Of course, along the way she also drove off a few small demons who tried to cause trouble. From start to finish, neither her mind nor her body had a moment’s rest.

Before long, night began to fall. Luan Ling estimated the distance: because Xie Yuling’s group had earlier been misled deep into the mountain range, there was no way they would make it out tonight. They would have to set up camp for the night.

While the tents were being pitched, Xie Yuling glanced at her. Luan Ling immediately raised her hand and pointed at a tree, saying brightly, “I’m an expert—I’ll sleep in the tree.”

Xie Yuling said nothing more. He simply lifted a hand and undid the cloak around his shoulders, then, to Luan Ling’s slightly puzzled expression, held it out to her.

“It gets cold at night. This will keep you warmer.”

Luan Ling glanced at the cloak. Xie Yuling’s hand remained suspended in midair, clearly waiting for her response. She shook her head, pushed the cloak back toward him, and said, “We cultivators train daily to strengthen our bodies. If we were afraid even of night dew and chill, what kind of ascetic cultivation would that be? Sir, thank you for your kindness.”

Since she refused it, Xie Yuling did not insist. Instead, he said, “They’ve finished roasting the fish. Come eat something.”

That, at least, Luan Ling could accept. She followed him over and sat down nearby. This time, Xie Yuling carefully inspected all the food, and he did not dare drink the water raw. Even if he hadn’t checked, Luan Ling would have—before escorting them out, she could not allow anyone to die within the area she was responsible for.

“We’ve talked for quite a while, but I haven’t even asked your name,” Xie Yuling said. “How should I address you?”

Luan Ling smiled, her eyes curving. “You only just remembered to ask my name—yet you haven’t told me yours either.”

Xie Yuling paused, then said, “My surname is Yue. My given name is Ling.”

Luan Ling did not expose him. She simply smiled and said, “My name is Luan Ling.”

He was not being sincere, but she could afford to be. When gods traveled among mortals, aside from certain secret operations, it was absolutely necessary during official missions to leave one’s proper name behind. Otherwise, when people sought divine help, they would not even know which god to pray to.

Xie Yuling was cautious by nature. Of course he would not reveal his true identity to Luan Ling. Yet judging from her expression, it seemed she did not particularly care who he really was—though she might well have guessed something. After all, their entire group had entered the mountains so conspicuously, and she and her companions had appeared right beside them. It was impossible that she had no inkling at all of who they might be.

Even so, Xie Yuling could not take the initiative to tell her the truth. One careless word might bring consequences beyond measure. Just as with drinking water—he only dared to take a few cautious sips—he instinctively avoided indulging himself too much in the unknown. The result was clear enough: when those guards fell, he still had the strength to go farther.

Sometimes, caution did not guarantee the outcome one hoped for, but at least it helped him avoid unnecessary calamities. After all, even his uncle Yu Yue, a general who had rendered great service on the frontier, was still viewed with suspicion by the emperor. Xie Yuling listened to the people cheering his uncle’s victories while simultaneously worrying whether the emperor might make another move—and how he himself should survive among these brothers who watched each other like hawks.

So careful and hesitant was he that his uncle once remarked he was on the verge of losing a young man’s fire. But fire alone would never have allowed Xie Yuling to live this long.

When his brothers fought and schemed, he often observed quietly from the sidelines. Though he could never truly remain uninvolved, watching the flames from afar still allowed him to find ways to keep his footing.

Take Xie Yukang, for example. Xie Yucheng, that reckless fool, believed his greatest enemy was Xie Yuheng, the empress’s son, and completely overlooked Xie Yukang, who was close to him. But Xie Yuling saw clearly: Xie Yukang was a venomous snake. His methods were despicable, his bottom line lower than anyone else’s. Even as a child, he had dared to strike at Xie Yuyan, who posed no threat to him at all—Xie Yuyan had nearly died at his hands. Yet the emperor never upheld justice, because he was happy to see them all fight, just as he enjoyed seeing civil officials and military generals clash. Only when they were divided could the emperor wield his greatest power.

In such an environment, Xie Yuling could not afford to be noncompetitive like Xie Yuheng, nor could he scramble relentlessly like Xie Yucheng. He had no other choice. All he could do was find his own way—enough to remain visible to the emperor, but not so much as to draw constant scrutiny.

In the shadows, a venomous snake silently watched its sleeping prey. The pungent scent of realgar filled the air. The snake hesitated for a brief instant—but then a perfectly timed breeze swept through, dispersing the realgar and opening a path forward for the snake demon.

Luan Ling had been resting with her eyes closed, entering meditation, when she suddenly sensed an unusually strong disturbance of demonic energy nearby. She opened her eyes at once, leapt down from the tree, and rushed toward the source.

It seemed to be… a snake demon? Highly lethal. And there were quite a few people nearby—likely the retinue of some prince.

But according to the message from her senior sister, Xie Yuyan’s Four Directions elites had already rescued Xie Yuheng. Counting the rest, there should only be five people left. One from the Qilin Hall for each—so they should have found them by now. Then who was responsible for this group?

She soon found out.

Just before reaching the source of the demonic aura, she saw Si Zhuo leaning casually against a tree, waiting.

Luan Ling looked at him, then at the camp below where Xie Yukang’s group was fighting the snake demon. For a moment, she could hardly believe it. Without wasting words, when she saw the venomous snake about to bite Xie Yukang’s neck, she focused her mind and struck directly with her divine consciousness, stunning the snake with a single heavy blow.

The instantaneous exertion drained her divine sense severely. Luan Ling nearly lost her footing. A hand grabbed her to steady her—but she flung it away without hesitation and immediately sent out a blast of true energy, striking hard.

Si Zhuo barely blocked the attack. Realizing that she was not holding back at all, he frowned sharply. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Luan Ling shot back, glaring at him, anger surging. “Do you even know what you’re doing?!”

Si Zhuo seemed to understand what she was furious about. He glanced downward and said calmly, “You saw it yourself—the snake demon didn’t really hurt them. You acted too hastily just now. Otherwise, I would have intervened in time.”

“In time?” Luan Ling nodded. “You mean quietly deflecting the snake each time before it bit Xie Yukang, then letting it continue attacking them, over and over?”

Si Zhuo said, “What else? My mission is only to escort them out. They’re not injured, not dead—shouldn’t that be enough?”

Luan Ling stared at him in disbelief. “We are gods. How can you let demons harm people based on your personal likes and dislikes?”

Si Zhuo stepped forward as well. “And you know I’m acting on likes and dislikes. Then you also know what kind of things that man has done. He’s killed many people and nearly killed the new arrival from the Qilin Hall. We’re gods—so shouldn’t we uphold the principle that good is rewarded and evil punished? Isn’t that your way of doing things?”

“His killings are part of human strife. They have nothing to do with us,” Luan Ling said coldly. “Our duty is to exterminate demons and subdue evil, to ensure national peace and favorable seasons. As long as his struggles remain within the mortal realm, we have no reason to interfere.”

Si Zhuo sneered. “National peace? Do you really think the people would live in peace if someone like him took the throne? Don’t you find that responsibility a bit too abstract?”

“This mortal world ultimately belongs to mortals,” Luan Ling replied. “No matter how we assist from the side, we cannot directly interfere with human karma. That, too, is natural selection.”

Si Zhuo pressed on. “So do gods save an abstract whole, or individual people? War has broken out at the borders. Two sides are fighting—one may win, one may lose, or both may suffer. Which side should we stand on?”

“On the side of justice,” Luan Ling answered without hesitation. “The Dao of Heaven will make its choice. Some processes cannot be overturned, not even by gods.”

She continued firmly, “If acts arise in war that justice cannot tolerate, gods must intervene—because such evil breeds corrupt spirits that disrupt the world. That is our duty.”

“But divine intervention must follow clear rules,” Si Zhuo countered. “We are not those symbols that have merged with the Heavenly Principle and left Penglai behind. We have emotions, preferences. If gods with likes and dislikes act without rules, the mortal world will fall into chaos. Compared to mortals, gods wield far greater power. Act without restraint, and everyone will want to become a god—only to act however they please afterward. Even if only one or two do so, once that door is opened, everyone will believe their own justice is justice. Then what laws would the Heavenly Realm have left?”

Pointing downward, Si Zhuo said sharply, “Demons lack awareness—humans do not. Xie Yukang wanted to kill me the moment he realized I intended to leave. Gods cannot harm humans, but humans can slay gods under the excuse of ignorance. Are such vile people also those you wish to protect?”

Luan Ling shook her head. “No—you’re mistaken about one thing. Whether born to high station or humble fields, mortals can all reveal ugliness. I despise them too. Sometimes, if I encounter them, I might even play tricks on them out of personal dislike. But if a demon appears before them, I will still stand in front of them and destroy it without hesitation—because that has nothing to do with my will. That is my duty as a god.”

Si Zhuo gave a cold laugh. “You are a god. I am not. If becoming a god means wearing these shackles, I’d rather return to the Eastern Sea. At least there, if I reveal my true form, those foolish mortals will know to worship me as a god. You can talk a thousand words, do ten thousand things, and still be less appreciated than a heart demon who casually kills a villain.”

Luan Ling shook her head again. “I don’t need gratitude. Gods don’t need gratitude. Only Luan Ling, as an individual, does.”

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