After retiring from the Xianzhou, Kanzaki left and settled permanently on the Luofu. He purchased a hot spring villa nestled halfway up a mountain slope, overlooking the water, far from the noise of the world. He named it Qingxin Residence.
Mornings at Qingxin Residence were quiet. Kanzaki would sometimes walk to the spring source on the back mountain to check the water temperature, pausing along the way to prune the plants that grew along the stone path. In the afternoons he sat in the courtyard, letting the sun warm his shoulders while he read old texts or brewed tea. When guests arrived, he would pour them a cup of Plum Blossom Wine himself.
There were no alarms, no battle reports. Only the steady sound of flowing water and wind moving through the leaves.
Business was steady. A handful of staff kept everything running smoothly. Guests came seeking peace, and most found it — not only in the hot springs, but in the wine. The liquid was clear and amber-colored, lightly sweet with a long, clean finish. One cup was enough to ease the weight from a person's shoulders and quiet the noise in their mind. The effect never dulled, no matter how many times someone returned.
When winter came and red plum blossoms bloomed against the snow, Kanzaki would go into the back mountain himself to pick the freshest flowers for the next batch.
At first the wine was only a small gift for guests. Then word spread that Qingxin Residence could truly relax both body and mind. On the Xianzhou there were many ways to relieve stress, but most lost their strength after repeated use, especially for those who had lived for centuries. Qingxin Residence was different. Every visit felt as effective as the first.
Reservations filled quickly. The system crashed more than once. The waiting list stretched decades ahead. High-ranking officials and wealthy merchants offered Strale or Credit Points just for a room and a single cup. The trend eventually reached the Interastral Peace Corporation.
Charlie Death, a senior business supervisor under the Obsidian of the Ten Stonehearts, came in person.
"Mr. Qi, a pleasure. I am a business supervisor under Obsidian of the Ten Stonehearts."
He extended a hand, fingers spread, eyes bright with interest. "I will pay whatever sum you name to purchase the recipe for your Plum Blossom Wine."
Kanzaki took a slow sip of tea, expression calm. The flat refusal that had been on his tongue changed shape.
"Buying the recipe is useless. Only I can brew this wine and achieve the same effect."
Charlie blinked, then smiled smoothly. "Then let us cooperate. One hundred jars a year. I can use the Corporation's channels to market it as a top-tier luxury item. A million Credit Points per jar is not a problem."
"A million?"
Kanzaki remained non-committal.
"The forget-worry plum blossom brew is a consumable curio. I can supply one hundred jars, but that price is not enough to make me partner with your company."
"A curio?!" Charlie nearly rose from his seat.
After some negotiation they settled on a profit-sharing arrangement that satisfied both sides. Charlie left with the signed contract, already counting future Credit Points in his mind.
Kanzaki watched him go, a faint trace of old memories passing across his face.
Time moved forward.
Xueyi and Hanya had not yet retired. Together with Jingliu they submitted transfer requests and moved to the Luofu to serve as Cloud Knight Vanguards. Teng Xiao had not expected that even after Kanzaki's retirement he would still receive such support. Over the years the reputation of the former Sword Champion Jingliu had spread across several Xianzhou ships. She had slain countless Abominations and earned considerable merit. With a Vanguard of her caliber, a General's duties became noticeably lighter.
The Xueyi sisters, no longer serving as Kanzaki's personal guards, proved themselves in the Luofu's Cloud Knight examinations through their own strength. Both were promoted to Valiant Guard and continued to lead troops on campaign. No matter how long the fighting lasted, whenever they returned to the Luofu they came straight to Qingxin Residence once their duties were complete. Each of them had a private hot spring room reserved there. Jingliu had one as well.
After every battle, soaking in the warm water to wash away blood and exhaustion was their most peaceful moment.
Jingliu had just finished a two-year expedition. After her check-up at the Alchemy Commission she went directly to Qingxin Residence. The Foxian girl at the front desk recognized her at once. When Jingliu asked about the owner, the girl shook her head.
Jingliu did not mind. It was the hour when most people were active at night. Her Master was likely in the study or already soaking in one of the springs.
She entered the restricted bath area reserved for only four people. Her steps slowed.
The private spring used by Hanya was lit. Two pairs of shoes sat outside the door — one large, one small. The larger pair she knew by heart. They belonged to her Master.
The bath was well soundproofed, yet her senses were sharper than most. She could hear the faint movement of water and the low murmur of conversation.
She had encountered scenes like this many times before. Yet the pain never lessened.
Jingliu stood in the hallway, body trembling slightly. She closed her eyes.
Why?
Why could they?
Why was she the only one who could not?
Her Master had never once stepped into her own bath.
She stared at the closed door. The light in her eyes dimmed. Jealousy coiled in her chest, sharp and familiar. For a moment the urge to push the door open, to demand answers, to pull him away from everyone else rose like a wave. She wanted to lock him away so that only she could see him, only she could reach him.
Her nails bit into her palms until blood welled beneath them.
She forced the feeling down.
She could not do this.
Master was already more than a thousand years old. His mind was no longer as steady as a young person's. Any sudden shock could become the spark that finally ignited his mara. If she lost control and triggered it… she would lose him completely. Forever.
The fear of that loss was stronger than any jealousy.
She could not imagine a world without him. Even if she could only watch from a distance, even if she received only the smallest share of his attention, it was still better than losing him entirely.
Jingliu drew a slow, steady breath. She turned and walked toward her own private spring, each step deliberate.
Master… look.
Your disciple is very obedient.
She does not make a scene. She does not cause you trouble.
As long as you are still here, as long as you are well… even if your tenderness does not belong to her now, your disciple will keep watch over you like this. Until the day she too turns into a monster.