Can I say that?
If I admitted I once—well—messed with the Crown Prince, wouldn’t thunderbolts and lightning bolts come chasing after me?
It’s not entirely my fault. Back when I hadn’t ascended to being a lord yet, when I was still down in the mortal world enduring my tribulation, I ran into the little prince who’d come down to gain life experience.
Fine—I’ll admit it, I was the one who started poking him. But who could blame me when that brat frowned and called me a beggar?
The kid was small and perfect like a porcelain doll. Even with cold airs around him, he was adorable in every way. Maybe he hadn’t slept well the night before—one tuft of hair stuck up.
Who wouldn’t laugh at that?
I laughed out loud.
So he chased me around and beat me for an entire afternoon.
Thinking back now, that little guy probably nearly cried from being so mad.
The young prince was born into a good family in the mortal realm—instantly a human crown prince—whereas I was down there to undergo my tribulation and ascend. My station simply couldn’t compete with his glittering one. The brighter he was, the more I felt small.
But I genuinely didn’t know the child in front of me was also a celestial being. I didn’t expect that.
I assumed he was naive. I used sweet talk to trick him into being my little lackey—into stealing roast chicken for me. I took advantage of him for a long time, proud of being a celestial.
He’d been quiet since childhood and never resisted. No—he couldn’t resist. He couldn’t beat me; he couldn’t shout me down. He just endured.
When Young Adrian came of age, I even took advantage of him while drunk.
And then?
Then I fled right after my tribulation and ascended. I didn’t have time to say goodbye; just poof—I became a lord.
Why did I only realize later that the current Emperor was that young prince? Because when the Crown Prince returned from his life experience, I went to greet him.
When mortals ascend to immortality, a lord must preside—just in case the newly ascended one can’t control their power and shakes the heavens apart. And this time it was the Crown Prince of the celestial realm—the future emperor—returning.
I floated in on a cloud to the terrace, but when I saw the face through the mist, I didn’t hesitate: I bailed.
That sullen face. That expression like everyone owed him a fortune. It had to be the little prince I used to bully! I rushed to the Western Sea and begged the Queen Mother West to talk with me through the night.
Well, she didn’t exactly volunteer for the late-night chat.
Queen Mother West sat there with her hair a mess, looking at me like a martyr. “Lord Rowan, are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
I downed a gulp of wine and shook my head hard. “Absolutely not! I remember that brat perfectly!”
She performed a little charm: her hair smoothed itself into a neat bun. She fussed and asked, “Then why run? You’re a lord—are you afraid of one newly ascended immortal?”
I stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
Her face shifted oddly, and she hesitated. “Today… is it the Crown Prince’s return?”
I kept staring.
She stood up like she was saying farewell to life itself. “Lord Rowan! I have things to do! I’m leaving now—pretend you don’t know me!”
I grabbed the hem of her robe, almost crying, “Don’t go! Help me!”
She started swearing at me, “Are you sane? Why would you mess with the Crown Prince? Why can’t you just go through your tribulation in peace?”
I pouted. “I didn’t know that the mortal crown prince was the future emperor…”
She sat, expressionless, cracked a seed between her teeth, and chastised me. “You brought this on yourself. Work out how long you bullied him down there—ten years? More? Think about how proud you felt when you first ascended. Rowan, this is karma.”
I tried to defend myself. “It wasn’t that long… The Crown Prince shouldn’t hold grudges, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “You never know. You flirt with someone, you vanish without a word when you ascend—of course anyone would be angry.”
I sighed, but then she said something that sparked hope.
“Also, your mortal appearance is different from your lordly form. He might not recognize you.”
My heart sank back down into my stomach.
Right! In the mortal world I’d been wearing a body I’d picked at random—a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl’s frame. Now I was different. I touched my face, then my chest, and smiled.
Queen Mother West scooted her stool further away, disgusted.
Now I’m an adult woman—breasts where they should be, a mature face.
So why run?
She sighed at me, turned, and vanished, but not before warning, “Don’t be too careless. You bullied him for so long—if you slip up, expect revenge from the Crown Prince.”
Got it. Got it.
So the plan was obvious: don’t let the Crown Prince recognize me.
I swallowed the last of my wine and laughed.
I was sure I didn’t weigh so heavily in his memory. Besides, memories of mortals who return from life experience are usually wiped by Myrna.
Yes… probably…
When I returned to my palace, the person sitting inside nearly froze my ankles.
Isn’t that the Crown Prince who just ascended?
He really was handsome.
It was that face that had gotten me drunk and undressing him in the mortal world.
I composed my expression, floated in with lordly grace, and watched the man turn toward me and bow.
His voice was cool and clear. “Adrian Morrow pays respects to Lord Rowan.”
Oh right—I outrank this Crown Prince now. I’m a newly promoted lord; him coming to pay respects was only proper.
I raised a hand, forcing my voice steady. “Crown Prince, no need for such ceremony. I left earlier because something unresolved occurred. I hope the Crown Prince won’t hold it against me.”
Adrian straightened and fixed his gaze on me.
I felt weak—what was he staring me down for? Trying to intimidate me? Please.
While Adrian and I stared each other down, a commotion started behind us.
My little immortal ward Finn barreled in carrying two jars of wine. “Lord Rowan! Lord Rowan! Queen Mother West sent two jars—saying you should be careful!”
I shut my eyes. Careful? As if that’s needed—I’m always careful! Finn noticed Adrian in the palace and immediately sobered, kneeling properly instead of joking about safety anymore.
By the way, Adrian was taller than me.
He wore a black-and-gold brocade robe with embroidered dragons and phoenixes, hair tied with a black jade crown—handsome, sharp, with a casual charm. Those eyes staring at me made me tremble a little.
“Lord Rowan, did you just return from your tribulation recently?” Adrian asked suddenly, making me lurch.
I feigned ignorance. “Crown Prince must be mistaken. I ascended long ago; I’ve been in seclusion cultivating and only recently returned to register at the court.”
“Is that so?” He seemed to think something over, then bowed again. “If Lord Rowan intends to celebrate with the immortal ward, I will not disturb. The invitation for the Lotus Banquet will be sent to your residence.”
When he left, I finally exhaled. Finn scrambled up and asked, “Lord Rowan, why did the Crown Prince come to your palace instead of the main hall?”
I snatched the wine from Finn and huffed, “How should I know? Let’s go.”
Finn called after me, “Lord Rowan! Where are you going?!”
“To the Underrealm!”
I barreled into the Underrealm without caring about the kneeling lesser spirits and headed straight for the Nether Road.
“Myrna!”
I kicked open the door to the Three Paths Inn, startling the four ghosts who’d been playing cards.
Well, four spirits, actually.
Myrna—small, pretty—had lots of talismans stuck on her face. She ran over like I was a savior and immediately wailed, “Lord Rowan! Lend me money!”
My mouth twitched. “How much?”
“Three million!”
“Are you robbing me?!”
I shoved her aside.
She pulled off the talismans, pouted, and asked, “Why are you in the Underrealm? I thought the King of Hell just finished his performance?”
“I’m not here for theater.” I shot a look at the Grim Wardens to shoo them out.
They understood and dragged the Registrar, who was clamming up about collecting money, out with them.
Myrna swallowed and clutched her clothes, nervous. “May I ask why you came to the Three Paths Inn?”
I grinned and grabbed her little pigtail. “Tell me—did you wipe the Crown Prince’s memories when he returned from his life experience?”
Myrna frowned. “Why is everyone asking that today?”
“Who else asked?”
“The Crown Prince.”
Myrna looked innocent. “He asked me for the registry. Seemed like he was looking for someone.”
I panicked and grabbed her hair harder. “Did you give it to him?!”
She slapped my hand with a pitiful face. “Ow, ow! Of course not! It’s the emperor’s rule. Only administrators and the emperor and the King of Hell can see the registry. No one else is allowed!”
I relaxed, then seized her pigtail again. “But did you restore—or not—the Crown Prince’s mortal memories?”
Myrna winced and thought. “Maybe?”
“You ‘maybe’?” I tightened my grip.
She spilled it. “Lord Rowan, I don’t know! So many people come up from the mortal realm; memories are taken naturally. I don’t know if his were reclaimed.”
“Life experience and tribulation are different,” she said pitifully as she escaped my grip. “Tribulation is something you live through—you have to remember it. Life experience depends on the person’s will. I can’t force it on a celestial being…”
My breath dropped. This was a problem.
Being a celestial has three hardships: you eat poorly, you sleep poorly, and you live poorly. On top of that, I had a fourth: it’s hard to hide.
The Lotus Banquet was arranged specifically for the Crown Prince. All the immortals would attend, and I, as the only Martial Lord among the four lords, would look bad if I didn’t show up.
As Queen Mother West said, I couldn’t let the other lord palaces laugh at me.
I indignantly agreed, but at the Southern Gate I chickened out.
If the Crown Prince still remembered, and he was out for revenge—what would I do?
I didn’t do any good deeds—I forced him into women’s clothes, made him crawl through dog-sized holes, dragged him through brothels, made him steal steamed buns.
Only now did I realize I’m really not a great person. But there was nothing for it; I wiped my tears away and braced myself to accept his bow.
When he finished, he stared at me again. I grit my teeth and deliberately changed the subject. "Prince Adrian—did your trial go smoothly this time?"
Queen Mother West immediately rolled her eyes at me.
Oh right—I shouldn’t have brought it up. Of course, just as I expected, Adrian answered softly, "Thank you for your concern, Lord Rowan. Everything went well, except I encountered a certain… fate along the way. It’s been on my mind."
"Haha, is that so? Trials always come with unexpected ties and consequences. Your Highness should let it go," I said dryly.
"Is that what Lord Rowan thinks?" Adrian smiled faintly. "I am enlightened."
I wanted to smack myself. I forced a laugh and tugged Queen Mother West toward the low table between us.
She couldn’t hide her amusement and was practically smirking. I gave her a playful shove.
"Ouch! Rowan, what are you like? You’re the War Lord—your hits always hurt. I’m delicate!" she pouted, which made me burst out laughing.
"Lord Rowan, Queen Mother West." Two figures stood before us. I recognized them.
There are only four High Lords in the Palace—me, Lord Rowan, the Queen Mother, and the two men standing now. They were both Literary Lords. Queen Mother West took care of weather and harvests; these two were heavyweights—one handled wealth, the other fate.
She curtsied with exaggerated modesty. "Greetings, Lord Sebastian Vale, Lord Marcus Hale."
I watched Queen Mother West’s awkward little performance and wondered what on earth was going on—then she shot me a warning look.
I glanced at Lord Sebastian Vale; there was a faint blush of shyness on his face, while Marcus looked mildly annoyed. Suddenly I understood.
Completely understood.
I used my divine mind-link to whisper to Queen Mother West, "Hey, sister, you like Lord Sebastian?"
Her face lit up. "Isn’t he handsome? When he ascended—his gentle, refined manner completely won me over. I’m warning you—keep up some dignity. If you offend the Crown Prince and never get married, I still intend to pursue happiness!"
I… couldn’t respond.
Marcus’s expression soured a bit. He balled his right hand into a fist, coughed into it, and awkwardly said, "Um, two of you are using your minds—Marcus and Sebastian can hear you."
I didn’t care, but Queen Mother West instantly flushed a deep red. This kid was about to combust.
After the banquet began came the boring part—eating and watching dances. I chatted with the three High Lords in a half-hearted way, keeping my face calm.
Except, no.
I could clearly feel a burning gaze from up to my left. Heh—no need to look; I already knew who it was.
Whatever. At my current look, body, and age, Adrian couldn’t possibly recognize me as the street urchin who’d bullied him in the mortal world. If he did, I’d wash my hair standing on my head.
"His Majesty has arrived—!" the Herald announced, making me jump and nearly choke on my wine.
A laugh came from somewhere. I looked up; Queen Mother West was watching the direction Adrian had entered from. A strong instinct pushed me to glance up-left at the table.
Of course.
Prince Adrian—Adrian Morrow—was looking at me with a smile.
Smile my foot! I shifted my gaze to the Emperor himself.
The Emperor didn’t look old—kind of handsome, even—but that didn’t change the fact he’s four thousand years older than me.
He was an old man; I was a young woman.
"I’m glad everyone could come," the Emperor said cheerfully. "My son has returned from his trial. Enjoy the festivities."
He looked proud of his son. I forced a smile but kept my eyes averted—Old Emperor, can you control your son? Those eyes of his could kill.
Marcus spoke first. "Since the Crown Prince has returned, and the four High Lords are present, why don’t we bestow blessings upon him?"
I widened my eyes, itching to fling Marcus out of the world. Blessings? I don’t want any connection to the Crown Prince. Do you understand? I tugged at Queen Mother West and tried to signal her.
Refuse! Say no! She glanced at me and suddenly smiled kindly. Bad feeling.
Sure enough, Queen Mother West stood and was the first to teleport in front of Adrian.
She showed a palm, and a jade ruyi appeared. With a flick of her robe she bestowed a blessing.
"May wind and rain be in harmony, may peace last forever!"
A huge blue lotus rose beneath her, then dissolved into blue light that sank into Adrian’s robes.
Sebastian and Marcus stepped forward, sweeping two ornamental fly-whisks that left silver trails like snakes. In unison they murmured, "May wealth prosper, may virtue guide all."
White light flashed; two silver snakes darted into Adrian’s black robe, looking vivid and alive.
And me? I was the only one who hadn’t given a blessing yet.
All the celestial officials turned to me. Adrian watched quietly.
Fine, fine—I’ll do it.
I stood, smoothed the wrinkle I’d made in my robe, and walked toward him.
When a High Lord bestows a blessing, you summon a divine implement. Mine is different—my weapon and my armor are one.
White mist rose beneath my feet, turning my white robes into silver armor. I crushed a white lotus with each step; a silver mask formed across my face. With a flick of my wrist a Silver Lance—my Silver Tyrant Spear—materialized.
A dragon’s roar shook the clouds.
I planted myself, and a silver dragon spiraled from the spear. I hesitated, then spoke, "Divide the soul to bear death—so the body shall not perish."
The lance thrummed. The silver dragon circled and swept into the center of Adrian’s brow.
Queen Mother West and the Emperor looked surprised, but said nothing.
I knew I’d just given a massive blessing.
But I’m the War Lord. Other than saving the Crown Prince’s life in a moment of crisis, I truly had nothing else to give.
I waved my hand; the armor and spear vanished, leaving me in a white robe again.
Adrian stood silent, staring at the four sigils that had appeared on his garment, then bowed and thanked us politely.
When Queen Mother West and I sat back down, she tugged my sleeve. "Why did you give such a huge blessing? Dividing a soul to take a life—that’s… when did you become so generous, Lord Rowan?"
I rolled my eyes. "You started it. You all bestowed yours—how could I not? I’m a War Lord. Beyond stopping one life-or-death calamity for him, what else could I possibly give?"
She pouted, offended. "You should’ve let us refuse… Dividing a soul to bear death—that’s too much."
I raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Didn’t you see me signal you to go first?"
She froze. "I saw you signaling me to go first!"
"I wanted you to refuse!" I snapped.
Queen Mother West shrank back and shut up.
After a few heavy drinks I stood up unsteadily and used my drunkenness as an excuse to leave early.
I walked along the white jade paths of the Palace. There’s no night in the Divine Realm—though my body felt like it was nighttime and I was tired, the Palace remained brilliantly lit.
Maybe I’ll go sleep in the mortal world.
Before I could act on that thought, someone appeared behind me.
I immediately pretended to be drunk and leaned against a wall as I walked.
"Lord Rowan."
It was Adrian.
He came close and, in the moment I expected him to strike, he steadied me. Huh?
I peered at him without speaking. His earlobes were faintly pink, his gaze slightly foggy.
"Aren’t you drunk too?" I asked softly.
He nodded and dutifully led me to a small pavilion by the path. "I drank too much. I’m a little dizzy. Please forgive me, Lord Rowan."
He helped me sit, then took a seat opposite me. I leaned forward on the table, fully committing to my act, and watched him. "You said you encountered a fate," I murmured. "Did you find them?"
His eyes cleared, and he answered honestly, "No. I couldn’t find her."
My heart stuttered. Of course you couldn’t—because that pauper was me! An ascended High Lord! Imagine that! But I kept my face calm as he spoke: "After ascending, I went to find Myrna, but she said there was no one with me during my trial."
Our eyes met and my chest did a strange flip.
For a moment I wanted to howl inside. Adrian—don’t tempt me with those wet, pitiful eyes. Don’t make me commit crimes.
"Lord Rowan, you just told me that if a fate must be severed, it should be let go, right?" He suddenly took my hand, looking utterly forlorn. My first thought was that he was about to hit me.
But he didn’t. He held on tight.
I thought for a second and answered, "Your Highness, what happened is in the past. Let it go. People must look forward…"
"I don’t want to let go!" he cried, suddenly springing up and wrenching his hand free. "I tried everything to keep her! I gave her everything she wanted! And she still left without a word!"
He fell to the ground like he’d been air-punched.
I got up, too embarrassed to keep pretending. I poked his cheek with a rueful smile. "Are you trying to con me?"
He frowned, unmoving.
"Really," I muttered. There were no heavenly soldiers nearby—the court was busy with the Lotus Banquet.
I hesitated a long while, then finally hoisted him up with one arm. "Consider this a good deed."
I have strength—I’m a warrior after all, and most celestials only weigh as much as a statue. Finn was waiting at the gate of the High Lords’ Hall, craning his neck. When he saw me, he rushed over.
"Lord Rowan, what did you pick up—a fallen Crown Prince?" Finn took Adrian from my arm and slung him over his shoulder. "Whoa, he reeks of wine!"
I rubbed my forehead. "Don’t be ridiculous—I’m not just randomly picking up crown princes. Put him somewhere to sober up. Prepare a bowl of herbal soup. When he wakes, send him back to Prince Adrian’s Hall. I’m going to sleep."
"A Lord gets to sleep?" Finn muttered under his breath, which I heard clearly.
I poked his head and snapped, "My lord keeps the right to sleep. Any objections?"
Finn stumbled backward at my poke and didn’t dare argue.
I smiled, shook my head, and started taking off my outer robe as I walked. A palace attendant draped a thin shawl over me. I washed my face and flopped onto the rattan chaise.
That feeling of stretching out was bliss.
Celestial beings don’t need sleep; my “sleep” was just closing my eyes and meditating.
Adrian had been set up on a soft divan not far from me.
I could feel him moving closer.
Oh, how convenient—I’ll pretend to be drunk, and you pretend to be drunk too?
I couldn’t help feeling smug. Good thing I hadn’t blurted anything earlier—exposure would’ve come way too fast.
“Lord Rowan?”
He called softly.
I ignored him.
He tugged my sleeve.
I still ignored him.
His voice took on a bit of pity. “Lord Rowan, your eyelid’s twitching.”
Ahem.
I surrendered and opened my eyes. He was crouched beside the chaise, very close.
I walked right into his gaze without meaning to.
He smiled a little. “Lord Rowan, do you like lotus pastry? I can make some for you.”
I almost said I did.
Luckily I bit my lip and stopped my mouth in time.
8. When I was in the Mortal Realm, I was a little beggar, and I crossed paths with a mortal crown prince.
“Crossed paths” is generous—really I was climbing a wall while he happened to be getting punished in the school. He found me because I’d teased him about a cowlick, and he chased me, eyes red, all afternoon.
I felt bad when I’d been too mean, so I started inventing little tricks to cheer him up.
Everything I scavenged, I’d give to that crying little prince.
That included my favorite, lotus pastry.
I knew the auntie at Jin’s Tea House who made them. She liked my sweet mouth and would quietly pack one and toss it in an alley for me to grab.
I’d take it and give it to the little prince.
Watching him nibble made me happy.
Even though I was starving for it, I’d eat less if it made him smile. But gradually he noticed I loved lotus pastry and started refusing the things I brought.
A palm-sized pastry—he’d split it in half: half for me, half for him.
Then it was me with a big piece, him with a small piece.
Then he’d carry a whole basket of pastries while watching me eat.
I still remember him at fourteen—blushing, carrying pastries, looking at me shyly: “Rowan, Rowan, I gave you so many pastries. Will you stay with me?”
What did I answer back then?
Oh right.
“I’ll stay, you silly hammer.”
Thinking about that cringe-worthy past made me want to hide.
I pushed myself up to put distance between Adrian and me, forced an awkward smile, and warned, “Crown Prince, you’re too close.”
Adrian seemed not to hear. When I moved back, he just sat down and squeezed in next to me.
The chaise rocked; when he edged in, I tipped backward.
A belt tightened around my waist and I was pulled into an embrace.
I heard him murmur, “Adrian is rude—please forgive me, Lord Rowan.”
Me: haha.
You’re rude—then let go! His arms were wrapped tight around my waist. I coughed twice as a token protest, but he didn’t loosen. I had to pry his hands away and stand farther off.
I forced myself not to glance around, cleared my throat. “Crown Prince, what are you doing? Someone could think you—”
“Yes.”
He cut me off suddenly.
I felt embarrassed.
My sentence wasn’t finished. You—what are you yes-ing to?
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat there awkwardly.
He looked at me with an innocent expression.
In the end I gave up.
I crouched and stared at him, resigned. “Crown Prince, what exactly do you mean?”
He tilted his head. “Do you want lotus pastry? I’ll make some for you.”
I forced a smile and closed my eyes, inhaling slowly. Damn those pastries.
Seeing Adrian smile so sweetly, I snapped. “Eat! If you don’t make me a whole tableful today I’ll toss you—yes, you—into Myrna’s Cauldron!”
I fluffed, and he smiled.
Damn it.
9. This crown prince is… off. Really off.
I looked at the table piled with lotus pastries and admitted defeat.
This man was unbeatable.
A crown prince, and here he was wearing an apron, sleeves tied with a cord, dark hair knotted at the nape, flour dusting his cheek, smiling at me.
I swallowed. It wasn’t the pastries that made my mouth water—it was the crown prince.
I will say it a million times: the crown prince’s looks are unreal. I need to find a rebirth artist to paint me one like him! All at once—mysterious but not sultry, tempting but not gaudy, cool without being cruel—one word: perfect. I quietly took a pastry. It melted in my mouth—sweet without cloying.
Exactly the flavor I loved.
How did he replicate the Mortal Realm’s taste exactly?
He seemed ready to answer and brought a plate of clear tea, setting it before me. “I studied making these a long time when I was mortal.”
I tittered. “No need to tell me, thanks, Crown Prince.”
I swallowed and choked a little. He handed me the tea.
I took a sip and, a bit dazed, asked, “So, Crown Prince—have you decided to trace this karmic connection?”
He looked at me long and nodded.
I licked my lips and, stubborn, asked, “And if you find it—what will you do?”
He seemed puzzled and glanced at me. “Do what?”
My heart skipped; I hurried to explain, “Haha, it’s nothing. The person who made you that angry should maybe suffer a little…as punishment.”
I watched the corner of Adrian’s mouth soften, and then he laughed.
I laughed twice too, then cautiously said, “It’s not that serious, right? You could reduce the penalty, maybe?”
He stopped laughing, nodded once.
I let out a relieved breath.
We could negotiate—I didn’t think my crime was that big.
Sure, I’d bullied the little prince sometimes, but I also protected him from a lot. Still, I didn’t want to dredge up embarrassing memories. Adrian’s presence was forcing me to relive my past sins! Voices murmured at the door. I looked up and almost spat tea.
Queen Mother West stood at the entrance, dragging a very unwilling Lord Marcus Hale with her, winking at me. Lord Sebastian Vale peeked in from behind.
I nearly burst out laughing.
Those three—operatives?
My First Love Finally Chose Me
Adrian was about to say something, but I raised my voice. “Queen Mother West! Lord Marcus! What are you doing here?”
He shut up when others arrived and turned to the doorway.
Queen Mother West squeaked at my shout, lost her balance and tumbled in a blossom of skirts. Marcus tried to steady her but failed and went straight to covering his own eyes, as if that would erase her embarrassment.
Adrian didn’t grin; instead he looked colder and stood to bow.
Queen Mother West was helped up by Sebastian, limped in and sat, scolding me with one glare. I shrugged—don’t blame me.
“You’re too courteous, Crown Prince.”
Queen Mother West huffed, not unkindly.
Adrian glanced at me, bowed again. “Since the four of you gods have matters to discuss, Adrian will not disturb—excuse me.”
Sebastian nodded with a cultured smile.
I buried my face in pastry, avoiding Adrian’s gaze.
Once Adrian left, Marcus and Sebastian sat immediately, gossip sparkling in their eyes.
“Rowan! Explain! What happened between you and the Crown Prince? How does he end up in your palace?!”
Queen Mother West squawked and bit into a pastry.
Sebastian chuckled, “Lord Marcus and I had a little briefing. The Crown Prince didn’t recognize you, did he?”
Marcus snorted. “Look at her—shoving food in her face like she can’t bear to meet eyes. Clearly he hasn’t recognized her.”
I raised an eyebrow. Look down on people who can eat, will you?
I belched, patted my belly. “No, the plot doesn’t move that fast…”
Queen Mother West tutted. “Rowan, you troublemaker. I watched him—he stared at you nonstop! Never looked away! Maybe he recognized you and is just pretending not to—he’s itching to hate you!”
Marcus scoffed, “If I’d been mistreated in the Mortal Realm and the culprit vanished—especially if that culprit was a celestial—I’d harbor grudges forever.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not likely. I can’t think of anything I did so heinous he’d chase after me into the Afterworld. And I didn’t vanish on purpose—I was forced to ascend by a tribulation. I couldn’t exactly stroll over and say goodbye before lightning split me to pieces.”
Queen Mother West tossed her head. “Who knows? I heard he went down to the Underrealm as soon as he ascended—he must’ve been hunting that little beggar that day.”
I deflated and nodded. “Yes, I know. I just can’t understand—did he really have to go that far? Chasing a soul in the Underrealm after ascending? Lucky I became a god, or I’d still be on the receiving end of his bullying.”
Sebastian didn’t say anything. He just smiled at me in a way that made my skin prickle. I lobbed him a pastry crumb. “What are you smiling about?!”
He leaned in with a knowing grin. “Lord Rowan, judging by the Crown Prince’s behavior, I have a bold theory.”
I felt a bad premonition and backed up defensively. “Keep it to yourself. The Celestial Court has a whole method for dealing with god-slaying.”
10. “Lord Rowan, the Crown Prince might not be targeting you. From my analysis…he might rather like you.”
Sebastian’s smile carried layers. It crawled under my skin.
I immediately shot him down. “Impossible! He’d develop a crush on the little beggar who teased him? A masochist?”
Even as I denied it, I couldn’t stop paying attention.
Adrian’s gaze could not be called pure, but I truly couldn’t see any of the usual signs of that kind of feeling. If anything, his every move made me uncomfortable.
Queen Mother West slammed the table, exasperated. “Rowan! You’re a god—show a god’s presence!”
I sneered. Easy for you to say—did you offend the Crown Prince?
I’m a god all right, but the Celestial Court listens to the Crown Prince. If I’ve offended the future emperor, when will I ever have a good day?
I bit into the lotus pastry with a sour face. Well, I might as well eat first.
Being a deity is hard.
Sebastian and Marcus had to get back to work, so they only played around here for a little while—made a little bow and vanished in a curl of smoke.
The Queen Mother West, though, was a carefree spirit and kept me drinking. I hadn’t even started to taste the wine before she was plastered, caused a ruckus in the High God Palace, and practically wore Finn out. Later we had to force her to lie down in a rattan chair and sleep it off.
I found their noise annoying and wandered to the back hill of the High God Palace with my cup.
There’s a big patch of bamboo back there—quiet, perfect for cultivation baths. I come here often to drink. I knew there was a pavilion deep in the bamboo where a hidden fairy pool hung in mist; the immortal energy made it hard to see straight.
I’d come looking for that pavilion, not to make a fool of myself.
Before I could be dignified, my foot slipped—moss was slick. I fall here all the time because of the pool; the moss grows thick. It’s become a habit. As I stumbled toward the water, my only thought was don’t spill the wine.
Of course, fate had other plans.
A pair of hands scooped me up, and I froze.
The wine ewer in those hands tipped, the wine sloshing out.
Glug. Glug. Glug.
I stared into Adrian Morrow’s eyes—ah, there he was.
“Why is it every time we meet you take a fall?” he asked in a low voice.
Our lips were dangerously close; the smell of alcohol hit me. I squinted and put on a drunk act. “Prince Adrian, why not say it’s because I always run into you when I go out?”
He steadied me and looked like he was in a good mood. “I don’t believe it’s that coincidental, so I staged the encounters on purpose.”
I pursed my lips and let out two dry chuckles, glancing regretfully at the empty ewer in my hands.
“Do you still like the lotus pastry?” he asked.
I looked up and froze.
He was bare-chested. He was—bathing. Damn it.
I turned my face away, then admitted, “It’s tasty, but too sweet—sickeningly sweet.”
“You’ve always liked sweets, haven’t you?” His voice hit me like a shock. In my time among mortals, I really did love sweets.
I bit my lip. When I looked back, he’d dressed and was using a spell to dry his hair.
“Prince Adrian, I don’t know what I did to offend you to deserve so many tests. I’m only newly promoted to High God; surely there’s nothing about me that would displease you,” I said, teeth gritted—did he really have to jab at my spine like that after he’d been teased for a decade? After a long silence he blurted, “Did the High God misunderstand?”
Misunderstand my butt! I rolled my eyes and stepped farther away. “Is that so? Then the fault must be mine. If I’ve misunderstood anything, perhaps it’s better if the Prince keeps his distance from the High God Palace.”
I was about to walk off when his fingers closed around my wrist. “Is the High God mad at Adrian because the lotus pastry was too sweet?”
I almost spit blood. “It wasn’t the pastry!”
He tugged me back. “If not the pastry, then what?”
“You—”
I snapped my mouth shut before the words escaped.
Was it my imagination, or did he look a little excited?
“It’s me?” he repeated and wrapped an arm around my waist, forcing me to step backward.
Pressure pressed in. I was unnerved and kept backing up until the bamboo was right behind me.
“Yes… yes! It’s you!” I said stubbornly. “You always show up this way and it causes me great trouble! Everyone knows about it! It seriously damages my reputation!”
He was quiet for a moment and then said softly, “Is the High God hinting to me?”
I stared. “What the hell are you talking about? Hinting at what?”
He smiled like spring and let go of my waist.
I bolted to the side and hid behind the bamboo, then felt cowardly and straightened, lifting my chin to face him.
He only smiled and said, “The High God is considerate. Adrian understands.”
Me: ???
I’d had no idea I was qualified to enlighten anyone.
I tested him, “You really understand?”
Not going to trouble me anymore?
He nodded, smiling. I breathed out a little relief. People should be kind—if the poor little beggar was pitiful, as a prince Adrian could show mercy and let him vanish into the wind.
He bowed to me and left.
I was left holding an empty ewer like a quail, hiding in the bamboo.
When I returned to the High God Palace, Queen Mother West had already fallen asleep and Finn was picking up the broken cups she’d smashed.
Finn straightened and looked at me. “High God, you’re back… Why is your face so red?”
I frowned and snapped, “I ran eight hundred meters! I’m hot!”
Finn didn’t quite get the eight hundred meters thing but said nothing.
I sat in the rattan chair and stared at the palace path paved in white jade.
Could Adrian already know I was that little beggar?
He shouldn’t—right?
A messenger came: the Emperor requested I attend a meeting in the council hall.
Of course I went.
Heaven was peaceful, but the demon realm wasn’t. The demons were always itching for a clash with the immortals. The immortals were like, who are you, don’t bother us.
But I’m a High Martial God; attending council was part of the job.
I stepped into the hall and saw Adrian smiling. I immediately turned my face away and walked out.
I hadn’t gone far when the Emperor called me.
“High God Rowan?”
He addressed me. I set my jaw and went back, sitting at the Emperor’s side.
High Gods don’t need to kowtow to the Emperor, but the Prince did bow first to me.
Adrian bowed. I refused to look at him.
The Emperor pretended not to notice my dislike for his son and smiled. “Rowan, I asked you here for a favor.”
I had a bad feeling. “May I ask what it is, Your Majesty?”
The Emperor smiled and pointed to Adrian. “My son has returned to the palace and I’ve arranged a new task for him: to survey the incense offerings at mortal temples. He’s unfamiliar with mortal temple locations and I ask High God Rowan to guide him.”
I snorted inwardly. Old man, give your son a map from Lord Hundred Eyes—those charts are obvious. But I couldn’t argue with the Emperor.
I sighed and stood. “Your Majesty’s favor is too great. Rowan will comply.”
The Emperor clapped happily. “Good, good. Adrian, have you thanked the High God?”
My hand, hidden under my white robe, clenched into a fist. Can’t you both stop the flirting? Adrian stepped forward and bowed. “Adrian thanks the High God.”
I smiled with all the wrong muscles. I wanted to bonk him.
I escorted Adrian out of the hall, glowering at him the whole way. He smiled like a warm breeze and didn’t care.
Everyone greeted him as we passed; he greeted each back. Pretty popular, the Prince.
He noticed my stare. “They were classmates at the academy.”
“Hmph,” I said. “You don’t need to explain. I don’t care.”
He gave a low laugh and that laugh unsettled me.
“Prince Adrian… any leads on the cause?” I asked cautiously.
“No,” he confessed. “I can’t find her. I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead, immortal or demon.”
I let out a breath. Then he added, “Judging by her temperament, she’s probably a little demoness.”
I feigned surprise. “A woman?”
He nodded. “A woman. She has a beautiful smile.”
I teased, “So the Prince is smitten?”
I’d meant it as a joke, but he stopped walking. I turned and met his gaze and found him serious. My heart thumped.
He stepped forward and said, “Yes. I like her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know.”
I was speechless. I wanted to say I knew now.
12.
We descended to the mortal realm and masked our forms—one dark, one light—and stepped into an inn.
I was distracted the whole time and blankly paid, grabbed the key, and rushed upstairs, leaving Adrian standing there like someone who might cry.
What else could I do? This was my first time being confessed to in tens of thousands of years. I couldn’t at least fake being flustered?
I sat on the bed biting my nails and stared at the floor until something nagged at me.
“No, I’m not going to get all coy. He said the one he likes is the little beggar—so why am I hiding from him?”
I slapped my forehead and flopped onto the bed.
No. This isn’t acceptable. Now that I knew the Prince wasn’t out for revenge but for a wife, I had even more reason not to let him discover me.
It’s mortifying. I’d misread him as hostile before, spoken out of turn, dodged him—anyone could tell.
I wiped my face. My life is hard.
A knock sounded. Adrian’s voice called, “High God?”
I sprang up, took a deep breath, waved the door open.
He stood there with a teapot, looking at me with a pout. “Prince Adrian…does the young prince need anything? It’s late—should rest.”
Adrian set the teapot on the table and looked at me with mingled grievance and longing. “Surely the High God doesn’t refuse Adrian a reason to come see you?”
I felt my breath catch and my gaze dart. “What are you talking about? I didn’t—”
He took a few steps toward me and I staggered back, my hip hitting the corner of the table, sharp pain shooting through me.
“High God!” he said.
He shoved the table aside in one motion to shield me. “Did it hurt?”
My face went pale. So close—what was this for? I bent and spun in a circle and hurled myself onto the bed to get out of his reach. He looked almost wounded, staring at me with hurt in his eyes.
I forced myself not to look at him, turned my face away and fumbled with the bedding, laughing awkwardly. "Ahahaha, this silk blanket is really nice. Thanks to Crown Prince Adrian for—uh, whatever. Prince, you should get some rest."
Unexpectedly, Adrian stepped forward another pace. I genuinely started to get scared of him.
"Lord Rowan, did you know celestials don't need to sleep?"
He glanced down at the silk beneath me. "When you say the blanket is good quality, are you trying to hint something at me?"
My expression must've said everything; I almost blurted out three questions in a row. "You think I'm hinting—"
Then Mother Desire clamped down on me.
I forced a smile, stood and put my hands on my hips. "Alright then! Celestials don't sleep? Fine. Come on—weren't you supposed to be doing business down here? The sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave."
Adrian looked taken aback. "N-now go do it?"
I snorted. "Yes! Come on!"
13. They called it collecting temple incense and offerings, but it was really just walking through every shrine one by one. Boring.
I walked behind him with my arms folded while Adrian questioned the local earth deity up ahead.
Once he started working, he wasn't focused on me at all—he got serious, tracing seals, collecting the offerings, bowing to the temple attendants. Everything went smoothly.
"The main temple is up ahead. Lord Rowan, Prince Adrian, this old one takes his leave."
The earth deity bowed to Adrian, then to me, and slid back into the ground.
Adrian turned and smiled at me. "Lord Rowan, the temple ahead is yours."
I stuck out my tongue; I already knew.
I'm the only martial deity. Every nation eager for victory set up a shrine to me. But sorry—not the kind that helps mortals wage war. I protect safety and peace, not armies.
I looked up at the temple name: Pear Shrine.
I rolled my eyes. Whoever named it has taste about as refined as mine.
I followed Adrian inside and was immediately swallowed by a crowd.
I hadn't expected my shrine to be so popular.
I edged in and saw Adrian standing before my statue, eyes gently closed.
I could see his true form rising from him—his celestial self: black robes, regal and poised.
And a giant version of me bloomed from the statue.
When a deity's attendants bestow their blessings among mortals, those favors attach to the statue and form an echoing consciousness. When another deity visits and bows, it records the visit and sends the message back to the original.
The statue-version of me looked like when I had just risen to godhood—white jade robes, Silver Lance in hand, standing atop clouds. The face was indistinct; you could only see hair tied high, a silver cloak fluttering though the air was still.
I pressed my lips together; watching myself like that felt bizarre.
Adrian and the statue exchanged bows, then he folded away his awareness and walked toward me.
There were so many people, so he walked slowly.
My inner sight pinged: Crown Prince Adrian had been here.
I watched him get closer.
I heard him say, "Lord Rowan, absolutely stunning."
My cheeks warmed and I turned away with impatience. "Flattery. Move on. Next."
He chuckled softly before falling into step with me.
As we walked, a breeze rose for no reason.
The temple's clamor faded around us.
I frowned and slowed. Adrian noticed my change in pace and murmured, "Lord Rowan—"
Before he could finish, I grabbed his robe and pulled him toward me, simultaneously dodging a ghostly claw.
Adrian steadied at my side and narrowed his eyes. "A ghost?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Prince Adrian, can't you tell this kid hasn't been out demon-slaying much?"
Adrian pressed his lips together and nodded.
As if it were anything to be proud of.
I reached into the void with my right hand and materialized my Silver Lance. Before I could move, Adrian drew his sword and hacked at the black mist.
I leisurely sheathed my weapon and watched.
Adrian's instrument is a blade—an all-black blade that seems to be one with him. He stood, sword in hand, black fog coiling by his side. He shut his eyes and a massive wyrm erupted from behind him, devouring the black mist. Adrian spun and drove his sword through the thing in the fog, pinning it dead through the heart.
I folded my arms and stepped forward. Oh—was a fox spirit.
"This fox spirit smelled the celestial aura on both of us. Probably hoped to eat us and become immortal," I snorted, watching the now-dead fox on the ground. "Let's go. Just a minor detour."
Adrian sheathed his sword and drew in breath before falling in behind me.
"Is your weapon the Silver Lance?" he asked.
I nodded. "Handsome, right?"
He smiled. "No matter how many times I see it, it still amazes me."
This kid making me blush with compliments.
I pursed my lips and returned his smile. "My weapon isn't just the lance. I have a suit of armor too."
Adrian: "Mm. I saw it the day I received your blessing."
"Speaking of your blessing, I must thank you again," he said more quietly. "Dividing soul to save a life—that's enormous."
I shrugged. "I'm the martial deity. I don't manage fate like the Queen Mother West and the others. I don't have many gifts to give. Giving you an extra life? That's my act of mercy."
"Then, Lord Rowan, is there anything you want?" Adrian grabbed my sleeve and asked.
I blinked. "W-what do you mean…want?"
He smiled. "Like—a match? A marriage?"
It felt like being struck by lightning. My skin buzzed.
13. Why do I get this feeling Adrian's off? Very off.
I frowned across from him. He looked at me, smiling, eyes soft.
"Prince Adrian, that's the Matchmaker's work. Don't meddle," I warned, annoyed. "Don't forget you have that little beggar you adore—don't start stirring things up…"
The last sentence I said so quietly I could barely hear it.
Adrian's expression shifted and his gaze flickered. He said, low and calm, "Lord Rowan, I've never said the woman I favor is a beggar."
I clamped my mouth shut—wish I could slap myself.
I kept my face neutral and turned away, then back. "No, you did say it. You just forgot."
Adrian hesitated but didn't argue.
Inside, I was howling, but on the outside I kept my breath light.
"Ahem. Continue. There are many more temples to see."
I stood, about to move, and realized Adrian was still sitting. He hadn't budged.
I raised an eyebrow. "Prince?"
"Lord Rowan, doesn't that temple look familiar?" he asked.
I looked toward the Pear Shrine. He hadn't moved—so I couldn't either, and begrudgingly sat. "Familiar? How?"
"That statue—that's how you looked the moment you ascended, right?" Adrian's eyes were oddly bright when he asked.
I still didn't see it. "Yeah. Must be some celestial who witnessed my ascension and carved it."
"Do you happen to know which country we're in right now?" he pressed.
I really didn't know.
Adrian sighed and stood with a huff. "Fine. Lord Rowan, you really are obtuse."
I froze. This brat insulted me?
I hadn't even had a chance to get mad before he strode off.
"You're Prince Adrian—you're so mighty, your power is unmatched! Hah, you gonna bite me?!" I fumed, my temper flaring, and followed him.
Adrian went the whole time without speaking and I kept quiet too.
He traveled a thousand miles in a blink, then started working again—tapping the ground to summon earth gods. We walked with them all over until I was exhausted and dawn was breaking. I finally stopped.
How long had it been since I'd watched a sunrise?
The sky brightened until it stung my eyes. They watered; everything went black for a moment. Adrian's muffled voice was at my ear. "Don't stare. It'll hurt your eyes."
I smiled faintly. "How thoughtful of you, Prince."
This last temple in the region was mine again, but this time it wasn't called the Pear Shrine. A straight-up Martial God Shrine.
I stepped in and froze.
The statue inside wasn't my ascension form. It was me in silver armor, wielding the Silver Lance, battle-hardened! My eyes widened. I visited many martial shrines later and they all showed me in warlike armor—proper Martial God shrines.
So why did the Pear Shrine show my exaltation form? Who carved that? Who saw it? Who—?
My eyes locked with Adrian's and I went blank.
"Um, Prince, I have something to do. I'll step away for a moment."
I bowed, and before he could reply I cast a small spell and returned to the Pear Shrine.
I swept the mist aside. The statue there indeed captured my ascension moment.
I circled it and finally found the carved signature on the lotus pedestal.
"Crown City, Prince—Eighteen Final Strokes."
My mind went empty.
"Crown City…Prince…"
"Prince…"
"Little…Prince!"
14.
When I returned, I only saw the wounded earth deity and the ground stained with blood.
My heart jumped. I placed a hand on the deity's brow and poured in some celestial power. He stirred, and when he saw me he scrambled up and knelt. "Lord Rowan, quick! Save Prince Adrian! Demonic forces attacked—Prince Adrian was wounded and taken!"
I frowned. I hadn't expected that the Demonic Realm would kidnap Adrian the moment I left.
I summoned the Silver Lance and flew on the wind.
The Demonic Realm had been provoking the Celestial Realm for a while. The Celestials had maintained peace and refused their challenges—now that they had taken Adrian, it looked like war was imminent.
When I arrived at the Heavenly Court, the Emperor and the three senior deities met me, holding a torn corner of clothing.
It was Adrian's, spattered with blood. He was hurt.
"Rowan!" the Queen Mother West scanned me top to bottom and relaxed when she saw I was uninjured. "Where were you? Weren't you with the prince? How could the Demon Lord personally abduct someone?"
The Demon Lord came personally?
I raised an eyebrow. That brat probably wasn't their target—this villain came for me. Great. I ran off and Adrian paid the price.
"This is Lord Rowan's fault. The prince has been endangered. Lord Rowan must bring Prince Adrian back safe and sound, and afterwards face imperial punishment!" the Queen Mother West declared.
For once I bowed to the Emperor.
He didn't look angry. He patted my shoulder. "Lord Rowan—my son is in your care."
I hesitated, then asked, "Your Majesty, has Prince Adrian ever suffered a severe injury? Given his strength, even facing the Demon Lord, he shouldn't have been captured so easily. He could've escaped."
The Emperor was silent a moment and then looked at me oddly. "Yes. He took lightning for someone."
I felt like I understood.
When I ascended, some of my thunder tribulation had been diverted by others, which is why my ascension was relatively effortless.
The thunder trial for ascending to deity—either you endure it and become a god, or you are struck down and reincarnate to cultivate again.
I thought I was going to die under the thunder tribulation.
But somehow I survived it.
Could it have been Adrian?! No—that can’t be right. Didn’t I tell him to stay away when I was crossing the tribulation?
I was careful not to let him know, wasn’t I?
So does that mean he recognized me as Lord Rowan back when he was still mortal?
That brat was playing coy with me?! He knew I was going to face the tribulation, so he purposely knocked over the wine I’d spiked with a sedative?
Oh—so that’s why there was a statue of my ascension.
So that’s why Rowan Shrine exists.
So that’s why Prince Adrian of Serene City left those eighteen final words.
Because he took the thunder for me, his trial had to end. The prince, only eighteen, built a shrine for my ascension…and then died.
My hands were shaking. Adrian’s pitiful eyes flashed across my mind, and I wanted to slap myself.
He even asked, carefully, whether I knew where the Rowan Shrine was located. How could I not know? Military shrines are sanctioned only by the royal family—either the monarch or the crown prince.
And the first district we went to was Serene City—the same Serene City where I met the young prince.
Since Adrian ascended and came back, what have I been doing? Ignoring him, avoiding him, while he knew everything.
Rowan, Rowan, you’re so dense.
Foolish!
Queen Mother West patted my back in concern. “Rowan, are you all right?”
I drew a deep breath and laughed once. “I’m such an idiot.”
Queen Mother West looked oddly grim when I spoke and then scolded herself, “Don’t you worry. If it comes to it, we’ll go to war with the Netherrealm—like the Demon Lord could possibly beat you…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then we’ll have to fight.”
15.
I led a million celestial soldiers to the border and pressed the attack, surrounding the Demon Lord’s forces.
The Demon Lord was an old man. He dragged Adrian’s limp hand and looked at me with a twisted smile. “Lord Rowan, what a surprise—dropping by for a visit?”
I looked at Adrian—his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Because he’d borne the thunder for me, his root veins were damaged; he couldn’t withstand the Demon Lord’s torment.
He lay quietly at the Demon Lord’s feet, his hand clutched in the old man’s grip.
“No need for pleasantries. You stole something from me. I’m not pleased. Cut the chatter—finish quickly so you can step down early.”
I raised my right hand and grabbed the void. A silver dragon lance materialized. White robe rose, silver armor settled.
My face hidden behind the helm, hair tied high—white wind lifting me.
The Demon Lord flinched at the sight of my silver spear. After all, it was that spear that stole his left eye. He yanked Adrian closer and roared, trying to stop me, “Rowan! Stop! If you come any closer, I’ll tear this prince apart!”
My eyes widened beneath the helm. I drove the silver spear forward.
The heavenly soldiers surged into battle.
“Stop her! Stop Lord Rowan!”
The Demon Lord shrieked.
Three silver dragons coalesced by my side, roaring through the Demon ranks and clearing a path.
“Hand over the boy!”
I bellowed. A white light formed in my hand and stabbed toward the Demon Lord.
He held a sword and tried to throw Adrian onto my lance. I snorted and with a wrist motion hooked my spear around Adrian’s robes, pulling him into my arms.
Only then did I feel steadier. With a sweep of the spear, a massive silver dragon leapt and detonated atop the Demon Lord.
I glanced at the four blessing sigils on Adrian’s chest and froze.
There were only three.
Mine—my blessing—was shattered.
Rage flared through me. I raised my hand; the silver spear fractured into ten thousand lances, and as my hair streamed in the wind, they all aimed for the Demon Lord.
“I could have spared your life, but since you broke Adrian’s blessing, be ready to pay.”
When blood spurted, I summoned auspicious clouds and placed Adrian on them, intending to send him back so I could continue holding the line. If I didn’t secure this fight, I might as well not be Rowan.
As I withdrew my hand, Adrian woke.
He saw me turn and grabbed my sleeve.
I was surprised—my face was still masked in silver, so he couldn’t see me clearly.
He was weak, but he managed to ask in a small voice, “Did I…cause you trouble?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I reached out and stroked his cheek. “Not trouble. Go back and heal. I’ll be back soon.”
He pressed his lips together as if to say more, glanced at the battlefield around us, and simply said, “Thank you, Lord Rowan.”
I placed my hand over his heart and sent protective energy into his meridians, then lowered my voice: “Young Prince, don’t be afraid. I’ll come back quickly. This time I’ll really come back.”
His eyes brightened; he smiled and nodded, then fainted from exhaustion into a pool of his own blood.
Fear prickled behind my ribs. Good thing I’d bestowed a blessing on him—my blessing had taken the blow of his life-and-death tribulation.
Otherwise, he would have died.
I stood. A blue light spread across my silver armor. Queen Mother West had just finished bestowing a blessing and smiled behind me. “Rowan! Come back safe, hear me?!”
Always talking nonsense. I was already planning to come back safe.
I lifted my visor, speared in hand, with a million soldiers at my back. “Message received.”
16.
The battle dragged on. When I finally slew the last foe, I exhaled.
The soldiers behind me raised their weapons high, shouting my name.
“Lord Rowan! Lord Rowan!”
I didn’t stop to savor it. I summoned my dragons and headed back to the palace; the bloodstains on my armor looked savage.
Marcus Hale and Sebastian Vale blocked my way at the gate. “Hey, hey—are you really going to see the prince like that?”
I was still bristling with bloodlust; my arriving like that even startled Queen Mother West, and her tone softened: “At least bathe. The prince’s wounds need tending—don’t frighten him.”
She was right. I turned and walked toward the back of the temple—toward that slippery immortal pool. I sent a whisper to Finn to bring fresh clothes, removed my armor, and began to undress.
A proper bath did feel better.
I could have used a quick cleansing method with a spell, but I kept some mortal habits—water is more honest.
Someone approached; I assumed it was Finn.
“Finn, come pour me some wine.”
I lay on the stone, eyes closed.
The person hesitated, but dutifully poured a cup and set it by my hand.
I opened my eyes to reach for it and saw a pair of pale, long hands.
Looking up, I met Adrian’s grin-eyed gaze.
My heart missed a beat.
“Adrian!”
I leapt up, excited.
Don’t get the wrong idea—I’d been bathing, but I still wore a simple white underwrap.
Adrian, however, immediately closed his eyes, his earlobes flushed as red as if they’d bleed.
I looked at him. “Are you healed?”
He kept his eyes shut and nodded quietly.
I climbed from the pool and moved closer. “You already knew the beggar before you was a tribulation-crossing celestial, didn’t you?”
He sensed my nearness and shifted back a bit. “Yes… I knew.”
I put on a mischievous smile. “You, Young Prince, quietly stole glory and fame, didn’t you? Tell me—if you knew you were the future crown prince, and you knew I was a celestial, why not just tell me?”
I was only wearing the underwrap and wet pants that clung to me. I closed in on him and cornered him against the bamboo grove, just like he had cornered me that one time.
“At first I didn’t know…”
His ear tips were burning. He sounded like he might faint. “Then you got struck by lightning but weren’t harmed. That’s when I realized you might be like me…”
I grimaced—another embarrassing backstory. Once, my celestial power had shown too strongly; the Thunder Lord suspected demonic interference and aimed a small bolt at me. Young Adrian watched me struck by lightning and then, quite understandably, nearly died of fright.
“So you also intentionally didn’t drink the sedative I spiked into your wine, then snuck off to watch my ascension?”
I pressed him. Today I would get the whole story.
Adrian blinked slowly. He opened his eyes a bit, then closed them again in melodrama. “You—the sedative you gave tasted like poison. It was like a paste. How could I drink it…? Besides, I was worried about your ascension…”
I clenched my fists. “So you decided to shoulder the thunder for me? No wonder you were kidnapped so easily.”
“I… I hadn’t completed my trials. The only thing I could do for you was…to bear it.”
He pressed his lips together and stared at the ground. “I thought you’d know I was helping you, but when I woke, you had vanished. I couldn’t find you.”
Pain hit my chest. Another day of scolding myself inwardly.
“So you built a Rowan Shrine?”
I raised an eyebrow. “That statue was carved really well—so detailed. Tell me, were you staring at my ascension without blinking?”
Adrian suddenly turned to me, catching his breath. “Yes.”
Yes?
Heat flamed my cheeks; my heart raced.
“What do you mean?”
I asked awkwardly.
“Beautiful.”
He answered simply. “Stunning—you took my breath away. I couldn’t get enough.”
“I built the greatest Rowan Shrine and memorized your face, planning to find you after I ascended. But you acted like you didn’t remember me.”
His expression looked wounded. “I thought I had failed the woman I admired—I thought I hadn’t helped her fly.”
Ah.
So that’s why he went to the Underrealm to steal names from the registry.
I smiled faintly and pinched his cheek. “You helped. Look at me now—I’m one of the Four Great Lords.”
He smiled obediently. “Little Rowan is the best.”
I pursed my lips. My mortal alias had been “Little Rowan.”
It was hard to imagine that, after my mortal death, he alone—dragging an already battered body weakened by having borne thunder—built the first shrine for me.
He even left Prince Adrian of Serene City’s final words on my statue.
How lonely.
“Lord Rowan—”
Finn’s voice snapped me back. I froze—here I was, wearing only an underwrap! I was about to dive back into the pool when Adrian reflexively grabbed me. I thought, why not—let’s both go.
Splash. Water flew and settled.
I heard Finn call my name twice.
Then I heard nothing else.
Because Adrian’s lips stole every other sense from me.
17.
A formal hearing—nothing more.
Queen Mother West sat in the center, Marcus Hale and Sebastian Vale at her sides.
I sat on the floor looking pitiful.
“Rowan, Rowan, what exactly happened between you and the young prince?!” Queen Mother West pouted.
I mimicked her pout. “Wasn’t it just a little romance?”
The Queen Mother West was so furious her fingertips trembled. "I sent you down to the mortal realm for your trial, and you go there and find a man!"
I chuckled. "Yeah — isn't that maddening?"
The Queen Mother's face twisted. She grabbed Sebastian, who'd been watching the spectacle, and barked, "Mother's green with envy! Sebastian — will you marry her?!"
Marcus's face went dark in an instant. "If you're getting married, go find someone else!"
Sebastian just smiled helplessly.
I slipped out of the Lord Rowan's Hall.
The first person I saw was Adrian Morrow waiting for me by the Lotus Pool. The corner of his mouth curled up; he jogged a few steps and reached out his hand.
"Have you been waiting long?"
I felt a little embarrassed. Blame the Queen Mother's gossiping.
Adrian didn't say anything. He only smiled at me.
Being stared at like that made me awkward.
"What are you looking at?"
I touched my face. "There's no makeup on…"
"You're pretty."
That was his reply.
We walked side by side through the peach grove.
"Why did you hide from me back then?" he tilted his head and asked.
I scratched my head. "My mind wasn't clear. I could only remember how I bullied you. I thought you'd get revenge. Back then I was a coward."
Adrian froze and stopped walking. "Why would I want revenge?"
I blinked. "Because I bullied you in the mortal world. Every time I saw you you'd be flushed with anger…"
"Did you really think that was anger?"
Adrian suddenly couldn't help laughing.
He laughed until he bent over, crouching down, but he still held my hand.
He gave me a little pull; I tumbled into the peach blossoms.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Rowan, you're really—so slow, hahahaha…"
END. There's an extra epilogue (*´◒`*)
[Epilogue] [Adrian's Part — Part One]
I was the young emperor of the Heavens.
On a trial mission, I forgot to ask Myrna for her stewing soup and, carrying my memory, reincarnated as the crown prince of Larkhaven.
Days passed, dull and steady.
Then I met that radiant girl.
She was perched on a wall, teasing me, laughing at the little tuft of hair that stuck up on my head.
I wondered: mortal kids — shouldn't they be angry at that?
So I decided to chase her a bit, to show I was offended.
But when she ran, she ran forever; I couldn't catch up, and it infuriated me.
Because mortal bodies are weak, I ran out of breath. I watched as she timidly came close and, in a small voice, apologized.
Suddenly I thought mortals were adorable.
"I’m called Little Rowan."
After that she visited often, bringing me lotus pastry.
She'd proudly tell me the aunt at Jin's Tea House liked her and gave her pastries every day.
That little fool — if I hadn't instructed it, one lotus pastry costs ten coins. No one would give you one every day for free.
I noticed I liked her, so I tried to learn how to be with her.
Watching her eat happily made me happy.
I hadn't realized my feelings were already wrong.
Life turned noisy, vibrant.
I treated a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl with the feelings of an ordinary man.
As I grew, the girl began to bloom into a startling beauty.
Every time she neared me, my heart sped up.
She teased me, dragged me through dogholes to sneak out of the palace to see lanterns, to poke at bird nests.
I was amazed — how could one girl be so energetic, so luminous?
I wanted to marry her.
Even though she kept flirting and saying things that made my face burn.
I told myself I had self-control…okay, I didn't.
When I watched her drunk and blushing, calling me "Little Prince," I secretly—just briefly—kissed her mouth, like a thieving mouse. I was flushed all night.
It was that mischievous mouth that stole my soul.
That playful mouth, each little "Little Prince," made me start to care.
I tricked her into signing a betrothal agreement, childishly lying that I liked her. I thought she'd refuse, but she complied.
So she liked me too, right?
I even wanted to bind her with mortal customs. When she pulled at my clothes, I didn't stop her. I nearly confessed.
She looked at me with a pitiful expression. "Little Prince, if I die someday, or if I disappear, will you be sad?"
Her words plunged me into an ice cellar.
Right. I was a celestial, and Little Rowan was not. If I died, I'd return to the Heavens. What would happen to her?
I was greedy. I didn't want one lifetime — I wanted forever.
Even if she might never love me, I just wanted to keep seeing her smile.
My worry vanished with the thunder.
I watched as lightning struck her, and she wasn't harmed.
She even pointed at the sky and cursed, "Thunder King, are you crazy? You hit the wrong person!"
I nearly laughed out loud.
She was also a celestial.
Good. The only thought I had was to remember her and return to the Heavens to find her.
That night she brought me a cup of water.
Her lips were pale; her smile strained.
"Little Prince, drink."
She looked at me with hope.
When I reached for the cup, my hand slipped. The cup fell; drugs mixed into the water spilled on the ground.
I watched her sigh and mutter a spell.
I slipped into darkness, but I'd already called the Land Deity to break the charm if I collapsed.
I rode three horses to exhaustion and found her.
She stood on a cliff, wind screaming. She was no longer the girl-child but a heroic general, silver-white armor cold and sharp. She was more beautiful that way.
Suddenly she coughed blood that turned into mist, and my chest tightened.
The thunder grew stronger; her blood flowed more and more.
I heard her call, "Queen Mother West! Move me away! That little prince is still asleep…"
"No…"
I murmured, ripped my palm, and released a powerful young-emperor's spirit to draw some lightning.
When the pain hit, I stared hard at the person on the cliff.
She was reborn from fire; the blood that stained her white garments faded. Her fair face was serene as a lotus.
I watched her vanish into ascension.
A mortal body couldn't withstand thunder. The prince's health worsened day by day.
I struggled, using the prince's name to hold rites for her, to leave a remembrance. Word spread of someone ascending.
Many of our cohort ascended together; I didn't know who she served after ascension.
I left a memorial for her as the prince — and left one for myself.
I remembered her face. I vowed to find her.
At the brink of death I came to that temple.
In front of the great ascension statue she still shone — brilliant, dazzling.
I laughed and coughed blood, which splattered the idol.
I flapped at it with my sleeve.
No…no…my vision darkened.
The crown prince of Larkhaven died in a temple.
When I opened my eyes, Myrna was smiling at me. "Congratulations on returning from your trial, young emperor. It's time for ascension."
I returned to the Heavens. The first face I saw was her fleeing.
Someone by her side told me, "That's Lord Rowan, the martial deity — the only martial god at the Hall."
So her name was Rowan.
I went to the temple I'd raised, named it Rowan Shrine.
I went to her Hall to find her, but a fairy child told me she had left that night for the Western Sea.
Had she gone to see the deity of the West Sea?
So I waited at Rowan's Hall for a long time.
When she finally arrived, she smiled faintly when she saw me.
I fought the trembling in my hands and bowed. I heard my own voice.
"Adrian Morrow, greeting Lord Rowan."
[Epilogue] [Adrian's Part — Part Two]
I stared at her cool expression and briefly thought I'd mistaken the person.
But I kept seeing familiar little mannerisms.
We'd both changed appearances, but our souls remained.
I realized my girl seemed afraid of me sometimes — even started avoiding me.
She held fast to her status as a martial deity and kept distance, but when I pretended to be drunk she'd bring me back.
Caught off guard, she had no defenses.
She ate lotus pastry and timidly asked if I could be lenient; that hopeful look made me laugh.
Why did she think I was angry with her?
She was so lovely — her smile could eclipse sky and sea. There was no second like her.
Of course I liked her.
An uncontainable fondness, impossible to hide.
Because I loved her I indulged her. Anything she asked, I would do—just to see her smile.
How did a god who'd ascended become so slow to notice?
Then I realized it wasn't that she was slow — it was that I never let her know my heart.
So I asked the emperor to let her be closer to me, inch by inch.
You can't hide feelings forever.
In the sunset, her features edged with gold, tugged at my heart.
"That young emperor truly is smitten?" someone asked.
My heart raced with joy. I loved her and wanted her to know.
"I love her, but she doesn't know."
When I watched her clumsily descend to the mortal realm, relief washed over me. Saying it aloud felt like removing a weight that had pressed on me since my trial.
But I worried Rowan didn't want me to find out she was the little beggar girl. Why? Where had the plan gone wrong?
I hoped she'd notice the ascension statue I built for her, proof I'd always known who she was.
Rowan was really oblivious; I could only be patient.
I hadn't expected the Demon Lord's arrival.
Though the demon realm had always been unruly, out of respect for Rowan they hadn't dared full-scale war.
When I was struck down by the Demon Lord, my first thought before the fall was that I'd caused trouble for her.
Having taken lightning, my spirit was wounded; my power was far less. My golden body was tattered.
When I opened my eyes, heavenly troops filled the sky; across from us the demon camp stretched black. Rowan knelt half-forward before me in silver armor, wearing a silver mask that hid her face.
I saw the blood on her armor. I had always wanted to shield her, yet somehow I kept bringing trouble. Bitterly, I apologized — I had lost the right to protect her.
She gently touched my face and spoke the first word that still made my heart race: "Little Prince."
I am the young emperor of the Heavens; no one had ever called me "Prince" like that.
But I was also the crown prince of Larkhaven.
The one I loved was Lord Rowan.
I had loved her for over ten years, watching her excel, watching her delight in life.
Watching her lounge in the immortal pool with that lazy expression — I swallowed hard.
Ugh, Adrian, what are you staring at! Rowan climbed wet from the water and cornered me in the bamboo grove.
I explained everything to her as calmly as I could.
Under the pool’s dark, deep blue, I felt my composure evaporate.
I pulled her into my arms and, through the water, pressed a soft, burning kiss to her lips.
Rowan was wonderful. Missing her for over a decade was my fault.
If there’s no meddling reincarnation, then I’ll make sure you see my face every day until you hate it.
[Adrian Morrow’s chapter end.]
[Afterword — "Following"] Everyone in the heavens knew the young prince had found someone he adored.
The white-bearded elders sat happily by the Lotus Pond, watching the prince chase after the celestial in the white robe.
"The prince is so devoted."
"Young lovers are always like that. Lord Vega, don’t you agree?"
Lord Vega, a quietly observant woman in green, had golden embroidery detailing the duties across her robe. The spirit attendant by her side spoke up: "The prince and the celestial make a perfect match. It’s only natural their feelings are intense."
Lord Vega is basically the heavens’ housekeeper.
She’s friends with Rowan and Prince Adrian.
"Vega!" A woman in white shoved open the chamber door and plopped down on Vega’s neatly stacked papers, looking furious.
Vega glanced at the papers she had just organized, then at the door Rowan had left open, and sighed, looking at Rowan in front of her.
The spirit attendant asked, "Rowan, what’s wrong?"
Vega sees the threads of fate but cannot speak freely, so she uses the attendant to voice what she can’t.
Rowan propped her cheek on her palm and leaned over the table. "Is the prince insane?
I told him I didn’t want lotus pastry, but he keeps making them for me."
Vega pursed her lips. Oh. A public display of affection.
She focused on tidying the documents.
Rowan chattered on for a long time before standing. "Much better. Let’s go!"
Vega silently closed the door with a sleeve, then straightened the papers into perfect piles.
No sooner were they finished than Rowan returned, barging back in and knocking the neat stacks to the floor.
Damn.
"Vega! Where can we hide someone?!"
Vega took a deep breath and pointed to behind a bookshelf.
Once Rowan ducked behind it, Vega was about to re-stack the papers when a dark shadow crashed through the door again.
Clatter.
Another pile went flying.
Vega clenched her fist.
The attendant looked worried—Vega might be furious enough to die.
The attendant asked, "Is there something wrong, Your Highness?"
Adrian raised a hand. "Ah, it’s nothing. I just came for Rowan."
Vega pointed to where Rowan hid.
Adrian smiled with understanding and headed to the bookshelf.
After the commotion, Adrian led a very reluctant Rowan out of Vega’s hall.
And once again, they left the door open.
Vega closed it with another sleeve flick.
The attendants quietly began to restore order, stacking papers neatly until everything looked clean and calm.
Vega allowed herself a small smile.
Yes, Vega is a control freak.
Unable to speak freely, she became a sounding board for Rowan and Adrian.
One day Rowan came in looking troubled.
Vega raised an eyebrow—today Rowan really did seem preoccupied.
The attendant asked, "Not showing affection today?"
Rowan slumped over the table. "What affection? Adrian’s being suffocating. I understand he wants to be with me, but must he follow me everywhere?
He doesn’t leave my side—I… I can’t get used to it."
Vega glanced around—no sign of Adrian.
Rowan waved a hand. "He had duties to attend. That’s why I’m finally free to visit you."
The attendant mimicked Vega’s expression and said, "They’re newly in love; clinginess is part of the process. Once they adjust, it won’t feel so uncomfortable."
Rowan sniffed. "I think he’s punishing me for leaving without telling him."
Vega smiled faintly and looked behind Rowan with deeper amusement. The attendant poured her a cup of tea and grinned. "Adrian is overjoyed. How could he be punishing you?"
Rowan wagged a finger like she meant it. "You never know. That boy’s head is a mystery."
Before she could finish, Adrian’s voice came from behind them.
"Oh? Rowan thinks she knows what I’m thinking?"
Rowan sprang up like she’d been startled, seeing Adrian standing there. "You’re back already?"
Adrian took her hand with a grin. "I finished quickly, so I came straight to you. Queen Mother West’s and Lord Sebastian Vale’s wedding is about to start. Shall we go now?"
Rowan finally smiled. "Okay!"
Vega sipped her tea and called after them.
"Your Highness, wait."
Rowan and Adrian exchanged a look, and Rowan obediently waited outside Vega’s hall while Adrian stayed.
Weren’t they supposed to dislike being together?
They seemed perfectly content.
Vega smiled. The attendant said, "My lord, the one you love is right there—when you reach for her, be mindful of your strength."
Adrian chuckled. "Thank you, Vega."
Vega checked the stars and the attendant’s notes. "Mid-next month—there’s a favorable day."
Adrian blinked. "Really?!"
Vega smiled. "All matters are auspicious."
Adrian bowed. "Thank you, Lord Vega!"
In the heavens, married couples need Vega’s blessing for a wedding date.
Lovers must ask her for a good day before they can marry. Without Vega’s guidance, they cannot selfishly set their own wedding.
When Vega sees a day is right, she sends the attendant with invitations to announce the wedding date.
Most requests are simply for marriage-appropriate days. "All matters are auspicious" is rare.
Vega watched the two of them walk hand in hand, shaking her head. Rowan only pretended to scold Adrian—her smile was too bright for anyone to believe she wasn’t happy.
"Blessings to the prince and the celestial: may all be auspicious and may wishes come true."
[End of this chapter]