After everything had settled—if such a scene could ever truly be called settled—Jiang Yunxian did not immediately release Xing Yue from the No Effect Spell.
She remained where she was, unmoving, her body held in place by the quiet restraint of the incantation, while the ruined temple slowly sank into a fragile stillness. Dust continued to drift through the air, catching in the pale morning light that filtered through broken beams and fractured stone. The echoes of what had happened seemed to linger in the silence, as though the walls themselves had yet to forget.
Jiang Yunxian turned away from her at last.
Without a word, he made his way toward the far end of the temple where Hong Tian Luo still lay against the pillar. The man had not stirred once throughout the chaos, his posture unchanged, his breathing steady but unnaturally deep.
Kneeling slightly, Jiang Yunxian reached out and pressed two fingers lightly against his wrist, his expression turning thoughtful as he examined the flow of energy within him. There was no sign of poison—no disruption in his meridians, no lingering corrosion that would suggest something more dangerous.
Instead, what he found was simpler.
A sedative. A crude one, at that.
It dulled the senses, slowed awareness, and forced the body into a prolonged state of rest, but it lacked the precision or danger of anything more refined.
Jiang Yunxian withdrew his hand after a moment and let out a quiet breath.
"It won't take long," he murmured to himself, his voice low in the hollow space of the temple. "He'll wake soon enough."
He lingered there briefly, as though confirming his conclusion, before rising to his feet again. His gaze flicked once toward Xing Yue, still bound by stillness, before he turned and walked out of the broken temple without another word.
The air outside greeted him with a lingering chill.
Though it was already morning, the mountain had not fully shaken off the remnants of the night. A thin veil of fog still clung stubbornly to the slopes, weaving between trees and curling along the ground like something reluctant to leave. The scent of damp earth and faint decay lingered beneath it, subtle but unmistakable.
Jiang Yunxian stepped toward the edge of the mountain path, where the land dipped sharply downward, offering a wide view of the village below.
From here, everything looked distant.
Quiet.
Almost ordinary.
And yet, he knew better.
He folded his arms loosely and tilted his head back slightly, letting his gaze drift upward toward the sky. The light was soft, the sun still rising, its warmth struggling to fully pierce through the thinning mist.
A sigh escaped him before he could stop it.
"What exactly does this world want from me?" he muttered under his breath, his tone carrying a faint trace of irritation. His thoughts shifted, unbidden, to the spirit that had led them into this mess in the first place.
That damned thing.
If he ever crossed paths with it again, Jiang Yunxian was certain of one thing—if he could not strangle it outright, then he would personally drag it to the Heavenly Emperor and offer it up as a sacrificial explanation for all the trouble it had caused.
The idea lingered for a moment before fading, replaced by something else.
He frowned slightly as his gaze lowered again, sweeping across the mountain.
The fog. It was still there.
Not as thick as before, but persistent enough to be noticed.
Which meant—
Whatever had been happening in this place had not ended with Dingying.
Jiang Yunxian understood that much.
He always did.
But understanding did not mean involvement.
His way of living had never changed, no matter where he went or what he encountered. He drank when he pleased, wandered where he wished, teased Rong Qi when the opportunity presented itself, and otherwise lived as freely as any being across the three realms could hope to.
Complications were not something he sought.
And yet, they always seemed to find him.
He exhaled softly, his expression returning to that familiar ease, though it carried a faint edge of resignation.
A simple life, he had always thought, should not be so difficult to achieve.
A jar of good wine. A quiet place.
Perhaps a familiar voice nearby to argue with from time to time. It should have been enough.
But in a world where good and evil continued to intertwine endlessly, where past and present refused to remain separate, such simplicity felt almost like a distant illusion.
Still, he did not move to investigate further.
From what he had seen and heard, Dingying had been the one carrying out the sacrifices. Her disappearance—whatever form it had truly taken—should at least bring an end to that part of the chaos. As for the rest, there was someone better suited to deal with it.
His gaze shifted briefly back toward the temple.
Hong Tian Luo.
He was not blind to identity or lineage. The connection to Hong Yanli was clear enough, and beyond that, there were threads that stretched further—toward matters involving Lady Cangyin, toward things that were far older and far more complicated than this small mountain village.
But Jiang Yunxian had never been one to tug at threads just to see where they led.
He had seen enough. Understood enough.
There was no need to pry further.
His thoughts drifted again, this time settling somewhere far less troublesome, yet far more personal.
Rong Qi.
It had been nearly a month.
The memory of that troublesome dragon king surfaced—his long beard swaying with every self-important movement, his tone heavy with authority as he had delivered that notice. Even now, Jiang Yunxian felt a flicker of annoyance at the recollection.
"What a nuisance," he muttered.
Rong Qi had been by his side for as long as he could remember. Their companionship had never been particularly peaceful—filled more with bickering, threats, and constant irritation than anything else—but it had been constant.
Reliable. And now—
Absent.
The mountain breeze shifted slightly, brushing against his robes as he stood there.
For the first time since arriving, a quiet emptiness settled in.
He found himself recalling the familiar arguments, the relentless nagging, the exaggerated threats of being buried in snow whenever winter came. It had always been bothersome then.
Now—
It felt strangely missed.
He wondered, not for the first time, how Rong Qi was faring.
Whether he had cultivated enough strength.
Whether he had finally achieved a stable human form.
Whether he was ready to stand as the Phoenix Monarch the legends spoke of, rather than the stubborn, sharp-tongued companion Jiang Yunxian had always known.
More importantly—
Whether he was strong enough to endure what lay ahead. Jiang Yunxian's gaze softened slightly as the thought lingered.
For all his apparent indifference, there were things he did care about. People he did not wish to lose. As long as those few remained, he had always believed that was enough.
He let out another sigh, longer this time, carrying a weight he did not bother to hide.
"It's truly troublesome," he murmured quietly.
The words lingered in the air before he repeated them, almost to himself.
"Truly troublesome indeed."
He shook his head lightly and instinctively reached toward his waist, his fingers brushing against the familiar curve of the wine gourd hanging at his side.
The one Xing Yue had given him. He had not finished it yet.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he rested his hand there for a moment, the simple gesture grounding him in a way nothing else quite did.
Then, with the fog still curling across the mountain and the morning still struggling to fully claim the sky, Jiang Yunxian remained at the edge of the slope, neither moving forward nor turning back, as though caught between leaving and staying—between a life he preferred and a world that refused to let him have it so easily.
__
"What are you thinking about?"
The voice came from behind him—low, steady, carrying a quiet weight that did not belong to the morning air.
Jiang Yunxian did not startle.
He had already sensed the approach long before the question was asked, the faint shift in presence cutting through the lingering fog as clearly as footsteps on dry leaves. Even so, he let out another sigh, one that seemed to carry the remnants of every earlier thought he had yet to settle.
"Not good," he replied lazily, his gaze still resting on the distant stretch of land below. "Definitely not good."
Hong Tian Luo stepped closer, the faint rustle of his robes brushing against the quiet. There was still a trace of confusion in his expression, as though he had awakened not just from sleep, but from something deeper and harder to grasp.
"What is not good?" he asked.
Jiang Yunxian tilted his head slightly, as though considering how much he felt like saying.
"This continent of yours," he began at last, gesturing vaguely toward the mist-covered expanse below. "It is undeniably beautiful. The mountains, the villages, even the air—there is something worth preserving here. And yet, it is covered in fog that does not belong." His tone remained casual, almost conversational, but there was a quiet undertone beneath it. "Tell me, Master of Yanli, what should be done about that?"
The title was spoken lightly, but it carried enough clarity that Hong Tian Luo did not pretend to misunderstand.
For a brief moment, he said nothing. Then he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he accepted what had already been uncovered.
"I suppose there is no need to hide it any longer," he admitted. "But if anything, it is my forefathers who deserve the praise. Whatever remains of Yanli's strength comes from what they built."
Jiang Yunxian gave a small nod, acknowledging the answer without much interest in its humility.
"At least someone reasonable came out of that lineage," he said with a faint smirk. "Though I cannot say I am entirely pleased. I do not know every detail of what has taken place here, but I do know one thing—it will come to an end."
He finally turned his head slightly, his gaze brushing past Hong Tian Luo before settling again on the distant horizon.
"If you intend to do anything," he added, "start with the fog."
There was no command in his voice.
No urgency.
Just that same effortless tone he used for everything, whether it concerned something trivial or something that might decide the fate of an entire village.
Hong Tian Luo studied him for a moment, as though trying to measure the man beyond the words.
"I suppose you are not without insight," he said eventually, straightening the faint creases in his robe before stepping closer to stand beside him at the edge of the slope.
For a while, they both remained there, looking out at the same view but seeing entirely different things.
Then Hong Tian Luo spoke again.
"Are you also… a god, like the lady inside?"
This time, Jiang Yunxian almost laughed.
The sound that escaped him was soft, but unmistakably amused.
It was not the first time someone had asked him such a question, and it likely would not be the last. Yet every time, it struck him as equally absurd.
He took the wine gourd from his waist and uncorked it with practiced ease before taking a slow drink, the faint scent of rich, aged wine briefly cutting through the dampness of the fog.
"If I am," he said after swallowing, glancing sideways with a crooked smile, "then I must be the Heavenly Emperor himself. Do you believe that?"
He shook his head lightly.
"Do not fill your mind with such ridiculous fantasies."
Hong Tian Luo did not argue.
Instead, his gaze shifted briefly to the gourd in Jiang Yunxian's hand.
"That is a fine wine," he remarked. "Where did you get it?"
Jiang Yunxian lifted it slightly, his expression carrying an unhidden fondness that softened the edges of his usual indifference.
"You may find it hard to believe," he said, "but the woman inside made it herself."
Hong Tian Luo's lips curved into a faint smile.
"I see," he replied quietly. "Then it must indeed be something special."
The conversation faded naturally after that.
Neither man felt the need to continue it, and the silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was simply… complete. Each of them stood with his own thoughts, his own concerns, neither interfering with the other.
By the time they turned back toward the temple, the light had already begun to shift.
The sun had dipped lower, slipping behind the mountain peaks, and the sky carried that subtle transition between gold and silver that signaled the coming night. The fog had thinned further, though it had not disappeared entirely, lingering stubbornly in the low places like something that refused to be forgotten.
When they stepped back into the temple, the change in light was immediate.
Shadows stretched longer across the broken floor, weaving between shattered stone and fallen debris. The air inside felt cooler now, quieter, as though the building itself had grown tired after enduring everything it had witnessed.
Jiang Yunxian did not hesitate.
He raised his hand slightly and murmured a few soft words under his breath. The spell that had bound Xing Yue dissolved without resistance, slipping away as though it had never been there.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then—
She moved.
Xing Yue's eyes opened slowly, as though adjusting not just to the light, but to the weight of everything that had passed. The deep blue of her hair caught the dimming glow of the evening, shimmering faintly like the night sky just before the first stars appeared. Her eyes were clearer now, though there was something quieter within them, something that had settled after the storm.
She looked at Jiang Yunxian. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
"Thank you," she said, her voice carrying a hint of warmth that had not been there before. "You saved me today."
Jiang Yunxian only gave a small hum in response, lifting the gourd to his lips again before lowering it.
"It was nothing," he said simply. "It was not your fault."
Xing Yue seemed as though she wanted to say more. For a brief moment, something lingered on her lips—something unspoken.
But then her expression shifted.
As though she had remembered something important. Her gaze moved past them, lifting toward the sky.
The moon was beginning to rise. It hung low at the horizon, pale and luminous, its light soft and steady as it slowly replaced the fading glow of the sun. The air seemed to calm with it, the earlier tension giving way to something gentler, quieter.
"I have much to say," Xing Yue admitted, her voice softer now. "But I have somewhere I need to be."
She turned back to them briefly.
"I will hear everything later—where you have been, what happened to you." A faint pause followed. "But for now, I must leave."
Jiang Yunxian nodded without question.
He did not try to stop her.
He simply watched as she turned and walked away, her figure gradually fading into the dimming light until the fog and shadows swallowed her completely.
For a while, he remained where he was.
Looking at nothing in particular.
Then his gaze lifted once more to the sky.
The moon had risen higher now, casting its quiet glow over the mountain, over the temple, over everything that remained unfinished.
A faint unease settled in his chest. He could not quite name it.
Whether it came from what Dingying had said… or from the way Xing Yue had left without looking back… he did not know.
But it lingered.
Quiet.
Persistent.
A hand touched his shoulder.
"Do not worry too much," Hong Tian Luo said calmly. "The No Effect Spell is meant to restrain those who have lost control. If she endured it, then she is stronger than most. I am certain she will be fine."
Jiang Yunxian did not respond. Not because he disagreed. But because he had nothing to say. His thoughts felt heavier than usual, his mind less inclined toward its usual ease. Even the idea of offering a careless remark felt unnecessarily exhausting.
So he chose silence. It was simpler that way.
Without another word, he turned and walked deeper into the temple, his steps unhurried as he moved past broken stone and fallen debris. In a quieter corner, partially hidden from the main hall, he found what he had noticed earlier—a simple straw bed, tucked away as though forgotten.
It was likely once used by a temple attendant. Or perhaps a monk who valued rest more than discipline.
Jiang Yunxian did not question it.
Nor did he care.
He lowered himself onto it with a quiet exhale, adjusting slightly until he found a position that suited him. The faint scent of dried straw rose around him, simple and unrefined, yet oddly comforting after everything the day had held.
His hand rested briefly against the wine gourd at his side.Then, without further thought—
He closed his eyes.
And sleep came almost immediately, as though his body had been waiting for nothing else.