Yin Changli guessed her thoughts: “In my view, he specifically came to our world to dump garbage and shed troubles.”

Back then, the three divine swords had caused quite a bloodbath. Many believed this powerful figure from next door intended to disrupt their world’s normal order through the divine swords, harboring ulterior motives.

But when successful sword masters began cultivating the divine swords, they all regretted it immensely, finding life worse than death.

Especially the Tian Kuang Sword masters, whose personalities underwent dramatic changes.

Yin Changli had never told Xiang Haikui how the previous Tian Kuang master had died.

At the peak of the seventh rank, that sword master had transformed into a hornless dragon and accidentally crashed into a mountain peak. Under Tian Kuang’s insane encouragement, he insisted on comparing whose head was harder—his or the mountain’s—shattering his skull into pieces.

Most terrifying was that the twelve divine swords weren’t something you could simply abandon if you didn’t want to cultivate them.

Once the divine soul bonded with the divine sword, it became like an unshakable leech. Unless the sword master died or achieved perfect unity with the Dao, there was no hope of ever getting rid of it.

“Aren’t you being too cynical? After all, the powerful figure didn’t just bring three divine swords. Didn’t he also bring many treasures and cultivation manuals?” Xiang Haikui’s mouth twitched slightly as she reached out to touch the Tian Kuang sword case, accidentally touching his tail.

The black snake tail curled up as if scalded and hissed: “The treasures and manuals were probably compensation born of guilt.”

Xiang Haikui found it amusing: “Seems you harbor deep resentment toward the divine swords.”

Understandably so—with Tian Kuang reaching its maximum level, it had drained Yin Changli of so much energy.

After a long silence following her words, Yin Changli finally responded wistfully: “Yes, you don’t know how much I regret ever giving Tian Kuang to you.”

“Why regret?” She frowned. “I used to hate this stupid sword to the core, but without it, I would have died long ago. How could I possibly be as I am today, free to stab whoever I please?”

If you want the horse to run, you must feed it enough grass.

Common horses get common grass, while immortal horses naturally deserve immortal grass.

Perfectly reasonable.

As she spoke, she leaned forward again to peer into the Ice Spring pond.

The small black snake was nestled in her sleeve for warmth. When her body moved, the small black snake felt it: “Being able to see someone from another world just now was an extremely rare phenomenon. It might be because the three of you were meditating around the Ice Spring—Tian Kuang’s sword intent, the Heavenly Race’s spiritual sense, and Jianmu’s pure-turbid energy—the three combined and resonated with the water-attribute magical artifact next door at some moment…”

These words urged her to continue meditating without further distractions.

Seeing that handsome man from next door again would be a matter of chance, not something one could seek deliberately.

Fearing Xiang Haikui might not understand, Yin Changli gave an example: “Have you ever seen a mirage?”

A mirage, or “shen jing” in Chinese, was seemingly a product of light refraction. Xiang Haikui had never seen one personally, but they appeared frequently in news reports.

Yin Changli explained: “The images presented in mirages are sometimes from our world, but sometimes they depict places that don’t exist in our world at all. This happens because fluctuations in the spatial world barrier expose the neighboring world at those fluctuation points. Such fluctuations occur at a very low frequency.”

Listening to his repeated emphasis, Xiang Haikui understood he was stressing how thick and impenetrable the spatial world barrier was.

Mirages didn’t just appear randomly.

“But…” she wore an expression full of doubt.

“But what?” Yin Changli inquired patiently.

Xiang Haikui: “When my father sought from you the formation to bring me over, did he mention any anomalies he experienced before crossing over?”

Yin Changli was puzzled: “What anomalies? Your father only said that one winter morning, he vaguely heard someone knocking at his door. Half-awake, he got up to open it. There was ice at the doorway, and he accidentally slipped and lost consciousness. When he awoke, he had already left his homeland and had a new physical body.”

It seemed he hadn’t mentioned it—probably too long ago, and her father himself had forgotten. Xiang Haikui continued: “When I was five, after my mother… my birth mother passed away, my father, who was originally a long-distance truck driver, quit his job to take care of me and started driving a taxi in the city… Do you understand?”

Ah! Different civilizations were truly hard to explain. Xiang Haikui pondered before saying, “It’s somewhat like being a carriage driver in the city…”

Yin Changli: “Then what?”

He had been waiting for her to voluntarily mention her life in her homeland.

Now, he listened with utmost attention.

Xiang Haikui said, “Soon after, my father began experiencing ‘hallucinations.’ While driving… operating vehicles, he would often see strange sights. He sought help from a psychiatrist because of this…”

Xiang Heng had told the doctor that he could see another world existing alongside his own, populated with monsters and strangely dressed humans in ancient clothing who could fly.

Between the two worlds seemed to be an invisible wall—he could see through it but couldn’t touch it.

The doctor’s opinion was that he had just experienced the sudden, unexpected pain of losing his wife, which had stimulated his nerves, causing hallucinations.

“My father took medication for a long time with no improvement. The ‘hallucinations’ actually became more frequent, nearly causing accidents. Unable to continue driving, he quit again and started selling snacks from a street stall to support me.”

Recalling that time, Xiang Haikui remembered genuine poverty, yet it was a rare period of happiness in her memory.

“Later, until I was nine, before he passed away, he never mentioned the hallucinations again, nor did he return to the hospital.”

Because Xiang Heng had become accustomed to them.

“After I entered the orphanage, no one was willing to adopt me, fearing I might inherit my father’s mental illness. I was somewhat afraid, too, but fortunately, I never experienced such hallucinations.”

Having just seen the man beneath the Ice Spring, whom Yin Changli suggested might be from another world, Xiang Haikui suddenly remembered all this.

Thus, questions arose in her mind.

If interactions between two spatial worlds were extremely difficult, requiring an incredibly powerful water-attribute divine artifact on the other side and the combined strength of the three of them to achieve, then how had her father been able to see the other world?

Without any apparent reason, and so frequently, sometimes several times a day, each lasting over ten minutes.

“How is that possible?” After silently listening, Yin Changli pondered for a long while, still unable to comprehend. He asked, “The mirages your father saw on Earth, were they of our world?”

“I never asked.” Xiang Haikui shook her head. After arriving in this world, she had spent little time with Xiang Heng and hadn’t discussed the past with him.

After all, for Xiang Heng, these were matters from over two hundred years ago.

She continued, “But my father watched the ‘cultivation world’ for four years, and after dying from a fall, his soul left his body and truly arrived in the cultivation world—it should be this one, right?”

Yin Changli mused: “Once your conditions stabilize, I’ll ask him about it.”

This matter sounded quite unusual. A soul crossing into another world after death, by coincidence, wasn’t strange.

But so many peculiar events happening to Xiang Heng were indeed thought-provoking.

Yin Changli mentally traced the timeline backward.

First, before his soul crossed over to this world and became Xiang Tianqing’s “father,” Xiang Heng could see mirages of another world on Earth.

Second, Xiang Heng wasn’t born with the ability to see mirages; it began gradually after Little Kui’s mother passed away.

Third, Xiang Heng was an orphan who didn’t know his parents, and his wife was also an orphan, unaware of her parents’ identities. So after they died, Little Kui had no relatives at all…

Yin Changli’s mind was filled with question marks as he carefully asked: “Little Kui, I’ve never asked you before, how did your mother pass away?”

Her eyelashes trembled slightly as Xiang Haikui slowly replied: “Sudden death.”

Her father was often working away from home at that time, and during many nights before she turned five, only her mother and she were at home.

“That night, Father wasn’t home. Mother tucked me in, and in the middle of the night, I woke up cold. She was lying beside me, completely cold. I called her several times but couldn’t wake her.”

But she was too young then and didn’t truly understand death. She pulled up the blanket, hugged her mother tightly, and fell deeply asleep again…

Xiang Haikui didn’t continue.

Her father was someone she didn’t want to discuss.

And her mother was someone she dared not think about.

The small black snake poked its head out from her sleeve, its bright black eyes gazing at her slightly dimmed ones.

He wanted to comfort her, but despite formulating numerous phrases, he felt none were appropriate.

It was truly hard to imagine that someone usually so silver-tongued could become so tongue-tied before her.

Finally, he said: “About what Zhu Rongrong mentioned earlier—that my mother deliberately bore many children to harm my father—do you think it’s true or false?”

Sure enough, Xiang Haikui instantly emerged from her emotions, looking back at him with cautious eyes: “You’re asking me to guess? Do you perhaps already know the answer?”

When she had told Yin Changli earlier, from his expression, she had already suspected he might know.

Knowing implied that Zhu Rongrong had spoken the truth.

Yin Changli hadn’t intended to bring it up—after all, it was his family’s private shame—but to divert Xiang Haikui’s attention, he flicked his tongue and said: “My mother was from the Mountain Sea Merfolk Clan. Due to their dispersed ocean territories, the merfolk had many branches. When my mother was still a young girl, her branch had a leader who was both powerful and rebellious—her maternal uncle and her only relative.”

That grand-uncle of his had a personality similar to Que Chi’s, believing that the Mountain Sea Clan’s shift to cultivating humanity’s path was against their instincts. He disregarded clan rules and led his people in mass killings of other races.

The Great Clan Leader commanded him to stop multiple times, but his grand-uncle was incorrigible and even provokingly devoured the envoys the Great Clan Leader had sent.

After discussions among the Mountain Sea Clan elders, they decided to send his father to suppress them, and his grand-uncle was killed by his father.

Xiang Haikui didn’t feel it appropriate to ask more, simply listening attentively.

“My mother was severely injured at that time. On the way back to the clan for trial, a sea witch rescued her, healed her, and continued to care for her. She developed feelings for the sea witch over time, but with hatred buried in her heart, she suppressed these emotions. After recovery, she wanted to take revenge on my father, but her cultivation level was far too inferior to his…”

Thus, she thought of using her beauty as a weapon.

Yin Changli continued: “The sea witch repeatedly tried to dissuade her, but my mother was determined. Unable to change her mind, the sea witch gave her a new identity, arranged everything, and ensured she could approach my father smoothly. But the more she interacted with my father, the more she realized she couldn’t kill him on her own. So she schemed to marry him and bore a child, thinking that when he was weakened from having his energy absorbed by the child, it would be the perfect opportunity to kill him…”

Xiang Haikui was somewhat confused: “So, when she failed to take revenge while bearing the first child, she decided to bear a second one?”

To twelve?

It was simply incredible.

The Ice Spring was extremely cold. The small black snake retreated further into her sleeve, but its clear, bright eyes still gazed at her: “No, while carrying my eldest brother, she discovered something and could no longer go through with it.”

Xiang Haikui: “Oh?”

After a long silence, Yin Changli said: “My father and the sea witch were the same person.”

Xiang Haikui’s eyes widened. Who had schemed against whom?

No wonder they say life is like a play, all depending on one’s acting skills.

Yin Changli let out a helpless laugh: “I don’t know the exact details myself—I overheard my brothers talking about it. In short, only my eldest brother was conceived with my mother’s dark intentions. The later children were all born because of her anger, deliberately to torment my father. However, my father probably didn’t see it as torment. My mother never showed him the slightest warmth her entire life, but she loved us dearly. In the end, she died alongside my father on the battlefield.”

This might be the standard definition of love-hate, Xiang Haikui thought, shaking her head. She couldn’t understand it.

Yin Changli had hoped to use this story to dispel the gloom that had gathered in Xiang Haikui’s heart earlier.

Now his mood had sunk into a valley.

They fell silent for a moment.

Xiang Haikui’s head ached—how had a normal conversation about other worlds and mirages turned into a misery competition between them?

She wanted to say something, but she genuinely didn’t know how to comfort others.

Besides, she understood that Yin Changli hadn’t shared these stories to gain her sympathy.

The snake head that had been outside slowly retracted into her sleeve, coiling several times around her arm as if it were a bamboo pole.

Xiang Haikui’s arm had originally been resting on her knee. Now she brought her hands together, connecting the sleeve openings so that wind no longer entered the sleeves.

This small gesture made Yin Changli feel an indescribable warmth.

“Go ahead with your meditation. I’ll watch over you all,” he urged her. “Don’t overthink anymore.”

“Alright.” Xiang Haikui responded, closing her eyes.

Perhaps trusting in Yin Changli’s abilities, this time her meditation was much calmer, and she quickly entered the proper state.

Yin Changli remained completely still, afraid of disturbing her.

He continued organizing his thoughts about Xiang Heng.

After an unknown period, Xiang Haikui vaguely heard some noise, like the sound of fingernails scraping against glass—a “scratch” sound.

Her hair stood on end, but having entered deep meditation, it took her a while to open her eyes.

Uncertain of the direction the noise came from, she instinctively looked toward the bottom of the Ice Spring.

Indeed!

She saw that heroic man again.

This time, not only was he looking up, but another face had also approached.

It was the face of a refined, handsome young man who was waving his arm upward, holding a small knife.

From Xiang Haikui’s perspective, his arm had penetrated the ice layer at the bottom, with the small knife completely immersed in the Ice Spring water.

But just like the heroic man earlier, he was like a ghost, not causing even the slightest ripple.

Another mirage triggered?

Just as Xiang Haikui was about to transmit a message to Yin Changli, asking him to take a look, suddenly, after a piercing “scratch” sound, she heard the conversation between the two people at the bottom of the Ice Spring. She immediately held her breath.

The refined young man holding the small knife said, “Have you looked carefully? There’s no hidden space, no problem.”

The heroic man frowned: “Impossible. I truly feel that somewhere above this area, a pair of eyes has been watching me.”

The young man shrugged: “But the facts are clear—there’s nothing.”

The heroic man clasped his hands behind his back: “Your skill level is insufficient. Continue cutting. I’m certain there’s a hidden space here.”

Xiang Haikui’s breath caught. It seemed the young man was outside for help, he had brought. The two didn’t know this was a cross-point between worlds, but they were extraordinarily capable—one could sense her presence, while the other could cut through space.

Her eyes suddenly brightened. If they truly managed to carve out a hole, could she travel through it to the neighboring Nineteen Continents?

With the Nineteen Continents and Earth both in the Three Thousand Realms, wouldn’t returning to Earth finally become possible?

The heroic man frowned sharply: “Cut quickly. Today, I must capture this woman.”

The young man was puzzled: “If she’s secretly watching you, how can you tell it’s a woman?”

The heroic man laughed coldly: “I just sensed it again. Those lustful eyes staring at me, nearly drooling with desire—if not a woman, then a pervert!”

Xiang Haikui, amid her hopeful fantasy, froze at his words. Lustful?

This brother was truly too self-absorbed. She was craving the soon-to-be-opened passage between worlds and watching only the knife in the young man’s hand. When had she been looking at him?