Ying Bing observed the divine intent until dusk.
She was now just a hair's breadth away from opening the fifth aperture of divine perception, having already mastered thirty percent of the Hundred Beasts Divine Forms.
It might sound modest, but those were over thirty extreme forms—each something an ordinary person would spend a lifetime comprehending. Yet, she didn’t feel she was progressing particularly fast.
In this life, her path had been far less winding.
But some obstacles were inevitable if she chose to keep moving forward.
Such as the Jade Phoenix Divine Artifact.
It was something the Demon-summoning Cult was determined to obtain, and likewise, something she could never relinquish.
"Why hasn’t he returned yet?"
Ying Bing glanced at the empty chairs and tables, then rubbed the large-headed doll at her waist before pushing the door open to leave.
The Jiawei Tavern mostly catered to soldiers, yet today, for some reason, business was unusually slow.
In the corner by a wine table, he sat quietly, like a soulless statue.
On the table, holding his dazed gaze, was a letter to family that would never be delivered—and half a string of copper coins.
Once a spirited young man, $2ow his lonely, desolate silhouette resembled that of a lost wanderer.
"Heavenly Fairy Sister, your husband’s been sitting there all afternoon."
"You know what they say—couples quarrel at the head of the bed but make up at the foot..."
The tavern’s proprietress, assuming they’d had a lovers’ spat, offered a few words of advice in the tone of someone who’d seen it all.
Ying Bing’s ink-black eyes flickered with something inscrutable.
She knew him well. Even if she hadn’t wanted to, one glance was enough to tell what was on his mind.
He wasn’t the type to hide behind laughter and anger, nor was he difficult to understand. At times, he was downright childish—his joys and sorrows often written plainly on his face.
He always makes the dishes I like...
In the end, Ying Bing abandoned the thought of cooking and quietly took a seat beside him, joining him in silence.
After a long while, Li Mo finally murmured,
"Ice Block, the father of Fu Yingzi—the one I’ve been searching for—is dead."
"Because of the coming war. He died delivering military intelligence."
Having grown up in peace in his past life, Li Mo’s understanding of war had been limited to textbooks—glorious tales of heroes and legendary generals.
He’d never realized that behind the casually mentioned numbers were countless undelivered letters to families.
Lu Yi was just one of many around him.
The real war hadn’t even begun yet.
More would die in the chaos.
This war was inextricably tied to him.
"Ice Block, should we have never come to the Southern Border in the first place?"
"We’ve never done anything wrong, so why are so many people about to die because of us?"
He was calling out to her, yet it didn’t feel like he was asking anyone—more like he was questioning himself.
Each word plucked at Ying Bing’s heartstrings.
For a moment, she felt an unfamiliar yet inevitable pang.
Lowering her eyes, she gently took his hand in hers and said softly,
"Such is the tide of fate. War, for instance, has no right or wrong—only what must and must not be."
"Perhaps it arrives sooner or later because of someone, but that’s all."
In her past life, the disaster beast tide secretly orchestrated by the remnants of the Great Shang Dynasty had also erupted—only after the fall of the Qingyuan Sect.
Not just Qingmu City, but even the Southern Pass had been breached, the chaos spreading all the way to Yunzhou.
"A modest fortune... a young hero..."
Li Mo glanced at the handful of copper coins, then at the opened letter.
The words were few, the meaning simple—nothing more than a wish for safety.
"But I couldn’t even protect the peace of one small family..."
Ying Bing hummed in acknowledgment, gazing into the young man’s eyes.
"Words are pale. What we live through is what shapes us."
"Experience teaches us to grow."
Her voice was soft, unhurried.
Li Mo opened his mouth, then turned to look at her. In this cloud-covered night, she was like moonlight given form.
He almost asked—Ice Block, did you already know there’d be war? Did you know what would happen in the Southern Border?
But meeting her eyes, he felt the question unnecessary.
From the moment he’d wished for peace and happiness before the Jade Phoenix Divine Artifact, she’d understood.
Only now did Li Mo realize she had grasped the weight of that wish far better than he had.
She’d been waiting for him to grow.
"Ice Block, what are your plans?"
"Ice Block, I’m tired."
"Then sleep. Just rest easy."
In the quiet, empty tavern, $2 melody suddenly flowed forth—clear and serene, like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley.
"Dark skies, rain will fall..."
"Dark skies... so dark..."
The long-overcast night sky seemed to part its clouds, as if the moon itself wanted to eavesdrop.
A single beam of moonlight slipped through, illuminating her as she sang the lullaby—and him, asleep in her lap.
Before the sugar-painting stall, Hu Zi was no longer the king of the children, but as the occasional keeper of his grandfather’s stall—with free rein over the pot of malt sugar—his status was unquestionable.
He crouched earnestly by a stone slab, practicing his sugar-painting with a small pot of syrup, surrounded by a crowd of little kids waiting for treats.
"Brother Hu Zi, you’re saying our boss is a famous hero on the Hidden Dragon Ranking?"
"Rank eleven? What was it again... ‘Wife-Blessing Battle Soul’?"
"That’s really our boss? No wonder he’s the boss—even his nickname stands out!"
"Really? Boss wasn’t just pulling our legs?"
Hearing the doubt, Hu Zi immediately bristled.
He pointed at the slab. "Boss was super impressive back then! Can’t you tell from my drawing?"
The kids shook their heads. All they saw was something that looked tasty.
Hu Zi had only just started learning, so his doodle was barely recognizable—a sugar figure with a comically large head and tiny body, anything but imposing.
"If I’m friends with your boss, do I get free candy?"
A voice chimed in from the side.
No need to look—only one person could be so broke: our esteemed "mount" brother.
To be fair, Huang Donglai wasn’t poor. He just never kept money, having converted it all into practical items. After all, coins couldn’t be eaten or used to poison someone.
"You’re Big Bro’s friend?" Hu Zi eyed Huang Donglai skeptically.
At the familiar voice, Hu Zi, the kids, and even Huang Donglai froze.
Turning, they saw Li Mo standing not far away, his smile as bright and warm as ever—but now tempered with a quiet maturity.
"Donglai, you know a war’s coming, yet you’re still here? That’s not like you."
After greeting the kids, Li Mo posed the question offhandedly.
Huang Donglai accepted a sugar ball from Hu Zi. "I wanted to try the candy... Aren’t you the same?"
"I was planning to leave."
Huang Donglai studied Li Mo.
In wartime, self-preservation was natural—yet this didn’t quite feel like him either.
"But I’ll be back soon. That’s why I need a favor from you."
Li Mo's voice suddenly became inaudible—not because it grew softer, but because it shifted to a transmitted whisper.
"Fill it up? The entire thing? How much would that cost..."
Huang Donglai's eyes widened in shock.
"Heaven begets talents for a purpose; a thousand gold spent will return in time."
As the words faded, mist abruptly swirled into existence.
The mist coiled and billowed, instantly obscuring the young man's figure. By the time it dissipated, he had vanished without a trace.
The Somersault Cloud does not lighten the body—it lightens the heart.
A heart unburdened finds the sky vast and the earth boundless. Where then could it not go?
"Tsk, malt sugar really is quite sweet."
Huang Donglai muttered to himself, staring at the spot where the figure had disappeared.
Hu Zi, meanwhile, gaped in awe, pumping his fists and shouting:
"What did I say? What did I say!"
"Big Bro rode in on clouds of seven colors—how could he not be a peerless hero?"
Seeking support (power-up love), mwah!