[That… was too easy?]

Le Gui stared at Wuliangdu, now lying quietly in her palm, momentarily unable to process what had just happened.

The palm-sized compass glowed faintly, looking exactly as she remembered. But for some reason, something felt off. It seemed… lighter than before.

The Wuliangdu replica she had received before crossing worlds had been made of plastic, light and dull in appearance. The moment she was transported, the texture had changed. Now, comparing this one to the version she remembered, something was different.

[It really does feel off…]

Le Gui frowned, wondering if she was overthinking.

The sleeping chamber of Cangqiong Palace seemed to exist in its own isolated space. From the outside, it was invisible, and no sound could escape.

It was late afternoon. Warm light from the setting sun poured through the windows, casting a golden glow over everything. Wuliangdu, resting in Le Gui’s palm, was also bathed in this light.

The vast sleeping chamber was completely silent, so quiet that even a falling needle would be audible. As a thief, Le Gui’s nerves were on edge, her heart pounding.

She could not shake the feeling that Di Jiang would walk in at any moment.

[Must leave before he comes back. ]

Le Gui took a deep breath, clutching the compass tightly as she silently chanted in her heart: I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Outside Cangqiong Palace, a vengeful ghost suddenly let out a piercing wail, startling hundreds of ink-black crows into flight. The sound of their wings flapping echoed far into the distance.

In the vast, empty back mountain, the chaotic noises of drumming and flutes continued. Di Jiang watched the commotion for a long time with an indifferent gaze before slowly closing his eyes.

The Soul-Extinguishing Formation truly lived up to its name as a killing formation that required thousands of lives to sustain. Even though he had forcefully used his cultivation to mend his wounds, the depletion in his body was not something that could be recovered in just a day or two. He often felt fatigued, just like now. Even with an entertaining scene before him, he found himself uncharacteristically drowsy.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep. When he opened his eyes again, someone was lying on his desk, staring at him with wide, curious eyes. She seemed startled that he had suddenly awakened, jerking backward and landing on the ground before quickly straightening up into a kneeling position.

“Your Lordship, you’re awake!”

Di Jiang gazed at her in silence, like a beast lurking in the shadows, watching its prey.

Le Gui couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Seeing that he didn’t respond, she assumed he hadn’t heard her over the loud music.

“Your Lordship! You! Are! Awake!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted at him.

Di Jiang frowned. “I am not deaf.”

Le Gui grinned sheepishly and was about to say something when a sudden blast from a suona horn made her jolt. Even though she had somewhat gotten used to the noise, she still flinched.

“So noisy,” she muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration. “Your Lordship, can you make them stop?”

Her voice was loud enough for some of the musicians to hear. Their previously dull and exhausted eyes suddenly lit up.

Di Jiang glanced at her. “Giving me orders now?”

“I wouldn’t dare! I’m just concerned about Your Lordship’s rest.” Le Gui quickly tried to curry favor.

Di Jiang let out a faint chuckle, clearly unimpressed by her flimsy excuse.

But despite his skepticism, he lazily swept his gaze over the musicians. The workers of Diyun Peak, accustomed to their lord’s moods, immediately ceased their performance. In the blink of an eye, they packed up their instruments and scrambled to leave. A few, too exhausted to stand properly, stumbled as they got up. But even if they had to crawl, they hurried away as if fleeing for their lives.

Watching their retreating backs, Le Gui’s lips twitched. Then, thinking about how Di Jiang had been asleep for three days while they had been forced to play music non-stop, she finally understood why the people of Diyun Peak always carried an air of indifference and exhaustion.

Who could still be passionate about life after working under these conditions?

“What are you doing here?” Di Jiang’s calm voice pulled her attention back.

Le Gui put on an innocent expression. “You haven’t returned to Cangqiong Palace in three days. I was a little worried, so I came to check on you.”

So he had been asleep for three days.

Di Jiang circulated his spiritual energy through his body and indeed felt much more refreshed. He lifted his gaze thoughtfully, just in time to meet Le Gui’s bright, expectant eyes.

After a brief pause, he asked, “Did you touch my Wuliangdu?”

Le Gui: “?”

Le Gui: “……”

Di Jiang’s casual question froze her in place. Her body went stiff, but her mind was working at full speed.

[What does he mean? How does he know I touched Wuliangdu? Ahhh, I almost forgot this is a fantasy novel! His divine sense can cover all of Diyun Peak—how could I possibly hide anything from him?]

[I’m doomed. Am I exposed now? What should I do? Should I just confess that I’m from another world and need Wuliangdu to go back?—No! That’s too risky! What if he gets curious about my world? With his cultivation, if he ever crossed over, who knows what kind of disaster he’d cause? The only way to stop him would probably be with nuclear weapons!]

[But if I don’t admit it, how do I explain why I took Wuliangdu? Should I say I was just curious and wanted to take a closer look, but since I couldn’t use it, I put it back? That’s not entirely a lie—I really couldn’t activate it. But would he believe me?]

“So noisy.” Di Jiang glanced at her, clearly amused by her frantic thoughts.

Le Gui remained frozen, staring at him blankly like a broken puppet. Her already clumsy limbs felt even more sluggish.

After a long silence, she finally spoke weakly. “Yes, I took it.”

“Why?” Di Jiang already knew the answer but was curious to hear how she would explain it.

Le Gui stared at him for three seconds, then suddenly covered her mouth in grief. Her eyes turned misty as she looked at him like he was a heartless scoundrel.

“How can you even ask that?” she said indignantly.

Di Jiang: “?”

“Have you forgotten what you did to me at Wanghuan Pool?” Her eyes reddened, and she looked like she had suffered a great injustice. “In my world, when a man does that to a woman, he has to take responsibility for her for life! But you? You never even mentioned taking responsibility! Since you won’t acknowledge it, am I not even allowed to take a keepsake that represents my status as your wife?”

Di Jiang remained silent for a long time before speaking. “I never expected such an impressive attempt at twisting the truth.”

[What does that mean? He doesn’t believe me? Do I not look like a virtuous and dignified woman?]

The so-called virtuous woman sniffled, then softened her voice. “I just wanted to hold it for a bit. I put it back already. If you don’t believe me, you can check.”

“You didn’t plan to steal it?” Di Jiang raised an eyebrow.

Le Gui’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. “Of course not. I would never steal.”

A cold chuckle escaped Di Jiang’s lips. “You’d better not.”

Le Gui forced a smile, cautiously sneaking a glance at his expression. He didn’t seem angry. The sky was also clear—there wasn’t even a single cloud.

Taking the opportunity, she tugged at his sleeve and said in a coaxing tone, “Your Lordship, you’ve been in the back mountain for three days. Are you coming back to Cangqiong Palace tonight?”

[Please, come back with me. I need you.]

The person who used to wish he would never return was now eagerly hoping for his return. Di Jiang glanced at her with a hint of curiosity.

Le Gui blinked and asked, “Are you coming back?”

“I am,” he replied. He wanted to see what she was up to.

Le Gui cheered and eagerly reached out her hand. Di Jiang looked down at her from above, his gaze indifferent. After a moment of hesitation, he reluctantly placed his hand in hers.

[Damn it, I feel like a lowly eunuch. This place strips me of my dignity more and more each day.]

Le Gui kept up her eager smile.

After respectfully escorting His Lordship back to Cangqiong Palace, she stole a glance at Di Jiang, who was now reclining on his throne, listening to Youning perform The Horse Thief. Then, she looked around at the vast and empty hall. At last, it no longer felt so eerie and oppressive.

[Now that His Lordship is back, those lurking evil spirits should keep their distance, right?]

Di Jiang shot her a puzzled look. She immediately averted her gaze.

But she was someone who couldn’t stay idle for long. Sitting obediently lasted only a few moments before she started fidgeting, restless like a hedgehog. In just ten minutes, she had already glanced outside the palace doors eight times. Finally, she could not hold back any longer and whispered, “Your Lordship…”

“Get out,” Di Jiang said impatiently.

Le Gui made a swift retreat.

The grand hall fell silent once again. Di Jiang’s expression eased, relishing the rare moment of peace.

Seer Mirror, which had been obediently resting on its stand since his return, finally floated toward him. After three days of recuperation, its mirror surface had almost fully recovered. At this moment, the reflection inside the mirror displayed a delicate little daisy, looking frail and fragile.

Without even glancing at it, Di Jiang asked in a calm voice, “Why did you lead her to steal Wuliangdu?”

“I wanted to see how she would react once she discovered the truth. Don’t you want to see how she will break down when she realizes everything was just her delusion?”

Seer Mirror could not hear Le Gui’s inner thoughts and had no understanding of the so-called ‘real world’ she imagined. Like Di Jiang, it firmly believed she was simply deranged, creating these bizarre fantasies out of a broken mind.

Through the endless cycles of reincarnation, across the vast and flowing river of time, how could all living beings—flesh and blood, joy and sorrow—be mere words in a book?

The daisy inside the mirror exuded a sinister aura. Its voice, low and hoarse, carried an undertone of temptation. “I remember you wanted to see it before.”

“You want to see her lose her mind,” Di Jiang stated plainly. “Or do you want me to kill her?”

The mirror suddenly fell silent.

After a long pause, it gritted out through clenched fury, “If not for her, you would already be dead. Your spiritual power would have belonged to me by now!”

Di Jiang lifted his gaze and looked at it without a word.

The daisy trembled slightly. When it spoke again, there was a hint of frustration in its tone. “Fine. I will not interfere with her anymore.”

Di Jiang did not respond. He simply rose from his seat and made his way toward his sleeping chamber.

“You knew that I had already sensed their presence! You knew that if I missed them this time, it could be a long time before I found them again! You knew that I needed your spiritual power!” the Seer Mirror roared unwillingly, its surface once again filled with dense demonic energy.

Meanwhile, elsewhere—

“Achoo!”

Le Gui sneezed suddenly. She rubbed her nose and scanned her surroundings warily. “Who is it? Who’s badmouthing me?!”

Juzi, who was in the middle of chewing on a carrot, cast her a haughty glance.

“Take your time eating. I have plenty,” Le Gui assured the creature while handing over another carrot. “See? Isn’t your big sister treating you well? Sure, I might’ve taken advantage of you before, but I’ve made it up to you lately.”

The centuries-old Juzi snorted disdainfully.

“Hey! You don’t believe me?” Le Gui huffed. “I’m telling you, I’m not the same as before. Look at all these goodies! I didn’t steal any of them. Everyone at Diyun Peak is practically showering me with gifts now!”

At first, she had been confused about why moving from the lakeside to the palace had suddenly turned her into someone people were eager to please. It was only after talking with Seer Mirror that she understood—she was the first person in countless years to live inside Cangqiong Palace. To the others, her status had skyrocketed.

At first, she had felt guilty accepting gifts. But when she realized that neither her boss nor her colleagues in the palace had any objections, she had quickly gotten used to it. Besides, she wasn’t just taking without giving back. Just today, for example, she had helped the opera troupe finish early. That counted as workplace solidarity, right?

After bragging to Juzi for a while, Le Gui flopped onto the grass, staring blankly at the sky, thick with demonic energy.

Three days ago—

She had rushed into the sleeping chamber and taken Wuliangdu, thinking she could finally return to the real world. But no matter how much she prayed, the artifact showed no reaction. She suspected it needed some kind of ritual or spell to activate.

How would she activate it?

Le Gui rolled onto her stomach, a bold idea forming in her mind.

Should I just ask Di Jiang directly?The thought alone made her laugh.