When she first came through, her head had been hazy, her body burning. A man lay beneath her; his snow-white robe had been disheveled, revealing pale skin at his chest. Those beautiful eyes had been dim and fixed on her, cold and simmering with anger.
She didn’t have time to deal with any of that. Instinct told her this place wasn’t safe—she needed to move. With that thought, she and the man suddenly found themselves somewhere else.
She vaguely knew it was a Mortal Realm cabin. The bed was actually pretty comfortable.
“Get off me…”
The man’s voice was clear and pleasant, though full of coldness and fury.
She felt restless and faint. Drawn by the voice, she looked down at his face—and felt her heart lurch.
Oh my God, I dreamed of an insanely handsome man?
This was totally seducing her. Yes—he was seducing her!
She saw a mist glossing his dark eyes, a faint flush on his skin. His slender brows knitted, as if he was suffering but holding himself in. She stared at his thin, tempting lips and, unable to resist, lowered her head and kissed them. The man’s body stiffened instantly.
Her head still foggy, she only knew that being close to him felt good. Her hands started wandering, and everywhere they touched felt amazing.
“St—stop… mm…”
Ethan felt increasingly unwell. He’d just passed a thunder tribulation and had temporarily lost his power; she’d slipped him drugs and bound him, so he couldn’t move—biting his lip, he fought the strange sensations and kept himself from making any more sounds.
Claire let her body follow its instincts. In that instant she felt the man tremble faintly under her, yet he didn’t cry out.
She felt relief wash through her. The drug was potent.
The original woman had known there was only one chance—so she’d taken a bit more for herself.
In the muddle, Claire only noticed his face growing paler, his lips redder. The once-cold features had gained a hint of sultry allure; his stubborn restraint only made him more intoxicating.
Damn it—he was too beautiful, she thought, and leaned closer.
She didn’t know how long passed before fatigue finally took her. Her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.
She woke the next afternoon. Sunlight poured through the window. Claire blinked, taking in the simple room; her mind cleared as the original woman’s memories flooded in. She forced herself to accept the situation.
She replayed the novel’s plot in her head.
The original was a High Celestial in charge of herbs, silently adoring Ethan Hale but never managing to get close.
The female lead, Ava Morgan, had just become a new celestial. Pure, naive, kind—she tended to the male lead’s daily needs and initially wasn’t favored by him.
Later, Ethan suffered a tribulation and lost his power. The antagonist took advantage, drugging him in her seldom-known second cave to have her way—if she couldn’t win his heart, she could at least win his body.
But the female lead, blessed by protagonist luck, found the cave, defeated the drugged antagonist, and rescued Ethan. She sacrificed herself to help him, and he rose in power.
The antagonist’s crime was exposed to Emperor Celeste; she was stripped of most of her magic, demoted to an ordinary celestial, and—fearing collusion with the Abyssal Realm—didn’t dare cause more trouble.
In the end, the male lead set things right and stabbed the antagonist until she was a cripple, then the Emperor cast her down to the Mortal Realm, doomed to be reborn as a short-lived beast for generations, never to return to the ranks of the immortals.
Claire steadied her breath. The first step to changing the antagonist’s fate had been—thankfully—that instinct-driven teleport when she first arrived, which kept the female lead from catching them in the act and allowed her to actually sleep with the male lead.
So close. So lucky.
Now what should she do?
She watched Ethan’s sleeping face—still pale—his fair chest marked by last night’s bruises and hickeys, blotches of red and purple. Her cheeks warmed; she scolded herself for being so unmerciful.
She watched him a long time and finally decided. Scouring the original woman’s memories, she flicked her fingers and cast a small spell on Ethan.
1.
Ethan had been trapped in a troubling dream. His lashes trembled; he slowly opened his eyes.
Claire watched quietly. The moment he blinked awake, the stars seemed to fall into his gaze.
“You’re awake,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. “You’ve slept a whole day and night.”
Ethan met her eyes, narrowing them. His thin lips parted. “…Who are you?”
Claire felt a boulder lift from her chest—her spell had worked.
“I’m your cultivation partner. I’m Claire. You—last night we—” She blinked wide, on the edge of tears, playing the hurt look.
Snatches of that night flickered through Ethan’s mind; his ears flushed, but memories before that stayed foggy.
“Why can’t I remember anything?” he asked.
Claire feigned thought. “Probably when you passed the thunder tribulation you were hurt. Your magic and memories are temporarily gone.”
Ethan eyed her suspiciously. He did recall the tribulation, but he couldn’t fully believe her.
Seeing his cold stare, Claire began to sob dramatically.
“You heartless monster—how could you forget me like that?”
“We—it was our first time, you tormented me, look at the bed—” She threw back the covers. Ethan’s eyes followed and landed on the crimson marks; he stared, stunned.
“You forget me and you’re so distant…”
Her crying intensified.
Ethan fell silent, unsettled by her tear-streaked face. “I didn’t forget.”
“You did too! Before, even if we hadn’t—still, we shared a bed. You used to hold me when you woke.”
“Now that we actually slept together, you don’t trust me. You don’t cherish me.”
Her performance went on until Ethan’s resolve wavered. “Hug me,” she managed to say, then pressed herself against him.
He stiffened.
“You see? You’ve changed.” She prepared to cry again.
Ethan was unnerved by her tears. Reluctantly he put an arm around her, lightly holding her. Claire obediently snuggled closer.
She’d woken first, wearing only a thin gauze; Ethan was almost naked. Her hand wandered over his abs. He tensed further; a chill seemed to pass through him. She pulled back quickly, afraid he might fling her off in anger and ruin everything.
“You can forget me, but you can’t treat me badly,” she sniffled. “We’ll find a way to restore your magic and your memories.”
Ethan stared at the ceiling, still distrustful.
Claire conjured a big wooden tub and invited him to bathe. “Come take a bath—I’ll scrub your back.”
She smiled innocently. She needed to cling to him before his power and memory returned. If she played this right, he might feel guilty later and show her some mercy—he might not report her to the Emperor.
Ethan sat up, unfazed—after all, he’d already seen. He left the covers and stood revealed: smooth, balanced muscles, perfect proportions.
Jackpot, Claire thought delightedly.
Warm water eased Ethan’s discomfort. Claire wiped the marks on his chest, flushing as she bent over him.
He watched her flushed face, then glanced down at his own body. “Why don’t you have marks like these?” he asked, puzzled.
She flushed harder; of course—he’d been helpless under her, so she had no marks.
“Because I have magic. I woke earlier and used it to remove them,” she said, half-truthfully.
“Why didn’t you use your magic to help me?” he asked.
She couldn’t confess she’d wanted them to linger a while. “You were just injured. Using too much magic on you now would be bad for your body,” she said seriously. “They’ll fade in a day or two.”
He knit his brows but didn’t argue further, closing his eyes to be alone.
She added more hot water, closed the door, and left him.
At the lakeshore, she mimicked Ethan’s handwriting and used a spell to write a note: Everything is fine. I’ll cultivate for a while; do not worry. She folded it into a paper crane and sent it to Ava Morgan.
Claire paused and scolded herself silently for her venomous heart. Even as an antagonist she’d fight to claw her way up. Clenching her fist to psych herself up, she returned.
Ethan was still in the tub. “Give me clothes—the ones I had are ruined,” he said. Steam made his skin glow; some color had returned to his face.
Claire blinked and then covered her mouth, laughing softly—so that’s why he’d been waiting for her.
She had thought about mending his torn robe, but it was too ostentatious for the Mortal Realm, so she made him a different set of clothes.
While fastening his belt, she hugged him, then planted a quick peck on his lips and stepped back.
His eyes went dark but he suppressed it. “Did we do this before?” he asked.
“Of course. You even kissed me back,” Claire said, tapping her mouth to invite him.
He looked at her small cherry mouth—soft and red. He hesitated, then turned away.
Heartless, Claire muttered inwardly.
2.
Ethan still didn’t have any clue how to get his powers back, but Claire knew it was only a matter of time—his magic would return. Finding a method would only speed it up, and she had no interest in rushing things.
So Claire decided to distract Ethan. She led him into the nearby Riverside Market to wander.
It was festival time—only a few days a year—and the whole town treated it like the biggest event. At night the night market lit up, merchants from neighboring towns set out dazzling wares, and there were games and guessing riddles, ring tosses, sugar figurines—bustling and lively.
“Mr. Hale, do you like this sachet?” a shy girl asked, looking at the pale-featured young man before her, heart fluttering as she offered the little embroidered pouch.
There was another custom: town girls would stitch sachets before the festival. During the night market they’d stroll the streets and, if they happened upon someone they fancied, they’d give him the sachet. If he accepted, it meant he returned the interest. Then the two could get to know each other.
Ethan blinked at the sachet in front of him. Mortal customs meant nothing to him—his memory of the Mortal Realm was gone.
He glanced at the pouch, then at the girl, brow tightening. She was blocking his path.
The girl misread his silence. When his dark eyes glanced briefly at her, she erupted with joy.
Ethan lifted a foot to step around her, but three or four more girls crowded him.
They kept blocking his way. He grew irritated.
Ethan wore a simple white robe; his black hair was pinned up plainly. Nothing flashy. But his face was impossibly otherworldly—among the Archdivine he would stand out, so for mortal women he was irresistible. Even the goddesses who’d seen a thousand beauties turned to stare.
Suddenly a mask was clipped over his face. Before he could register it, a crisp female voice rang out.
“What are you doing? This man is my darling. You shouldn’t be behaving like this.”
Claire looped her arm through Ethan’s as if she belonged to him.
The girls gaped, disbelieving, jealousy flaring. They hesitated—but they didn’t leave.
Claire saw how the situation looked and tugged Ethan hard. She pulled him free and they fled.
When they ducked into a narrow alley and the others couldn’t follow, Claire turned to scold him.
“You—leave me for just a while and you’re already flirting? Is that appropriate?”
She pushed his mask up a little so she could see his face.
She only wanted to look.
Ethan opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t know what to say.
Claire watched him avert his eyes, quiet and distant. He didn’t look at her or speak. It made her feel oddly hurt, like she’d been slighted.
“Enough. Put your mask on properly and stick with me. Don’t get lost.”
She reached to adjust the mask, then noticed a strand of hair stuck to his cheek and smoothed it away. Ethan instinctively moved back—but there was a wall behind him. The alley was cramped.
Seeing him dodge, Claire felt a flash of annoyance and stepped closer until their breath mingled.
“This is a public street—tone it down,” he said, turning his head away.
As if she behaved like that all the time. Claire rose onto her toes and hooked his chin.
Ethan braced for a kiss and clenched—annoyed. But she didn’t move to kiss him. For a moment they just stared, quiet, the air holding.
Claire touched his face, then fixed his mask for real. She took his hand gently and led him back toward the crowds.
Ethan looked down at the hand she’d taken. Her earlier tenderness unsettled him.
Claire touched her chest as they walked, relieved she hadn’t kissed him. High Celestials didn’t like people getting too close. For someone who had lost their memory, she’d been unusually indulgent. His earlier expression would have angered him—if she’d pissed him off for a moment’s thrill, it wouldn’t have been worth it.
She chastised herself: damn, desire dulls the brain. She needed to rein it in.
“小师妹, slow down—I can’t keep up!” a man called, sounding flustered.
The woman ahead sprinted toward a mask stall, excited.
“Claire, how can you like this stuff so much?” the man hurried after her.
“It’s just fun to look,” Claire said, comparing two masks against her face.
“You came down here secretly—wasn’t it to look for someone?” he teased.
Claire paused at that. “Brother Simon—” He’d said too much.
“This one’s cute. I’ll buy it. Want one, brother?” Claire laughed.
“No, I don’t need one,” Simon Clark muttered, fidgeting. He hated masks.
Claire and Ethan strolled the market. Everything felt new to her—first time living inside a story, everything sparkled.
She moved on a few steps and realized Ethan hadn’t followed. Turning, she found him staring at a sugar figurine with a strange, almost melancholy focus.
“Sir, do you want this sugar figure?” the vendor urged. “Our shop makes the best—so lifelike. Look at the little fan—so detailed.”
Ethan didn’t answer. Claire paid for the sugar figurine in a single brisk motion, handed it to him, and said, “It’s for you. A bit pricey, but if you like it, that’s what matters.”
She felt pleased—for doing something kind for the male lead.
“Who says I like it?” Ethan replied flatly.
“Huh? Which one do you like then?” Claire blinked, confused.
He didn’t answer and walked on. Claire watched his retreating figure and pursed her lips.
“Hey Claire, want to try ring toss over there?” a voice called nearby.
“Claire?” The name made her spin. She saw a masked girl brushing past and froze.
Could that be the female lead? Ava Morgan? And beside her—Simon. Simon was an older disciple who often came down to guide her cultivation, quietly protective of her.
Claire’s heart thumped. If the masked girl was Ava, she couldn’t be recognized. She bought a mask at the stall and slipped it on.
She scanned the market but Ethan was gone. Panic rose. If the male and female leads met now, the plot would accelerate disastrously.
She considered running—but where? The Celestial Realm’s reach was wide. Punishment for being reported wasn’t terrible—demotion to a lesser immortal was the worst—but that fate for an antagonist meant perpetual scorn, all the hard, thankless tasks with no rest days. It bred resentment and—worse—temptations to collude with the Abyssal Realm.
Simon tossed perfectly at the ring toss; the crowd cheered.
“How’d I do, Claire? Not bad, right?” he crowed.
Claire was distracted, staring. “That silhouette—it’s like—” The girl quickly pushed through the crowd and chased after it.
“Wait, sister!” Simon called.
Ava followed the figure to the lakefront. Paper lanterns drifted on the water, willow branches stirred in the breeze. Beneath a tree leaned a man in white, a brown mask hiding his face. He held the sugar figurine, eyes lowered.
By the time Claire reached the lake, Ava was about to approach him.
Claire didn’t hesitate. She sprinted to Ethan, grabbed his waist, and buried her face against his chest. “Darling, you disappeared—I’ve been looking everywhere. I was so scared.”
Her voice trembled into a coquettish sob.
Ethan tried to push her away. She grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. “Darling, I’m fine—I just missed you so much.”
Ethan felt sick at the closeness. He wanted to vomit.
Ava watched the embrace—her expression darkened. She shook her head. “Not him. The Archdivine wouldn’t behave like that.”
Claire exhaled as Ava turned away—relief washing over her. But Ethan shoved her off. She looked up into his cold eyes.
“I really did look for you,” she stammered, forcing a smile. “Don’t be angry.”
Claire had begun to understand he didn’t like public displays, that he had limits.
“Why?” his voice was cool.
“Huh?” she said.
“Did you become my partner because you truly like me,” he asked, “or is there some other motive?”
Ethan lowered his gaze to her, voice low. Claire floundered—she hadn’t expected this question. Had he seen through her? “Of course I like you,” she lied, feeling clumsy. “I really do.”
He watched her like he was trying to read truth from her eyes.
He’d also noticed a woman nearby—he hadn’t looked directly, but Claire had seemed unnaturally concerned about her. Concerned enough to stage a scene.
Why?
His features darkened into unreadability. He couldn’t tell which words were true and which were lies.
For several days after, Ethan treated her with icy indifference. Claire had no idea what she’d done wrong.
Near their cabin was a small bamboo grove. Ethan often went there to sit alone.
Claire fretted, face drawn. She felt miserable.
“If this is how it is, getting the male lead to remember my kindness and not report me seems impossible,” she muttered, worried and unsure what to do next.
Just as she sank deeper into sorrow, she picked up a suspicious trace of energy.
In the bamboo grove, the thin leaves fluttered down. Ethan Hale sat cross-legged at the center, slowly opening his eyes, gaze fixed ahead.
Claire flew toward the grove. That aura—the stench of a fiend. Could a demon have found Ethan and be hunting his blood to heighten its power?
Though Ethan’s magic was temporarily gone, he was still an Archdivine in appearance and immortal in body. Claire usually hid their auras well, but somehow the monster had learned about him and come seeking him out.
The bamboo leaves hung suspended, then abruptly changed direction. Every blade pointed toward the man at the center and, in an instant, whipped forward like a dozen blades.
Ethan braced with his hands and twisted, dodging a volley of leaves. In previous times this would’ve been nothing—just a flick of the wrist—but now it cost him effort.
There were too many leaves, attacking nonstop. Ethan frowned and evaded wave after wave, but the onslaught only grew fiercer.
One leaf from behind shot forward faster and harder than the rest, aimed straight for a vital spot. Ethan barely managed to avoid the fatal point; a wound felt inevitable. Then, just before it struck, the leaf froze. The protective jade amulet at his waist flared, casting a ring of light that enveloped him completely. The leaves slammed against it and could not advance.
Ethan’s eyes darkened as a memory flashed: Claire handing him the amulet.
“This is precious. You must keep it on you. Don’t take it off.”
So the amulet was made to protect him… Seeing its attack foiled, the fiend revealed itself—a Serpent Fiend. It flicked its forked tongue and lunged.
Ethan’s expression tightened as he prepared to respond. Claire arrived in a rush, diving between them and slapping the serpent across the head.
The Serpent Fiend retreated a few steps, furious and shamed, its aura swelling. It summoned a swarm of young serpents that hurtled toward them.
Claire was, after all, a lesser immortal. Though in the Mortal Realm she could only use about half her normal power, that should have been sufficient. There was one complication: she’d transmigrated into this world and wasn’t trained in her original body’s spells. Realistically, she could muster maybe thirty percent of what she’d have had.
She knew the little serpents would only harass and wouldn’t truly harm Ethan, so she focused on the Serpent Fiend—the king first, catch the leader.
She launched a barrage of spells, only to find the creature’s scales were too thick to penetrate.
If the scales couldn’t be breached, the eyes should be vulnerable—eyes don’t have scales, right?
Claire flew straight toward its eyes.
As she neared, the Serpent Fiend seemed to curl its lips into a grin. Alarm flared in her mind, but the spell had already been released—no retraction possible. Immediately the fiend’s eyes glowed blood-red and her magic rebounded back at her.
Claire felt a brutal blow to her chest and spat blood. She’d put every usable drop of magic into that strike—thankfully it had only been thirty percent, or she might’ve died on the spot.
She collapsed from exhaustion and expected to hit the ground, but instead landed in a warm embrace.
Lifting her head, she met Ethan’s eyes. The man who was normally so cold and composed looked, for once, a touch worried.
Maybe she imagined it, but she still forced out, “Cough… I’m fine. I have magic. This wound—won’t kill me… cough…”
She coughed blood again. Damn, the original body’s power was something else.
“Don’t speak.”
Ethan shifted her behind him and glared at the Serpent Fiend.
“Before, who had deeper cultivation—me or you?” he asked.
“…Of course you,” Claire answered, puzzled by his question.
“That Serpent Fiend should have at least a thousand years’ cultivation.”
Ethan watched the blood-red eyes it had shown and a memory surfaced in his mind. “The Blood-Eye Technique is a supreme serpent spell. It reflects all spell damage. Only a thousand-year cultivation can form it.”
“Sounds pretty terrifying,” Claire said, then slapped her forehead—how dumb. Pretty terrifying indeed, considering she’d been hurt so badly.
“I think I’ve recovered one-tenth of my magic,” Ethan said, and white light gathered at his fingertips.
“One-tenth? But the spell reflects—”
“That’s because your magic was insufficient.”
Ethan blinked away and teleported to the Serpent Fiend’s side. Red and white lights flashed and tangled.
In the very few heartbeats it took Claire to blink, the Serpent Fiend had gone limp—head drooping at Ethan’s feet.
One-tenth of his magic defeated a thousand-year Serpent Fiend?
Claire swallowed hard. No wonder—he was a High Celestial from the Celestial Realm. His cultivation utterly obliterated hers.
“Spare me, I won’t do it again! Wuwu!” The fiend’s rough voice wailed.
“I only had a moment’s thought—wanted your blood to strengthen my cultivation. I was wrong—wuwu,” it sobbed.
Ethan found it odd. Were creatures these days so prone to tears?
Claire wiped the blood from her mouth and stepped forward. “What about the wound you gave me?”
The Serpent Fiend hiccuped and spat out a small bottle. “I… I have a healing elixir. Our serpent clan takes a hundred years to refine one. It heals anything quickly.”
Ethan took the bottle and sniffed. It was indeed high-quality medicine.
“Please spare me, great beings.” The Serpent Fiend whimpered.
“That’s not enough,” Claire said, an idea forming. “Sign a contract with us. If we need you in the future, you must answer.”
The fiend sniffled, bobbed its big head, then nodded.
Claire inspected the contract with satisfaction. It bore the fiend’s blood seal, and the creature left behind a bamboo whistle—blow it and it would come.
Watching her be so pleased even after being hurt tugged something in Ethan. Why did she look so blissfully silly?
Back at the cabin, Ethan presented the elixir. Claire shook her head. “This is a once-in-a-century potion. Save it. I can recover on my own in half a month.”
“This elixir should also raise cultivation,” Ethan said quietly. For fiends it was merely a healing potion, but for mortals it could boost cultivation.
Claire loved his clear voice, especially when it carried the faintest hint of concern. She found it hard to refuse. She took the bottle and swallowed it.
Night fell; moonlight poured through the window.
Claire watched Ethan’s increasingly handsome profile in the pale light and felt a flutter in her chest.
Since he’d awakened, he’d insisted on sleeping on the floor and refused to share the bed. Claire objected, but had been powerless to change him.
She suddenly realized she hadn’t gotten enough of him that night. Her body grew hot.
Ethan’s sleep was light. With someone stirring beside him, he woke quickly.
“Ethan, I’m uncomfortable.”
Claire had somehow slid down to the floor and now lay beside him, clutching his arm, flushed all over.
Ethan felt something off and checked her forehead. Could it be the potion?
“I’m uncomfortable, Ethan, I want—” Claire looked at him with watery eyes. She was trying to restrain herself, afraid that being too forward would anger him.
Ethan frowned. He’d inspected the potion ingredients himself; they were top-grade. Could serpent ingredients have side effects on non-fiends?
Meanwhile, the Serpent Fiend was lecturing its young. “This medicine heals mortals and raises cultivation. But if an immortal consumes it, beyond those effects there is a temporary side effect: it stirs desire. It’s short-lived—half a day, then no problem.”
Having said that, the fiend shook its head. Had it told those two immortals earlier?
“It must be the elixir. It fixed my wounds but because it’s serpent-made, side effects are unavoidable. You gave it to me, you’re responsible…”
Claire was burning up.
“Stay still. I’ll treat you—no sudden moves.” Ethan usually disliked meddling, but seeing her hurt that day had made him take charge, with this result.
He cast a few spells, but Claire’s skin only flushed redder. He stopped, dark eyes studying her as if weighing something.
Claire couldn’t stand it. If one nap would fix it—she’d done worse before. She reached up, pulled Ethan close by the nape of his neck, and began kissing him wildly.
Ethan stiffened, caught off guard by her boldness.
He hesitated to push her away—what if she truly suffered from the elixir’s side effects? Torn between resisting and concern, he found himself unable to think straight as she stripped nearly all his clothes.
A distant memory of that night surfaced—he seemed to have been the one pinned beneath.
Ethan’s handsome brows knit. With a steady look he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.
It had been a long time since they’d been this close.
The headache that had been bothering Ethan vanished a little—he resolved never to let her take unfamiliar medicines again. Or maybe he’d dunk her in the lake to cool her off; that might work.
Before he could test that theory, Claire pressed her lips to his and shattered his thoughts.
Ethan’s gaze softened as he looked at the woman inches away. He saw her long lashes flutter; she was indeed beautiful. Her warm breath stirred his face and made him slightly dizzy.
He closed his eyes and returned the kiss.
This time was different from the last. Ethan completely took the lead. Claire felt limp and weightless in his arms, drinking in the scent of him—like alpine lotus and cold snow.
She slept for who knew how long, waking dizzy and sore.
She glanced at the mottled marks on her body and flushed. He’d done that on purpose, hadn’t he?
She scanned the cabin. Ethan wasn’t there. Where had he gone?
“Claire, you’ve been in town a while now. Aren’t you going back?” Simon Clark fanned himself and asked the girl walking beside him.
By day the riverside market felt even more alive than at night—smoke curling from rooftops, people flowing along the streets, vendors hawking from their stalls. Peaceful and ordinary.
They walked slowly down the lane. The girl seemed lost in thought.
Even though she’d received a letter from the Archdivine, unease still nagged at her.
She’d gone to her senior to use his tracking art to find where the letter came from. The tracking couldn’t be exact—only a rough area—and this town was within that radius.
They’d searched here for days and still found no sign of the Archdivine. Beyond soaking up the local flavor, they’d come up empty.
She couldn’t help but wonder if she was overthinking it.
Simon watched Ava lower her head, worry written across her face, and his gaze went dim.
“What did you just say? Say it again.”
The vendor gaped in disbelief. Who was this guy, with such nerve? He was known across Riverside Market and the next town over as the best sugar-figurine artisan around, and this stranger had just claimed he could do better.
He sized up the young gentleman standing before him. Elegant, poised, wearing a brown mask that hid his face; the vendor couldn’t see him clearly, but the man surely had to be handsome.
Had this gentleman bought from him before?
“If I really can do it better, can I earn some coin for it?” Ethan asked the vendor calmly.
The vendor hesitated a moment, then said, “Fine. You do it. If yours’s better, we’ll talk money. If it’s not—then you won’t get a cent.”
He still didn’t believe it.
Ethan stepped behind the stall and studied the riot of colorful ingredients. He rolled up his sleeves, revealed long, articulated fingers, bent over, and began to work.
The vendor watched, going from scoffing to stunned to secretly wanting him to slow down so he could see each step clearer.
As Ethan’s sugar figure took form, it turned out even more delicate than the vendor’s own work. The vendor couldn’t help but murmur his admiration.
“Is this one for sale?” a pleasant female voice asked from behind. The vendor turned and for the first time noticed the woman—so beautiful he wondered how he’d missed her.
Someone wanted to buy already? The vendor felt a fresh respect for the stranger’s skill.
“Of course it’s for sale. But this one’s a bit pricier—look how exquisite it is. You won’t find one like this at other stalls.” He was already planning to split the profits with the gentleman.
Ethan made no reply. He kept shaping the sugar with focused concentration.
Soon the first tiny sugar figurine was finished.
The vendor picked it up and inspected it closely. Impressive—this level of talent wasn’t something anyone could fake.
“How much?” asked a man who’d followed the woman. He seemed acquainted with her. “It’s really well done. If Sister likes it, I’ll buy them all.”
“I want this one.” The woman’s gaze never left the sugar-figurine maker.
It was the same person from last night—though she hadn’t seen him clearly then, the mask’s color and his silhouette matched.
Ethan heard the firmness in her voice and glanced up at her.
She wore a pale yellow dress; her complexion was clean and delicate. When their eyes met she trembled a little.
His eyes were unreadable—still, like an iced-over lake after fresh snow, cool and distant.
Ava’s heart skipped. That look felt familiar.
Claire idly skipped stones at the lakefront, restless. Her mind swirled with all kinds of thoughts.
The Archdivine was usually so cold; maybe he was thin-skinned, too. What if when he woke he couldn’t accept what he did last night and decided to abandon her—start something he’d never finish and leave home?
The more she thought it through, the more plausible it seemed. Claire felt a strange ache, like sand had blown into her eyes.
Back at the cabin, Ethan removed his mask. He opened the door and found Claire gone. He thought for a moment, then headed to the places she liked to go.
“Is the lake really that pretty?” he heard.
She was here, of course.
Claire froze when she recognized the voice, then turned to look at him.
Her eyes were rimmed red, tears clinging to her lashes. Ethan paused and, without thinking, reached up and brushed them away. “Hey—why are you crying?”
She threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “Where did you go? You were gone so long—I thought you’d leave me, that you’d start something and then abandon me.”
So that was it—she was afraid he’d leave.
Ethan stroked her hair, uncharacteristically gentle. “I’m here. I won’t go.”
She leaned into him, calmed by the sound of his heartbeat. She felt safe.
Did she like him? Of course she did.
Since she’d been transported into this story, he’d been with her day in and day out. Everything here was strange to her except him. She allowed herself to depend on him. She loved him fiercely.
They sat on the grass by the lake. Ethan opened the lunchbox he’d been carrying.
“Osha Bakery’s osmanthus cake?” Claire’s eyes widened at the sweet aroma. “And crunchy almond pastry!”
He’d gone out of his way to buy her treats? But where had he gotten the money?
Seeing her puzzled look, Ethan lifted an eyebrow. “I earned it.”
“You earned it?” She couldn’t believe it.
“That day at the sugar-figure stall I watched how they did it and learned the method. I can make them—and I make them better than the vendor does.” Ethan said it like it was no big thing.
So he’d been interested not in the figurine itself but in the craft. Claire was surprised—this wasn’t recorded in the book she’d read about this world.
“Eat.” Ethan popped a piece of osmanthus cake into her mouth.
“Mmm—too big! I’ll eat it myself. You should eat.” Claire munched and then hesitated. “But Osha Bakery’s the priciest in town. Those pastries aren’t cheap. Can you really make that much selling sugar figurines?”
“I make enough. I sell them fast. The vendor agreed to split seventy-thirty in my favor.” Ethan took a pastry.
“You take seventy?” Claire blurted.
“No, I take thirty.”
Damn—what a shrewd trader. How could he haggle like that with our Ethan?
Claire’s eyes softened as she watched him, the way one looks at a foolish child—fond and a little protective. “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, puzzled.
“Nothing. Eat more. I’ll feed you—don’t move, rest.” She fed him another piece, then picked up one of his hands and held it in both of hers, massaging his long, pale fingers. They were elegant, outlined by knuckles, but always a little cool to the touch.
Such beautiful hands must be tired from making so many sugar figurines. Claire felt moved and guilty at once.
Should she tell him the truth about everything that had happened—about being from another world? Could he accept it? Would he forgive her?
Unnoticed by them, two pairs of eyes watched from the shadows.
Hiding was Simon’s specialty. Even an Archdivine could miss someone using concealment, but Ethan wasn’t a typical Archdivine. Ordinarily, if he’d paid attention, concealment wouldn’t hide from him. But in the state Ethan was in now, he probably hadn’t noticed.
Had he been distracted or… Simon wondered.
He glanced at the woman who’d remained motionless beside him since earlier and sighed.
In a dense thicket, birds chirped as the two walked along the cobbled path.
Simon followed Ava, worry etched across his face.
She hadn’t spoken since earlier, just walked without direction.
Watching her back, Simon felt sad and worried.
Since becoming a celestial maiden, she’d been assigned to Ethan’s residence. Counting the years, it had been over three hundred.
Whenever Simon tried to talk to her, she always, without fail, brought up Ethan—complaining or sharing trivial things—and her eyes would shine in a way that made it obvious how much she cared.
He didn’t understand it. What could attract someone to Ethan? So many celestial maidens liked him. Simon compared himself to Ethan.
Looks—Ethan’s face was undeniably handsome. Cultivation—Ethan was an Archdivine, higher by rank. Talent—Ethan was exceptional. Temperament—only slightly better than his own.
So what else could he possibly lack?
Why did Ava like Ethan and not him? Simon felt a simmering injustice.
The pair ahead came to an abrupt stop, making Simon almost crash into them.
“I never realized—Archdivine can be so gentle. I never realized there was something between him and Claire…” Ava said, staring at the tiny flower beneath her feet with a sad tone.
“Don’t be too upset, senior sister. First, we should be glad—nothing’s wrong with the Archdivine,” Simon tried to comfort her.
“Right. But in that market…” Ava paused, puzzled. “Why did he look at me like he didn’t know me…?”
Simon thought for a moment. “My concealment—normally it shouldn’t hide from him, but he didn’t seem to notice earlier.”
Ava fell silent and looked doubtful.
The days that followed felt satisfyingly ordinary to Claire.
Every night she slept in Ethan’s arms. What more could she want? The thought made a smile lift unbidden to her lips.
In the center of the lake, Ethan closed his eyes and circulated his internal energy. Leaves and petals rose and spun around him, held aloft by his aura.
After finishing a cycle, he opened his eyes. His power had recovered a bit—maybe forty percent now.
He glanced toward the shore where Claire sat.
What was she giggling about?
Sensing his gaze, Claire looked back and gave him a smile, then puckered and sent a flying kiss.
Ethan watched as the pink heart flew toward him. He hesitated, then caught it.
This woman—always unrestrained.
Ethan gathered himself and closed his eyes to continue his cultivation.
Claire rested her chin on her hand, watching him. Her expression shifted between hesitation and resolve, and finally she made up her mind.
She decided to tell him everything—and to explain herself.
But she couldn’t be too blunt—she had to ease into it.
8. After Ethan went off to cultivate, Claire hurried to get up as well. Normally she would sleep until noon, but not today.
She called a wooden tub, bathed, burned incense, then sat before the mirror to dress, pinning gauze into her hair. After the whole routine she looked at herself in the glass—graceful, strikingly beautiful—and felt thoroughly pleased.
Ethan had his eyes closed in meditation; his spirit-sense had already noticed someone approaching. He was a little curious. What was she planning now?
"Ethan, catch me! I’m falling!"
Claire cried out.
She had flown out to the island at the lake’s center, found Ethan, and planned a dramatic descent-from-the-heavens performance so he could admire her beauty.
But Ethan kept his eyes shut. She pretended to fall from the air to get his attention.
Oh no—he still wasn’t moving. She was almost about to hit the grass.
Claire watched the ground rushing up and squeezed her eyes shut. Just as she was about to kiss the lawn, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind and pull her into a warm embrace.
"Is this the act for today?" Ethan looked at her, his tone cool. "If I didn’t catch you, you’d let yourself fall?"
Claire hooked her arms around his neck and smiled. "You kept your eyes closed and weren’t looking at me. I wasn’t going to let myself fall. Besides, you did catch me."
Ethan watched her sharp little smile and figured he probably couldn’t argue with her, so he tried to set her down—let her out of his arms.
"I don’t want to get down."
Claire felt him trying to move and tightened her hold. She conjured a stone stool and pointed. "You sit there. I’ll sit on your lap."
Ethan glanced at the stone stool, then at her. What was this woman scheming today?
Under Claire’s coquettish gaze, Ethan relented. He sat on the stool holding her and settled her into his lap, one arm still wrapped around her waist to keep her steady.
"Speak. What’s your scheme?"
Ethan asked.
Claire curled around him, her head resting on his chest, feeling very satisfied.
"Don’t you think I look especially beautiful today?"
Ethan didn’t see it.
When she didn’t get a response, she went on, "When I fell from the sky, didn’t I look like a celestial maiden come down from the heavens?"
"And…?"
Ethan’s eyes dropped to her, voice flat.
"So, I’m actually a celestial. I’m not just a cultivator; I’m an immortal."
Claire looked at him earnestly, wanting him to believe her. Today she planned to tell him part of the truth.
"Oh, you’re an immortal."
Ethan didn’t contradict her.
Claire fell silent—his calm acceptance threw her off.
"And then?"
Ethan asked.
"Then…you’re an immortal too."
Claire hesitated, then continued.
As Ethan’s cultivation had started to recover, he’d sensed something: the spiritual power around him was almost unfathomable, beyond ordinary cultivators’ reach.
"You used to be powerful—the Archdivine of the heavens. I admired you, and when you were injured during your tribulation, I decided to pledge myself to you to help restore your power."
Claire said it so seriously.
"Pledging yourself—does that restore power?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you didn’t take advantage of a moment?"
Yes. She had taken advantage. And he discovered it.
Claire looked at his handsome face close enough to see the pitch-black depths of his eyes reflecting her, steadied herself, and continued, "I read an ancient text that said dual cultivation helps restore power and raise cultivation."
A faintly amused smile crossed Ethan’s features when he heard that. He leaned toward her ear and murmured, "We’ve done it so many times—have you seen any actual improvement in your cultivation?"
Claire felt her face flush instantly. When did he start teasing her like that?
Ethan watched her reddened ears and felt a small satisfaction.
"My power seems to be slowly returning. Burn that old book—don’t harm others with it."
The book actually did exist, but its useful methods were meant for the heroine, not for an antagonist like Claire.
She snuggled against him and asked softly, "Ethan, are you mad at me?"
"Is there anything else you haven’t told me?"
Ethan breathed in the faint scent of her hair. He wasn’t angry—he just wanted her to speak.
Claire hesitated, afraid if she said too much at once he might not be able to process it. "I’ll tell you next time."
"Alright."
9. Night was very quiet—so quiet they could hear each other’s breathing.
Claire forced herself to stay awake because she wanted Ethan to fall asleep first.
After a long time, she turned to look at him. His breathing was steady and his eyes closed. She waved her hand above his face—no reaction. Once she confirmed he was probably asleep, she let a light gather above his head and draw back into her fingertips.
Claire undid the amnesia charm she had cast on Ethan earlier.
His memories should start to come back gradually. The spell would wear off when his power recovered enough, but she wanted to remove it herself ahead of time. It felt right to do so.
When she finished, she leaned against Ethan’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
Moonlight seemed dimmed by clouds tonight; the cabin was darker than usual.
Ethan opened his eyes slightly, an emotion hard to read swirling in his dark gaze.
Earlier that morning Claire had gone into town to buy things and didn’t let Ethan come with her, acting mysterious. Now the cabin held only Ethan. He walked to the door and stood in the morning sun. The light warmed his skin but couldn’t soften his chill. He stood with his hands behind his back, eyes shadowed, staring at two unexpected visitors.
"How much for this fish?"
Claire pointed at the fish in the basin. She’d decided to cook a few dishes to let Ethan taste her skills. As an immortal he didn’t need to eat, but for Claire, food was pleasure. She wanted to share that pleasure with him.
When she returned, Ethan wasn’t in the cabin.
"Maybe he went to cultivate again?"
Claire set the groceries down. "Never mind—I’ll cook. He can eat when he gets back."
She started working at once.
Smoke rose from the cabin’s first cooking fire. Claire used to cook sometimes, though not often; she was a little clumsy, but in a flurry she managed to produce a full table.
"Four dishes and a soup—nice!"
Claire admired the spread’s color and aroma, pleased with herself.
But Ethan still hadn’t come back.
She had removed his amnesia spell, and his memory wouldn’t return instantly. She’d explained some of it earlier and hadn’t worried that he’d be angry enough to leave. Still, he didn’t return.
Claire searched outside—there was no sign of him by the lake or in the bamboo grove. Back inside, she stared at the cold food on the table and felt uneasy.
Just then the door creaked and opened. Claire turned and lit up with relief.
"You’re back—why are you so late? The food’s gone cold."
She complained despite feeling reassured.
Ethan looked at the table and was slightly stunned. He eyed Claire curiously. "You cooked this?"
"Yes! Sit down and try it. I went to buy ingredients this morning—I wanted to surprise you."
Claire chirped.
Ethan sat, picked up chopsticks, and took a piece of fish. Under Claire’s eager gaze he tasted it, chewing slowly.
?"How is it?"
"Mm…better than I expected."
Claire felt encouraged by that and piled more food into his bowl.
"You should eat more. Not many people get a meal cooked by me."
"Alright."
Ethan obliged and even added a piece of meat into Claire’s bowl.
That night, under a clear moon, Claire dragged Ethan up onto the roof to sit and watch. Moonlight shimmered on the lake; the water and sky were pure and bright.
Claire had imagined a romantic night of moonlight and tender words.
But Ethan was unusually quiet tonight. He was normally reserved and laconic, but tonight felt different.
"Claire."
Ethan looked at the moon and called her name quietly.
"Hmm?"
"You said last time there was something else you didn’t tell me."
His voice was low. "What is it?"
Claire hesitated, then confessed, "When I pledged myself to you…I drugged you."
She watched Ethan’s expression anxiously, afraid he’d be angry. Ethan turned his head slightly to look at her but didn’t show anger—only that he pinched her cheek.
"So eager? So easily seduced by beauty. If someone more attractive than me came along, what would you do?"
That was a dangerous question. Claire’s heart fluttered.
"No one is more attractive than Ethan. In my heart, you’re the most handsome. Even if someone else were prettier, I’d only like you."
She answered without thinking.
Ethan was caught off guard by her certainty. He looked at her deeply, as if testing the truth of her words. Claire felt something luminous turn in his eyes, utterly captivating.
Just then she felt herself drawn into his embrace and heard a soft sigh at her ear. Why sigh?
I Was Born to Be His Trap
Claire rested quietly against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and savoring his scent. For a moment she wished time would stand still.
"Anything else?"
Ethan whispered in her ear.
Claire hesitated. He probably remembered the drugging now, but she hadn't told him about the amnesia charm. She'd been too afraid—she'd done wrong and might not be forgiven.
"…Not for now."
She planned to wait for him to process the drugging, then find a chance to explain the memory spell.
He still held her, though his body felt a little stiff. Claire was about to look up at him when suddenly she felt warm softness press against her lips.
Ethan’s kiss was lingering and intoxicating. He rarely kissed her so willingly—most of the time she teased him first. His kiss felt like early winter snow, cool and searing at once.
Claire found herself almost breathless in those delicate, repeated kisses. The world spun; it seemed there was nothing left but the two of them.
10. Claire woke from a nightmare, drenched in sweat. Ethan wasn’t there, and panic flared in her chest.
Dawn was just breaking, the sunlight soft and pale.
She stepped outside and found Ethan standing beneath a peach tree with his back to her. Pink petals drifted and landed on his shoulders; he didn’t seem to notice. He simply stood there, as if waiting for her.
His ink-dark hair had already returned to silver-white, cascading down like a fountain.
Even though she hurried to him, he felt impossibly far away—just like in the dream.
Not far off she saw a man and a woman who looked like they were waiting. She recognized Simon without a mask, and beside him was Ava.
She noticed Ava’s eyes on her were tinged with pity.
No wonder Ava was the heroine—kind to her rival.
Unwilling to watch Ethan’s back any longer, Claire stepped up to him. She wanted to look him in the eyes.
His face was carved from snow—expressionless, cool. There was no extra emotion.
“I’m leaving,” Ethan said softly as he faced her.
“Is it about what happened before? I—” Claire began, flustered.
“I won’t pursue what you’ve done,” he interrupted, not letting her continue.
Seeing her bewildered eyes made something ache inside him. He tightened his fingers slightly, but kept his face blank and spoke with resolve, “Forget the things that happened in the Mortal Realm.”
Those words, delivered as if devoid of feeling, nearly demolished Claire inside.
She stared at him, unable to accept it. Was it because of the amnesia? Or did something else happen while she wasn’t there?
Was there—while she was gone—something that changed him? Ethan turned away so she couldn’t see his expression.
He stepped forward a few paces, paused, then without hesitation transformed into a beam of light and shot upward.
Ava and Simon exchanged a look and followed him into the sky.
Claire had always assumed she and Ethan would have more time—time to explain, time to build a life together.
But in truth, there was no more time.
She had really messed up, hadn’t she?
Her strength left her; she collapsed to the ground. Emptiness hollowed out her chest and the pain was fierce. Tears spilled freely and couldn’t be stopped.
Ethan bowed his head slightly and watched her recede until she was almost invisible. For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed his dark eyes. He lifted a hand to his chest—there was still sharp pain there that refused to fade.
Ava looked at the Archdivine with complicated feelings. Maybe she shouldn’t have come looking for him.
In that vast place, Claire was utterly alone.
She suddenly understood, in a daze, that the Ethan who belonged to the Mortal Realm no longer existed—only Ethan the Archdivine, high above in the Celestial Realm, remained.
11. In the days that followed, Claire shut herself in, refusing to go anywhere.
Time stretched longer than she ever imagined.
Each day she missed Ethan more than the last.
She sat by the window and played her bamboo flute; she wanted someone to talk to. No—she’d even be fine if the someone wasn’t human.
“What’s your name? Can you turn into a little snake?” she asked the big-headed creature by the sill. “You can’t even get into the room.”
The Great Serpent thought for a moment, then obediently shrank into a small snake.
“Call me AJ,” the little snake said after slipping inside the window and finding a comfortable spot to curl up.
“I wanted you to help me sort out my troubles. Just… talk to me.”
“Hm?”
Was that all?
Claire poured out everything: how she’d been transmigrated here, what had happened between her and Ethan, and everything up to now. She had been holding it all in for too long.
“Listen up. We have a contract. You can’t tell my business to others,” AJ warned, voice wobbling.
Claire, worried, added, “You promise you won’t?”
The little snake blinked and its eyelids started to droop. “Finally finished?”
Claire, annoyed, flicked it sharply. It was small—she could flick it!
“Okay, okay, stop hitting me.” AJ twisted anxiously.
Claire flicked it again just to feel better before stopping.
“So you’re saying Ethan the Archdivine went back to the Celestial Realm?” AJ asked.
“Yes. I was wrong to deceive him, but I confessed a lot. Why’s he still so angry?” Claire felt tears well up just thinking about it.
“He used to be this aloof, untouched Archdivine who didn’t care about lovesickness,” AJ said, ready to analyze. “Then you appeared and stole both his body and his heart. Who wouldn’t be upset? And it might not be just your betrayal—maybe other things are going on too.”
“…What should I do now?” Claire admitted. She knew she was at fault, but Ethan’s sudden coldness that day felt strange. Even if he’d never said the words, she’d felt she mattered to him.
“You’re a celestial too. Why don’t you just go to the Celestial Realm and find him?” AJ changed position and kept lounging.
“But he treated me that way. I’m mad at him too.” Claire wanted to see him, but pride twisted her insides.
“Hmph. You immortals are ridiculous—so tangled up. Us demons are straightforward,” AJ snorted. “You think about him nonstop, but you won’t go because of appearances and pride. That’s how lovers get torn apart.”
“If you’re angry, then go meet him face-to-face and let him know. You staying in the Mortal Realm, crying where he can’t see you—who does that hurt? Only you. You’re just making yourself suffer.”
Claire was surprised by the snake’s clarity of thought. She couldn’t help looking at AJ with new respect.
“Don’t worship me,” AJ preened. “People line up to court me all the way to the Western Sea. You don’t stand a chance.”
“You’re delusional. Don’t forget you couldn’t beat Ethan with one-tenth of his power.” Claire scoffed.
“My Ethan?” AJ sneered. “Besides the heroine you mentioned, Ethan the Archdivine has plenty of admirers in the Celestial Realm. Now you’re separated by realms—who knows who he belongs to?”
AJ loved a good verbal jab and Claire felt a sting.
“You said you’re a transmigrated antagonist—there are tons of books like that. But I’ve rarely seen a villainess end up with the male lead.”
AJ’s barb hit hard. Claire felt speechless.
AJ softened at once when he saw her slump. “But there’s still a chance. Ethan’s standards are high; ordinary flowers won’t get close. The heroine’s been serving him in his estate for three hundred years.”
Claire sighed, melancholic.
“But Ethan noticed you first. First mover advantage helps.”
“But he left,” Claire said.
“He liked you once—he can like you again. Have confidence.”
AJ’s encouragement made sense as Claire thought it through.
12. Celestial Realm.
“Ethan’s been back but why is he stuck in his room?” two lesser immortals whispered.
“I don’t know,” one answered.
Ava listened to the gossip and looked toward Ethan’s room with complicated eyes.
While she had been searching for Ethan those days, unease had gnawed at her. She’d returned to the Celestial Realm to check his life-stone.
When an immortal is born, a life-stone from the Hearth Pavilion appears to represent their fate. Most life-stones are kept in the Hearth Pavilion and can’t be accessed freely.
Ethan was different: his life-stone had been born with him, one with his being. The deeper his cultivation, the stronger the stone’s power.
Ordinary immortals couldn’t even touch his life-stone; powerful runes would repel them. So when Ava found the smooth, translucent orb and instinctively reached for it, she was shocked to lift it with ease.
She and Simon hurried to find the Archdivine.
When Ethan touched that polished sphere, all his memories came flooding back.
He saw a fine crack running nearly through the center of the bead.
Ava watched him stand silent for a long moment, then fly back to the Hearth Pavilion. Only those above Archdivine rank may freely enter and inspect life-stones. Ava suspected he wanted to see Claire’s life-stone.
She followed at a distance because she couldn’t enter the pavilion herself and waited at the door.
It took longer than she expected before Ethan came out. He wore a furrowed brow—she had never seen him look so troubled.
He returned to the cabin, and from a distance Ava saw Claire setting out a full spread of food as if to welcome him.
The moment he entered, he smoothed his expression back to normal.
Later, he decided to leave. Ava guessed something serious had happened in the Hearth Pavilion—something wrong with the life-stone.
She watched Claire with a touch of pity, feeling almost reluctant about that parting.
“Ava, what are you thinking?” a little rosy-clad fairy shook her arm. “Come on, we’re going to the Lotus Pond.”
Ava snapped back and smiled, “Okay, let’s go.”
Before she left she glanced again at Ethan’s door with worry, then followed the others.
Inside the room, a strong aura undulated from the center. Two translucent beads hovered in midair. Ethan closed his eyes; his silver hair floated on the power around him and pale light shimmered beside him. His magic flowed relentlessly from him to the two beads.
Day after day, the heavy drain on his power left his damaged body barely able to cope. His face had become very pale, and a thin line of blood had started to seep from the corner of his mouth.
The life-stones, fed with his magic, glowed all the brighter—but the cracks only dimmed a little. The fractures were still there, long and thin.
Why still not healed?
Ethan opened his eyes and plucked the two life-stones into his hand. They were the size of beads—one smaller, looking more fragile, its fissures deeper.
His long fingers tightened around them. Ethan wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth; his gaze was shadowed.
13.
"You're on shift."
"Yeah. You go rest."
It was time to change patrols. Two celestial guards were handing over their route.
"You take the east side. I just did this side."
"Okay."
The replacement guard headed east, and after a bit of walking he spotted a skulking figure being furtive.
"Who’s there? Stop—what are you doing?"
The guard shouted.
Claire's heart jumped and she froze, terrified to look back.
The guard came up to her, squinted as if he recognized her, and bowed. "Oh—Claire Bennett, High Celestial. Why are you walking like that, bent over?"
Relief flooded Claire. Ethan hadn't reported her to Emperor Celeste. She hadn't been downgraded to a lesser immortal.
"High Celestial—I'm just walking bent over. Is that not allowed?"
She deliberately emphasized "High Celestial" to savor the moment.
"Of course it’s fine."
The guard scratched his head and didn't know what else to say.
Claire watched him leave and kept walking.
She'd just returned to the Celestial Realm—Ethan couldn't possibly know. Did she want to drop in on him unexpectedly?
She considered it seriously.
Behind the manor, there was a mist-wreathed spring with gentle water. Bathing in it healed wounds and repaired spiritual power.
And right now someone was soaking in that spring.
The vapor clung to his pale face; his features were like brushstrokes. Silver hair spilled down his back. Most of him was submerged.
Ethan’s magic was already depleted; the life-stone incident had taken more from him. He had to come here from time to time.
"What a beautiful body. Even frowning, my Ethan is so handsome."
Claire had somehow taken up a concealed perch on a branch over the spring, hiding against the trunk and peeking.
Ethan was preoccupied with fixing the life-stone. He didn't notice her.
Claire rubbed her chin, trying to remember the last time they'd been intimate. It'd been a while. She realized she was craving not just his face, but his body.
She schemed how to surprise him in the water—then her foot slipped. She misjudged her balance and tumbled straight off the branch into the spring.
Ethan, this time it wasn't my fault. I really didn't mean to.
Ethan watched her fall and froze for a moment. His hand reached out instinctively—but then stopped.
So she plopped into the water.
She scrambled in a panic and finally grabbed something solid, steadying herself enough to surface.
"This water isn't deeper than you are," Ethan said coolly from a bit ahead of her.
Claire blinked and stood, realizing the spring was shallow.
"Let go."
Let go?
She looked down and realized the thing she’d grabbed had been his thigh—no wonder the touch had been so good. His skin was smoother than the female celestials’.
Told to let go, she stubbornly refused.
Her hand slid up from his thigh to his chest as she leaned in close.
"I missed you so much," Claire murmured.
Ethan's eyes flickered at her a moment, then smoothed into calm.
"Wasn't it clear when you were in the Mortal Realm?"
"It was perfectly clear."
Her hand slid lower to his abs. "But I won't be so easily put off."
I'm not someone who lets go just because you tell me to, she thought.
They were so close Ethan could see the soft curve of her chest. He frowned slightly, grabbed her hand as it went further down, and the water around them rippled. She felt herself pushed back; a splash blurred her vision. When she could see again, Ethan was already standing at the shore, a pale, thin robe covering him properly.
He straightened his clothes and turned to leave.
"Ethan!"
Claire called after him.
He hesitated at her voice, then stopped. He raised his hand and a faint light stretched from his fingertip, lifting her out of the water. He flicked his fingers and cast a cleansing spell, too.
Claire watched her soaked clothes and hair instantly dry and even look cleaner—she was surprised; she hadn't seen that spell before.
After that, Ethan turned away and left without another look.
"Ethan, don't go."
The celestial realm's first attempt at intimacy had failed.
14.
Simon scaled the wall with practiced ease and came straight to Ava's door.
"Ava! Ava—"
The door creaked open and Ava looked up, puzzled. "Simon? What brings you here?"
"Come. I'm taking you to see the flowers."
Simon grabbed her and ran.
Flowers? What was so urgent?
They stopped at the Dream Lotus Pool and Simon finally slowed.
"Look."
Ava gasped. Before her was a sea of dark, exquisite blooms across the once-clear pool, each petal rimed with bioluminescent sparks, little lights fluttering around the heart of every flower.
"What are they?"
"Night loralees," Simon explained. "They bloom once every three hundred years. Petals black as ink but their centers blaze with color."
"And they only last a day."
Such beauty—if Ethan saw this… "Thank you, Simon. I've been worried about how to lift his spirits. This could soothe him for a while."
Ava looked at Simon gratefully, smiling.
This wasn't what Claire had imagined.
Simon felt a little heartache—he wanted to spit blood.
Inside Ethan's room, candlelight flickered. He leaned half-reclined on a low couch, fingers supporting his forehead as if resting his eyes.
"My Ethan looks handsome even when he closes his eyes," Claire praised, feeling proud of her cleverness.
After failing the first time, Claire had promptly drafted a second plan. The lesser celestials changed the writing paper at dawn each day while Ethan would usually be out. Using the original girl's good calligraphy-shifting skill, Claire transformed herself into a sheet of writing paper and slipped into the stack, evading the other maidens' notice. She waited on the desk, half-asleep, until Ethan returned.
"Oh—Ethan's awake."
Claire felt like his gaze was on her. She was a sheet of paper—had he noticed?
Ethan sat up, smoothed his loose robe, and walked to the desk. He thought for a moment, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink, and seemed about to write.
Oh no—the ink will dirty my dress! Claire panicked. Transforming into paper was not the best idea… The brush tip was getting closer to her; just as the ink was about to touch her, a knock sounded on the door.
"High Celestial, are you there?"
It was Ava's voice.
Ethan paused, glanced at the paper, then set the brush aside.
"Come in," he said softly.
Claire watched Ava enter and felt a flash of irritation.
"Is something wrong?"
"High Celestial—the night loralees are blooming. They're breathtaking. I thought seeing them might ease your recent worries," Ava said gently.
This was the first time in centuries she'd invited him out like this.
Ethan's eyes darkened but he didn't answer immediately.
Claire wanted to shout silently, "Ethan, you fool! She likes you—she's trying to woo you right now!"
"May I—go with you?" Ava asked hesitantly. "Am I being presumptuous?"
"If you don't want to—"
"No, I do want to."
He answered.
Ava's face lit up. Her eyes sparkled; she smiled like spring flowers blooming.
Watching Ava be so happy made Claire pause. That smile was genuinely pretty. If she hadn't interfered earlier, perhaps Ava wouldn't have to be so tentative… maybe she'd been waiting for him a long time.
A pang of softness crept in.
"She's so kind she can't make a move. Fine—this time Ethan can go see the flowers with her," Claire thought. After all, Ethan was hers; she felt confident.
Ethan moved to the door but stopped, glanced back, and with a flick of his sleeve Claire felt a gust lift her and set her down on a soft couch.
Ava led Ethan to the Dream Lotus Pool.
"High Celestial—look. Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, delighted.
"It is beautiful."
Ethan had never intentionally gone to see the night loralees. This was his first time seeing such a stunning sea of flowers.
He wondered if he should have brought that sheet of paper along to view it.
But perhaps it had already left. If she had left because of him, that was fine too.
"I'm glad you came," Ava said with a soft laugh. "I know you've been troubled since leaving the Hearth Pavilion. I don't know how to help, but I hoped—"
"All this time, you've cared," Ethan said slowly.
There was a hint of warmth in his voice. Ava blushed and dropped her eyes.
"High Celestial—do you have someone you care for deeply?"
She asked in a small voice.
A someone he cared deeply for? A face sprang to Ethan's mind.
"If that person never appears…would you like me?"
Ava kept her gaze down, unable to meet him.
15.
After Ethan left, Claire reverted to her true form and dozed on the soft couch.
She lost track of time until she heard movement outside and snapped awake, quickly taking the shape of a sheet of paper again.
Ethan had just stepped into the manor when he felt something odd in his sleeve with the life-stones.
He took them out into his hand and saw they emitted a faint light. The cracks, astonishingly, were visibly shorter than before—slowly shrinking.
Why would that happen?
Ethan looked puzzled. He glanced back in the direction Ava had left, brows tightening as if deep in thought.
Claire waited a long time, finally biding her time until the night was dark and the wind high—when she could do as she pleased.
Ethan lay quietly on the bed, eyes closed, his sleeping face calm.
Claire pushed herself forward, drifting lightly to the bedside, then began to crawl onto the bed inch by inch.
But like a sheet of rice paper, moving made that annoying crinkling sound. Claire sighed and revealed her true form, slipping in carefully and tiptoeing toward the center of the bed.
She lay on her side, watching the man before her. Even with his eyes closed he looked cold.
She stared at his long lashes, the high bridge of his nose, the tempting curve of his lips. She leaned in, ready to kiss him.
Ethan opened his eyes and stopped her before she could make her move.
“You really do come up with new tricks,” he said, a little helpless.
“You're awake? It’s not even the right time yet. Go back to sleep,” Claire said with an embarrassed smile.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
He’d assumed that once he and Ava left, Claire would have gone too.
“I waited on purpose. How could I just go?” Claire answered as if it were obvious. So he had noticed her a long time ago.
“Are you not angry?” Ethan asked softly.
Angry? About what?
His quarrel with the heroine?
Did he want her to be jealous?
“Do you want me to be jealous?” Claire suddenly understood, a half-smile on her face. She didn’t expect Ethan to have so many little thoughts.
Ethan turned his gaze away and fell silent.
Claire loved this look on him—the look of wanting to say something but unable to argue back, forced into quiet. She pushed aside his hand that tried to stop her and kissed him full on.
Ethan’s lips tasted as sweet as ever, irresistible. She licked and teased like there was some rare delicacy in his mouth.
He tried to push her away, but she pinned his hand with her other one.
“Claire, do you know what this could lead to?” he asked, turning her lips aside. His beautiful eyes were clouded by a strange mist.
“I know,” she smiled. This was exactly why she’d come.
“Being with me is dangerous,” Ethan said softly as he looked into her bright, blushing eyes. “You could even lose your life. Aren’t you afraid?”
Listening to him so serious, Claire felt no fear. Ever since she’d arrived in this world, everything had been a lose-lose. But if she could be with him, any end was easier to face.
“I’m not afraid,” she replied quietly. “As long as you’re here.”
She leaned in and deepened the kiss, starting to peel at Ethan’s clothes, revealing pale skin.
Ethan’s gaze darkened as he struggled internally. He frowned as she grew bolder.
“Claire.”
He felt her lips trailing down his neck and across his chest. His body grew hotter.
Claire, lost in the delicious feel of his skin, looked up to see a flush on Ethan’s flawless face. His silver hair spilled around him like moonlight, his dark eyes more profound—dangerous, even.
She heard a long sigh. Suddenly she felt herself gently lifted and laid beneath him. The kiss returned, intense and precise. Her body felt weightless and soft, as if it might fly or fall—only his lips, his hands, his burning body kept her tethered.
Time blurred. Claire opened her eyes, dazed, and snuggled closer into the man’s embrace.
“What is this?” she asked, seeing two beads in Ethan’s hand being examined.
“These are our life-stones,” Ethan said, holding her close and stroking her hair. “The larger one is mine, the smaller one is yours.”
“Why do they have cracks?” Claire rubbed her eyes and peered more closely, puzzled.
“At first there was only one crack, but since last night,” Ethan paused, then continued, “another crack appeared.”
“Ah?!” Claire was startled. What did that mean?
“I thought being together caused cracks,” Ethan said, hesitating as he chose his words, “but it’s not that simple. Maybe when we—”
He stopped again, thinking.
Claire listened intently and saw the worried look on Ethan’s face. She guessed most of it and couldn’t help laughing softly. She tilted her head and lightly pecked his pale cheek.
“You mean when we are intimate, the life-stones crack,” she said.
“Yes.” Ethan sounded gloomier hearing her say it so casually. “If the cracks increase beyond what the life-stone can bear, it will shatter—and the stone’s owner will be utterly destroyed in body and spirit.”
Claire hadn’t expected it to be so severe. Panic flared—could she ruin him? She already knew she might not get a happy ending, but she hadn’t thought her presence could drag Ethan down with her.
She felt him draw her more tightly into his arms. When she raised her eyes she met his, star-bright and filled with her. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He brushed hair from her face, his tone gentle and resolute.
“You shouldn’t be the one to suffer. It’s my fault for clinging to you,” Claire said sadly.
Ethan’s mouth turned up. He leaned close and murmured in her ear, “Since you’ve tangled yourself with me, you’re going to be my responsibility.”
His mind flashed back to what Ava had once asked him: If that person hadn’t appeared, would you have liked me? Maybe he would have. But that person had appeared, so there were no ifs.
“There might be a way,” Ethan said. “I’ve noticed the cracks may have a chance to mend.”
Claire brightened. The heavy knot in her chest suddenly felt a little lighter.
“Really?” she asked, eyes hopeful.
“Yes, but I need to study it more,” Ethan replied, watching the life return to her face. He pinched her nose playfully. “You’ll have to be more restrained. Don’t keep coming up with bad ideas.”
Restrained? Claire sat frozen, then comprehended and blushed hot.
She shyly pulled the blanket up over her face, diving under it—only to realize Ethan was bare beneath the covers.
By the time Claire regained herself, her hand had found his abs again.
“I just said you need to control yourself,” Ethan said, heat rising to his ears as he felt her movements under the covers.
“I’ll try,” she poked her head out, cheeks still pink.
Ethan sighed softly, watching that newly exposed little face—like a ripe peach with glistening eyes that looked pitiful. Something stirred in him.
He needed to solve the life-stone problem soon.
Before long the Celestial Realm was buzzing with the festival everyone had been anticipating: the Hundred-Flower Banquet. It was organized by the most esteemed Revered Motti, meant to bring immortals together so the realm would feel less cold and more alive. The Emperor Celeste supported the idea and required everyone to attend if they could.
With the feast about to begin, lesser celestials bustling to prepare were busy as bees.
Claire rifled through her manor and finally found a few outfits she liked, added some jewelry—what she wore looked acceptable.
Ethan was delayed—he had to consult with the Emperor about an unexpected matter—so Claire went to the banquet alone. She thought back; in her previous life here she hadn’t had many real friends.
No wonder she’d been ostracized and mocked when she was a lesser immortal.
The banquet hall already hosted many immortals. Laughter and clinks of cups filled the air; the usually staid Celestial Realm was surprisingly lively.
Claire took her seat, popped a grape in her mouth, and watched the crowd. Indeed, the realm attracted striking beauties and handsome men, all ethereal and graceful—quite a sight.
Yet none of them were as handsome as Ethan.
“Where is Ethan? Why hasn’t he arrived?” a few pretty celestials whispered.
“I rubbed on that East Sea black-pearl powder for days. My skin’s whiter now. I prepared so long just so the Revered might see me,” one delightedly said.
“My gauze skirt can change colors in the light. I doubt you’ll beat me,” another scoffed.
“I’m keeping it natural today. I think the Revered likes that,” a third insisted.
Claire found the chatter noisy and a little obnoxious. She knew Ethan had many admirers and didn’t care much—until a male immortal joined the conversation and caught her interest.
A male immortal who liked Ethan? Goosebumps prickled her skin. She looked him over: handsome, with a small red flame mark on his forehead. Something about him seemed familiar, but Claire couldn’t place it.
Then the dancers took the floor, descending like drifting spirits—their waists swaying, fingers delicate, movements graceful. The Celestial dances were even more exquisite than those in the Mortal Realm.
Claire was absorbed when some nearby celestials suddenly stirred.
“Ethan’s here!”
“Finally. I was worried he wouldn’t come.”
She raised her head to see Ethan himself, breathtaking as ever, crossing the lotus-pond bridge with a neutral expression.
“Who’s that woman with him? She’s so pretty,” one celestial murmured.
“Maybe she’s from the Revered’s manor?”
“Isn’t the Revered supposed to be seated at the high table?”
Without paying attention to anyone else, Ethan strode over and naturally sat beside Claire. His cool voice reached her, “Bored being alone?”
Claire followed the many admiring gazes fixed on Ethan and slowly picked up a cup of tea. She offered it to him and said, “I’m not that bored. The tea and fruit are good—waiting for you makes it quicker.”
“When did Claire become so close with Ethan?” the other celestials gasped.
“He drank the tea she handed him. He looks…a little gentler than usual.”
"Did we miss something…?"
Ethan took a grape from Claire's hand, popped it in his mouth, eyebrow lifting. "It's good. I'll have someone bring some to your manor later so you can have them often."
"Okay."
Claire smiled sweetly and peeled another grape, putting it into Ethan's mouth.
"I'm full."
Ethan felt Claire treated him like a child sometimes.
"How did you end up with Ava?"
Claire looked toward Ava nearby; Ava was sitting with Simon.
"I saw her on the way here. She looked lost, so I brought her along," Ethan said calmly.
Ava's presence made Claire uneasy—Ava was the heroine, after all, and Claire couldn't help being on guard.
A few dancers tossed a few eager glances in their direction; no need to ask—they were aimed at Ethan.
Ethan kept a cool expression, fingers still around his teacup, but his gaze drifted elsewhere.
Claire followed his look and saw the man with a flame-shaped mark on his forehead.
He was looking at Ethan now. He smiled seductively, lifted his wine as if in toast, then drained the cup.
Claire felt thunder strike her heart. No—this can't be how it is.
When the banquet finally broke up, Claire hurried Ethan back to his manor.
"What's wrong?"
Ethan looked at her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Once the door was closed, Claire said nothing. She went on tiptoe and kissed his thin, restrained lips.
Their breaths tangled in a long kiss. Claire slipped one hand into Ethan's robe, finding the hard plane of his waist and stroking it slowly.
"Claire," Ethan's voice had gone hoarse. "What are you doing? You forgot what I said…"
The person in his arms pressed down; he slid back a few steps and sat on the bed.
Claire's hand traveled down, feeling a burn against her abdomen.
Phew. Claire finally let go and patted her chest. "Thank goodness. I was so worried."
"…What."
Something flickered in Ethan's dark eyes. The sudden distance left a chill in his arms.
"I saw you and that man flirting—I thought you might—"
Claire stopped when she saw his increasingly dangerous look.
"You think I like men?" Ethan pulled her back into his embrace.
"Can't blame me, it's… a little suspicious," Claire said, feigning innocence.
Ethan brought her face closer, his eyes burning. "Not tonight."
Claire whispered, a bit frightened.
"You remember not to," Ethan murmured, a corner of his mouth lifting. He set her on his lap and lowered his head to her ear. "You were the one who started it just now, you know that?"
Claire felt his warm breath tickle her ear. She turned her face to meet his gaze and spoke as sweetly as she could, "I was just looking out for you. I was worried."
Hearing that honeyed voice, Ethan narrowed his eyes. Then he kissed the whiteness of her neck, trailing down to her collarbone.
He stopped and, watching her come back to herself, half-smiled. "So? Does that feel good?"
Claire flushed—he learned fast. His talents weren't one-dimensional; she'd underestimated him.
Ethan later said he only glanced because the man's aura felt unusual. Claire lay half over the table, chin in her hand. She'd also sensed something off about that man but couldn't put her finger on it.
She thought for a moment; she needed to see him again to be sure.
After clearing leaves from the ground, Ava walked to a small pool outside the manor and leaned on the railing, lost in thought.
"The Archdivine really does like Claire," Ava murmured, staring at the lotus on the pool with a worried frown.
Claire had become a frequent visitor to Ethan's manor, often spending the night in his rooms. The celestial attendants were surprised but dared not ask; over time they grew used to it, even admiring the way Claire had managed to charm the realm's most distant beauty. Several attendants even asked Claire for tips on winning a god's heart.
"A little beauty, what are you thinking about?"
A low, alluring male voice sounded behind Ava.
She turned and blinked. "You again?"
"What, I made you lose your way so you'd bump into the Archdivine and come to the banquet with him—don't you think you should thank me?" The man stepped closer, smiling.
"Oh, so it was you. I wondered why I couldn't find my way until the Archdivine appeared…" Ava frowned. She'd only met him once—she'd helped when heavenly soldiers scolded him, he said he'd repay her, and then he offered to help.
"With how you are, you wouldn't have a chance to be alone with your Archdivine." He shook his head as if it had been an effort.
"I don't need your help. Who are you?" Ava said sharply.
"Oh, me? I'm a newly ascended lesser immortal—Autumn Breeze, suave and handsome, name's Cyrus Fairwind." He smoothed his hair, smirking.
Ava found herself at a loss for a reply.
Cyrus took her silence as admiration and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll keep helping. I always repay kindness." He glanced toward a corner behind the pool and flew off.
Ava opened her mouth to stop him but he was already gone.
Unbeknownst to them, Claire was hiding in that corner, listening to everything.
Cyrus?
Claire smacked her forehead. She'd remembered where she recognized him from.
The mark on his forehead—it's not a flame. It's a red spider lily!
The book had described the Abyssal Lord's heir with a spider-lily mark on his brow. At the banquet Claire had been too far to see clearly, only sensing familiarity, but when she heard his name everything snapped into place.
The Abyssal heir—mother a celestial, father the Abyssal Lord. Their union was forbidden; the mother paid with her life. Before she died she hid the child's existence from the Celestial Realm.
Cyrus carried both celestial and abyssal auras and had learned to separate them and switch at will. That's why he could hide in the Celestial Realm undetected. He'd been probing the realm for weaknesses, coordinating with the antagonist from the inside—almost succeeding in a later assault on the heavens.
In the original story, it was the antagonist who colluded with the Abyssal heir. Now it felt like the Abyssal heir was targeting the heroine—was he trying to corrupt her into helping him?
Maybe because Claire hadn't been demoted or ostracized in this rebirth—she'd even thrived—so Cyrus shifted his focus to someone weaker: the heroine pining over Ethan.
Claire rubbed her temples. This was headache-inducing.
If she exposed him early, he'd vanish and plot again in secret, creating new variables she couldn't predict.
Claire thought hard and, after a long moment, came up with a plan she could try.
"This could work." She clapped her hands and decided to proceed.
Inside the Hearth Pavilion, Ethan—silver hair cascading—frowned as he leafed through a tome on life-stones.
The tome appeared only at certain times; it recorded each life-stone's formation, when they faded, and noted problem cases.
Ethan hovered, bone-knuckled fingers turning pages, eyes focused. At a line his pupils narrowed.
"Certain people or events affect life-stones."
Certain people? He already had a rough idea who caused the cracks.
But could the person who could repair a life-stone be Ava? And were those "events" related to her?
When Ethan returned to the manor, Claire wasn't there. He checked her place—no sign of her. Where had she gone?
Claire had set a plate of hibiscus pastries on the table and poured two cups of good tea. She smiled at the man standing in the room. "Brother Cyrus, please sit. These cakes are famous in the Mortal Realm—rare in the Celestial one."
Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "What's your plan?"
He was sensitive.
Sensing his suspicion, Claire lifted her cup in a diplomatic sip. "No poison. I just want to be friends."
Yes—becoming friends with the Abyssal heir was Claire's plan. Befriend him, then gently influence him to give up attacking the Celestial Realm.
"Oh. A friend." Cyrus studied her a long moment, then sat and sipped. "Why me?"
"Because I have few friends, and you seem friendless too. We're both clever—making friends makes sense. We could look out for each other." Claire put on her most sincere expression.
"Look out for each other?" Cyrus smiled, still suspicious. "You already have the Archdivine—why would you need someone like me?"
Word of her relationship with Ethan had clearly spread. With Ethan's influence, one gossip led to another.
"I mean as friends. Little things—we can help each other sometimes. I don't want to trouble Ethan for everything."
Claire kept her sincerity on full display.
Cyrus watched her for a while, then leaned in and hooked a finger under her chin.
"What are you doing?" Claire tried to pull back. She'd only asked to be friends—this was forward.
"Don't move." Cyrus held her hand and stared into her eyes.
"Fine—we're friends," he said, a sly smile on his lips.
"What?" Claire was puzzled.
She tried to wrench free, but suddenly a blue light flared. Cyrus was blasted back several steps by a spell.
Claire turned and saw Ethan standing behind her, icy as ever.
"Archdivine, Claire said she wanted to be friends with me. It was a joke between friends," Cyrus said, rubbing his hand and giving Ethan that same seductive, flirtatious smile he'd worn at the banquet.
Claire felt a little queasy at that smile — that Demon Lord was definitely interested in Ethan.
Ethan met the man's leering gaze and frowned. He glanced at Claire with mild disgust. "Is this the sort of friend you want to make?"
"I didn't expect it either."
Claire felt mortified on behalf of Cheng — what a disgrace.
She looped her hand through Ethan's, fingers entwining, and said to Cheng, "You should go. We need some privacy for a while."
"Hmph. Fine."
Cheng agreed smoothly, took a few steps away, then turned back and gave Ethan a flirtatious wink before sauntering off.
Ethan pinched his fingertips hard, feeling sick.
Claire watched the hard set of his features and gently rubbed his hand. "That guy's messed up in the head," she murmured.
"Why would you want to be friends with him?" Ethan asked, voice low.
"I think he's complicated. I want to see what's underneath."
"Complicated?"
Ethan had sensed something unusual about him before — not like an ordinary lesser immortal. He'd figured perhaps the man had encountered some odd fate before ascending, which could explain it, so he hadn't pressed further.
"I'll tell you later."
Claire hesitated; she didn't want to lie to Ethan.
Ethan looked at her and didn't press. Back in the Mortal Realm, whenever she said that, it usually meant she had something on her mind. She always carried a little mystery; sometimes he felt he couldn't fully read her.
Claire gripped his hand tighter, worried he might be upset.
"Okay. Tell me when you're ready," Ethan said, tamping down the uneasy feeling in his chest. "Let's go home."
"Alright. Tonight I want to sleep holding you."
Claire smiled sweetly.
"Then promise not to get handsy."
Ethan's tone was dry.
"I'll try."
19.
Late at night in the High Celestial's manor.
Ethan watched the person sleeping beside him, a faint smile lingering on her lips as if she'd had a pleasant dream. He straightened her blanket, rose quietly, and moved to a study where the spiritual energy felt stronger.
Two orbs floated up from his hand, glowing faintly.
Have the cracks deepened again…? Even without any particular event, the fissures wouldn't jump overnight, but they did widen little by little as time passed.
He set his own life-stone aside, closed his eyes, and focused, beginning to channel his power into Claire's life-stone.
He was about to try the other method he'd found at Hearth Pavilion that day.
It had been an especially fine day — Heaven rarely had bad weather, but today felt unusually clear and good.
Because Ethan had told her the life-stone issue was solved.
He'd placed her life-stone back into her palm and seen the two fissures gone; the bead was whole again.
"This is wonderful. How did you do it?" Claire beamed.
"I told you I had a way," Ethan said, touching her forehead with a look of satisfied authority.
"What about yours?"
"It's recovered too."
"This is amazing!"
Claire flung herself at him, delighted.
He took a step back from the momentum, steadying her, and murmured, "You're heavy."
"I'm not heavy."
Claire looked him over, puzzled. "Ethan, you look a little pale."
"A little paler makes me look better," he replied, arching an eyebrow. "You don't appreciate it."
"Fine, I don't appreciate it. You just seem… weak."
Claire frowned with worry. "Wait here. I'll make you some soup."
"Good. It's been a long time since I've had your soup."
Ethan smiled.
"I'll be quick. I'll make a few dishes, too."
She hurried off to the kitchen; her quick steps showed she was in a good mood.
After Claire's figure had faded down the corridor, Ethan bent slightly and began coughing violently.
His life-stone shed its disguise and revealed its true state.
Fissures ran across it; it looked fragile, as if a touch might shatter it.
Even without specific incidents, the cracks deepened steadily over time.
Every day he had to pour vast amounts of power into suppressing and easing it. Even if he focused all his strength on Claire's life-stone, the effect was minimal.
He'd learned that being close to Claire helped the stone recover somewhat — but he didn't want to use her, and he didn't want genuine closeness either. He certainly didn't want any of the… specific things the books implied would happen between them.
"…If forced, one could transfer one's own life force to restore another's stone," the old text had said. "But the one who transfers will bear twice the damage — a burden no ordinary immortal can carry…"
Thankfully, that method worked.
Ethan wiped away the blood he’d coughed onto the floor and dampened the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
Were fate and destiny truly unbreakable?
What if he deliberately defied them?
20.
"Recently, the seal beneath An Yun City has shown signs of disturbance," Emperor Celeste said slowly. "You placed that seal six hundred years ago. You should go check it out when you have time."
Ethan placed a white piece on the go board and replied mildly, "So many years, and the seal has loosened. I'll descend in a few days to take a look."
The Emperor watched him a moment. Ethan's pallor worried him; he asked with concern, "You look unwell. You should let the court physicians examine you."
"It's nothing — I was reckless in my cultivation earlier and strained myself," Ethan said.
"You're already the most advanced among the Archdivines. You don't need to be hasty in your training. Take care of your health."
The Emperor spoke with fatherly seriousness. He had always dote on this child.
In Heaven, being born as an advanced celestial was rare. Those with such talent were often candidates for celestial lordships.
Ever since Ethan was born, the venerable Mentor Motei had favored him and taught him personally, raising high expectations.
"Don't worry. I'll be careful," Ethan answered obediently.
"I hear you've been spending time with High Celestial Claire," the Emperor said, then blinked, eager to gossip. "When did this happen? How come I didn't know?"
Ethan hesitated with his hand mid-move on the board, then calmly placed his piece without replying.
"There are so many beautiful maidens in the Celestial Realm. They're all after you. Recently High Celestial Linlang even mentioned you to me," the Emperor went on, unreservedly intrigued. "Do you truly love that High Celestial?"
Ethan remained silent.
"What do you like about her?" the Emperor pressed.
Ethan picked up his teacup and took a sip. "Emperor, you seem particularly talkative today."
The Emperor coughed and conceded he might be talking too much.
Ethan set down the cup and placed another piece. "I like everything about her."
When Ethan said he'd be going down to the Mortal Realm, Claire insisted on following. She still didn't fully trust Cheng, but according to the novel she was living in, the Demon Lord had been undercover in Heaven for over a decade before returning to coordinate an attack on Heaven from the Abyssal Realm. He had just recently resurfaced; she figured he shouldn't be able to do anything too dramatic yet — and she didn't want to draw suspicion to herself too quickly.
After Claire was soothed to sleep in the inn, Ethan went ahead alone to the foot of An Yun City.
The great demon sealed there sneered when it saw him. "I didn't expect you to be this injured. The seal's almost not holding me anymore."
Ethan's gaze turned chilly but he said nothing.
The demon had been a gluttonous beast from the Eastern Wastes. Once it came to the human world, it wreaked havoc and fed on people. When Ethan had descended to cultivate, he'd taken care of it and imprisoned it here.
"You're the one who sealed me," the beast spat. "I can see through your condition. You're barely holding on. How can you possibly reinforce the seal?"
Claire woke suddenly in her sleep with a deep unease and a chill running through her whole body.
She rolled over and opened her eyes — and what she saw made her bolt awake.
"What's going on?" she cried.
Everything around her was a blinding white. It was like standing in a snowy wasteland; the cold pressure was intense. She should have been in the inn.
"Ethan, where are you?" Claire turned, but found no one.
21.
The snowy white stretched as far as she could see. Claire wandered for a long time with no escape.
She trembled from the cold. Her cultivation was suppressed here; she had only the faintest spiritual reserve. Even if she tried to kindle a fire, it would gutter out quickly.
She felt thankful Ethan wasn't here.
Her bamboo whistle fell to the snow. Claire picked it up and tried to blow; the summoning array lit briefly but did not respond.
She trudged on, hoping to find a way out.
"What is this place? I'm freezing."
A familiar rough male voice called.
"Ajin!"
Claire turned, surprised and relieved. "I thought the summoning art wouldn't work."
"Where are you?" Ajin scanned around and felt something off.
"I don't know. I fell asleep and woke up here."
The two of them — a man and a serpent — pressed on, but the landscape offered no exit.
"Looks like we're inside the spiritual awareness of some beast," Ajin said while sensing the area.
"A what?" Claire admitted she knew little about this.
"It's only part of its awareness, but it's mighty."
"My power is suppressed here. Try yours," Claire urged.
Ajin tried several times but couldn't break through either.
"Being inside its awareness is like being on its turf. You can't leave from the inside. It has to be breached from the outside."
"How do you do that?" Claire's brow knit.
"I was summoned by you, so I can leave the formation. Wait here. I'll go find Archdivine Ethan for you."
"Will it be dangerous for Ethan?" Claire hesitated.
"If you can't get out, he's the only nearby one who can save you. Wait."
With that, Ajin spun and left.
The empty snow plain was suddenly silent again, with Claire alone.
She sat cross-legged, trying to meditate for warmth, but it only made her colder, as if the cold froze into her bones.
Time dragged, and exhaustion crept in. Sleep tugged at her eyelids; it was getting harder to keep them open.
"I can't sleep."
A distant voice seemed to echo directly in her mind.
But I'm so tired.
"Hold on a little longer."
Hold on? I'm so exhausted.
"Claire."
Her body gave out. She collapsed into the snow, powerless; frost formed in the hairs of her brow.
"Claire!"
Someone shouted her name until it felt like a shout from inside her own chest.
Was it Ethan?
Her last sliver of consciousness was the sensation of being scooped into someone's arms.
There was a familiar scent about him. It was warm.
"Ah—High Celestial, you're awake."
Claire opened her eyes and found herself back in her manor.
A maid hurried over with a hot towel and dabbed her forehead.
"High Celestial, you've had a high fever for days. It's finally broken."
"How… did I get back?"
"Ethan Hale escorted you home."
Of course it was Ethan.
"Where is he?"
The maid thought for a moment. "When he brought you back, his face was very pale, and he looked wounded. He told us to take good care of you and then left."
Claire wanted to jump up and go find Ethan.
"Your body isn't healed yet, High Celestial."
"It's fine. Help me change."
Claire pushed herself to her feet despite the dizziness. She couldn't care about anything else—she needed to see Ethan.
"Is Ethan here?"
Claire grabbed the little attendant at Ethan's door and asked urgently.
"High Celestial, he—"
The attendant hesitated, unsure whether to speak.
"I'll tell her," Ava came out of the doorway. She looked at Claire with a weary expression. "When he returned that day he fell into a coma. His condition was terrible. I couldn't do anything, so I went to plead with the Emperor. Fortunately, Elder Morti came and took him to his dwelling."
Claire's heart dropped. Panic clawed at her chest. "How is Ethan now?"
"Elder Morti's dwelling cannot be entered at will. I don't know."
Ava lowered her eyes, clearly worried.
At Elder Morti's dwelling, guards indeed blocked her from entering.
"Elder, I only want to see Ethan once. I won't leave until I see him."
Claire knelt on the cold stone steps. She had to see him.
Time blurred—maybe two days, maybe three—and Claire's fading strength made her world swim. She must see Ethan. What's happened to him? She could not fall now.
Just as her thoughts began to scatter, the door opened.
"Come in."
A deep, solemn voice called from within.
Claire steadied herself and, led by attendants, entered and saw Ethan.
He lay very still on an ice bed in the center of the room, eyes shut, face peaceful as if asleep.
"Ethan."
Claire moved close to the bed, tried to rouse him, but he would not wake.
The Emperor was there too. Seeing them, he sighed.
Claire wiped tears she hadn't noticed and asked in a trembling voice, "Is he going to be okay?"
"No," Elder Morti said. "His life-stone is almost shattered. If I hadn't arrived in time to stabilize it at the last moment, his soul might have dispersed."
"How did this happen?" the Emperor asked.
Elder Morti sighed. "You two were never meant to be together. Your fates clashed and the life-stones couldn't bear it."
"His life-stone was strong enough that your presence alone shouldn't have completely destroyed it, but yours is fragile."
"Ethan transferred his life force to your life-stone to restore yours. Yours recovered, but his was left in ruin…"
So he had… she was so stupid not to realize—
Claire stared at him, feeling like her chest had been crushed. Tears spilled down as if she could not breathe.
"He later went to seal the Gluttonous Beast and took my Qilin Seal for that purpose. With that artifact he should have been able to seal the beast without exhausting himself, but you were trapped by the beast's lingering consciousness."
"The Gluttonous Beast is an ancient monster; even a fragment of its soul is powerful. Ethan, already weakened, had to use his last divine power to save you—the very power that sustained his life-stone…"
Ethan sacrificed himself to save her… She had only brought him misfortune. Worthless… "How can we save him?"
Claire gripped Ethan's cold hand, trying to warm it.
Elder Morti stroked his beard and considered. "This is why I let you in."
"There's a way?"
The Emperor cleared his throat and looked at Claire. "If you can set everything back on the right track, Ethan can be saved."
Set things back on track?
Claire let out a small, bitter laugh. If she had known, she wouldn't have fought at all.
"I'll do it. Tell me how."
"The Memory Orb can remake a pocket of space. I'll place the consciousnesses of you, Ethan, and the other person affecting his life-stone—Ava—into it. You'll return to one crucial earlier moment, but only you will retain memory. What happens afterward, you know what to do."
"I understand."
"However, if we do this…" Elder Morti hesitated.
"It'll be fine. As long as he lives."
As for herself—she didn't care what happened.
22. Claire was placed inside the Memory Orb. When she opened her eyes, she immediately knew the situation.
Her body burned; the medicine was taking effect.
Ethan lay restrained by her spell at the bedside, unable to move.
They had returned to the moment she dosed him.
Claire fumbled for the antidote on herself and swallowed one pill.
"What did you do?"
Ethan's voice was cold. Ink-dark eyes fixed on her with sharpness.
Claire moved to his side, met that frigid gaze, and reached up to stroke his face. "I drugged you."
She looked at him; her eyes stung and she fought not to break down.
"Why?"
Ethan's dark hair fanned over the bed, making his skin look even paler.
"Because…" Claire traced his perfect brow and smiled softly, "because I love you."
"High Celestial, let me help you," Ava said, seeing Ethan's suffering. She began to undress.
She had arrived in time to help the High Celestial—who would have thought Claire would do something like that.
"No need."
Ethan clenched his brow and steadied himself against a tree. His body ached in a way it never had before.
Ava shrugged off her outer robe, leaving only an inner gown. Her form was tempting as she approached. "I'll do anything for you."
Ava pressed close, scent of snow-lotus clinging to him.
Claire sat in her own manor waiting. Not long after, the decree arrived demoting her to a lesser immortal.
"Who knew Claire Bennett would stoop so low," the messenger sneered. "I hope you repent and stop acting out."
Most of Claire's divine power was stripped; she fell weakly to the floor. She listened to the messenger's scorn and smiled indifferently.
"Thank you for your guidance," she said.
Inside the High Celestial's manor—
"High Celestial, drink this soup. It's boiled with a thousand-year lingzhi. Very good for you."
Ava carefully set the bowl on the table and lifted the lid so the steam could rise.
Ethan cleared his throat. "Why inform the Emperor?"
"She had to be punished for that act," Ava said, still angry about the incident. "The penalty wasn't heavy—only her powers were somewhat taken."
Ethan was silent. He pictured Claire's tear-streaked face and felt tormented. "You can go now."
"And the soup?"
"I'll drink it later."
"Alright. Rest after you drink."
Ava closed the door and smiled to herself. The High Celestial seemed kinder to her now—he even answered her.
"Ava, you're closer to him than before, right? What happened that day?" a little attendant asked.
Ava, lighting a candle, thought and replied, "He probably took it as me helping him."
"How did you help?"
"I had a pill Simon gave me. He said it was a powerful elixir; by chance I obtained it and gave it to him. It really worked—he regained most of his power afterward."
"Just that?"
"Mm."
Ava watched the candle flame and her eyes dimmed.
That day almost became something else—she had willingly wanted to relieve his pain. But he bit his tongue to stay conscious and refused her advances. He later plunged himself into ice water, enduring roaring blood and heartache to ride out the drug's effects.
"Did you find the Luo Flower leaves I asked for?" Ava asked.
"Found them. They're in the kitchen."
"Good. Although he's regained much power, his heart pulse is still damaged. I'll add it to his morning broth tomorrow so he recovers faster."
"You're so thoughtful, Ava," the attendant praised.
Ava smiled, but the smile carried a trace of sadness. If only he could see how much she cared.
That night, Claire found herself walking back toward Ethan's manor without knowing why.
She didn't know how he was now—what happened between him and Ava.
"Hey, who's that?" Claire saw someone leave the manor and head west, and she followed quietly.
When she reached a peach grove, the person vanished. Claire searched left and right but couldn't find them.
"Where did you go?" she muttered. "How could I lose you?"
"Why are you following me?"
A cold, pleasant voice spoke from behind.
Claire turned and locked eyes with him—his gaze like stars. She panicked and couldn't form words. "Ethan, I—"
"How dare you show up in front of me…" Ethan frowned; his tone was icy.
"I just happened to be passing by…" Claire lied. At most, she only wanted to see him.
Ethan's face showed disbelief. She watched his silver hair shining like moonlight and felt a dull ache inside. "You and Ava—"
Ethan lowered his eyes and looked at her with weight. "What about Ava and me?"
"Nothing, I—" Claire stammered, flustered. She should have felt relief, but instead there was a hollow ache.
Ethan studied the conflicted expression on her face—torn between grief and joy—and felt something strange.
"Have we met before?" he asked, gazing into her blossom-bright eyes.
Why did he feel like he recognized her?
Claire froze at the question.
In the novel, the antagonist had always admired him, but up until she slipped him the drug, he hadn’t even spared her a second glance. They weren’t even acquaintances.
Claire thought of that and couldn’t help but look up at Ethan in surprise.
Moonlight pooled over him, soft and silver, making him even more pale and handsome—his features like a sculpture of snow, clean and edged with a cool distance.
If circumstances were different, someone like her would have already leapt forward and kissed him.
But now, and perhaps forever after, she couldn’t do that… "We never really knew each other. The Archdivine is reading too much into it."
23.
After Claire returned to the manor, she lay on the couch and kept her eyes open until dawn.
She slapped her face hard to wake herself up and shouted, "Claire, get it together. Ethan’s still out there waiting for you to save him!"
"The bad thing happened yesterday. There’ll be more to do later. Pull yourself together!"
Claire propped up her tired body—she’d been up all night—and went to the desk. She picked up a pen and tried to sort out her next moves.
Simon had led Ava to the mist-wreathed Hidden Cliff.
Ava looked around at the scenery. It was pleasant, but after a while it felt a little dull. She asked, puzzled, "Why are we here?"
"Wait a moment."
Simon smiled, then raised his hand and clapped.
Ava waited, but nothing happened.
Simon cleared his throat awkwardly and clapped again.
Still nothing.
He wiped sweat from his brow and kept clapping faster and faster.
With each clap, the placid mist seemed to stir.
A gorgeous teal bird burst from the swirling fog and shot upward with a clear cry, circling above them.
"What’s that?"
Ava looked up at the bird in surprise.
"Pretty, right? I just tamed this mysterious bird. It’s yours—ride it."
Simon was pleased to see Ava’s flicker of interest. He’d wrestled with the bird for days and nights, taken some wounds, but had finally subdued it.
"Simon, why are you always so good to me?" Ava said softly. Her senior had gone to great trouble for her—on the Mortal Realm trip, with the night loralees… wait, Mortal Realm? Night loralees?
That didn’t make sense. She shouldn’t have gone to the Mortal Realm with Simon. And what were night loralees?
Simon watched her pause and mistook it for pressure caused by his attentions. "I only want you to be happy. Don’t feel obligated. If you like these things, I’m satisfied."
"And you’re my junior. I promised our master I’d take care of you, so I’ll be a little better to you," he said with a smile.
That ought to put her at ease. His true feelings didn’t matter right now.
Claire stared at a scene not far off and her mouth fell open.
She’d spent recent days searching the Celestial Realm for the Demon Lord, but had found no trace of him.
And now, on a lazy afternoon walk, she saw him.
He was standing under a tree with Ethan, talking over and over.
Claire watched as Damien—he, once again, wore that alluring, seductive look—batted his eyes at Ethan. Ethan’s expression darkened; he seemed to be holding himself back from losing his temper.
"High Celestial, I have long admired you. I’ve heard of your reputation and have always wanted…" Damien narrowed his eyes at the cool, indifferent Archdivine. "I wanted to spar with you a bit."
"You came just to tell me that?" Ethan had stopped because he felt something odd, expecting something more substantial than flattery—but this was only a string of empty compliments.
Damien detected Ethan’s coldness and waved it off. "Hmph, if the Archdivine won’t spar with me now, no matter. I can wait. There’ll be other chances."
Damien reached out as if to pat Ethan’s shoulder—really, trying to gauge his power—but his hand was abruptly seized by someone who’d appeared out of nowhere.
"Haha, Damien, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere."
Claire pressed his hand down, keeping her face pleasant.
Damien looked puzzled, brow lifting.
"Do you know him?"
Ethan asked in a low voice.
Claire saw Ethan remained tense. She pinched her fingers, kept calm, and answered, "High Demon Lord Damien is handsome, striking—I've admired him from afar."
"I know him—though he might not recognize me," she added.
It was a last-minute lie. Luckily Damien was truly striking; the excuse would hold.
Damien’s mouth quirked in interest. "I didn’t realize I had so many admirers."
Ethan’s eyes chilled; a strange displeasure tugged at him. "Admirers?"
"Oh—no, no. Appreciation. Different," Claire hurried to clarify, then immediately thought explanation wasn’t necessary. After all, she meant nothing to Ethan… "Well then, my little celestial admirer, care to have a drink with me?"
Damien leaned close and breathed in her ear; his voice was low and seductive.
Claire had been watching Ethan and hadn’t noticed how close Damien had gotten. The proximity startled her; she jumped backward but hadn’t taken a full step when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away, breaking the distance in an instant.
"Huh?"
She looked up and met Ethan’s deep, black eyes. His knuckled hand still held her arm.
They were close—close enough that if she leaned forward even a little, she could fall into his embrace.
24.
Damien watched them with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "What’s wrong? You don’t want to drink with me?"
Claire snapped back to herself and stepped away from Ethan.
Ethan stared at her steadily, emotions roiling beneath the surface.
"Fine—let’s go. I have something to tell you anyway."
Claire steadied herself and smiled at Damien.
The plan was to cozy up to the Demon Lord and, following the novel’s outline, naturally become the antagonist who tried to lure the male lead—so she couldn’t miss this chance.
"You—" Ethan wanted to object, but stopped.
He seemed to have no right to interfere.
Damien grinned at Ethan. "Then come with us, Archdivine. We'll chat another day."
Claire didn’t dare meet Ethan’s eyes. She kept her head down and followed behind Damien, each step taking them farther apart.
Her eyes suddenly stung.
She and Ethan were slipping away from each other.
After that, Claire focused all her effort on courting Damien. Following the book’s events, she gradually won his trust.
"Thanks to you, I was able to get this map of the Celestial Realm," Damien said, studying the map with satisfaction.
"It was nothing," Claire replied lightly. Of course she could help him—she had the story’s vantage point. That made the task easy.
The Demon Lord was about the only person she spent much time with in the Celestial Realm. She didn’t have many friends there.
Sometimes when she walked with Damien they’d run into Ethan, and Ava would be behind him. Claire always chose to take a detour. Today she encountered Ethan again.
He wore white that stayed unstained by dust, but his picturesque face looked weary.
Was something wrong? Had his body been harmed outside the sphere of consciousness?
Claire watched, worried.
"Aren’t you going to run away this time?" Damien teased, glancing at Claire’s uneasy expression.
She didn’t answer, so Damien continued, "You help me so much; I should help you. If you don’t want them together, then we’ll make sure they don’t get together."
"Wait—when did I ever say that—" she started, but before she finished, Damien went over to Ava who was trailing Ethan.
Whatever he said, Ava left with him.
The lotus pond fell quiet. Only Claire and Ethan remained.
A breeze stirred golden ginkgo leaves and tousled their hair. They were only a few paces apart, yet felt miles away. Claire started forward, then hesitated.
How could she ask? Would he pay any heed?
"Ehem—" Ethan suddenly coughed violently, brow furrowing, clearly in pain.
"Ah—Ethan, are you okay?" Claire hurried to him and steadied him.
Could his life-stone be unstable?
Ethan shoved her away and stepped back several paces, his gaze heavy. "Claire, you have attachments now. Why do you still care for me like this?"
"I’m not—I’m just—" Claire didn’t know how to explain. Lately she’d spoken often with Damien, but that had been for the sake of moving things along.
Seeing his body unsteady, she stepped closer despite his resistance and gripped his hand. "What’s wrong with you?"
He tried to push her again, but she held fast.
His face was deathly pale; worry gnawed at her. "You—"
Before she could finish, she felt her body pinned. Her back hit a tree trunk. A cool breath filled her nose. Inches from her, Ethan’s flawless face hovered; she could see each tremulous lash like a fluttering butterfly wing.
One hand braced against the tree, the other still held in hers.
"What are you trying to do?" Ethan’s ink-dark eyes fixed on her, reflecting her flustered face.
"I—I'm worried about you," Claire said. He looked so pale.
Ethan stared at her for a long moment. His gaze dimmed, and he said in a low voice, "Why do you keep doing this?"
"I—" Claire’s heart tightened at the sudden pain that flickered across his expression.
Before she could say anything, his lips came down on hers—soft, sudden. The kiss hit like a storm. Her mind went blank.
His lips were cool, but somehow they burned into her.
Only when she could barely breathe did he slowly pull away.
"Ethan—" she whispered, hesitant.
He caressed her cheek so gently it was as if he feared hurting her. There was a shard of sadness in those dark eyes.
"I should know you," he murmured, "but no matter what I do, I can’t remember you."
"So that’s why you left me?" she asked.
"Why did you leave me?" he replied.
Ethan suddenly went limp and slid to the ground, face drained of color, eyes shut—he’d lost consciousness.
"Ethan!"
Claire hugged him tight, staring at his pale face. Her heart knifed; tears streamed down her cheeks. "It’s not like that… it’s not what you think… You can’t be hurt. You absolutely can’t!"
25. Claire brought Ethan back to his manor. The celestial attendants immediately fetched a divine physician.
"Is the High Celestial going to be all right?" Ava asked, panic in her voice.
The healer cast a treatment spell over the sleeping Ethan. After a long while, he eased his power back.
"He was already wounded," the physician said. "He forced himself to subdue a fiend—so it’s injury on top of injury. He’s fainted and coughed blood, but it could have been worse."
Claire’s chest tightened at the words.
Ava asked, "What can we do to help him?"
"Rest properly, soak in the spring more often, and take his medicine on schedule. And don’t use spells casually for a while," the healer instructed, each word deliberate.
Ava nodded over and over. "Okay, I’ll remember. Thank you, doctor."
She thanked him and politely escorted him out.
Ava moved with composed courtesy, attending to every detail like the mistress of the manor. Compared to her, Claire felt awkward and clumsy standing at the side.
Ava didn’t immediately send Claire away; Claire was grateful. It let her stay and keep watching Ethan a little longer.
A gentle calming incense burned in the room; its faint scent drifted through the air.
Ethan’s eyelids were sealed. He still slept. Claire studied his face—still pale, but better than before.
She half-kneeling at the bedside, she reached out and lightly brushed his cool, picturesque brows and eyes.
Ever since Ethan’s severe injury, Claire had been sneaking in to see him.
Sometimes she’d hide in a corner watching him converse with other immortals; other times she’d crouch behind a stone pillar and watch him cross the cloud bridge over the lotus pool.
Tall and lean in white robes, he moved with grace. Even his paler complexion only sharpened his cold, perfect features; his immortal presence kept him distant, almost untouchable.
A moment ago Claire had been thinking one thing—then somehow she found herself held tightly in Ethan’s arms.
"Ethan."
She whispered his name, voice trembling.
"What is it?"
Ethan looked down at the woman in his embrace, a faint smile pulling at his lips.
Claire had always known his charm. Just that slight, gentle smile sent her heart racing.
"You’ve been hiding and spying on me these past few days," Ethan murmured into her ear, warm breath tickling her.
"And now you come watch me soak in the spring…"
Claire felt like covering her face and running. She struggled, but couldn’t break free.
"I only wanted to see how your injuries were…" she explained softly. That day she only knew he was hurt, not where. So she’d perched on a branch above the spring, like before, hoping to peek.
She thought he wouldn’t notice. She’d been much more careful this time. But before long he’d used a spell to pull her down from the tree.
At the memory, Claire frowned. "Don’t use magic like that."
"If you weren’t sneaking around like a cat, I wouldn’t have had to use any power," Ethan replied, fingers toying with her damp hair. "Besides, my wounds are internal—you can’t see them."
They were both in the spring now, the world warm and infinite.
Their bodies were close; skin almost touching.
Claire stared into his eyes—like stars—and his gaze lingered on her, rimmed with misty heat.
"Let me go."
She reached to push him away.
Ethan bent close. "You’re worried about me, aren’t you?"
She nodded before she could stop herself, then instantly tried to deny it.
But Ethan didn’t let her take it back. His kiss was lingering and deliberate.
"Ethan…"
Her voice was low, soft, irresistibly sweet.
He kissed lower and lower, from her neck to the hollow of her chest, then lingered on her soft breast, tracing possessively.
"No."
Claire gasped, looping her arms around his neck, clinging to the last threads of reason. "No—now is not the time."
"The person I like now is Cheng."
She turned her eyes aside and said it slowly.
"I’ve been with him almost day and night. I realized he’s the one who’s right for me."
Claire tightened her fingers, forcing a composed lie.
Ethan watched her calmly. His gaze cooled from burning to frost.
"Claire, are you playing with me?" His voice went cold.
It felt as if he’d fallen into an ice pit, a blizzard coating him. Around them the warmth died. Even pressed together in what looked like an embrace, the atmosphere between them turned frigid.
Her chest tightened when she heard him say that.
She wanted to fold into him—but she had to be cruel. If she wasn’t hard on him now, when they fought he’d hesitate and it would make things worse. Maybe she had to rein herself in.
Claire slowly slid out of his arms. "You’re so innocent, High Celestial. How could you believe someone like me?"
She said each hurtful word with practiced coldness.
"I’m just fickle," she went on, smoothing her clothes, feigning indifference. "I feel nothing but guilt toward you. Don’t waste your thoughts on me."
Ethan’s stare fixed on her, deepening. He ground his teeth; a metallic, sweet tang rose in his throat.
"Ethan!"
Claire saw a red line at the corner of his mouth.
His wounds hadn’t healed—had she gone too far with her words?
Ethan turned his head away, expression icy. "Go. Don’t come near me again."
"What happens to me is none of your business."
26. After that, Ethan and Claire were practically strangers.
She still inquired about his condition, but she forced herself never to spy on him again.
When she missed him too much she would stand in that spot; when the mist parted she could sometimes see his manor in the distance.
"High Celestial?" Ava called, puzzled, noticing Ethan had stopped moving.
They were flying through the clouds en route to attend Elder Nanyun’s birthday banquet, but Ethan suddenly froze mid-flight.
Ava stepped forward and followed his gaze. Halfway up the mountain, in a pavilion, a graceful fairy leaned against the stone railing, lost in thought.
Claire… Ava glanced at Ethan. His eyes darkened, fixed on her.
They were floating above; from here Claire couldn’t see them.
"I’ll go ahead and tell the Elder you might arrive late," Ava said, uneasy.
Ethan lifted a long-fingered hand to his breast and watched the pavilion woman in silence, his fingers clenching without his conscious will.
After a long pause he said quietly, "Let’s go."
Days passed. Cheng’s plan’s time arrived.
The bright, majestic Celestial Realm was suddenly blanketed by a vast shadow.
"The Demon Clan has breached the South Gate!" soldiers shouted in alarm.
Several generals led heavenly soldiers to defend the South Gate. But the demons had prepared well—feints and tricks on all sides—keeping the defenders off balance and on the back foot.
While the battle wore them down, the Demon Lord launched an internal assault. The Celestial Realm was attacked from both fronts.
The South Gate fell quickly; the demons pushed through.
Cheng’s lips curved into a thin smile as he watched.
Since his mother died, thousands upon thousands of years had passed.
He had waited for this day for a long time.
Claire stood silently behind him, emotionless as still water.
A demon general rushed up to Cheng. "Bad news, Demon Lord!"
"What is it?" Cheng asked coldly.
"It’s High Celestial Ethan," the general reported sharply. "He intercepted our troops at the palace gate—almost wiped out the soldiers we sent to attack the palace."
At the sound of Ethan’s name Claire’s face flickered.
The general hurried on. "Also, another team tried to take a shortcut toward the main palace to infiltrate it, but they fell into a labyrinth."
"A labyrinth." Cheng narrowed his eyes and glanced at Claire. A cold glint flashed in them.
Claire tightened her fingers, expression still controlled.
If Ethan had been allowed to infiltrate the palace, many immortals would have died—so she had set a trap along that route.
No need to sacrifice more lives for an inevitably failed plan.
Cheng stepped closer. She saw his face pale as snow. He bent to her ear and said softly, "I almost believed you, you know that?"
Lately in the Celestial Realm he wore masks—fake smiles and false kindness—calculating at every turn. Only in front of her did he ever dare lower the guard, if only briefly.
He’d hoped she stood with him. He’d even sincerely thought of helping her get everything she wanted.
But she had disappointed him.
Cheng let out a bitter laugh. Demons should be used to loneliness; who could expect true hearts from others?
Claire bowed her lashes. She had thought he would kill her.
He pinched her chin and continued, "Fortunately, I had other plans. Another team took a route you didn’t know about. By now, they’ve likely already infiltrated."
Claire watched him quietly.
The enmity between gods and demons had spanned millennia; it was no small thing.
Without suffering, one cannot teach another compassion.
She found herself staring at the crimson mark on his brow—the petals of a strange flower, vivid red. For a moment a vision of blood-red blossoms filled her eyes.
Her eyes stung.
27. Ethan and Cheng clashed. When their divine forces collided, the sky split and the earth shook.
The Demon Lord hit the ground and spat blood, then wiped his mouth carelessly and sneered, "Hah—so you truly are my destined rival."
Claire stood a short distance behind Cheng. She saw Ethan wounded too—the white sleeve of his robe stained red, a line of blood at his mouth—and her heart clenched.
Ethan gripped his sword, expression cold as he faced Cheng. "The Demon Lord is cunning and brilliant, but misapplied," he said. "If he hadn’t turned that mind to evil, he would have been a worthy adversary."
He looked at Cheng with steady composure.
Heathen soldiers suddenly poured in from all sides and surrounded Cheng.
Ethan watched Cheng and said flatly, "You’ve already lost."
One wrong move, and the whole board is lost.
Cheng laughed, then reached out. Claire felt herself go light as air, and the next moment she was pulled into his grip, his fingers digging into her throat.
She couldn’t breathe… “Let her go!”
Ethan stepped forward, brow knitting; the calm in his face finally cracked.
“So? Feeling sorry for her?”
Cheng glanced at Ethan and tightened his hold.
Ethan’s hand closed around his sword; his eyes were cold and sharp.
The heavenly soldiers flinched—none of them had ever seen the High Celestial radiate such killing intent.
Claire bit her lip so hard she couldn’t speak.
Cheng turned to look at her, voice low. “In the end, you’re still on his side, aren’t you?”
Claire winced in pain; she knew exactly what he meant.
He assumed his demon troops had been captured because she’d tipped them off.
Only he had still underestimated Ethan.
“Go. Now.”
Claire formed the words with her lips.
She remembered the book’s ending—he fled that night.
A cold smile tugged at Cheng’s mouth as he looked at Ethan. “Would you trade your life for hers?”
He watched the murderous light in Ethan’s eyes and tightened his grip another notch. “You have no other choice.”
Crimson blood dripped down Ethan’s arm onto his sword. The blade drank it and flared, sword-qi crackling fiercely.
Ethan lifted his right hand slightly, twisted his wrist, and the sword flew from his grip, embedding itself into a stone pillar a few paces away.
“No—”
Claire struggled, trying to shout to stop him.
This wasn’t how it should be. Where had things gone wrong?
She felt the pressure on her throat loosen. He was still holding her, but she could breathe again.
“Come closer.”
Cheng ordered Ethan.
Claire watched Ethan take step after step toward them, panic rising. “Don’t come any closer. I’m with the demons. You don’t need to interfere.”
“High Celestial, don’t—” a heavenly general started, anxious.
Ethan stopped in front of Cheng.
Claire fought to keep her tears in and saw his expression stay cool. He didn’t look at her.
“Heh, this is your weakness,” Cheng said with a pleased smile. He hadn’t been certain before—just gambling on a risk—but he’d guessed right.
“Let her go.”
Ethan’s voice was steady, each word measured.
“I thought you and Claire were a pair,” Cheng continued. “But I see now…”
He had completely got the better of this powerful High Celestial.
“You despicable—” Claire spat angrily.
Why was this happening?
It wasn’t in the original book.
Was the timeline already impossible to restore?
Cheng only smiled mildly at her accusation.
Looking back at Ethan, a sly grin formed. “You won’t be able to hide now. Once I take your life, I’ll release her.”
He wanted Ethan to pay for everything.
The heavenly soldiers tried to intervene but were pushed back by the barrier Cheng released from his body; none could cross its threshold.
After all, he was the Demon Lord—the strongest of his realm. If he wanted to escape now, they might not stop him… and the Emperor and the Elder were far away in the West listening to sutras, not in the Celestial Realm. No doubt that was part of the Demon Lord’s plan for this day.
Ethan stood still, expression calm. “Will you do as you say?”
What happened next?
Claire’s vision blurred.
She flexed her fingers; they were still stiff.
Her spirit-sense seemed to be returning.
The last scene she remembered was throwing herself in front of Ethan and feeling a tearing, agonizing pain.
She had seen the despair in his eyes.
If he remembered any of that, would he be angry? How was he now?
Claire struggled up from the bed and looked around. This should still be Elder Morti’s cave dwelling.
“You’re awake?”
A dignified voice came, but she couldn’t see who spoke.
“Elder?” Claire asked hurriedly. “What happened to Ethan?”
“I don’t know why, but everything seems different from the original path. It can’t return to the right track.”
Claire’s panic surged; tears streamed down her face. “What do we do? What about Ethan?”
The voice paused a moment before answering. “Things have indeed changed.”
Claire went limp and collapsed, crying harder, shaking all over.
Could she not save him?
How could this be? It was all her fault.
She felt chilled, as if plunging into an endless, pitch-black abyss.
“Why are you crying like that?”
A cool, gentle voice brushed her ear.
Claire froze and slowly looked up toward the sound.
A blinding white light seemed to appear. Too bright to look at, she glimpsed a handsome, composed man in white standing before her.
He bent and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“I’m here. Don’t cry.”
He whispered in her ear.
Claire buried herself in his chest, breathing in that clean, familiar scent. She sobbed and couldn’t stop. “E-Ethan… is it really you? Are you okay? Are you really… okay?”
She didn’t dare hug him too hard, afraid he might be an illusion.
Ethan brushed her cheek, an almost-smile in his eyes.
She stared into those star-bright eyes, dazed.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her deeply.
The kiss was slow, lingering, intoxicating.
In that tenderness, Claire’s heart finally found solid ground. She closed her eyes and returned his kiss with everything she had.
Later, Elder Morti would say the Memory Orb had shattered under fate’s strain.
Its fracture stirred a disturbance, rippling through time and space.
Perhaps because of that, both Claire’s and Ethan’s life-stones had returned to their original round, smooth states—pure and whole, as if the cracks had never existed.
That night, after returning to their room, Claire couldn’t wait and began ripping at Ethan’s clothes.
“Claire, slow down—you're going to tear my clothes off,” Ethan murmured, indulgent.
Under Claire’s assault, Ethan’s upper garments were nearly gone, revealing a body like polished jade—broad, pale skin. He watched her with deep eyes, lying quiet, letting her mischief run wild.
Claire kissed the smooth line of his neck. She had missed the intimacy.
Ethan’s eyes glimmered red at the corners, adding a hint of dangerous allure to his cold beauty. His long hand curled around her slim waist; his cool fingertips made her tremble.
“Ethan,” she murmured, “I want…”
“Mmm.” Ethan answered, voice low and husky.
Claire clung to him like a vine.
They pressed close—sweat and warmth mingled, the world turned upside down—no sense of time as kisses came and came.
After what felt like a long sleep, Claire blinked awake and snuggled further into Ethan’s embrace.
“You almost pushed me off the bed,” he said softly, tucking her head under his and wrapping an arm around her.
“I just wanted to be closer,” she mumbled.
Ethan smiled tenderly and kissed her forehead.
She buried into his chest and asked in a muffled voice, “The life-stone—did anything change?”
“No. Nothing at all.”
Her hand wandered restlessly across his chest.
“Claire.”
Ethan called her name softly.
“Yes?”
“Still got energy to fool around?”
“Seeing you with my eyes open gives me enough.”
Ethan’s mouth curved. He flipped and pinned her gently beneath him.
Countless kisses rained down again.
Later, Claire told Ethan everything—her origins, the whole story.
Ethan wasn’t overly shocked. He said quietly, “I sensed it from the start. Your spirit felt like the old Claire but also… different.”
Same and not the same.
Claire was puzzled. Before transmigrating she had also been named Claire, and here the name was the same. Was this body originally hers? Had she always been from this timeline?
Her head buzzed.
Ethan stroked her hair as she leaned into him. That, she decided, was enough. No need to overthink what she couldn’t understand.
Cheng had left her a letter before he left.
On this timeline where spirit-senses were restored, Claire was still the High Celestial and hadn’t colluded with the Demon Lord; Cheng hadn’t yet attacked the Celestial Realm.
All those things hadn’t happened, so she and Ethan could still be together. Otherwise, the Celestial Realm would have punished her for aiding demons; she would be as good as dead.
Yet something was different. In Cheng’s letter he said he’d dreamed of the outcome of this battle. He didn’t like the man he would become in that ending.
Claire still didn’t understand why Cheng had left her a note. She’d always thought him a cold, inscrutable Demon Lord. Maybe he’d held a sliver of goodwill toward her—she hoped he could someday live better, not consumed by hatred.
“High Celestial.”
Ava stepped forward to address Ethan.
Claire saw Ava hesitate and guessed she had something to say. “I’ll head to the Celestial Lake first. Ethan, come find me later.”
She started to leave but Ethan stopped her.
“Ava, what is it?”
Ethan held Claire’s hand and asked in a flat tone.
Claire watched Ava with mixed feelings. If Ava hadn’t appeared… perhaps things would have been different. But no matter what, Claire wouldn’t let go of Ethan—she’d been determined from the start.
Ava looked at their joined hands and smiled softly. “It’s nothing important. I just wanted to inform you.”
“Hm?”
Ethan waited.
“I want to go cultivate in the Mortal Realm with Brother Simon for a while.”
“Ava?” Claire blinked. “You and Simon… you two—?”
Ava smiled faintly, a touch shy in her eyes. “Since my spirit awakened, it felt like I lived another life and I understand many things now.”
“Brother Simon has always been by my side, wherever I went,” Ava said. “I realize I was so fixated on the High Celestial that I ignored the one who truly cared for me.”
“So, High Celestial, may I take leave?”
Ethan looked at Ava and answered, “Go. Return whenever you wish.”
Claire chimed in, “If Simon dares treat you badly, tell us. We’ll help set him straight.”
Ava laughed. “Thank you, High Celestial. Thank you, Claire. I hope when we meet again, you’ll both have a chubby little baby for me to see.”
Claire flushed and let out a small cough.
Ethan’s mouth curved as he tightened his grip on her hand.
Claire tugged Ethan down to the lakefront and sat beside him, but she noticed he seemed lost in thought.
“What, Ava’s eyes aren’t only on you anymore? You upset?” she teased.
Claire snorted softly.
After all, someone who’d always liked you suddenly not paying attention only to you anymore—of course it would sting a little.
Men, Humph.
Ethan watched Claire pout in displeasure and found it a little amusing. He reached up and ruffled the top of her head, chuckling low, “Seriously? You’re jealous over this?”
“Don’t laugh. Don’t even think your looks can fool me,” Claire said, turning her face away. He didn’t know how absolutely charming he was when he smiled.
Time after time she couldn’t stay mad because of that smile.
Ethan pulled her close, folding her into his arms, and said softly, “Alright, I don’t have any feelings for her. You know that. My heart is all yours—listen.”
Claire pressed her cheek to his chest and heard the steady beat of his heart against her ear.
“These heartbeats belong only to you.”
His words were sincere and gentle, sinking into her like a warm tide.
“And what are you thinking about?” she asked in a muffled voice.
Ethan hesitated, as if choosing how to say it. After a moment he spoke, “Emperor Bichen is about to abdicate. He wants me to succeed him.”
Claire startled. “So you mean… you’re going to become an emperor?”
Ethan nodded. “There are eight regional emperors in the Celestial Realm. Bichen rules the Southern Realm. If I take his place, I’ll have to go to Biling Isle.”
“Will you want me to come with you?” he asked, eyes lowered on her.
Claire jabbed his waist playfully and snapped, “If I’m not following you, who would I follow?”
Ethan smiled, his gaze bright. “But what if it’s barren there? What if it’s desolate?”
“Then I’ll go with you anyway. Wherever you go, I go. I won’t be apart from you,” Claire said firmly.
The next moment Ethan kissed her, the clean, cool scent of snow lotus filling her senses. The kiss lingered until she was nearly breathless, and only then did he let her go.
“Claire, are you sure?” he murmured.
“I’m sure,” she answered.
Later, Claire went with Ethan to Biling Isle. Before leaving she had packed dozens of seeds, certain that as a master of herbs she could turn even a barren island into a green paradise.
But she was stopped in her tracks before they even descended from the clouds.
Mist of immortal qi wound through the air, elegant pavilions rose on the shore, exotic flowers and rare plants carpeted the ground—peach blossoms so dazzling they seemed to blush. Desolate? Hardly.
Looking closely, it was even more beautiful than parts of the Celestial Realm.
Ethan cleared his throat and pressed his lips together. “That’s what Emperor Bichen told me it would be like…”
Claire squeezed him again; Ethan didn’t fight back, only wincing a little at the pain.
Hundreds of years later.
Ethan officially took the emperor’s throne, and he and Claire were wed on Biling Isle in a ceremony the likes of which attracted immortals from all directions.
“Ethan, be gentle,” Claire said from the bed, eyes shining with wet softness, lips trembling in a quiet plea.
Ethan laughed low and said, “You seemed… pretty eager to tease me back at the banquet.”
Claire’s conscience pricked and she started to explain, but Ethan bit her earlobe lightly.
“Husband, I was wrong,” she cooed.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, and whispered in a seductive tone, “Wife, it’s time we had a child.”
Claire felt her heart skip. She clung to his back, her mind going pleasantly blank.
That night on Biling Isle was peaceful but not dark; specks of immortal light drifted like stars, gorgeous and hypnotic.
A cool breeze stirred the grasses; the herbs bowed as if in greeting. Time itself felt kind and still.
