Just as Luan Ling had said, although Luan Yu was an unambitious good-for-nothing, he was still the child of the Heavenly Empress and Heavenly Emperor. At the very least, he knew how to set up a few minor formations that didn’t require spiritual power. There was even an unexpected bonus—Luan Yu had secretly used magic and was discovered by local cultivators. Since cultivators were forbidden from meddling in mortal affairs, he was promptly lectured by them. Coincidentally, those people happened to be in the teahouse as well. After all that commotion, they managed to gather quite a few individuals who understood the rules and possessed some cultivation.

But the problem remained: how were they supposed to infiltrate the imperial palace without alarming ordinary people? Even though cultivators could use illusion techniques similar to theirs, the palace was a special place. To remain completely unnoticed, they needed a far more thorough plan.

“I’ll handle this part,” Cen Yingyu told them. “I’ve been serving as the state preceptor for days now—naturally, I have some mortal methods at my disposal.”

No one knew exactly what she had in mind, but by noon the next day, when the sun was high in the sky, they had finally completed the formation, encircling every corner of the abandoned palace with spiritual power.

The formation was presided over by Luan Ling. As the one who had memorized, practiced, and tested the most formations present, she had calculated every proposal offered by the group and ultimately selected the sealing formation with the highest chance of success.

Yet what she hadn’t expected was that from daylight until nightfall, the formation neither failed nor succeeded. It merely continued to drain everyone’s spiritual energy without producing any result.

Something felt wrong.

Seeing exhaustion creeping into everyone’s output, Luan Ling immediately realized they couldn’t afford to persist blindly and ordered everyone to stop.

Back in the Heavenly Realm, when she practiced formations, she had never encountered truly uncontrollable demonic forces. A formation either succeeded or failed—those were the only outcomes. But after coming to the mortal world, she finally understood that there was a third, far more tormenting possibility: a formation that appeared to be running, yet produced no visible effect at all.

Once they stopped and carefully examined their surroundings, they discovered that all their efforts were like trying to boil the ocean with a small flame—less effective than sunlight reflecting off the sea, which at least looked bright.

At this point, there was no denying it.

Seeing the fatigue and doubt on everyone’s faces, Luan Ling asked Si Zhuo:

“If I have a brand-new formation that even I have never tested before, and I can’t be certain of the power it will produce once activated… do you think I should use it?”

Si Zhuo answered indifferently, “If you can’t control the outcome, then you absolutely shouldn’t.”

“Huh?”

Luan Ling stared at him in shock. “I thought you’d tell me to charge in recklessly—like when you burned down the Heavenly Court.”

Si Zhuo laughed softly and turned to look at her. “When I burned the Heavenly Court, it was because I knew I could control that fire. If I didn’t even have that level of control, how would I be any different from those useless fools up there?”

Luan Ling fell silent in thought. “You’re right. Even though the sealing formation I know is rare even in the Heavenly Realm, I only learned it from glimpses of the future. The conditions of the future may not match the present. I can’t recklessly attempt it—especially with so many people involved. I should prioritize the bigger picture and report this to the Heavenly Court…”

Si Zhuo frowned slightly. She seemed to be speaking to herself, but one word caught his attention.

The future?

“You can foresee things?” he asked.

Luan Ling glanced at him. She hadn’t planned on explaining much at this moment, so she replied casually, “A little. But what I see is mostly trivial, and hardly any of it has come true. I can’t use it at will either. Ever since I swapped bodies with you, I haven’t seen those visions for a long time.”

Si Zhuo suddenly seemed interested and was about to ask more when the demonic aura from the palace stirred—as if waking from sleep. As night deepened, the aura began to leak out.

“Something’s wrong! Everyone, form ranks and contain it!”

Everyone resumed casting spells. After another round, most of their strength was gone, yet the sealing still showed no sign of success.

After some deliberation, Luan Ling decided she couldn’t act rashly. She sent an emergency message—one part toward the heavens, the other toward the sea, using Si Zhuo’s connections.

Distant help might be slow, but heavenly lightning was anything but.

Luan Ling never imagined the night would descend into such chaos. Just before she closed her eyes to meditate and recover her strength, an inexplicable bolt of heavenly lightning struck the imperial palace, jolting her awake.

“Damn it—someone’s undergoing tribulation!”

Everyone shot upright in alarm. And things only got worse.

When Luan Ling and the others rushed out, they discovered the lightning hadn’t struck elsewhere—it had hit the demonic palace they had just left behind. The formation there, along with the palace’s original protective wards, had been shattered. The evil spirits were now dispersing, spreading throughout the entire palace.

Even Luan Ling had never witnessed a scene like this before. She froze momentarily before Si Zhuo spoke:

“Looks like there’s no need for you to report it. The Heavenly Court will come rushing in at full speed.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” she snapped. “Before they arrive, protect as many mortals as possible.”

When evil spirits scattered, the most dangerous thing was possession. Mortals had no resistance, which was why cultivators and gods existed in the first place. But with demonic forces on this scale, even eliminating them would leave an enormous cleanup afterward. No matter what, the Heavenly Court had to intervene.

Luan Ling rushed about, sealing areas one by one. These fragments of demonic energy were easier to deal with than the main source, but they were too scattered. She couldn’t handle them all at once, and she had to account for the mortals in the palace. Chaos quickly overwhelmed her.

She had already consumed a great deal of power during the day, and by now, even Si Zhuo’s body was reaching its limit.

No…

Seeing a palace maid carrying a lantern stumble straight into a cloud of black demonic energy, Luan Ling shook her head, forcing herself to stay conscious. But her magic could no longer pass through deliberate thought—it followed only instinct, and her body unleashed a massive inferno.

Fire.

Burn them all.

Luan Ling couldn’t remember how many evil spirits she destroyed while unconscious. She had no memory of what happened before she collapsed—until she was suddenly awakened again.

It wasn’t Si Zhuo.

Not Luan Yu.

Not Cen Yingyu.

Not anyone she had met in the mortal world.

Not even a human.

Boom—

The first bolt of heavenly lightning struck her directly. It jolted her awake and dragged her awareness back by sheer pain.

Luan Ling had never imagined she’d be struck by heavenly lightning in her lifetime. She wasn’t ascending, nor had she violated heavenly law. She had always been a law-abiding citizen of the heavens—yet here she was.

It hurt.

Too much.

And worse was still to come.

As she struggled to stand and move, the second bolt struck.

She couldn’t even lift her head. Seven of her souls nearly fled, and when she collapsed, her only thought was that maybe dying like this wouldn’t be so bad.

She even wondered what would happen if she died inside Si Zhuo’s body…

That thought jolted her upright.

Wait—if even Si Zhuo’s dragon body, thick-skinned and resilient, was in this much pain, what about her own poorly cultivated physical body?

She scrambled to her feet.

She refused to die in Si Zhuo’s body. If she had to die, she would do so in her own.

No god had ever been killed by heavenly lightning—at least, not according to heavenly records.

She began searching for Si Zhuo, knowing he would be looking for her too. If they were to meet while using the lightning to clear the remaining demonic energy, where was the most likely place?

The abandoned palace.

Luan Ling endured the lightning step by step, each footfall leaving a scorched imprint behind. She took eight bolts head-on before finally seeing Si Zhuo approaching from the opposite direction.

Just as she had expected, her physical body was far weaker than her consciousness. When the eighth bolt struck, she collapsed in a bloodied heap the moment Si Zhuo spotted her.

Your injuries are on me, but the pain is in my heart.

She staggered over, shaking him urgently. “Don’t fall asleep! You’re not allowed to die in my body!”

“Who’s dying in your body?” Si Zhuo replied weakly, lifting his eyes. “Stop shaking me—I’ll survive the lightning just to be killed by you.”

Seeing that he was still conscious, she finally relaxed. But before she could catch her breath, the ninth bolt descended.

She felt like she was being cooked alive.

She wondered if all living beings felt this way before death—so light, as though their bodies no longer existed, gradually losing all perception of the world, drifting back into a state like an unborn embryo, floating in nothingness.

Until the moment of birth—when cold air rushed in, eyes opened, and the world became tangible once more.

Luan Ling reached out, gently touched Si Zhuo’s brow—

Then viciously yanked his cheek.

Si Zhuo immediately flicked her forehead. She yelped and was about to retaliate when he abruptly changed the subject.

“Hey,” he said, “look—I can use fire now.”

“Huh?”

The distraction worked. Luan Ling snapped back to reality and suddenly realized something important.

Not only had their bodies switched back—

Her divine power was fully unleashed.

Without restrictions, that meant—

She looked up at the sky.

The Heavenly Court had arrived.

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