. Amidst the silence of the pavilion, adorned only by the trickling of the jade pool, Zhi Xuan felt the burden of destiny heavy on his shoulders once more.

  "Sacred Fa—"

  "Do not call me Sacred Fairy," Zhu Qinglan interrupted. She stepped closer until her hand reached out to grasp Zhi Xuan’s robe. "Do not use that title when we are alone. Call me... as you used to call me."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his throat tightening at that simple request. He looked at Qinglan’s delicate fingers clutching his robe, seeing how hard this frost goddess was trying to suppress the tremors in her soul. Before thousands of practitioners earlier, she had been an unshakable figure, but here, under the quiet roof of the pavilion, she was merely a woman reclaiming a piece of the past.

  "Qing'er," Zhi Xuan whispered, dropping his guard and allowing her to hold his robe. "Qing'er, I will indeed protect every path of your cultivation."

  Hearing that name uttered by Zhi Xuan, Zhu Qinglan’s body trembled slightly. That name, buried for three hundred years, acted as a key that unlocked the dam she had frozen behind her cultivation. She leaned her forehead against Zhi Xuan’s chest, inhaling his scent which was now mixed with the smell of metal and a faint lingering odor of blood from the battle.

  "I knew you would..." Qinglan whispered, her voice muffled by his robe. She lifted her head and pulled back. "I will not hold you back from wandering again. I know there is something you must do after today."

  She held his robe for a moment longer before letting go. Zhu Qinglan walked toward the pavilion terrace and sat gracefully upon a silk cushion. "Sit. Tell me where you are going."

  Zhi Xuan sent the Mountain and River disk into his storage bag and stepped forward calmly. Each footfall on the jade floor seemed to pulse in rhythm with the silent heartbeat of the pavilion. He took a seat before Qinglan, though he did not choose a silk cushion; instead, he sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor.

  "The Huang Tu Plains, the Ruined Wilderness," Zhi Xuan whispered, gazing deeply at her. "Hundreds of years ago, I once disguised myself as a mortal to weave a True Domain in the Yao Gu territory. Back then, a Daoist named Xu Han invited me, promising to wait hundreds of years for me to reach the Weaver Transformation realm."

  Zhi Xuan exhaled slowly. "He said there was an opportunity there—an understanding of the realm above these Nine Plains. After hearing that Patriarch Zhu and Patriarch Hua left for the Upper Realm, I have become increasingly curious about the Ruined Wilderness, which is said to hold remnants of understanding regarding the False Heaven above us."

  Zhu Qinglan fell silent, her slender fingers dancing over the agarwood table, creating small ripples in a jade teacup that had not yet been filled. Her gaze dimmed as she processed Zhi Xuan’s words about the Ruined Wilderness and the figure of Xu Han. As a direct descendant of an Ancient Clan, she knew that the name Ruined Wilderness was not just a place; it was a forbidden and barren land.

  "False Heaven..." Qinglan murmured, her voice carrying a faint tremor of concern. "Father mentioned that once before his departure. He said these Nine Plains are merely a golden cage enclosed by an invisible veil."

  She sighed, looking at Zhi Xuan with a gaze that seemed to want to lock him within her pavilion forever. "However, Zhi Xuan, if Father and the other Patriarchs went through the official Ancient Clan path to the Upper Realm, why must you take such an uncertain road? We could go together through the Emperor’s Monument."

  Zhi Xuan flashed a thin smile, one that contained the bitterness of experience and the hardness of resolve. "Because I do not hail from an Ancient Clan like you, Qing'er. My path is one I carved myself with blood and bone. Entering the Upper Realm with you is not my way as your Dao Protector."

  "I do not wish to be a shadow sheltered under the canopy of past emperors," Zhi Xuan continued, his voice lowering with a deep inner resonance. "If I go with you through the Emperor’s Monument, I betray my own path. One day, I will reach the Upper Realm through my own opportunity."

  Zhu Qinglan looked down. A cold mist began to creep from her fingertips, freezing the surface of the agarwood table into a thin, clear layer of ice. She understood the nature of the man before her. Zhi Xuan was an eagle born of the storm; he would never deign to fly inside a cage, even if that cage were made of the Empire’s pure gold.

  "Xu Han..." Qinglan spoke the name with a searching tone. "I have never heard that name. But if he invited you back then, he is no ordinary person who would invite just any practitioner. You must be careful, Zhi Xuan."

  "You are right, Qing'er. Someone capable of divining my achievements hundreds of years into the future is certainly no ordinary practitioner," Zhi Xuan said calmly, pausing to reflect. "I need a place to cultivate to understand this Mountain and River Style Secret."

  Zhu Qinglan nodded slowly. She swept her wide sleeve, and instantly the pavilion’s protective formation glowed, isolating them completely from outside interference. "This pavilion is the quietest place in the entire Imperial City. The pure energy here can suppress inner turmoil while you study the technique. Use your time, Zhi Xuan."

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes for a moment, focusing inward to retrieve the Mountain and River Style Secret technique disk. The object now hovered between them, emitting an ancient brownish-yellow glow and carrying the scent of damp earth and the breeze of primordial mountains.

  As Zhi Xuan’s divine sense touched the surface of the disk, a powerful jolt struck his consciousness. There, he saw the image of a giant figure swinging a massive brush across the expanse of the sky, painting mountains that erupted from nothingness and rivers that flowed to cleave the horizon.

  "I am Shen Zhaotian, an Ancient God of the Nine Heavens." The voice thundered like an ancient bell from a collapsed era. "Long ago, I saw Heaven and Earth separated and attained the Great Enlightenment of Mountain and River. The Mountain is constancy; the River is change. Whoever grasps both shall be unrivaled in all the world."

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Zhi Xuan gasped, his soul seemingly pulled into a vast, boundless void. Before him, the giant known as Shen Zhaotian was not attacking; he was dancing among the stars. Every stroke of his brush was not merely ink, but a pull of natural laws that condensed earthly energy into mountain peaks that pierced the clouds.

  "Mountain is constancy, River is change..." Zhi Xuan repeated internally, trying to digest the essence of the combat style.

  Zhi Xuan moved his hands, mimicking Shen Zhaotian’s brush strokes. He used no brush, but his hands painted the air. He summoned the Law of Earth, painting the void until three mountain spires slowly surged from below.

  The three mountain peaks manifesting from Zhi Xuan’s mind began to harden, exerting a heavy pressure capable of crushing the spatial foundation within the pavilion. However, as the mountains reached completion, they suddenly cracked and crumbled into spiritual dust.

  Zhi Xuan groaned, cold sweat beads forming on his forehead. He realized that understanding Constancy without Change resulted only in a dead form—a soulless statue that would collapse under its own weight.

  "Do not just look at the mountain, Zhi Xuan," Ruo Xianxue’s voice suddenly chimed in, this time with a tone more serious than usual. "The Ancient God did not create the mountain as a barrier, but as a stake for the river’s flow."

  Zhi Xuan took a deep breath, stabilizing his Dao Heart which had been shaken by the first failure. He closed his eyes again, letting his consciousness merge deeper with the disk’s glow. This time, he did not start with a towering peak. He imagined a single drop of water falling from the highest sky, flowing down an invisible slope, seeking gaps in the void.

  Instantly, the sound of trickling water echoed in his mental space. That drop of water turned into a small stream, then into a roaring river. The river twisted and turned with agility, carrying infinite Change. And as the river flowed, only then did Zhi Xuan summon the Law of Earth once more.

  This time, the mountains did not emerge by force. They rose majestically from the riverbed, cleaving and aligning themselves with every bend of the water passing through. Mountain and river embraced one another, creating a balance between the still and the moving.

  "The mountains remain green, the rivers never stop flowing," Zhi Xuan thought. He felt as if he were dancing in his sea of consciousness, following Shen Zhaotian’s movements. "Descent of the Ancient God's Mountain!"

  WUUUUUUNG—!

  From the orange sky and nebulae of his consciousness, a massive mountain slowly emerged and descended like the palm of heaven. Zhi Xuan moved his hands downward, and the mountain immediately collided with the sea of consciousness beneath his feet, creating a spiritual wave that swept across his mind.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes, panting and clutching his chest. Before him, Zhu Qinglan watched with a hint of surprise as he suddenly snapped back to reality. She immediately reached out, touching his shoulder to stabilize the overflowing energy surging from his body.

  "Do not force yourself," Zhu Qinglan said, helping him steady his aura. "The Mountain and River Style Secret is not something you can master in a single meditation session."

  Zhi Xuan nodded, withdrawing from his meditation for a moment. "I will try it in the wilderness later. This technique... is incredibly powerful and consumes a vast amount of energy."

  Zhi Xuan leaned his back against a cold pavilion pillar, letting the lingering vibrations of the Earth and Water Laws in his mind subside. The sight of the mountain's collapse in his consciousness earlier gave him a new understanding: the power of an Ancient God lies not in the magnitude of the spiritual energy exploded, but in how the soul's will dictates the order of nature.

  Zhu Qinglan continued to watch him, her soft hand slowly sliding from his shoulder, leaving a soothing trail of cold. "You have only touched the surface, yet your aura has already changed. Zhi Xuan, if you take this technique to the Ruined Wilderness, make sure you do not let your Mountain swallow you whole."

  Zhi Xuan chuckled lowly, a sound that was more relaxed yet still sharp. "Don't worry, Qing'er. I am used to walking on the edge of the abyss. Swallowing a mountain or being swallowed by one—it’s all just part of destiny’s game."

  He retrieved the ancient disk, storing it in his spatial pouch with a firm motion. He knew this rest was but a brief pause before the true storm. His gaze then shifted north, piercing through the pavilion walls, as if he could see thousands of li away toward the barren lands he sought.

  "Qing'er," Zhi Xuan called softly, his voice serious again. "Before dawn breaks, I will leave. There is no need for a farewell ceremony from the palace, and no need for an escort from the Zhu Clan. My presence as the Fifth Envoy has caused enough commotion in this city. I wish to leave like a shadow that vanishes when the light arrives."

  Zhu Qinglan fell silent for a moment. She rose from her seat and walked to the edge of the pavilion, staring at the jade pool whose surface was beginning to freeze from the cold radiating from her body. "I suspected you would say that. An eagle does not say goodbye to the branch where it perches."

  She turned around, her white robes fluttering gently. "Go. I will remain here, guarding the Zhu Clan’s position and ensuring that when you return, the Xing Luo Plains will still have a worthy place for you to stand. However, Zhi Xuan... take this."

  She waved her hand, and a pouch radiating a heavenly aura appeared; thousands of crescent-shaped shards within were High-Grade Heavenly Jade. "Do not refuse. This is High-Grade Heavenly Jade. You won't be able to obtain this easily later. Weaver Transformation requires a much purer essence."

  He did not immediately reach for it. For a moment, his eyes only watched Qinglan’s fingers offering the pouch. "The Ancient Zhu Clan is struggling after the Patriarch's departure. You need this more to stabilize and strengthen your own cultivation, Qing'er."

  "Take it," Zhu Qinglan urged, her voice containing an undeniable firmness. "Do you think the Ancient Zhu Clan considers this much Heavenly Jade significant? We have hundreds of thousands of them, Zhi Xuan."

  "Very well, I shall not be modest anymore," Zhi Xuan said, storing the pouch into his storage belt. "This kindness will be repaid by my return in one piece."

  Zhu Qinglan did not answer; she only stared at the surface of the jade pool, which was now completely frozen. Silence crept back between them—not an awkward silence, but one full of wordless understanding.

  The night wind blowing from the mountains behind the pavilion carried the scent of cold plum blossoms. Zhi Xuan stood tall, glancing toward the eastern horizon where the darkness was fading into a grayish-purple. The time was almost here.

  "Qing'er, take good care of yourself," Zhi Xuan whispered. He did not step closer, for he knew if he did, his footsteps would feel as heavy as the mountains he had just studied. He only cupped his hands, giving a final salute as a practitioner and a Dao Protector.

  Zhu Qinglan kept her back to him, her shoulders appearing sturdy yet slightly stiff. "Go. Remember, I will drag your soul back myself if you do not return with your body."

  Zhi Xuan nodded slowly. He turned, his figure gradually fading, merging with the shadows of the pavilion lit by the fading stars. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished, leaving the pavilion without even a tremor in the surrounding air.

  Only after Zhi Xuan’s presence had completely vanished did Zhu Qinglan turn around. She stared at the spot where he had sat cross-legged. Ice crystals formed at the corners of her eyes, but they never fell as tears; instead, they evaporated into a deepening cold mist.

  "Three hundred years I waited for you to return, only to see you leave again in a single day," Qinglan murmured softly, touching the table that still held the lingering warmth of his presence. "But that is you... a Devil that can never be bound by anything."

  Zhi Xuan reappeared outside the main Imperial gate. There, Zhu Yanghai was waiting with Ao Sheng and Xiao Die. The two small children nodded silently. After Ao Sheng and Xiao Die floated back into the Divine Cauldron, Zhi Xuan sighed softly and looked at Zhu Yanghai.

  "Qinglan, she—"

  "Qinglan, she has never truly let you go, Zhi Xuan," Zhu Yanghai interrupted with a tone heavier than usual, far from the playful demeanor he had shown earlier. "This departure of yours... even I cannot guess when you will return. If hundreds of years pass, I only hope you will also head to the Upper Realm. I know you won't easily accept ascending with the help of an Ancient Clan."

  Zhu Yanghai raised his hand and patted Zhi Xuan’s shoulder. "Return when you have become a Sacred Passage expert. When that time comes, even the Nine Ancient Clans will recognize you."

  Zhi Xuan looked at Zhu Yanghai's hand on his shoulder, feeling the sincere warmth of brotherhood behind the arrogant posture typical of a great clan heir. He nodded slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the hope placed upon him.

  "Sacred Passage expert..." Zhi Xuan murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the dawn wind. "The sky above these Nine Plains is too low to stop my steps. I will return when the Heaven above the Nine Plains can no longer hold me."

  Zhu Yanghai chuckled, though his eyes flashed with seriousness. "You are still the brat who knows no fear of the vastness of Heaven and Earth. Go, before I change my mind and force you to drink a thousand cups of parting wine."

  Zhi Xuan did not answer. He turned, his black-and-white robes billowing as he stepped away from the grand gates of the Imperial City. With a single stomp, his figure shot out like an arrow, piercing the morning mist that shrouded the borders of the Hongmeng Empire.