After about half a stick of incense had burned down, Si Zhuo flung his body back onto the shore with a grim expression.

“Have you ever heard of a dragon drowning? You don’t even know how to swim, yet you still tried to save someone.”

He had grown up in the sea. Even after changing bodies, his familiarity with water was something he could never forget. Even if he truly wanted to end it all one day, instinct alone would drag him back to shore.

“My body is already in bad enough shape. I was worried you’d catch a chill and make things worse—end up leaving me with a lifetime of ailments.”

“Who would’ve thought this was actually a hot spring?” Luan Ling murmured softly as she looked at the shimmering pool. “No wonder the teacher told me to put you here to recover.”

This was probably the place with the densest spiritual energy in Qilin Hall—and also one of the sites where they would be building houses the next day.

“Anyway, the bed is over there. Get some proper rest and heal my body as soon as possible.”

Luan Ling turned around and had only taken two steps when Si Zhuo suddenly asked her—

“What’s your relationship like with that person from today?”

She froze. She hadn’t expected him to ask that.

He must have just arrived in the Heavenly Realm and never heard about her situation.

“A bastard child and a legitimate heir—how good do you think that relationship could be?”

Luan Ling glanced up at the star-filled sky and said the words with a complicated expression.

Although human men still took multiple wives and concubines at this time, the more progressive Heavenly Realm had long enforced monogamy. Someone like her—of unclear origin—being looked down upon in such an environment was only natural.

Her father claimed that the Heavenly Empress was her mother, but how could something like that be forced? One look at the Empress’s attitude toward her said it all. Things were tolerable when she was young, but ever since the Peach Banquet, Luan Ling had grown increasingly afraid of staying in the Heavenly Palace.

Forget it. She hadn’t even figured out what she truly was—why dwell on things that only made her sad?

Humming an unfamiliar tune, Luan Ling walked off lightly to find a place to meditate.

Si Zhuo watched her retreating figure, then suddenly remembered something and lifted his arm.

Wait. He didn’t seem to know… instant outfit-changing magic.

.

The next morning, Luan Ling couldn’t help glancing toward Si Zhuo. Something about him looked off today.

“You changed clothes?!”

She suddenly realized what it was and jumped to her feet.

But the height difference between standing and sitting startled her, and she sat back down again.

Si Zhuo turned to look at her.

“I did.”

“Wow, that’s seriously unethical!” Luan Ling exclaimed. “I spent all night figuring out how to release my divine power just to dry your clothes!”

With her senior brothers and sisters nearby, she suppressed her anger and lowered her voice. “How could you change without saying a word?!”

She was still young—before entering the academy, she’d barely interacted with men at all.

Si Zhuo raised an eyebrow at her. “You can take off my clothes whenever you want. I don’t mind.”

What kind of shameless thing was that to say?!

Luan Ling was stunned by his audacity and raised her voice slightly. “Do you have no sense of propriety? You’re a man—boys should—”

“What’s wrong with being a boy?”

Dugu passed by carrying a pile of tools and glanced at Luan Ling as she spoke.

She smiled awkwardly. “Boys should always protect themselves when they’re out.”

“That’s a novel viewpoint,” Dugu said, tossing the tools aside. After thinking for a moment, he spoke seriously to them.

“Safety awareness has nothing to do with gender. We are all immortals—what matters is using the most appropriate methods to help the vulnerable. There are far too many dangers in this world. You and I must both do our best.”

There were many practices among immortals that Dugu found deeply problematic—especially in the Underworld where he’d grown up. Some judges even recorded warnings against women who were assaulted and killed while out at night, claiming their negligence contributed to their deaths. Cause and effect, they said—so even in reincarnation, a mark had to remain.

To Dugu, this was completely backwards.

No matter how careless the woman had been, it should never be considered the cause of what happened to her. The true cause lay with the perpetrator. Even if justice was served and the criminal beheaded and cast into hell, the life that had been destroyed was simply… gone.

“Well said, Master,” Li Xiao responded steadily, fulfilling the role expected of the senior disciple.

“I’m just offering a few thoughts. Matters concerning mortals will be taught by other instructors later. Today, our main task—” Dugu smiled, “—is still building houses.”

In truth, after studying the blueprints the previous night, Dugu had been eager to start laying the foundation. Unfortunately, while his mind said it understood, his hands needed time to catch up… so after an entire night of work, he’d only managed to dig a few pits.

“So nothing actually happened here,” Luan Ling said after hearing Dugu’s explanation, letting out a sigh of relief. “I thought two divine lords had gotten into another fight.”

When immortals fight, it’s not just mortals and bystanders who suffer—the construction teams do too.

Luan Ling often heard helmet-wearing construction immortals cursing as they rushed toward battle sites, their fury comparable to someone whose mother had just been killed.

The last one she heard cursing someone’s parents… coincidentally, it was the person standing next to her now.

“I’ll handle transporting materials and mixing clay,” Dugu said encouragingly. “The rest will depend on you. Today I’ll continue teaching divine power projection—but this time, it’s not for pure offense. It will test your control.”

He pointed toward a pile of raw materials.

They were truly raw—aside from bricks and tiles that Dugu had risked his life to borrow back, nothing else had been processed.

“As immortals,” Dugu explained, “we often wave a hand and create objects from nothing. That’s something only mature immortals can do—because in that instant, their magic has already completed all the steps.”

In the end, it all came down to high-speed calculation and mastery of divine power—combining everything they’d learned the day before. What this spell truly tested was an immortal’s overall capability.

“I’ve named this object-creation technique the Three-Dimensional Rapid Formation Output Method.”

What kind of absurdly long name was that?! That’s just a 3D printer!

Luan Ling couldn’t help but complain internally—she’d read plenty of future-era texts.

“So today, you must finish building the houses. If you fail, I’ll dismantle them—and you’ll cast the spell again.”

This task mainly relied on Si Zhuo. Luan Ling understood the basics but needed someone to assign her a role—otherwise she’d be completely lost.

Li Xiao and Zhu Yin also looked toward them. This time, Si Zhuo didn’t make any sarcastic remarks. Sleeping under the open sky wasn’t pleasant, after all—so he chose to take things seriously.

“She and I will demonstrate one building first,” Si Zhuo said, glancing at Luan Ling. “Once you’ve got it, senior brother and sister can start directly from the blueprints.”

Luan Ling stiffened when she was named. “Which pavilion? Which tower?”

Naming things was too troublesome, so Si Zhuo simply pointed to a small building in the design.

With a task assigned, her life suddenly had direction. She was, after all, the young immortal who’d won the most jade cups in the Heavenly Youth All-Rounder Tournament—she loved nothing more than exams.

If anyone else heard that, they’d definitely shout, Have some humanity, little sister!

Ha. Immortals didn’t need to be human.

Luan Ling followed Si Zhuo forward until they stopped at an open space. Then, together, they raised their hands.

Normally, one would float into the air to look properly immortal while casting spells—but neither of them had yet learned flight techniques from Dugu, so standing would have to do.

Luan Ling closed her eyes, dismantling the model of the building in her mind and reassembling it, merging every calculated detail with the divine power in her hands, gradually sketching out the structure.

The three observers soon saw the pavilion rise from the ground, taking shape in moments.

Dugu also turned his attention, transmitting the spellcasting consciousness of the two demonstrators to the other students.

For immortals lacking sufficient ability, this task was deadly. Even those who had cultivated for hundreds of years might not perform this well—because no one ever knew what those centuries had actually been spent doing.

Cultivation required not just talent and diligence, but also method and creativity.

The other two students, lacking a foundation, needed time to apply what they’d observed. Their control over divine power was stronger than Luan Ling and Si Zhuo’s, but without their almost monstrous calculation abilities, they still needed Dugu’s assistance to begin.

Seeing the raw materials visibly shrinking, Dugu reassured them, “Don’t worry—go ahead and try. I can handle the support work.”

Just then, the demonstration was completed. Luan Ling turned back toward him. “Master.”

“Continue,” Dugu waved.

Li Xiao was already prepared. Zhu Yin somehow produced a small stool and sat before a hammered dulcimer, tapping the strings with her mallets.

As the music rang out, the five teachers and students of Qilin Hall began their hard labor.

Sometimes, while studying quietly in class, you’d hear strange noises from next door—making it fifty percent harder to focus. If that sound happened to be continuous music, the difficulty shot straight to one hundred percent.

The students of Thunder Hall wanted to die on the spot.

They were currently in the most obscure and tedious ancient theory class. Already struggling to concentrate, the cheerful sound of the dulcimer made every one of them feel an overwhelming urge to go outside and carry bricks.

Wait—why bricks?!

“This music is unusual,” said Tianxiu Zhenren, the first to speak—normally taciturn and rigid.

Following the sound, he sighed. “To merge the emotions of several people into a single melody—this piece is exquisite.”

He turned to his students. “Such a rare sight. Why don’t we dismiss class early and go take a look?”

…What?!

Did the teacher just say—

Early dismissal?!

Those four words were sweeter than any other language. In the blink of an eye, students flew out windows, used teleportation spells, or simply ran—faster than if their lives depended on it, terrified the teacher might change his mind.

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