Of the thirty-three heavens, Lihen Heaven stands the highest.

Among the eighteen hells, the River of Forgetfulness harbors the bitterest waters.

Qingjing Heaven is the closest realm to the mortal world, but it is far from being the most chaotic. Most of the immortals residing there are solitary ascetics who achieved enlightenment through arduous cultivation. After ascending, their limited mastery of divine arts rendered them unworthy of advancing to higher realms. These immortals focused solely on their spiritual practices, while powerful figures from the ghost and demon realms paid little heed to such a humble place, leaving its atmosphere simple and uncorrupted.

The Six Desires Heaven, however, was an entirely different story.

The ruling deity of the Six Desires Heaven is named Yi Sheng. Yi Sheng is one of the few ancient deities remaining, a figure who cares little for worldly affairs and even less for Emperor Haoyue’s authority. He never attended heavenly councils and rarely interacted with other immortals, often remarking, “We have nothing in common.”

Though Yi Sheng was the epitome of detachment from fame and fortune, fame and fortune inevitably sought him out. His carefree nature inadvertently transformed the Six Desires Heaven into the most prosperous domain among the thirty-three heavens. It became the most open and liberal territory, free from the rigid constraints that governed much of the celestial realms. Immortals, demons, and ghosts alike flocked here for leisure and entertainment. The place was a melting pot of cultures, teeming with diversity.

Every individual who entered this realm possessed formidable magical abilities. Here, the laws of the heavens held little sway. By night, countless taverns stayed open, their lights burning until dawn. Many immortals lingered here, indulging in revelry. This was the part of the celestial realms that most resembled the mortal world—but with a crucial difference. Among mortals, drinking with ten humans might yield no one capable of aiding your cultivation. In the Six Desires Heaven, however, sharing drinks with ten immortals could lead to connections that introduced you to a hundred beings who could help advance your practice. This was called networking—something everyone delighted in, fostering both cooperation and competition. Fights broke out frequently, but so did promising romantic alliances.

Come morning, any drunken figure you pulled off the streets might be a high-ranking deity. Once sober, they would ascend to attend the next heavenly council without batting an eye—provided Emperor Haoyue didn’t catch them looking disheveled. If he did, the consequences were theirs to bear.

Speaking of Emperor Haoyue, legend has it that long ago, a man clad in dark robes often frequented a tavern by the peach trees, drinking alone through the night. His reason? He had fallen for the tavern’s wine-selling immortal maiden. One fateful dawn, unable to contain his loneliness, he flirted with her. In their playful tussle, she accidentally pulled off his cloak, revealing a cascade of silver hair that shimmered under the rising sun. Those who witnessed it could only describe the scene with eight words: otherworldly, divine, breathtaking, unparalleled grace.

The wine maiden froze. Everyone froze.

Silver hair was exclusive to Emperor Haoyue—it was a color unique to him, a mark of age beyond comprehension. For most immortals, advanced age turned their hair white, like Tai Bai the Elder, who concealed it with magic. But silver hair symbolized honor and power, and Haoyue never altered his.

After a thousand years, every century brought a heavenly tribulation. Every millennium, a great tribulation. Beyond ten thousand years… well, few knew what lay beyond, as most immortals ascended or perished before reaching that stage. Yet Haoyue, having endured countless tribulations, remained steadfast—a figure worthy of reverence. His position as Heavenly Emperor was indisputable.

As the wine maiden stood dumbfounded, Haoyue vanished into thin air, his mastery of magic leaving onlookers speechless. Had others not witnessed the same, the wine maiden might have thought her eyes deceived her.

From that day forward, the solitary figure beneath the moonlight was never seen again.

Some of Haoyue’s close subordinates dared to inquire about the incident. In response, Haoyue offered an enigmatic smile and sentenced them to three months of confinement. No one dared mention it again. However, once news of Haoyue’s frequent visits spread, the Six Desires Heaven flourished even more.

In short, this was a paradise for ordinary immortals, a haven for those who would never ascend higher.

Yao Yin, as the top scholar, secured a favorable assignment thanks to her connections—she was tasked with incubating a nest of basilisk eggs in the abandoned well of Yi Sheng’s rear garden. Yao Yin was speechless. The idyllic vision of the upper realms painted by Master Liseng crumbled before her eyes. One moment she was the celebrated top scholar; the next, she was thrust into motherhood, responsible for a brood of hatchlings.

Later, she discovered that even the janitors sweeping the halls were former martial scholars—beings revered as gods in Qingjing Heaven. The entire estate brimmed with talent, leaving Yao Yin in awe. She couldn’t fathom why these exceptional individuals fought so fiercely to ascend, only to perform such mundane tasks. Life in the mortal realm seemed far freer. Yet she didn’t feel wronged or dissatisfied—she simply questioned the purpose of all her hard-earned cultivation.

But she soon understood.

Forty-nine days later, she watched as the basilisk eggs hatched. Moments later, the hatchlings transformed into human form. While Yao Yin briefly stepped away to fetch milk, six infant basilisks shattered the window and vanished without a trace. Truly, there were always greater powers at play. Even a clutch of newborn basilisks could slip past her vigilance. For the first time, Yao Yin reflected deeply on just how far her magical abilities had deteriorated.

This particular clutch of basilisks had been purchased by Yi Sheng’s second aunt at great expense from a wandering merchant in the southwestern wastelands. They were meant as a wedding gift for Yi Sheng, said to possess regenerative properties capable of reviving one from the brink of death. Such treasures were priceless. When Yuan Yao, the elderly steward of Yi Sheng’s palace, heard of their escape, he shook his head in despair, lamenting the decline of each successive generation. Finally, with a ‘gentle’ warning, he instructed Yao Yin not to return empty-handed.

Basilisks were mischievous by nature, drawn irresistibly to water. Qingjing Heaven, the central hub of the thirty-three heavens, gathered the waterways of the four seas and eight wildernesses. The nearest body of water, Huai River, lay two days’ journey away, its winding paths leading to Cloud Ridge in the southwest. Yao Yin dared not complain. She packed her belongings and prepared for the long journey, determined to retrieve the basilisks before Yi Sheng’s grand wedding at the start of the next month.

Yundu was a small border town in the Six Desires Heaven. Beyond Yundu lay the boundary between the Six Desires Heaven and Yama Heaven, two realms that coexisted peacefully. Thus, the area beyond Yundu was a no-man’s land. By night, powerful demons and ghosts often roamed freely, particularly ghosts, who considered immortals the finest nourishment.

Yao Yin hurried along, weary and wary. She dared not rest, fearing encounters with powerful ghosts. Her magical reserves were nearly depleted. For basilisks, the waters of Huai River were the most nourishing. Their source lay atop Cloud Ridge in Yundu. Knowing that basilisks rarely moved once settled, Yao Yin decided to rest briefly in Yundu to replenish her supplies before continuing her journey.

By now, the sun had set, and the sky was painted with dark clouds. Thousands of crows, startled by some unseen force, flapped their wings and cried out—a chilling sight. Along the road, frost chilled the air, accompanied by the occasional chirping of insects. Stars began to dot the night sky, beautiful at first glance but ominous upon closer inspection. The emperor star, aligned with Ziwēi, glowed faintly red, dim and lifeless.

Yao Yin’s heart sank. Could the celestial court face calamity? She thought of Emperor Haoyue, his silver hair gleaming in her mind. Whether he thrived or faltered, she felt uneasy. “Enough,” she muttered. “The affairs of heaven are beyond my comprehension.”

Taking a deep breath, Yao Yin slowed her pace, removed her bamboo hat, and approached a nearby tavern.

The tavern was packed, yet eerily silent. Patrons ate in solitude, exchanging no words. Scanning the room, Yao Yin noticed a lone woman dressed in green seated in the corner. Approaching her, Yao Yin asked if she might share the table. The woman nodded, gesturing for her to sit.

The wine maiden, also taciturn, accepted two silver coins from Yao Yin and signaled for the server to bring food and drink.

Yao Yin studied the woman. She was strikingly beautiful, with jet-black hair tied loosely in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her skin was smooth and pale, and a green vine tattoo adorned her exposed shoulder, lending her an air of seduction. Many patrons stared lustfully, yet none dared approach. The entire inn was steeped in an unsettling quiet.

Yao Yin found this peculiar. Since entering Yundu, she’d noticed that everyone seemed distracted, avoiding conversation. The town felt lifeless, its rooftops lined with crows whose cries pierced the night, sending shivers down her spine.

Lost in thought, Yao Yin was startled when the woman raised her head and smiled. “Little immortal, what are you staring at?” At that moment, the clatter of dropped utensils echoed through the tavern.

Yao Yin was captivated. The woman’s face was flawless, like a delicate ink painting. Her movements exuded an intoxicating charm, her gaze more enchanting than even the legendary nine-tailed fox clan. Yet her voice was raspy and harsh, reminiscent of an eighty-year-old crone.

A pang of sympathy stirred in Yao Yin’s heart. Lowering her voice to match the woman’s raspy tone, she asked, “Such beauty, yet why such a voice?”

The woman drained her cup, replying after a pause, “Born this way.”

Yao Yin nodded with a gentle smile. Sensing the woman’s reluctance to elaborate, she refrained from further questions, unwilling to overstep.

Just then, a boisterous laugh erupted from outside. A towering figure strode into the tavern, his presence drawing frowns from the patrons, who regarded him as though he were a reckless fool.

“That demon won’t know what hit it! I’ll erase it from existence forever!” The newcomer was a burly immortal, over seven feet tall with a thick beard. A long sword hung at his side, his demeanor fierce despite his otherwise noble aura.

“Bring me the finest wine—”

“This… esteemed guest, our humble establishment is full. Perhaps another tavern would suit you better.”

“Are you deaf? I can’t hear you!” The immortal grabbed the server by the collar, glaring. “Stop mumbling like an old woman. I survived a century of torment in the heavenly prison—I’m not afraid of some lowly demon!” With that, he strode to a central table, slamming his palm down. The table collapsed instantly. “I’m here now—everyone out!”

Patrons fled the tavern as if escaping death itself, leaving only Yao Yin and the green-clad woman.

Yao Yin remained indifferent, as the matter didn’t concern her. The vine-woman, meanwhile, smiled faintly, unperturbed.

“Bring me ten pounds of beef,” the immortal barked, seating himself at a nearby table. Raising an eyebrow, he remarked, “Oh? Two fearless ones remain.”

The woman glanced at him sidelong, her expression unreadable.

“What’s this nonsense?” the immortal snapped, slamming the table again. The woman rose, but Yao Yin quickly grabbed her hand, signaling her not to provoke him. How could a mere fairy stand against an immortal?

The woman shook her head gently, brushing Yao Yin’s hand aside. She approached the burly immortal and casually sat on his lap.

“Esteemed immortal,” she purred, her voice sweet and sultry, erasing all traces of her previous raspiness, “I admire you greatly.”

“Hahaha—admire me?” the immortal laughed loudly.

“Who in Yundu doesn’t know of the powerful ghost-demon that arrived from Yun Ridge? This demon despises loudmouths and has already claimed many lives, leaving the immortals of Yundu trembling in fear. Yet here you are, unafraid. Naturally, I must revere you…” As she spoke, her hand slipped beneath the immortal’s robes. The once-silent inn grew even quieter, save for the immortal’s labored breathing, which added an unmistakable air of licentiousness.

Yao Yin gaped, witnessing such a spectacle for the first time. Was this truly the behavior of an immortal?

“That demon… I’m not afraid of it… but you… you… oh…” The immortal’s face flushed red as he panted heavily. “You’re a true vixen!” With a roar, he overturned the table, tossed a silver ingot to the ground, and swept the woman into his arms before dashing out of the inn.

The woman smirked, giggling softly in his embrace.

Amethyst eyes!

Yao Yin immediately gave chase, but in the blink of an eye, both the immortal and the woman had vanished.

She was certain her eyes hadn’t deceived her—the woman’s irises had turned purple, a color exclusive to high-ranking ghosts. Clearly, she was the very ghost-demon the immortal had boasted about defeating. His fate was all but sealed.

Heaven may favor life, but Yao Yin was no bodhisattva. She hadn’t detected a trace of ghostly energy from the woman seated across from her, a testament to the vast disparity in their powers. Even if she wished to intervene, she lacked the strength. Self-preservation was her only option.

After this ordeal, Yao Yin lost her appetite. Reaffixing her bamboo hat, she resumed her journey toward Huai River.