#82: Divine Oracle

The windows in the hall were open, and Shi Luoyi caught the faint scent of flowers wafting through the air.

These were flowers unique to the divine realm, blooming vibrantly only where the Divine Lord resided.

At this moment, there was still an hour and a half until dawn. After Shi Luoyi spoke those words, neither of them moved for a while.

Shi Luoyi didn’t move because she wasn’t sure if the memory-sealed Divine Lord still found such things enjoyable. It was said that gods had little desire, and Bian Lingyu hadn’t shown much interest in choosing an empress to accompany him into the Sacred Birthplace. What if he simply wanted to rest now?

After all, over the next seven days, Bian Lingyu would need to channel all his divine power to cleanse his divine pearl—an exhausting task requiring utmost mental stability.

Shi Luoyi set down the World-Seeing Mirror and quietly observed Bian Lingyu’s reaction.

If he wanted to, there was still time. If Bian Lingyu showed no interest, they could also get some proper rest.

Bian Lingyu was also looking at her. Her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings gently lifting.

There was no true night in the divine realm—only dimmer light. Outside the temple, small glowing creatures flew about like tiny lanterns.

Bian Lingyu wasn’t entirely sure what Shi Luoyi meant.

He had already misunderstood once before. She claimed they had been intimate Dao companions, but without his memories, he didn’t know how they used to interact. For Bian Lingyu, this was an entirely unfamiliar territory.

Since the day Bian Lingyu returned, weary from his journey, and realized his misunderstanding, he had spent these days sleeping beside her under the covers, striving to keep his mind calm.

Sometimes she slept deeply and rolled over toward him. Her thin clothing would slip down slightly, revealing her smooth, pale shoulders.

Bian Lingyu glanced at them only briefly before calmly averting his gaze and pulling the embroidered blanket over her completely, covering her tightly.

—At least if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t think too much.

For so many nights, they had slept together under the covers, as pure as could be. Now, both of them fell silent over the “hour and a half,” time flowing like water. Soon, the remaining hour and a half dwindled to just one hour.

Shi Luoyi watched Bian Lingyu’s silver eyes, which remained calm, showing no sign of interest. She almost thought he didn’t want to do anything else. Just as she prepared to snuggle into his arms to sleep, a cool hand touched her cheek.

Shi Luoyi held her breath, perhaps infected by Bian Lingyu’s tension, feeling oddly nervous herself. The two of them seemed to have returned to their first nights together in Buye Mountain.

After staying in the Divine Temple for so long, this was the first time Bian Lingyu had initiated physical contact with her. In her eyes, catching her when she fell from the Phoenix Parasol Tree or stopping her from leaving earlier in the day didn’t count.

Tonight was truly the first time since their reunion that they tentatively reached out to touch each other.

That cool hand, with its distinct knuckles, was long and elegant like jade.

As it brushed over her brows and eyes, it sent a faint shiver through her. Shi Luoyi’s bright eyes shifted slightly. Perhaps the colder and more restrained someone appeared, the more alluring they became in moments like this. Even the simplest gesture carried a striking contrast.

She thought, there was less than an hour left. If they didn’t do something soon, the Great Priests might come to guard Bian Lingyu during his ritual.

Perhaps Bian Lingyu was aware of this too. When he noticed she didn’t pull away and the places he touched flushed a soft pink, his long fingers finally moved downward, reaching for the knot of her clothing and slowly untying it.

The girl wasn’t wearing a divine robe, only the simple inner garment she wore to sleep in the temple.

Underneath, her lotus-pink blouse featured patterns of lotus flowers and pods. The half-open blooms swayed gently with her breathing, as though they were about to fully blossom atop the peaks of her chest.

Shi Luoyi noticed Bian Lingyu’s silver eyes lingering on the half-open flower bud for quite some time. Her face grew hot.

“Stop looking…” She wanted to say, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but upon reflection, for Bian Lingyu now, it truly was unfamiliar.

Perhaps it was karma. The first time she had wronged Bian Lingyu, she had done so only to humiliate him, without touching either of their clothes. Now, as the cold man undressed her, she felt shy every time, no matter how many times it happened.

The scent of flowers in the air grew stronger. In the early morning of the divine realm, dewdrops condensed into water and slid off the leaves.

Soft lotus-pink petals scattered across the floor, and the bud opened.

[Dear moderator, it’s just a flower blooming.]

There was no summer or wind in the divine realm. The flower swayed gently, hiding beneath a rosy hue.

The sweet cake cherished by the master of the divine realm melted gradually under this warmth, ripples forming in the embroidered blanket.

Like drowning, she swallowed the moan that nearly escaped her throat.

The World-Seeing Mirror nearly fell to the ground at some point, but Shi Luoyi still had a sliver of awareness and tried to catch it.

[Dear moderator, it’s just picking up a mirror.] Her flustered hand was covered by another large hand, and as their fingers intertwined, the sound of the World-Seeing Mirror hitting the ground echoed.

She belatedly remembered that this divine artifact couldn’t break.

Dewdrops dripped into the soil, and the light began to grow brighter.

The twin lotus flowers bloomed repeatedly. An hour dwindled to less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

The Great Priests arrived early and were already waiting outside the hall. Someone stepped forward respectfully to inquire whether he should enter the Water Curtain Sacred Spring now.

But after waiting for a long while, there was no response from inside.

The Great Priests exchanged glances. A prohibition barrier prevented them from seeing what was happening inside. After a long silence, Bian Lingyu’s slightly low voice finally came from within: “Wait.”

This wait delayed the originally scheduled time for cleansing the divine pearl by a quarter of an hour.

…

The sacred spring connected to the Sacred Birthplace, and once activated, the palace became extremely cold.

Shi Luoyi could no longer stay in the main hall. The intense cold rendered even the side halls temporarily uninhabitable. She was relocated to a palace closest to the Phoenix Parasol Tree.

She only learned from the divine attendants that this exquisite and warm palace was originally intended for the consorts of the Qilin clan.

The divine realm was alive, and each time a new owner moved in, the palace would automatically reconstruct itself according to the owner’s wishes.

But few empresses truly loved this place. Xi Yao had never lived here. She had enjoyed all the privileges of being an empress yet refused to love the person who bestowed those honors upon her.

After entering the sacred spring, Bian Lingyu would remain inside for a full seven days, emerging only on the eighth day.

Shi Luoyi’s current divine power was insufficient to activate the World-Seeing Mirror, but cultivators always found ways to occupy themselves no matter where they were. She resumed practicing her Divine Meteor Blade.

Her Dao companion was a god; she couldn’t let her cultivation fall too far behind.

Though Shi Luoyi’s body was now filled with divine energy transferred from him, brimming to the point where she could probably crush two heads of the Hengwu Sect masters.

She thought that with a few more sessions like this, her cultivation might skyrocket to the brink of ascension. Silently, she mused, no wonder Xi Yao was eventually raised to the point where she could nearly kill a god.

Soon, Shi Luoyi received a letter from Gongxin. It reported that Shi Huan was doing well, his soul nearly repaired. After one spring and autumn cycle in the divine realm, Shi Huan might awaken.

For Shi Luoyi, this was nothing short of wonderful news.

She missed her spirited father and their home, Buye Mountain. But in just a year, she and her father would finally be able to return.

This lifetime, she had gained another family member.

As Bian Lingyu slowly repaired his divine pearl in the sacred spring, and the flowers of the divine realm welcomed their first bloom, Shi Luoyi finally made her way to the Northern Realm.

Bian Lingyu couldn’t leave the temple for long, so Houmi accompanied her on the journey.

The old man, terrified that someone might dare try to take the Divine Lord’s wife, maintained a stern expression throughout. Though he appeared refined, guarding the little empress made him resemble an aging but fiercely loyal hound, which amused Shi Luoyi to no end.

She didn’t encounter Qingxuan in the illusion. In the history of the divine realm, he was already considered a deceased person.

But Shi Luoyi knew he was still battling amidst the blood-soaked purple mist.

Yuewu’s cultivation had now nearly reached its former peak, and this time Shi Luoyi finally had the chance to sit down and talk with her properly.

To her surprise, she discovered that Yuewu was none other than the “master” Cangwu had spoken of. Shi Luoyi also told Yuewu about many things regarding Cangwu over the years.

Back then, in order to find Yuewu, even though he could barely eat, Cangwu forced himself to consume food and grow stronger. When things became unbearable, he relied on a few Worry-Free Fruits to endure the hardest times. He was treated as a beast, constantly hiding and fleeing. Even though Cangwu still believed she had abandoned him, perhaps all he wanted in life was to see that Yuewu was doing well now.

After listening, Yuewu fell silent for a long while, muttering curses: “How is he still so stupid?”

Yet Shi Luoyi saw her turn away, tears falling from her eyes only to be stubbornly wiped away.

Shi Luoyi gazed into the depths of the bamboo grove and thought: Father, please wake up soon. We’ll take Yuewu home with us.

There are people waiting for me, and many others waiting for us.

With the prospect of returning home in sight, for Yuewu, these days weren’t too difficult to endure. The illusion was an excellent place for cultivation, and Yuewu cherished it deeply. Even in her youth, she had never worked this hard on her cultivation.

She thought, when they returned, how embarrassing it would be if that foolish dog found out she had suffered. Moreover, it was now just a beast—what if someone bullied them in the future? Time in the illusion passed slowly, and Cangwu wouldn’t have to wait too long. Every decade or century of cultivation she gained here was a guarantee for their peaceful life ahead.

The outside world didn’t accept beasts, but now it was her turn to protect Cangwu and forge ahead.

Shi Luoyi said: “You can come to Buye Mountain. Buye Mountain welcomes all kind-hearted spirits and monsters, and no one will harm you.”

Yuewu hugged her tightly: “You’re truly wonderful, Yi’er.” It wasn’t in vain that she had taken care of Shi Luoyi for so long in the depths of the Wandering Sea. Although she hadn’t ended up with a shell, she had gained a lovable friend.

If three hundred years in the illusion weren’t too difficult to endure, then for Shi Luoyi, a single year in the divine realm was even easier.

At first, she worried whether Bian Lingyu would be able to completely cleanse the demonic core by the time their one-year agreement arrived. However, after seeing him handle everything with ease, Shi Luoyi finally relaxed completely.

During this time, she asked Bian Lingyu to send a divine oracle to Cangwu—at least letting her little cousin know that the person he was waiting for would reappear by his side someday in the future.

In the mortal realm, rain began to fall at dusk.

On clear days, Cangwu would go to the large boulder outside to cultivate. On rainy days, he often transformed into his original form and cultivated inside the cave.

Aside from eating, he spent all his time cultivating. Unless necessary, he rarely descended the mountain.

Such a life was akin to ascetic practice, but day after day, Cangwu grew accustomed to it. Three years had passed since Bian Lingyu returned to the divine realm and Shi Luoyi fell into the sea, yet Cangwu’s memories of their escape together felt as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.

Today, as usual, he was cultivating inside the cave when several unawakened wild rabbits, unaware of the danger, ran into his cave to take shelter from the rain.

He opened his eyes, suddenly recalling how many years ago, a young girl had stubbornly clung to his cave, refusing to leave no matter what.

Cangwu looked at the rabbits and sighed deeply after a long pause.

Rabbits were not Yuewu, and perhaps those memories now belonged solely to him.

The rain soon stopped, but the unawakened rabbits didn’t leave. Instead, they gathered around him, emitting a warm golden glow.

Cangwu stared blankly for a while before abruptly leaping up.

Three years ago, he had begged Bian Lingyu to send him news if Yuewu was still alive and well in the divine realm.

He had already sensed that Yuewu might not have ascended, but Cangwu chose to believe she was living vibrantly rather than accepting that she no longer existed in the world.

Now, upon seeing the divine oracle, he couldn’t believe it. His fingers trembled slightly with excitement as he picked up the rabbits.

“You’ll come back, right?”

The rabbits, of course, couldn’t answer him. Outside, the rain had cleared, and Cangwu didn’t need their response—he was already grinning foolishly.

“I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. I can wait forever.”

Even if I grow old and die, I’ll carry the memories until the day I can no longer wait.

A few days before the one-year agreement, Houmi looked at Shi Luoyi and smiled without saying a word.

At first, Shi Luoyi thought it was to celebrate Bian Lingyu emerging from the sacred spring for the last time, completely free from the influence of the demonic core, and no longer needing to endure such hardship. However, that evening, when Bian Lingyu emerged, he looked at her and even lifted the corners of his lips, his eyes carrying a faint smile.

“Is something good happening?”

Bian Lingyu didn’t answer her. He accompanied Shi Luoyi through dinner and took her for a walk along the corridor.

Phoenix Parasol leaves fluttered down, and at the end of the path of falling leaves, a celestial carriage drawn by mythical birds stood beneath the Phoenix Parasol Tree.

A figure stood with his back to them, gently stroking the bird’s head and murmuring words of gratitude.

He wore a gray robe, and years of slumber had left him looking extremely thin. Sensing the footsteps behind him, he turned around and gazed toward the other end of the corridor, staring blankly at his daughter.

He extended his hand toward her: “Luoyi.”

Father has returned.

I’m sorry for leaving you alone on Buye Mountain, making you wait so long and endure so much suffering.

Shi Luoyi ran down the corridor, countless Phoenix Parasol leaves swirling beneath her feet.

Her greatest wish across lifetimes had finally come true, just like this moment. She had once watched the rain fall alone in the courtyard, stubbornly defending this man’s reputation on Mingyou Mountain. Even after sixty years of wandering, she had never given up searching for a way to awaken her father.

But it had been like a dream—a dream that never came true, and the person in it never returned.

The lotus flowers in the mortal ponds bloomed and withered. Once, even as she lay dying, she wondered: If one day you wake up and don’t see me, will your heart break with disappointment?

When she was just learning to speak, this man carried her on his shoulders, walking under the sunlight of Buye Mountain.

After so many years, she finally embraced her father again. The fallen leaves turned to dust, scattering in the air. Tears welled up in Shi Luoyi’s eyes. This time, the wanderers had crossed mountains, seas, and the river of time—they had all returned.