Ji Tongzhou never got to see his unborn child. Miaoqing's body was covered with a white cloth and hastily buried the next day.
At that time, he sat in the courtyard, gazing at the group of young maids in white robes with red flowers by his side. Suddenly, he felt that each of them resembled Miaoqing, yet none of them were truly her. The way they looked at him carried a subtle difference.
For some reason, this humble maidservant—whom he had barely noticed in life—now occupied his thoughts constantly after her death. He remembered the tender, watery gaze she had fixed upon him when she was pregnant, and the endless, seemingly trivial and nagging reminders she would give him. Though he was already a Celestial, she still fretted over him catching cold or exhausting himself, yet feared annoying him, so she always spoke in fragmented whispers.
She often said, "Though others see Your Highness as an exalted Celestial, in Miaoqing’s eyes, you’re still a man who doesn’t know how to take care of himself. If anything were to happen to Miaoqing, I wonder if there would ever be someone who could care for you better than I did."
At this thought, Ji Tongzhou felt a deep weariness. After Miaoqing was buried, he dismissed all the young maids in his residence and spent two days alone in his room, lost in thought. On the third day, his Master, Wuzheng Zi, arrived.
Though Ji Tongzhou had attained an Immortal Body, Wuzheng Zi had once been his Master, and his concern for him remained unchanged. Upon learning the reason for his melancholy, Wuzheng Zi flew into a rage, rebuking him for treating human life so carelessly. Celestials and mortals could never conceive offspring—a cultivator’s body, tempered and refined by spiritual energy, was fundamentally different from that of a mortal. That was why cultivators sought cultivation partners—not just because their lifespans aligned after cultivation.
Ji Tongzhou hadn’t known, but Miaoqing must have. Everyone in the residence likely knew, yet none had spoken a word. No wonder Miaoqing had always looked at him with that gaze. No wonder the stewards had often regarded her with pity.
He felt nothing but shame toward this woman. Years ago, he had righteously questioned Lan Ya Junzhu, asking if she had ever seen the look of a woman truly in love. It turned out he had received such love—only to cast it aside with his own hands.
After that, he did not return to Duantu for a long time. Lan Ya sought him out countless times. On her final attempt, she waited outside Star Rectitude Hall for months before finally catching sight of him. Though his hair had turned silver-white, his face and physique remained that of a twenty-year-old. Lan Ya, however, now bore the appearance of a woman nearing thirty.
She stared at him blankly for a long time. All these years, she must have deliberately dressed up each time in hopes of seeing him again. But in the moments before their reunion, she likely never imagined that the once golden couple, so perfectly matched in beauty, would now stand worlds apart. A woman nearing thirty, dressed in the fashion of a maiden, looked absurdly comical the moment she laid eyes on him.
Lan Ya burst into tears immediately, covering her face as she sobbed. "I never thought… Your Highness would remain so youthful, while Lan Ya has grown old."
The disparity in their innate talents had led to a vast difference in their appearances after attaining immortality. Those cultivators who took centuries to ascend often bore weathered faces and streaks of silver in their hair. Lan Ya, who had always been meticulous about her appearance and demeanor, might have entertained thoughts of flattering him, accompanying him, or even becoming his cultivation partner—just as she had in the past. But now, she couldn’t bear the chasm between them and wept uncontrollably.
Ji Tongzhou watched her quietly before finally speaking. "A hundred years have passed. What youth remains? We’ve both grown old long ago."Lan Ya Junzhu raised her head, the despair in her eyes reigniting with hope, yet her gaze, still brimming with desire, was not directed at him as a person but at all the glory he brought with him. Back when the vassal states followed Wugou in rebellion, Ji Tongzhou, after becoming a Celestial, had annihilated many of the rebellious lords, yet spared only Zhao Yang, to which Lan Ya belonged. That was his gift to her—proof that she still held some weight in his heart.
She bowed gracefully before him, now the Xuanhua Immortal, and whispered, "Lan Ya is willing to serve His Highness, never slacking in this lifetime."
Ji Tongzhou replied indifferently, "No need."
Blushing with shame, she murmured, "Lan Ya knows her beauty has faded..."
"It has nothing to do with appearance." Ji Tongzhou averted his gaze, his voice icy. "Leave. Do not appear before me again, nor speak of me or the past to anyone. If I catch even a whisper of it, I will not spare your life this time."
Lan Ya stared at him in shock, then suddenly understood. He wanted to be the new, triumphant Xuanhua Immortal, to sever all ties to his filthy, weak, and incompetent past. This fragile man refused to face any of it, so he buried it all with his own hands.
But did that truly erase the past? A hint of mockery rose in her heart. The next moment, she froze in terror as overwhelming Black Fire surged before her.
Ji Tongzhou glared at her coldly through the flames and said slowly, "Do not make me repeat myself."
Lan Ya stood silent for a long while before finally bowing once more, her expression a mix of scorn and fear. She turned and left, never to appear again. He despised her heart, consumed by worldly desires. But if she had loved him as Miaoqing did, would he have found happiness?
Now, he was the renowned Xuanhua Immortal, and under his leadership and protection, the Yue Kingdom stood mighty and unassailable. In terms of talent and cultivation, he towered above all; in terms of grandeur and power, he reigned supreme. Yet the fire in his heart still burned. How long would it burn? When would he ever be satisfied, ever know happiness?
Laughter and chatter drifted in from outside—it was Ji Jingwu again, the boy who had struck up a conversation with the pretty maids in the palace.
Ji Tongzhou pushed open the window and saw Ji Jingwu in the snow-covered courtyard, animatedly gesturing to two young maids, making them laugh uncontrollably. It was a miracle that the Yue royal family could produce such a boy, naturally gifted with charm among women.
Noticing his master's gaze, Ji Jingwu immediately straightened up and scurried over obediently. In a rare moment of melancholy, Ji Tongzhou had no heart to scold him and simply asked, "Do you like them?"
Ji Jingwu blinked in surprise. "Master, what kind of 'like' do you mean?"
"The many senior and junior sisters at Star Rectitude Hall, the junior sister from No Moon Court last time, and now the maids in the palace—who do you like?" Ji Tongzhou was genuinely curious about the boy's heart.
Ji Jingwu hadn’t expected his master, who usually only pushed him to cultivate harder, to suddenly want a heart-to-heart talk. Unsure whether to be shocked or delighted, he scratched his head and mumbled, "I... I don’t know. I just like talking to them. It makes me feel relaxed and happy."
"So you don’t even know who you like." Ji Tongzhou showed a rare trace of a smile. "Tell me, why do you cultivate? To possess all the beauties in the world?"
Ji Jingwu hastily shook his head and stammered, "To become stronger? To protect Yue?"It seemed he didn’t even know what he wanted, just like him in the past.
Ji Tongzhou said calmly, “I was much like you in my youth—living comfortably, able to obtain whatever I desired, unaware of urgency. Four hundred years ago, it was only when Yue Kingdom nearly faced annihilation that I became who I am today. Must I bring a calamity upon you as well for you to awaken?”
Ji Jingwu’s expression immediately changed, but soon relaxed again as he murmured, “With you here, Master…”
Yes, with him here, he had no worries. Now, he could finally begin to grasp some of Xuanshan Zi’s thoughts from back then.
“I rarely speak to you of the past because you were still young,” Ji Tongzhou looked at him. “But now you are twelve, old enough to understand. The older you grow, the harder it becomes to shape you. The most important thing is to know why you cultivate and to understand the heart of cultivation. Tell me—if Yue Kingdom were destroyed and you were powerless, would you fear it?”
Ji Jingwu’s face paled again as he nodded silently. “…I would.”
Ji Tongzhou inclined his head. “I cannot shelter you forever. The world is full of unforeseen misfortunes. Two hundred years ago, I, too, nearly perished. Countless sought to take advantage of that moment—you simply haven’t experienced it. Perhaps if you read the records in the archives, you would understand.”
Ji Jingwu answered softly in affirmation. Ji Tongzhou then recounted in detail some of the dangers he had faced in the past, leaving the boy’s face ashen. By evening, the steward brought over some ancient records—all accounts written by historians four hundred years ago. When Ji Jingwu appeared the next day, it was clear he had barely slept, his expression far graver than before.
The current emperor of Yue Kingdom arrived early at Prince Ying’s residence to pay his respects. The moment Ji Jingwu saw his father, he immediately asked, “Father, are these records true?”
Holding up a book of historical accounts, he asked with utmost seriousness. It seemed the boy still trusted his father’s words more deeply.
The emperor’s expression turned solemn as he nodded. “Indeed. You should have studied these long ago. Do not assume everything in this world comes so easily. The efforts Lord Xuanhua has poured into Yue Kingdom’s survival are immeasurable. That you can become his disciple is a blessing of three lifetimes.”
Ji Jingwu finally believed completely. He secluded himself in his room, lost in thought. The emperor of Yue Kingdom smiled wryly and bowed before Ji Tongzhou, saying quietly, “Lord Xuanhua, Jingwu is an exceptionally unruly child. Please discipline him harshly.”
Ji Tongzhou replied indifferently, “If I discipline him too harshly, he may lose half his life—or even have his nature altered beyond recognition. Would you bear that?”
The emperor answered, “Better that than to waste his talent and become worthless.”
Ji Tongzhou smiled. He had already planted the seeds of fear in Ji Jingwu’s heart. What they would grow into was beyond his prediction.
He summoned the steward. “Bring Jingwu to me. I will take him to the Eastern Sea.”
In the Eastern Sea dwelled a Ferocious beast known as the Mirage Dragon, which showed people their deepest desires and fears. This journey might not only serve as a trial for Ji Jingwu—but also as a test for himself. The ripples stirred by the gift from Zhaomin—he would finally calm them.
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