“You made this?” Yun Ruoyan questioned, shocked.

Li Mo smiled and nodded, then wiped at the grease by Yun Ruoyan’s mouth with a handkerchief. “Over the last two months, I kept thinking that you would definitely be hungry when you woke up, so I honed my skills at preparing your two favorite dishes.”

As if revealing an exceptional secret, he then whispered, “I discovered that cooking these dishes with a spiritual fire would improve both their taste and the rate at which they cooked.”

Yun Ruoyan glanced at the two plates of food in front of her, impeccable in both taste and appearance. Her heart warmed, she smiled and said, “No wonder it tastes so good. If anyone knew that these dishes had been cooked using a sword saint’s spiritual flame, they would be so shocked that they’d bite off their tongue.”

Li Mo felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched Yun Ruoyan smile while eating the food that he had prepared himself. This was a sight that he had hoped to see for the last two months, and he couldn’t help reaching out and pushing aside a strand of her stray hair.

When Li Mo’s warm fingers touched Yun Ruoyan’s forehead, she stilled. The scene in front of her seemed to overlap with what she had experienced in her dream, of Li Mo parting her hair during the downpour as she lay dying on the streets.

“What’s the matter?” Li Mo asked, seeing Yun Ruoyan freeze up. “Does the scar on your chest hurt?”

Yun Ruoyan’s chest had been struck by Pei Ziao’s spear. Luckily, the tip of the spear had barely missed her heart, or even Li Mo and the first elder working together wouldn’t have been able to save her.

Yun Ruoyan reached out and caressed the wound on her chest. Through her thin blouse, she could feel the slight protrusion of a scar, but it didn’t seem to hurt at all.

“I treated the wound with a high-grade spiritual pill. It’s all but recovered now, and the scar will vanish after a few days as well,” Li Mo replied as he felt her forehead.

“Li Mo.” Yun Ruoyan raised her head and looked at him, her gaze somewhat complicated.

“What’s the matter, Yan’er? Are you feeling unwell?” Li Mo couldn’t help getting nervous.

“Li Mo, I’m scared.”

“Of what? With me around, you don’t have to fear anything!”

“I’m scared that you’re just a dream,” Yun Ruoyan replied, curling up in his lap, her arms tightly clinging onto his waist. “While I was comatose, I had an unusual dream.”

Yun Ruoyan’s voice was piteous. “I dreamt that you were still that cold-hearted highness, and I had been thrown out onto the streets, about to die. You glanced at me coldly, then spoke a few heartless words to me. I wanted to call out to you, but I couldn’t let out a single sound. I could only extend my hand, trying to grab you, but I was so weak I could only watch as you walked away. Li Mo, I don’t want that dream to become a reality, and I’m so worried that what I’m going through now is just a dream and nothing more…”

Li Mo could empathize with Yun Ruoyan’s fear, the fear of losing a loved one that had plagued him for the last two months. 

“Yan’er, look at me.” Li Mo cupped Yun Ruoyan’s face and forced her to look up. Their eyes met; his were like the starry sky. “This isn’t a dream.” He took Yun Ruoyan’s palm and held it up to his own face. “I’m real.”

Yun Ruoyan finally smiled. “Li Mo, I hope you’ll never leave me, forever and ever. I hadn’t realized how much separation would hurt—so much that it pains me just to think about the memory.”

“Of course.” Li Mo leaned forward and kissed Yun Ruoyan, their intertwined bodies quickly beginning to blaze with heat. Plates crashed onto the floor: Li Mo had pushed Yun Ruoyan down, and she had accidentally knocked the tray over.

“Yan’er, your body—” Li Mo forcefully restrained himself. Yun Ruoyan lay underneath him, her cheeks blushing a furious red. 

“I’m fine.” Yun Ruoyan pulled Li Mo’s neck down and gave him a kiss. Slightly panting, she murmured, “Li Mo, I need you to help me heal my injury.”

Faced with such temptation, Li Mo could no longer suppress his needs. A white glow radiated from his body, cocooning them both.

In the dark of the night, by a corner of the southern tower, Zhuo Yifeng stood still. In his hands was a wild rabbit that he had roasted with painstaking effort. For two whole months, he had stood by the wall every night.

Yun Ruoyan loved his roast meat. Thinking that she would be famished when she first woke up, he had begun a daily routine of hunting some wild game, preparing it, then standing by the wall of the southern tower and waiting for any sign of her emergence. He and the Lin sisters had only seen her once after she had returned from the training, critically injured. From then on, Li Mo had forbidden anyone from getting close to her save the first elder himself.

Nevertheless, Zhuo Yifeng had persisted in his daily routine, day after day, week after week, until two whole months had passed. Deep in his heart, he knew that it was useless—even if Yun Ruoyan woke up, he wouldn’t be able to see her, but that didn’t stop him from showing up. He appeared every night, as though only by doing so would he feel marginally better.

Whenever Zhuo Yifeng recalled how Li Mo had carried Yun Ruoyan’s bloodied body back to the island’s shore, he couldn’t help blaming himself. Why had he separated from Yun Ruoyan? Why had he just left her to Li Mo? If he had been around her as always, she wouldn’t have received such a heavy injury!

When Zhuo Yifeng saw Li Mo bringing a tray of food back to the southern tower, he was so agitated that he took a step forward: Yun Ruoyan had finally woken up.

Zhuo Yifeng glanced up to the second floor of the southern tower and breathed out. “Ruoyan, I, Zhuo Yifeng, swear that I’ll defend you with my life!”

Only when the light streaming from the second-floor window vanished did he finally leave. Instead of returning to the central college, he headed to the cliffside, where he began heating up the roast meat that had long since cooled down.

A black shadow appeared before him.

“Master,” Zhuo Yifeng turned and called out.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your master!” The shadow sat down beside Zhuo Yifeng.

“Whether or not you recognize me as your disciple, Master, you’ve taught me several cultivation techniques already.” Zhuo Yifeng handed the re-heated meat to the black-clad man, who began to eat.

“I’m heading to the alternate dimension tomorrow,” Zhuo Yifeng said.

The black-clad man paused, took out a flask of wine, had a swig, then handed the flask to Zhuo Yifeng. Zhuo Yifeng took a long draught; the liquid burned his throat as though it were fire.

“Refreshing,” he murmured.

“I specially purchased this alcohol from the capital for our farewell,” the black-clad man explained. “Be ambitious. The alternate dimension might be a cruel place, but with your cultivation and mindset, it wouldn’t be difficult for you to survive there.”

“Master, have you been there too?”

“No, never.” Surprisingly, the black-clad man answered in the negative. “But I’ve heard tell of many people who have, so I know a little about the realm.” He began explaining what he knew. “The most important lesson you have to learn is forbearance. If your cultivation isn’t high enough, learn to endure.”

The black-clad man sighed. “Entering the otherworld has been a dream of mine, and you’ll be fulfilling it for me vicariously.”

“Master, it’s not as difficult as I’d expected to gain access,” Zhuo Yifeng hurriedly mentioned. “We lost two further students during the last training, so all the colleges are trying to foist the responsibility for providing two more students on each other. If you’d like to go…”

“I can’t!” he immediately refused. “I have my own goals and tasks now.”

Zhuo Yifeng naturally understood that everyone had their own duties, their own calling. Neither of them continued talking; instead, they took turns draining the alcohol from the flask.

When the flask was almost emptied, Zhuo Yifeng, fuelled by alcohol, asked, “Master, if I return safely from the otherworld, will you reveal your face to me?”

As though he had predicted that Zhuo Yifeng would ask such a question, the black-clad man drained the last of the alcohol. With clear, bright eyes, he looked straight at Zhuo Yifeng. “If you see my face, our fates will be intertwined.”

“I’m willing to take you as my master, to listen to your orders and respect you as though you were my father,” Zhuo Yifeng hurriedly replied. “I lost my father at a young age, but I feel an unusual sense of kinship with you, Master. If you would allow it, I’d like for you to be my godfather.”

The black-clad man stilled, and his resolute expression shifted under his hood. Of course he would want to reunite with his two children, but given his current role...

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