“I’ve warned you out of goodwill. If you refuse to listen, then don’t blame me for being rude!”

 

Guan Mo threw out that utterly clichéd line and was just about to raise his hand when a voice stopped him.

 

“What a display of arrogance—starting a fight here? Do you really think the people of the Divine Academy are dead?”

 

A plainly dressed, unfamiliar woman dragged a cabinet beside the lectern and looked down at Guan Mo’s feet.

 

Guan Mo felt uncomfortable under her gaze and instinctively stepped back.

 

“Hey, hey, I’m talking to you—don’t move!” the woman snapped. “This place was just cleaned this morning. Can’t you immortals have a little respect for hygiene?”

 

She picked up a broom and jabbed it straight at Guan Mo’s feet, driving him back several steps. With a sudden lift of her hand, he lost his footing and tumbled off the corridor.

 

“Oh, I didn’t do that on purpose,” the woman said, hands on her hips as she looked down at him. “If there’s nothing else, get lost. Don’t delay the students’ lessons—or may lightning strike you down!”

 

As soon as she finished speaking, a bolt of thunder descended from the sky and split a bamboo stalk clean in two.

 

Such precise control of divine power was far beyond what ordinary immortals could achieve.

 

Guan Mo had never seen this woman before. The Divine Academy was clearly full of hidden experts—today, he had run into someone formidable.

 

“Since you all have important matters to attend to, I won’t intrude further,” he said with a frown, standing up. “But if you encounter that woman, I hope you’ll hand her over promptly. This concerns the life and death of an immortal.”

 

With that, he bowed and took his leave.

 

“Alright, stop hiding. Come out,” the woman said, turning around and tossing the broom aside.

 

Li Xiao instantly appeared in Bamboo Grove Pavilion, his voice anxious. “She looks like… like she’s not going to make it!”

 

Everyone rushed over. The woman lay unconscious, her condition unclear.

 

Luan Ling watched as the woman pulled out a sugar tangerine and swiftly stuffed it into the woman’s mouth.

 

Ah!

 

She didn’t even peel it!

 

Luan Ling stared at the unconscious woman, then at the older woman. Strangely, no one objected—she felt like the odd one out.

 

What was going on? Based on all her life experience, sugar tangerines were always peeled before eating!

 

“Well, um—”

 

“This is a spiritually imbued tangerine,” the woman said calmly. “Eating the peel allows her to survive in the Celestial Realm. When the Great Sage Equal to Heaven ate peaches, he didn’t wash them either.”

 

That’s not the same thing at all!

 

“Oh, right, I haven’t introduced myself yet,” the woman added, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m your instructor for agricultural studies—Qiu Ju. You may call me Teacher Ju.”

 

An agricultural instructor—likely someone from the Immortal Botany Institute. Her methods were certainly decisive.

 

“I didn’t expect your very first lesson at Qilin Hall to be this interesting.”

 

Qiu Ju looked at the mortal woman, whose body had begun to tremble, and said thoughtfully, “Fuli… that boy studied at our academy years ago. How did he end up at odds with a mortal woman?”

 

“Teacher Ju! She’s coughing up blood!” Li Xiao cried, feeling the warmth of blood seep over his hand as he supported her.

 

He wasn’t scared… he just couldn’t see clearly anymore.

 

“Do you need me?” Zhu Yin asked, holding three flutes in one hand—a rare moment of initiative.

 

“No,” Qiu Ju said. “Her life is nearing its end. All we can do now is keep her alive for a little longer.”

 

Her life is nearing its end?!

 

Luan Ling looked at the blood-soaked woman. Even when Si Zhuo had been at his weakest, she had never truly thought he would die. Immortals lived too long—they had no real concept of death.

 

But this mortal woman could truly vanish from the world.

 

The realization felt foreign to her.

 

“Her body is severely damaged. How did she ascend to the heavens with a mortal body?”

 

“Perhaps she didn’t ascend,” Si Zhuo said calmly, tilting his head back. “She may have been brought here by someone.”

 

Luan Ling looked at him in shock. Smuggling a mortal into the Celestial Realm was a grave crime.

 

But thinking about it carefully, it wasn’t impossible. If a mortal had intruded on her own, the guards would have noticed quickly. And yet an immortal lord had been dispatched—clearly excessive.

 

“That Fuli has a problem,” Si Zhuo said. “He sent someone to capture her. If nothing else, it reeks of a guilty conscience.”

 

“Indeed,” Qiu Ju said softly. “This woman’s fate pattern is unusual. Throughout history, those with such fate rarely live long.”

 

Fate. Destiny.

 

What exactly was fate?

 

A vague sense of discomfort rose in Luan Ling’s chest. It wasn’t directed at anyone—just an unplaceable feeling.

 

Why couldn’t mortals walk their own paths? Why must their lives be dictated by something as abstract as fate?

 

“This matter is suspicious. I must report it to the dean,” Qiu Ju said. “You should take her to Duguxian. Hide her carefully—I worry Guan Mo may return.”

 

She handed several tangerines to Si Zhuo. “If she can’t hold on, feed her one. It’ll buy her a little more time.”

 

Luan Ling couldn’t help asking, “With the peel?”

 

Qiu Ju patted her head gently. “Absolutely.”

 

“Where did the instructor run off to at a time like this? I can’t reach him,” Li Xiao said anxiously after Qiu Ju left. “We’re just freshmen—if Guan Mo comes back, we won’t stand a chance.”

 

Luan Ling was worried too. If she and Si Zhuo were both at full strength, they might be able to fight. But now—one injured, one weak—escaping would be the safer option.

 

“We should go to Winter Garden,” Luan Ling suggested. “There’s a barrier there, and other immortals. We might be able to hide her.”

 

“No need.”

 

The immortal who had left returned once more, his expression cold.

 

“Huh?”

 

Luan Ling was stunned by how fast things escalated. She pointed at Guan Mo. “You creep! You were totally eavesdropping just now, weren’t you? And you still pretend to be all calm and detached!”

 

She had a talent for pointing out awkward truths.

 

Guan Mo looked away uncomfortably, then his face hardened. “I held back earlier out of respect for the academy’s instructor. But to be frank—even if your dean were here, I would still take her.”

 

“She’s practically dying!” Li Xiao protested. “If any immortal authority should intervene, shouldn’t it be the Underworld?”

 

No one was foolish—this situation was clearly suspicious.

 

Guan Mo looked at the dying woman, a flicker of emotion crossing his face, but he said, “I’ve told you—I only follow orders. If you have objections, take them up with Lord Fuli.”

 

He extended his hand. “Hand her over.”

 

Li Xiao was about to argue when Si Zhuo coughed lightly and stopped him.

 

“Give her to him.”

 

“Maybe if we wait—”

 

“Didn’t you hear him?” Si Zhuo said quietly. “Even if the dean comes, he’ll still take her.”

 

Guan Mo wasn’t bluffing. This woman was undoubtedly tied to Lord Fuli.

 

Luan Ling looked at Guan Mo, lowered her head, and stepped aside.

 

As she moved, everyone else loosened their grip—an unspoken concession.

 

“Please… please save me…”

 

As they stepped back, the woman seemed to sense what was happening. She clutched Li Xiao’s sleeve, unable to open her eyes, pleading in near despair.

 

Luan Ling clenched her hand. She almost stepped forward—but if they fought now, no one would benefit.

 

And besides…

 

Li Xiao watched Guan Mo carry the woman away, anger burning in his eyes as he turned to Si Zhuo.

 

“Junior Sister, a mortal life is still a life. We didn’t even try—how do you know we couldn’t beat him?”

 

“Because he didn’t want to fight either,” Luan Ling said, straightening. “He knows her. He knows more than he’s saying. He kept emphasizing that he was only following orders—he’s guiding us to take this to court.”

 

“We couldn’t stop him. Even if we exposed everything, they’d still find an excuse to take her.”

 

“…Because of that Lord Fuli?” Li Xiao said, finally understanding.

 

“You stay here,” he said, standing up. “I’ll go find help.”

 

His figure vanished from Bamboo Grove Pavilion.

 

The remaining three stood in silence.

 

Stay?

 

Of course not.

 

After something like this, who could calmly continue cultivating?

 

“Raise your hand if you want to follow Lord Fuli,” Luan Ling said.

 

No one raised a hand.

 

“Alright, then—who wants to stay at the academy?”

 

Still no hands.

 

That was the nature of raising hands—you could never truly tell what students were thinking.

 

“A perfect excuse to skip class,” Si Zhuo said, standing up.

 

The three of them vanished from Bamboo Grove Pavilion one after another.

 

After slipping out of the academy, Luan Ling followed the trail of divine sense and eventually arrived at a mansion.

 

There was no one around, and she couldn’t sense Si Zhuo or the others. Hesitating briefly, she stepped into the barrier.

 

Once inside, the broken thread of divine tracking flickered faintly back to life.

 

Trusting her instincts, she moved carefully, dodging servants and attendants until she reached the edge of a courtyard.

 

“Immortal lady, please eat something. The Lord is only doing this for your own good.”

 

Hm?

 

With a slightly shameful sense of voyeurism, Luan Ling nimbly climbed onto the roof.

 

A peach tree stood in the courtyard, its blossoms in full, unrestrained bloom. Yet even the flowers paled beside the immortal woman beneath it.

 

She leaned against the tree, pale skirts cascading onto the petal-covered ground like a blooming flower herself. Her brows were touched with sorrow, her fragility only enhancing her beauty—truly lovelier than the flowers around her.

 

Uh.

 

Luan Ling was momentarily thrown by the poetic narration that had suddenly formed in her mind. Why does she come with her own commentary?

 

Never mind. Focus.

 

She looked down again.

 

“Tell Fuli to stop,” the immortal woman said to the maid, her smile bitter. “I don’t care whether I live or die. Can’t you feel it? He’s changed. He’s no longer the boy who would go all the way to Penglai just to bring me a single flower.”

 

Penglai?

 

Luan Ling instinctively glanced down at herself, shook her head, and continued watching.

 

“Immortal Lady, everything he’s done—including finding that mortal woman—was for your sake!”