Luan Ling froze for a moment before reacting, her ears warming slightly.

 

Ahhhhhh!

 

She suddenly had the urge to punch herself in the face again.

 

She’d say this one more time—don’t use her pure and innocent face to say such weird things!

 

“Y-You… what do you mean?” she asked, only then realizing her voice was trembling.

 

“Exactly what you think I mean.”

 

Without another word, Luan Ling raised her hand, ready to commit deicide.

 

Seeing her anger practically taking physical form, Si Zhuo continued calmly, “Haven’t you noticed? A divine body’s innate abilities, when combined with standard spells, can produce unexpected effects.”

 

He placed a book into her outstretched hand and sneered lightly. “Read more. Good student.”

 

Her attack was interrupted. Luan Ling stood there, stunned.

 

So what he meant was… that fire could technically be counted as hers?

 

That conclusion led to a whole chain of questions. One of them being—if Si Zhuo was right, then wouldn’t she also be able to use his body to easily stir winds or summon rain?

 

If that was the case, then Autumn Garden’s fruits and vegetables were basically saved!

 

She glanced at the book in her hand, her feelings complicated, and left.

 

After they were gone, the Bamboo Pavilion fell quiet once more. Only a beautiful immortal maiden remained, coolly polishing her small suona.

 

Zhu Yin sat there thinking for a long time, still unable to understand one thing.

 

Did those two… seriously not see her?

 

---

 

The next day, Dugu specially approved three days of leave for Luan Ling so she could complete her punishment task.

 

“Master, can I skip class instead of officially taking leave?” Luan Ling raised her hand.

 

She deftly dodged the fan that came flying at her and calmly appeared at the task location.

 

In the past, she would never have joked with her teacher like this. It seemed her divine body truly affected her state—give it more time, and she might fully accept these new “settings” she’d acquired.

 

She sighed emotionally, then looked up—only to find that aside from the damaged front gate, the divine manor hadn’t actually suffered much destruction.

 

That made sense. After all, she couldn’t release dragonfire. This outcome was only natural.

 

Fixing a gate alone—three days was more than enough.

 

Speaking of which, she wondered how the main figures of this manor were doing.

 

After looking around for a while, she spotted a red-clad immortal who seemed approachable and stepped closer.

 

“Immortal sister, I heard there was a fire here yesterday. What happened?” she asked.

 

The red-clad immortal turned to her calmly. “Divine Lord Fu Li acted recklessly, hiding a mortal in the Heavenly Realm and researching forbidden reincarnation arts. Severe punishment is inevitable.”

 

That was great news. A divine lord who abused his power absolutely deserved it.

 

Luan Ling lowered her gaze. “So… you’re here to punish Divine Lord Fu Li?”

 

“No.” The immortal calmly took out a pair of scissors. “I’m here to cut his karmic bond.”

 

…What?!

 

Was this legendary CP-breaking? Luan Ling was seeing a living matchmaker immortal for the first time.

 

“Punishment requires cutting fate bonds too?”

 

Wasn’t the Peach Blossom Immortal already as good as dead? Why the extra step?

 

“Ordinarily, punishment has nothing to do with the Moon Elder’s lineage,” the immortal said as she adjusted the scissors. “But when a divine lord and a mortal develop mutual feelings, the Heavenly Dao does not permit it. Naturally, we must sever the bond.”

 

Mutual feelings?

 

Luan Ling had assumed only the divine lord was involved. The woman had been desperately trying to escape—how had she fallen for her abuser?

 

She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

 

“Among all things, emotional threads are the hardest to cut,” the immortal said meaningfully, glancing at her. “But a fire can burn them clean.”

 

She put the scissors away and said, “I have other duties to attend to. If you’re interested in matters of fate, the Moon Elder Shrine welcomes you.”

 

With that, she turned and drifted away.

 

Luan Ling stood there for a while, then glanced at the still-busy divine manor. She decided to deal with the gate last and went to check on the academy first.

 

With a flick of her sleeve, she arrived at the part of the Heavenly Academy that had burned down—and hadn’t yet been repaired.

 

She was stunned.

 

No one told her the fire was still burning!

 

Black flames danced arrogantly among the ruins.

 

Luan Ling fell silent, took a deep breath, and raised her hand, attempting to summon rain for the first time.

 

She’d studied the textbook all night and mostly understood it. In practice, it shouldn’t be too—

 

Success.

 

You think you understand the book. In reality, the book merely lets you think you understand.

 

Luan Ling watched as a few drops of rain fell before the clouds dispersed. Her intense focus shattered instantly.

 

Too hard. This problem was way too hard.

 

She punched a half-broken pillar beside her, which collapsed with a thunderous crash—startling her instead.

 

She stepped back, stared at the clear sky, then raised her hand again, closing her eyes and concentrating.

 

She heard the rustling wind, the sharp tapping sounds, the crackle of fire devouring wood.

 

Was it working?

 

Everyone knows—adding a question mark to an unknown outcome equals a definite no.

 

“Ow!”

 

Something struck her head. She cried out and opened her eyes to see hailstones pouring from the sky.

 

She hastily released divine power above her head, listening to the hail’s assault, then watched helplessly as it melted into the flames.

 

She’d gone the wrong way. Trying to stop the spell, she found the hail falling harder, completely out of her control.

 

After an entire morning of struggle, all she gained was a basin of ice.

 

By the time she returned to the Bamboo Pavilion, Luan Ling was utterly dejected.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the legendary Heavenly Realm All-Round Cup champion,” a voice teased. “Why do you look so troubled?”

 

Luan Ling shot a dark look sideways. “You’ve got some nerve talking.”

 

If not for her fragile body, she would’ve dragged Si Zhuo along to extinguish the fire—even crying would’ve been fine.

 

“Extinguishing dragonfire isn’t as complicated as you think,” Si Zhuo said, raising a hand and gesturing in the air. “Just do this, then this, and then this.”

 

“Are you speaking ghost language?”

 

“That’s exactly how you taught me at the hot springs,” he said calmly, glancing at the basin of ice. “Returning the favor.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Controlling water and fire is about affinity,” Si Zhuo added, idly twirling a brush. “If you want to use them, there’s only one way—practice.”

 

More words that amounted to nothing.

 

Still, he wasn’t wrong. To solve problems, you had to do more problems. For someone bad with water and fire, this was probably the most direct route.

 

Relying on the advantages of his body, she launched another round of attempts.

 

Snowstorms, fog, sleet—every spell except what she intended. When she finally summoned proper rain, it still couldn’t extinguish the flames.

 

That’s when she realized her mistake.

 

If even hail could be devoured by the fire, how could ordinary rain succeed?

 

She had to use the body too.

 

The fire was born of him. Naturally, it could be extinguished by him.

 

Having found the right path, Luan Ling steeled herself and walked into the flames.

 

She used divine power to resist the heat, but the deeper she went, the greater the pressure on her defenses.

 

Something felt wrong. She tried to retreat, but a falling beam shattered her barrier, and the flames engulfed her.

 

“Ah!”

 

She cried out—but felt no real pain, only warmth.

 

Opening her eyes, she realized that while the fire had been hostile toward her barrier, once it shattered, the flames seemed to accept her presence.

 

Perhaps they had found their master. Or perhaps this was what Si Zhuo meant by affinity.

 

If that was the case, then she didn’t need water at all.

 

Luan Ling raised her hand, sensed the fire’s intent, and gently closed her fist.

 

The flames extinguished themselves.

 

So that was the answer.

 

Once you find the method, even the hardest problems become interesting.

 

That night, returning to the Qilin Hall, Luan Ling walked like a completely different person—practically strutting.

 

She was a god who could wield natural forces now.

 

“What’s got you so happy?” Dugu asked, carrying a pile of glowing stones.

 

“Master, I put out the fire and contributed to the Heavenly Realm!” she said cheerfully. “It feels amazing!”

 

She greeted him and walked on, clearly in high spirits.

 

Dugu watched her leave, doubting his existence.

 

He admired her confidence and sense of honor after doing good.

 

But the problem was—

 

Wasn’t that fire… the one she started?

 

---

 

With the hardest task done, Luan Ling spent the second day of her punishment slacking off while building.

 

With blueprints, construction wasn’t difficult—just moving materials was annoying, but one day was enough.

 

As night fell, she sealed the roof and decided to handle the interior tomorrow.

 

Just as she was about to leave, she heard a clear, panicked cry—

 

“Help!”

 

Why did everyone enter like this? The Heavenly Realm had been unstable lately.

 

Thinking that, she followed the voice.

 

“Senior!”

 

A small figure darted over, grabbing her sleeve and pointing behind her in fear. “Someone’s been following me!”

 

Luan Ling recognized her—she’d seen her in Winter Garden before.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” she reassured smoothly. “The Heavenly Academy is the safest place in the realm.”

 

Lies came easily when comforting others.

 

She stepped protectively in front of the girl and looked toward the figure emerging from the darkness.

 

A burly man. Blood on his face. Fierce and intimidating.

 

He didn’t match the Heavenly Realm at all—more like a ghost warden from the Underworld.

 

One hand behind his back, his expression stiff, his voice carrying menace.

 

“Move.”

 

Luan Ling had never personally starred in a heroic rescue scene and was oddly excited.

 

She put on her most intimidating expression.
“I won’t. Try hitting me if you dare.”

 

The girl looked up at her strangely, then seemed to recognize her face. She let go instantly, as if electrocuted.

 

Luan Ling didn’t notice. She was busy deciding which move would make her look experienced.

 

“I just need to give her something and leave,” the man said, stepping closer—then suddenly shouted, “She ran!”

 

“Huh?”

 

Luan Ling turned to see a fleeting shadow vanish across the rooftops.

 

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the man said beside her.

 

She stepped back warily. “What, want to fight? Maybe you don’t know who I am—I’m the legendary—”

 

Before she could finish, the man sighed, brought out the hand behind his back, and handed her a food box decorated with a small pink flower.

 

…This wasn’t how she imagined it.

 

Sir, shouldn’t you be holding a massive blade?!

 

“Here. I can’t give it to her. Doesn’t matter who eats it.”

 

“Well, uh… what is this?”

 

“Don’t talk.” He raised a finger. “Eat it and you’ll understand.”

 

Understand what exactly?!

 

She stared as the man vanished into the night, food box in hand.