Senior Brother Meng Wan, whom she had seen not long ago, now had only a soul fragment contained in a crystal bottle. He was curled up like a newborn infant, his clothes tattered, his usual sword broken in two pieces beside him.

Er’er reached out her hand, and the bottle floated gently into her palm.

“How did this happen?”

Zhen Huan Gong glared at Li Ye: “Ask him.”

Her neck stiffened as Er’er slowly turned to look at the person standing beside her.

The Great Lord’s gaze was not friendly. He extended his hand, and the other crystal bottle flew into his grasp.

“Poor cultivation,” he said, looking at Qiantian’s soul fragment with a cold attitude. “Mere death resentment, yet it forced him to this state.”

Mere? Zhen Huan Gong was furious: “You know very well what the Gate of the Netherworld is! You violated heavenly rules by opening it privately, forcing Qiantian to sacrifice his soul to barely close it, and you still speak so coldly? The Heavenly Gate is right ahead—come with me to see the Tianqua Daoist, and let’s have a proper discussion!”

Li Ye scoffed, raising his eyes: “Do you have evidence that I opened that gate?”

…

…

Slightly choked, Zhen Huan Gong’s face darkened: “Who else but you?”

This was something everyone knew, but to present it before the Tianqua Daoist would require solid evidence. Zhen Huan Gong knew his words couldn’t stand, and his voice grew increasingly smaller.

This was what made Li Ye most hateful—he never left any evidence, making it impossible to take action against him.

Zhen Huan Gong glared at him, intending to rebuke him further, but noticed that the man seemed somewhat distracted, his eyes half-closed, glancing sideways at the person next to him.

Er’er stood beside him, anxiously examining the soul fragment in the crystal bottle.

It appeared severely injured, but fortunately, her senior brother’s cultivation had progressed enough that he could survive without this soul fragment. However, if this fragment was not properly nurtured, her senior brother would likely experience diminished senses like she had before, affecting his future cultivation.

But with her current abilities barely sufficient for self-protection, how could she nurture a soul fragment?

After much hesitation, Er’er glanced at the Great Lord.

For some reason, the Great Lord seemed to be in an extremely bad mood, his face covered with dark clouds. His coldness made her swallow her intended plea for help, replacing it with a soft: “Can they still be saved?”

“What does that have to do with me?” Li Ye turned away coldly, gesturing toward the Heavenly Gate when looking at Zhen Huan Gong. “Let’s go.”

“What for?” Zhen Huan Gong replied irritably, turning his head away. “The most urgent matter is to save these two soul fragments. As for the investigation, we can do that after they recover.”

“Weren’t you the one who said we should meet the Tianqua Daoist?”

“We’ll go later.” His ears reddening slightly with embarrassment, Zhen Huan Gong looked crossly at Er’er. “Don’t you agree?”

Er’er nodded solemnly, holding the crystal bottle.

Li Ye wanted to give her a mocking glance, but remembering what had happened earlier, he forcibly suppressed his anger and said in an unfriendly tone: “Save them if you wish.”

With that, he swept his sleeve, preparing to leave.

However, midway through his gesture, a soft force suddenly caught his hand.

A small, cold hand grasped his index finger, nervously rubbing it, with a mixture of hesitation and embarrassment.

Li Ye paused slightly, his expression softening considerably as he glanced back.

The little one beside him held the crystal bottle in one hand and clutched his finger with the other. She seemed to want to frown but then relaxed, asking with great caution: “Where are you going?”

“Where else?” He pressed his lips together. “Back to Shangbing Palace.”

“Then…” Her eyes blinked repeatedly as she caressed the crystal bottle. “Then shall we go to Shangbing Palace to save them?”

The intention was too obvious. Even Zhen Huan Gong found it hard to watch. Li Ye was such a cold-blooded person—begging him would be useless. He wouldn’t save anyone, especially those who had hindered him…

“Want my help?”

Before Zhen Huan Gong could finish his thoughts, the man before him spoke.

Zhen Huan Gong could hardly bear to see his contemptuous expression.

But in the next moment, the man’s brow relaxed, and he bent down toward Er’er: “Beg me.”

Zhen Huan Gong: “?”

What was this scene of a man toying with a virtuous maiden? Had his eyes been damaged by recent cultivation? How could a wooden block like Li Ye say such things?

Even more shocking was that Immortal Er’er, as if granted a tremendous opportunity, brightened her eyes and immediately swayed his hand: “I beg you, please help!”

Zhen Huan Gong: “…”

Perhaps he would have been better off with damaged eyes.

Li Ye was unwilling to help, snorting and giving the crystal bottle in her arms a half-lidded, dismissive glance. But Er’er knew that since he had opened his mouth, he would surely soften.

So she tugged at his hand and began walking: “In our mortal realm, promotions and wealth are occasions for celebration and gifts. As I’ve just ascended, I’m shamelessly asking for a gift from you, Supreme God. It won’t take much effort—just teach me how to nurture this soul fragment, and I’ll do it myself.”

The person behind her spoke in a deep voice: “What great friendship warrants spending spiritual energy to save him?”

“If Senior Brother hadn’t protected me during my heavenly tribulation, I might not have lived to come to the Nine Heavens,” Er’er muttered. “That’s a very significant friendship.”

Li Ye: “…”

He also had a significant friendship with her—a ten-thousand-year great heavenly tribulation was much more significant than those few-hundred-year minor tribulations.

Unfortunately, this fool didn’t realize it.

Swallowing his displeasure, he summoned a celestial cloud and glanced back at Zhen Huan Gong: “Not coming?”

Zhen Huan Gong stood rooted to the spot, almost turned to stone.

He felt that the Li Ye before him was a stranger. Though he looked the same, Zhen Huan Gong didn’t recognize him at all. The Li Ye who deserved to be hacked to pieces was cold and gloomy—who was this person sulking over trivial matters?

If not for the familiar oppressive feeling of his immortal power, Zhen Huan Gong would have lunged forward to tear off his face.

“Coming…” he replied weakly.

Nurturing a soul fragment was very troublesome, requiring water-path immortal techniques as a foundation, followed by infusion with powerful spiritual energy. Since Kan Ze’s disappearance, the Kan family had gradually declined, now keeping to themselves for recovery, with few disciples venturing out. Finding someone to help would be difficult.

Zhen Huan Gong hadn’t expected Li Ye to help. On the way to Shangbing Palace, he sent messages to several friendly Supreme Gods—Qiantian mustn’t suffer another major setback.

Several message birds flew past his ear, their wings flapping noisily, yet Li Ye showed no reaction.

He was expressionlessly staring at Meng Wan in the crystal bottle.

Er’er felt uncomfortable under his gaze and instinctively tucked the crystal bottle into her sleeve: “Senior Brother only tried to stop you at the immortal sect that day to protect the Master. There’s no need to hold such a grudge.”

“In your eyes, I’m that petty.” he lowered his gaze. “I see.”

“No, no,” Er’er hurriedly waved her hands. “You’ve always been magnanimous. How could you be petty? As they say, one’s appearance reflects one’s heart. Someone as handsome and graceful as you must have a boundless generosity of spirit.”