No one had lived on Luoxia Peak for several months. When Bai Tu pushed open the door to Yun Ye’s room and stepped inside, everything was just as they had left it—but the room had lost the warmth of human presence.

By the pillow lay a small nest of woven grass, quietly resting there.

Bai Tu picked it up, gently running his fingers over the delicate strands. He smiled. “I forgot to take you with me last time.”

He cast a small spell to store the nest away, then took one last long look around the room before turning to leave.

But the moment he stepped outside, someone was already there.

The expression on Bai Tu’s face cooled slightly. He gave a faint nod. “Lord Lingwei.”

Night had fallen. The moonlight shimmered on the surface of the lake like flowing silver.

Bai Tu and Lord Lingwei sat together in the lakeside pavilion. Lord Lingwei stood and poured a cup of tea for Bai Tu—but Bai Tu didn’t reach for it.

Lord Lingwei paused, then said with a touch of realization, “Ah, my apologies. I forgot the Immortal Lord can no longer drink tea.”

Bai Tu said plainly, “If you have something to say, Lord Lingwei, say it.”

Lord Lingwei said, “What happened today was my oversight. I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused you, Immortal Lord. Those elders and sect leaders have already left Tianyan Sect—you needn’t worry about them.”

He paused briefly, then added, “Thank you for showing mercy today.”

Bai Tu replied, “You’re the one who detained me in Tianyan Sect. Why thank me?”

Lord Lingwei gave a small smile. “There’s no need to feign ignorance, Immortal Lord. If you had truly wanted to leave, not even all of us combined could’ve stopped you.”

Bai Tu said nothing.

Lord Lingwei continued, “They say Lord Zhaohua is unpredictable and difficult to understand. But after knowing you for so many years, I believe I’ve come to understand you a little. No matter who wins in a war between the righteous and demonic factions, the cost will be great—countless lives lost, the world plunged into chaos. You don’t want that. Neither do I.”

“Tianyan Sect still holds a good reputation and influence. Why take the risk of becoming enemies with the Abyss?”

“Keeping you here temporarily was only a way to buy some time. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Tianyan Sect was unwilling to become enemies with the Abyss, but at the same time, they couldn’t simply let Lord Zhaohua walk free in front of the righteous sects. Placing him under temporary house arrest was the most prudent course of action.

Bai Tu lowered his gaze. “It’s fine. After all, I came here with the intention of seeking a ceasefire.”

His visit to Tianyan Sect wasn’t solely to clear Yun Ye’s name.

To the righteous sects, Yun Ye’s threat wasn’t just about the disciple he had killed during his descent into darkness. As long as he remained the Lord of the Abyss, the righteous path would never truly trust him.

If peace between the two sides was to be achieved, it couldn’t rely on the Abyss alone.

“This aligns with what I expected,” Lord Lingwei said after a brief pause. “But the grudge between the Abyss and the righteous sects runs deep. I fear it won’t be easy to find peace anytime soon. And as for Yun Ye…”

He hesitated for a long while, unsure of how to continue.

Bai Tu tilted his head slightly. “What is it you want to ask?”

Lord Lingwei awkwardly rubbed his nose and hesitantly asked, “Immortal Lord, are you really… with him… I mean, with him?”

Bai Tu shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Lord Lingwei had just begun to breathe a sigh of relief when Bai Tu added, “But the child is his.”

Lord Lingwei: “…”

What’s the difference???

Bai Tu clearly didn’t want to continue on that topic, and smoothly changed the subject. “In any case, I appreciate your trust, Lord Lingwei.”

Lord Lingwei smiled. “You’ve helped me greatly over the years, Immortal Lord. And my master once told me to treat you with the utmost respect—I wouldn’t dare go against his words.”

“Speaking of that…” Bai Tu gazed out over the lake, and some old memories stirred from the original owner’s past. “When I first met the former sect leader of Tianyan, you were his youngest disciple. Your cultivation wasn’t the strongest, nor were you particularly gifted or striking. Yet when he spoke of choosing a successor, he was adamant about passing the sect to you.”

“…Back then, I was quite curious—what kind of person would he turn out to be?”

Lord Lingwei chuckled lightly, unconcerned. “I certainly couldn’t compare to my senior brothers. I’ve always wondered if I ended up disappointing my master.”

Bai Tu said, “After you inherited the position of sect leader, you single-handedly raised Tianyan Sect to the heights it enjoys today. There’s no way you disappointed him. He once told me that while his disciples were among the most talented in the cultivation world—whether in appearance or skill—when it came to leading the sect, only Lingwei was truly suited for the task.”

Lord Lingwei waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Bai Tu didn’t press the matter. Silence settled over the pavilion for a while. Then Lord Lingwei asked, “What do you plan to do next, Immortal Lord?”

Bai Tu answered without hesitation, “Now that I’m carrying this child, the righteous path will no longer accept me. Naturally, I’ll return to the Abyss.”

Lord Lingwei let out a quiet “Ah,” then nodded. “That does seem to be the best course of action.”

He paused to think for a moment before continuing, “Since you’ve brought up the idea of a ceasefire, I’ll do what I can to help move things along. As long as the Abyss doesn’t make any sudden moves against the righteous sects, they won’t act against the Abyss either. Besides…”

He hesitated, then gave an awkward smile. “The righteous sects have been investigating for so long and still haven’t found where the Abyss is located. It’s a bit hard to launch an attack when we don’t even know where to go.”

Bai Tu lowered his gaze and gave no reply.

Lord Lingwei didn’t linger. He stood and gave Bai Tu a respectful bow. “The attendants who came with you have already been sent away in advance. If you wish to leave, now—under cover of night—would be the best time. I won’t keep you any longer.”

Bai Tu nodded. “Alright.”

Lord Lingwei turned and began walking away from Luoxia Peak, but suddenly a thought struck him.

Judging by the child in Lord Zhaohua’s womb, it had to be at least four or five months along. Four or five months ago… weren’t they still here on Luoxia Peak? Could it be that back then…

At the time, he’d even tried to persuade Lord Zhaohua to take on another disciple—ideally to replace Yun Ye and drive him out of the sect altogether.

Recalling the bold (and now clearly ill-advised) things he’d said in the past, Lord Lingwei broke into a cold sweat. He didn’t dare dwell on it any further and quickly picked up his pace, fleeing Luoxia Peak without looking back.

Bai Tu, meanwhile, had already left Tianyan Sect, soaring through the sky before landing just outside the town at the foot of Qingyun Mountain.

The last time he’d been here was on Yun Ye’s birthday.

Back then, weakened from a loss of spiritual power, he had reverted to his original form. Yun Ye had carried him nestled in his arms as they wandered through the town for the Lantern Festival.

There was no festival today, and the streets were much quieter. Bai Tu strolled along the long street, and from a distance, he spotted the tall Tree of Bonds at the far end of the market.

The tree was adorned with countless red ribbons. Beneath it stood a young woman, tossing a ribbon upward with great effort.

But she was too short, and her strength wasn’t enough—no matter how many times she threw it, the ribbon kept sliding down from the branches. Eventually, it fluttered down and landed right by Bai Tu’s feet.

Frustrated, the girl stomped her foot, then turned—only to meet Bai Tu’s gaze. Her cheeks flushed pink as she murmured, “I—I beg your pardon, sir.”

Bai Tu bent down, picked up the ribbon, and asked, “Would you like some help?”

“No, thank you!” she shook her head quickly, flustered. “It’s only considered lucky if you tie it yourself.”

Bai Tu said nothing more and simply handed the ribbon back to her.

He stood quietly to the side as the young woman tried a few more times. At last, she managed to hook the red ribbon securely onto a branch.

She was so delighted she nearly jumped with joy, but remembering she wasn’t alone, she quickly composed herself. Blushing, she said, “Did you know, sir, they say this tree is incredibly lucky? If you write the name of the one you love on a red ribbon and tie it to the branches, the two of you will be bound by the red thread of fate—together for lifetimes to come.”

“…I don’t know if ‘forever’ is real,” she added with a small, shy smile, “but even just one lifetime would be enough for me.”

Realizing she might’ve said too much, she lowered her head in embarrassment. “Thank you for your help. I’ll head home now. If there’s someone you care about, you should definitely write their name and hang it here—it really works!”

With that, she turned and skipped away down the street.

Bai Tu remained beneath the tree, gazing up at the red ribbons fluttering in the branches. Something stirred quietly in his heart.

Had Yun Ye written a ribbon here once?

The thought crossed Bai Tu’s mind, and as if in response, a gentle breeze stirred the branches, loosening one of the red ribbons. It floated down softly, landing right in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat. He unfolded the ribbon—and a familiar name appeared before his eyes.

Yun Ye.

But it was the only name on the ribbon.

Bai Tu turned it over, checking both sides. The bold, carefree handwriting was unmistakably Yun Ye’s. And yet, aside from his own name, there was nothing else. The space where the name of the person he cared for should’ve been… was completely blank.

Bai Tu froze.

He… hadn’t written it?

Bai Tu stared at the red silk ribbon in silence, and in that moment, he finally understood why Yun Ye had been so slow when it came to matters concerning him.

Even though he had clearly told him he wouldn’t leave again, Yun Ye still asked over and over, to the point where Bai Tu lost his patience.

Even though he had told him the child was his, he refused to believe it, choosing instead to overthink and search for the truth elsewhere.

That man… had never even dared to hope they could be together.

He hadn’t even wished for it under the matchmaking tree, not even in the privacy of his own heart.

Because once you make a wish, you start to expect. And once you expect, you start to want.

He had never—never even considered that his wish might come true.

“How can you be so foolish…” Bai Tu’s heart ached, and his vision blurred. “You could have at least… tried.”

If his disciple was too much of a coward, then he would have to take the first step himself.

Bai Tu closed his eyes, his fingertips brushing lightly over the empty space.

Graceful strokes appeared on the red silk, each character written with careful deliberation.

—“Bai Tu.”

The two names now rested side by side. A faint smile curved Bai Tu’s lips as he lifted his hand and gave the ribbon a firm toss.

He didn’t use any spiritual power, yet the red silk soared into the air and landed securely on a branch.

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the desolate chamber of Wuya Valley, Xun Yi sat cross-legged in meditation, countless specks of stardust swirling before him like a vast expanse of stars.

Suddenly, the star representing the Celestial Lord Zhaohua flickered violently a few times—then stilled.

Xun Yi’s eyes snapped open.

Beside him, Pei Ran’s worried voice broke the silence. “Master, Lord Zhaohua, he…”

“That guy…” Xun Yi’s brows furrowed tightly. “Does he have a death wish?”

A disturbance in the fate star—his path of emotionless detachment was broken.

A sword shadow streaked across the silent night sky, descending upon the wilderness. Bai Tu stepped out from the fading glow, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead.

He took a shallow breath and lifted his gaze toward the distant horizon.

The entrance to the Abyss was not far now, but he no longer had the strength to fly.

“Just a little longer… once I see your father, everything will be fine.” Bai Tu murmured, gently pressing a hand against his abdomen before forcing himself forward.

His steps were painfully slow, his body drained from the rapid depletion of spiritual energy. Dizziness clouded his vision, and though the distance wasn’t far, he had barely made it halfway after the time it took for an incense stick to burn.

His footing wavered. A stray branch caught his foot, and his body tilted—he was about to fall.

Instinctively, he shielded his abdomen—but he never hit the ground.

Instead, he fell into a warm embrace.

A familiar scent surrounded him, wrapping him in a sense of security. Bai Tu slowly opened his eyes and was met with an anxious, desperate face.

Yun Ye held him tightly, his entire body trembling from the overwhelming surge of emotions. His voice was hoarse, barely holding together. “I finally found you… I was going insane, Master. I was losing my mind…”

“…Why are you crying?”

Bai Tu’s voice was faint and raspy, yet tinged with relief. “If you had been any later, I would’ve died with the baby. Then you’d really have a reason to cry.”

=^_^=