That was true enough. Luan Ling fully agreed with Immortal Lord Wen Yuan.

Once she had a lead, she immediately set out to look for someone.

Luan Ling hadn’t been a particularly diligent child when she was young. After all, she was talented—she learned everything quickly. But after repeatedly running into all kinds of bizarre situations, she’d had no choice but to keep herself constantly busy.

Those strange incidents didn’t even require deliberate recollection—reality would soon replay them for her anyway.

“You promised! You said you would marry me!”

The tearful fairy clutched the immortal lord’s hand, crying bitterly.

“You went down to the mortal realm once, and now you’re telling me we should end things?”

“Fate should never be forced,” the immortal lord replied solemnly, gently pulling his hand free. “We’re not suitable for each other. You’re a good person, but if we keep entangling ourselves like this, none of us will end well.”

Luan Ling clicked her tongue, as if the sun had scorched her eyes, and was about to detour around them when she suddenly felt someone grab her right hand.

Turning her head, she found it was the same fairy, crying like pear blossoms in the rain.

“Tell me—don’t you think he’s heartless?”

From the other side came the immortal lord’s voice.

“Judge for me—don’t you think she’s being unreasonable?”

Ahhh—why is it always this kind of problem?!

Luan Ling hadn’t expected that even after switching bodies, she still couldn’t escape these tribulations. Couldn’t you people think things through yourselves? Why insist on asking a god who’s never even been in love?! Are those tiny brains of yours just decorative?!

She was just about to fall back into her old habit—methodically explaining why “if you can’t keep a promise, don’t make one” and “the next one will be better, stop tormenting yourself”—when she suddenly remembered her current identity.

A rebellious thought surfaced.

She pulled her hand free, looked at the two immortals, and darkened her expression.

“Scram. Both of you.”

While the fairy and the immortal were still stunned, Luan Ling slipped away, immensely satisfied.

So refreshing!

So this was what it felt like to be a tyrant!

Ever since she’d gained consciousness, these melodramatic farces had played out around her with alarming regularity.

When she was younger, she didn’t understand and would eagerly try to mediate—telling brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunts to stop fighting. But over time, she realized…

Were they sick?

Sick in a very obvious way—chronic, incurable, and destined to drag on until the ends of the earth.

She didn’t like meddling in other people’s business. Unfortunately, trouble always came crashing into her anyway.

“Stop fighting, please!”

A fairy rushed between two immortals locked in combat, blocking the one with the upper hand and pleading desperately.

“If I’d known things would turn out like this, I wish I’d never met either of you!”

Luan Ling sighed softly. What was going on? It wasn’t even dark yet, and they were already causing trouble. Did they think the Heavenly Laws were just for show?

She was about to send a divine message to the Heavenly Guards when she remembered she no longer had that authority. With a cold face, she tried to detour again.

But she hadn’t even cleared the area when someone nearly got blasted into her.

They said when gods fight, mortals suffer—but clearly they’d never seen how unlucky bystanders in the heavens could be.

Luan Ling stared at the gold-thread embroidery torn open on Si Zhuo’s luxurious robes. This was already the result of her dodging quickly. She clenched her fist and shouted toward the chaos.

“Are you all insane?! Stop fighting—this kind of beating won’t kill anyone! If you’re going to fight, roll over to the Divine Hall and do it there!”

She hadn’t been this irritable before. She didn’t know why, but today she desperately wanted to curse someone out.

When all three of them turned to look at her, she sneered.

“Fighting over love, huh? Big, powerful gods like you—wouldn’t it be more impressive to fight in front of the Heavenly Emperor?”

She hadn’t realized she was capable of such cutting sarcasm. It felt a little wrong—but undeniably satisfying.

After speaking, she flew off without looking back, leaving behind only a proud, aloof silhouette.

She wasn’t posturing on purpose. The truth was, she couldn’t fight right now. If she didn’t run while they were still stunned, she’d definitely get beaten up once they came to their senses.

She searched for Si Zhuo the whole way, her unease growing with every step.

Why was she getting closer and closer to the Divine Hall?

And getting closer to the Divine Hall meant getting closer to her residence—

Luan Ling prayed silently, but the heavens did not heed divine wishes. The outcome was exactly what she’d feared most.

“Why are you lying here?!”

She rushed to the bedside, staring at the scarred back before her. Instinctively, she reached out.

“Don’t touch.”

Si Zhuo exhaled slowly and turned his head to look at her.

“Your family’s discipline methods are really something—using a divine punishment whip meant for executions.”

She hadn’t expected him to come here at all. One of the reasons she wanted to stay at the academy was precisely to avoid returning to the Divine Palace.

“My situation is complicated,” Luan Ling said seriously, a rare tone for her. “You shouldn’t have come here. Did you run into the Heavenly Empress? Did you argue with her?”

Only the Heavenly Empress had the authority to wield the divine whip.

“As you can see.”

Si Zhuo sounded calm, but when the whip had come down, he hadn’t uttered a single sound.

He endured it—endured until the day he would grow strong enough to exact revenge with his own hands.

Luan Ling looked at her body’s once-smooth, pale back, now covered in shocking wounds, and didn’t know whether she should cry for him or for herself.

“How did you even manage this…” Her voice trembled. “The Heavenly Empress dislikes me, but she’s never beaten me like this. What did you say to her?”

“Nothing important. Definitely not insults.”

“I wish it had been insults,” Luan Ling muttered, then quickly rallied herself. “Forget it. Once I graduate, I’ll be free anyway. And you—stop thinking about running. Heal my body first.”

Wounds inflicted by the divine whip didn’t heal easily. After some thought, Luan Ling decided she’d just have to carry herself around.

“If you hadn’t run, would there really be this much trouble?” she muttered, keeping an eye on the doorway. Seeing no one nearby, she shot into the air in a flash.

“And if you hadn’t come after me, would things have ended up like this?” Si Zhuo retorted. Reasoning like that was pointless—you could trace it all the way back to Pangu splitting the heavens.

Luan Ling gave up arguing and resignedly pulled the slipping gauze back over him.

This back—she truly felt heartache for it.

When Wen Yuan saw Si Zhuo’s condition, the gentle smile faded from his face. He closed his folding fan and carefully examined the wounds.

As one of the most medically proficient gods in the divine realm, he could easily tell how heavy-handed the Heavenly Empress had been.

“You…” He looked up at Luan Ling.

She didn’t know what to say and could only offer an awkward smile. “Normal family conflict. He was punished in my place.”

Though the punishment was unusually severe, everyone in the heavens knew the Heavenly Empress disliked her.

Wen Yuan lowered his gaze thoughtfully, placing his hand above the wounds. Green divine energy poured forth, and the injuries began to heal slowly.

Watching the headmaster’s face grow paler, Luan Ling felt uneasy. She glanced between him and Si Zhuo.

She knew the divine whip was powerful—but she hadn’t expected even Wen Yuan to struggle. Si Zhuo had truly suffered.

“I can only heal the external wounds,” Wen Yuan said at last. “The damage to the divine body will take time to fully recover.”

In other words: the injuries looked healed, but the foundation was still weak.

Si Zhuo forced himself upright. Even such a simple movement took tremendous effort.

This grudge was firmly set. One day, he would burn every last hair off that old witch’s head.

Seeing the ferocity in the girl’s eyes, Wen Yuan coughed lightly and gestured for Luan Ling to sit.

Frankly, he was a little confused himself.

A bright, cheerful girl had turned into a tyrant ready to wipe out entire families. A dragon once hated by gods and ghosts alike had become a diligent, responsible student.

Anyone would be disturbed by this.

“You’ve both seen it,” Wen Yuan said, gently fanning himself. “No matter how strong you were in the past, your foundation is now zero. You must start with basic universal spells.”

Si Zhuo looked up at him.

A month ago—at the tribunal before he set the academy on fire—he’d sat in this very room, in this very spot, declaring that even without learning universal spells, he would still surpass everyone present.

Then he burned the academy down.

Ordinary spells couldn’t extinguish his flames. He’d wanted to prove his words with action.

And now, one month later, the academy head was telling him that universal spells were his only path forward.

This slap-in-the-face reality was too much to accept immediately.

Luan Ling stared at her nose, then her heart, firmly deciding that whatever Wen Yuan said next, she would agree.

“Oh, and you,” Wen Yuan said, turning to the upright-seated youth—her. “Born a god. You don’t need deliberate study to master spells.”

Luan Ling froze.

She couldn’t exactly say, “Yes, yes, teacher, I really am that amazing,” could she?

“You two are the most talented children I’ve ever seen,” Wen Yuan said with an appreciative smile, which soon softened. “Unfortunately, talent has made you complacent. One looks down on basic spells entirely; the other learns too fast and thinks there’s no rush.”

Feeling wronged, Luan Ling protested, “Teacher, I prioritize things! My current mission is to save the world—learning universal spells is a waste of time!”

The moment she finished speaking, Si Zhuo snorted with laughter. Wen Yuan’s smile nearly cracked.

Save the world?

As director of the Divine Council, how was it possible he hadn’t heard of impending chaos in the Three Realms?!

It seemed this student’s mental condition field in her file might need to be updated to pending.

Wen Yuan half-covered his face with his fan, struggling to maintain a polite smile.

Seeing their reactions, Luan Ling fell silent in anger. Mocking her was one thing—but mocking her duty crossed the line!

“In any case,” Wen Yuan said solemnly, closing his fan, “I must give you bad news. I can’t resolve your current issue. Neither could any other immortal lord. The only hope…”

He looked at Luan Ling.

“…may be to wait for the Heavenly Emperor to come out of seclusion.”

A flicker of something passed through Luan Ling’s expression, but she said nothing.

“My grandfather might have a solution,” Si Zhuo said, tilting his head. “Why don’t you help me contact him?”

“Heh.” Wen Yuan let out a cryptic laugh. “Your grandfather made it very clear—if you caused such a disaster in the heavens and can’t graduate, don’t contact him again.”

“I remember what you said back then…” Wen Yuan looked up, recalling. “Fine, then don’t contact him! I won’t go back for the rest of my life!”

Luan Ling burst out laughing. She hadn’t meant to poke at his wound—but she couldn’t resist paying him back for earlier.

Si Zhuo was left speechless, utterly unwilling to acknowledge either of them.

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