Er’er felt panic rising within her.

With the Celestial Divination Master’s departure, the destruction of the Tianji Formation would surely lead to their death. If they didn’t want to die, they would have to allow Li Ye’s fury to burn across thirty thousand li, which would also destroy the Tianji Formation, but they would survive.

However, the price would be all living beings in the world.

Helplessly pulling at Li Ye, Er’er’s words of comfort were on the tip of her tongue, yet she couldn’t speak them. In this moment, she didn’t know what choice was right, caught between advancing and retreating, between life and death.

The tip of her nose tingled with emotion as Er’er bit her lip, clutching Li Ye’s sleeve as her eyes reddened.

She was unwilling to watch the world’s destruction—she had strived so hard to change this outcome. But having come this far, she also didn’t want Li Ye to die.

Originally, without her, Li Ye could have peacefully reached the realm of eternity. Why should he make such a great concession because of her, even at the cost of his own life?

It wasn’t fair.

Sensing the little one’s emotional distress beside him, Li Ye lowered his gaze and gently stroked the top of her head.

“Your celestial aperture, is it foresight?” he asked.

Though phrased as a question, his tone was more like a statement. Li Ye had always been perceptive; from just a few details, he could deduce cause and effect.

Er’er’s body stiffened, her head resting against his arm. After a moment of silence, she gave a soft “Mm” in affirmation.

“So, when you first approached me, you had already foreseen this day?” he raised an eyebrow.

Her heart trembled, and Er’er instinctively shook her head, but after thinking for a moment, she nodded honestly.

She had been afraid of death, seeking survival from the beginning. It was just that later, he gave her so much that she became even greedier, greedy enough to want to protect others as well.

Thinking of this, Er’er felt even more guilty.

Li Ye’s gaze darkened as he pursed his lips.

This fact displeased him. He had always despised others approaching him with ulterior motives, thinking he had guarded well against it, yet somehow a minor immortal had succeeded.

Was her being with him because she truly liked him, or merely to save her mortal world?

A cold aura emanated from him, causing Er’er to shudder.

She looked up at him in bewilderment, only to see that he had averted his gaze.

Was he angry? He probably should be, especially at this critical moment when she was still hesitating whether to persuade him or not.

Flames cascaded from his fire-red robes in all directions. Er’er withdrew her hand, scalded by the heat. The sounds of collapse grew louder around them. With a pale face, she opened her mouth, at a loss, clutching at her clothes.

“Still a child,” came Taihe’s sighing voice from the dome above.

Er’er froze, and tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffled and softly protested: “I’m not a child anymore.”

“In this old man’s eyes, you’ll always be a troublemaker,” Taihe seemed to be smiling, his voice somewhat hoarse. “An immortal master should do an immortal master’s duty. A little one like you should simply live well.”

Her pupils slightly contracted. Just as Er’er began to realize something, a burst of light exploded from the dome.

“Taihe!” The Celestial Divination Master was furious. “You’re being absurd!”

The light grew more intense, and Taihe’s voice grew softer: “I’m not being absurd.”

“You are the absurd one.”

“A person tens of thousands of years old has no reason to force the younger generation to this point. Since you’re willing to share a soul bond with me, let us depart together.”

The Celestial Divination Master was in a rage, but before he could speak again, Taihe’s soul suddenly shattered into dust before his eyes.

With a loud boom, countless specks of light scattered downward.

Er’er stared with wide eyes, her throat suddenly feeling as though someone had stuffed a cold, hard stone into it.

She foolishly reached toward the sky, but the fragments were swept away by the formation’s fierce winds, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Immortal Master?

She silently mouthed the words, stumbling forward two steps.

Li Ye reached out to steady her, his brows tightly knit: “Don’t go near.”

With Taihe taking his own life, the Celestial Way, who shared a soul bond with him, naturally met the same fate. The shattered souls fell like scattered rain, touching the divine fire below and igniting into flames.

Er’er’s breathing stopped.

She stared rigidly at the flames before her, her fingertips suddenly numb and painful. This pain quickly engulfed her entire body, consuming even her heart.

…

When they first met, Taihe Xianshi was very disdainful of her. Her imperial father and mother had pleaded for a long time before she was finally accepted into the old man’s immortal gate.

For his other senior disciples, the immortal master had high expectations. But for her, Taihe always said, just staying alive was enough.

She lived up to his low expectations for several hundred years, causing trouble and angering him whenever possible. Taihe’s whisk seemed less a magical artifact and more a tool specifically for disciplining her.

Yet, whenever she faced danger, the immortal master would always shield her, going to heaven or earth to seek justice on her behalf.

Her imperial father and mother had short lifespans. On the day her homeland was lost, Er’er crouched outside the immortal gate, crying. Taihe Xianshi stood behind her, his face stern: “Immortals do not cry.”

“I’m not an immortal,” Er’er cried angrily. “I can’t do anything.”

Holding his whisk and looking at her, Taihe snorted: “You are indeed too weak.”

So Er’er cried even louder.

Taihe Xianshi didn’t comfort her with a single word but pulled her back into the immortal gate. Er’er struggled, her eyes red: “My homeland is gone, I don’t need to cultivate anymore.”

“Though your homeland is gone, the immortal gate remains,” Taihe said without looking back. “From now on, cultivate for this immortal gate.”

Who would want to cultivate diligently for such an old man’s immortal gate? He had so many disciples; he didn’t need her to bring glory to his gate.

That was what she thought then, so she kept trying to escape—climbing walls at night, sneaking down the mountain, stealing magical artifacts for passage. She tried everything, but always ended up hundreds of li down the mountain, dizzy with hunger, only to wake up back at the immortal gate.

During those days, whenever she opened her eyes, she would see Taihe Xianshi’s back—stern and proper, yet he never once scolded her.

“I promised your imperial father and mother,” he said stiffly, the wrinkles on his face taut. “I won’t let you die under my watch.”

…

The wind scattered the flames, and the surrounding Star Death Formation moved a few zhang closer to them.

Er’er sat numbly on her knees, tears falling in large drops.

Li Ye silently watched her back, then looked up at the place on the dome where the light still lingered. After some thought, he decided it would be best to carry her away from this place first.

The person in his arms was very quiet, not saying a word or making a movement, like a cotton quilt.

Li Ye frowned and said in a deep voice: “Now is not the time for grief. If you want to avenge him, then pull yourself together.”

Er’er didn’t respond to him, only followed as he left the Tianji Formation through the passage, landing on the barren mountaintop outside.

The Tianji Formation collapsed with a rumble behind them.

The remnant light of the formation and the remaining fire within burst forth, burning in all directions. Er’er didn’t look back, only leaped down from Li Ye’s arms and flipped her hand to form a seal.