If he hadn’t valued his life, Xin Wu would have laughed out loud on the spot.

All living beings in the world were at his mercy; he could have anything he desired in the world. Yet this High God had ended up in the same predicament as himself.

Heaven was ultimately fair.

Barely suppressing his smile, he coughed lightly: “The spiritual energy here is exceptionally favorable. You should let her cultivate on her own.”

Gazing deeply at the eastern pearl, Li Ye asked in a muffled voice: “How long will the cultivation take?”

“Three souls and seven spirits—at least a hundred years.” Xin Wu calculated with his fingers. “Yours might take even longer, perhaps three hundred years.”

“Why?”

“She’s not exactly ambitious by nature.” Xin Wu spread his hands. “You know that well yourself.”

Li Ye fell silent.

…

…

In his mind flashed images of her tantrums during cultivation in the past. He could almost see the water splashing in the pool. His lips pressed together, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest.

Three hundred years wasn’t long for him, but days still had to pass one by one.

“It’s fine.” Seeing his expression, Xin Wu found himself offering comfort. “My soul-nurturing lamp also needs a hundred years to take form. If we cultivate together, passing time won’t be so difficult. At worst, we can create a barrier cutting off heaven and earth—without sun and moon, we won’t notice the passing of time… Eh?”

Before he could finish speaking, the scenery before him suddenly shifted.

Xin Wu steadied himself after stumbling two steps. Looking up, he found himself already thrown out of the great hall.

Half laughing and half crying, he gathered his sleeves: “Why won’t you listen to advice?”

The mountain wind was desolate, dulling even the new leaves on plants. Li Ye sat quietly on the soft couch, motionless, staring at the eastern pearl before him.

She must have been in extreme pain when her soul shattered; otherwise, the Jie Yuan wouldn’t have remained dormant for so long.

His eyelids trembled. He reached out, wanting to give her something more, but seeing the blood stains still on the Phoenix-Slaying Blade, his fingers tightened then slowly withdrew.

There was nothing he could do.

He had cultivated for ninety thousand years, yet at this moment, he still could do nothing.

His breathing echoed in the empty hall. The cold mountain wind blew to the window, paused briefly, then fled as if escaping to elsewhere.

***

The resurrected gods and immortals in the highest heavens took three to five days to regain their senses. With the demise of the Heavenly Diviner, the gods were bewildered. After deliberation, they decided to each go about their affairs, temporarily honoring the Queen Mother of the West until the next ruler of the highest heavens ascended.

Order gradually returned to the heavens. Occasionally, when immortals passed the places where they had once died, they would pause momentarily, but only briefly before continuing with a sweep of their sleeves.

They spent a year restoring various immortal gates and buildings, while the mortal realm used a hundred years to multiply and thrive.

This year certainly couldn’t restore everything, but at least there was hope for improvement.

Many immortals sought Li Ye, especially Tai Shang Lao Jun. Believing Li Ye the most suitable ruler for the highest heavens, he even moved his cave dwelling to Seven-Colored Immortal Mountain, persuading him day after day before the barrier.

So Li Ye made the barrier even thicker.

However, he didn’t block out the rising and setting of the sun as Xin Wu had suggested. On the contrary, he meticulously recorded the daily changes in the eastern pearl.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter—after countless days and nights, a wisp of soul energy finally appeared on the pearl.

Li Ye’s eyes brightened at the sight.

Instantly, all the flowers on Seven-Colored Mountain bloomed together—vibrant purple and red, their fragrance permeating the air.

Tai Shang Lao Jun sneezed in the autumn wind, choked by pollen.

He gazed in bewilderment at the clusters of flowers before him, then at the withered leaves around, and couldn’t help but seek out Xin Wu to ask: “Has the Immortal Er’er completed her cultivation?”

Xin Wu shook his head: “We’re nowhere near that yet.”

“Then why is he so happy?” Tai Shang Lao Jun brushed away the flowers landing on his robe, utterly confused.

Hesitating to speak, Xin Wu looked back at the barrier and sighed deeply: “He’s a fool.”

He wouldn’t take the easier path offered to him, insisting on tormenting himself.

Tai Shang Lao Jun looked at Xin Wu in bewilderment, brushing away the surging flower petals again.

After this wisp of soul energy, Er’er’s eastern pearl showed no movement for another twenty years.

But Li Ye no longer remained in Seven-Colored Mountain like a stone statue. He took her with him to visit the mortal realm.

After several hundred years, the mortal world had regained some liveliness, though still sparsely populated. Amid desolation, procreation became a priority, so various love festivals and Magpie Bridge gatherings were frequently organized. The faces of mortals bore impatience and longing, not at all beautiful.

The country where Li Ye descended was holding a red lantern festival. As soon as he stepped onto the stone bridge, a stream of women rushed to push lanterns into his arms.

“Young master, young master, a fine gentleman like you should take several lanterns. Even if it doesn’t work out, it can ease the lovesickness of the young ladies.”

“These are from the ladies over there for you.”

“Hey, be careful, don’t crush them.”

Lanterns made of silk paper came in all shapes, some beautiful ones even outlined in gold.

He looked at them with a hint of mockery in his eyes: “Can these cure lovesickness?”

“Young master doesn’t know.” The woman fanned herself with a handkerchief, smiling. “There is a God of Lovesickness in heaven. Deities love to see bright things. Write your lovesickness on lanterns for the gods to see, and it can be cured.”

The mockery in his eyes intensified. He lowered his gaze, brushing aside the lanterns before him: “Even gods can’t cure their lovesickness, how could they attend to others?”

“Ah…” The sound of entreaty came from behind, but Li Ye paid no more attention.

Scattered flower lanterns floated on the long river. Li Ye watched with cold eyes, feeling displeased.

“Mortals are prone to lies,” he murmured to the eastern pearl in his arms. “This small light cannot be seen from heaven.”

Then, his fiery red sleeve swept over the river.

Like flames falling on oil, the entire city-encircling river suddenly burst into continuous fire. People on the shore cried out in alarm, about to flee, but looking closer, they realized something was amiss.

The fire was expansive but not intense, without even black smoke, and its flame color was quite beautiful.

So, after a moment of panic, everyone calmed down and began curious discussions.

“Water conquers fire—how can a river catch fire?”

“I don’t know either, but looking at how it burns, it’s quite interesting. From a distance, it seems to form characters.”

“You’re confused, how can fire burn into characters on a river?”

Everyone laughed and jested, taking nothing seriously, and continued to watch the spectacle.

The firelight illuminated an entire city, naturally visible from the highest heavens.

The Queen Mother of the West stood on the Ten Directions Cloud Sea, pinching her hands. With just a downward glance, she could see the two characters formed by his divine fire.

Er’er.

Brilliant and dazzling, directly illuminating the clouds.

With a complex expression, the Queen Mother turned to ask Kan Ze: “Does he seem like he’s gone mad?”

Kan Ze chuckled lightly, waving his sleeve and shaking his head: “Since that person left, when hasn’t he been mad?”

“But this is completely unlike his previous manner,” the Queen Mother cupped her cheeks. “So sour.”

Kan Ze laughed more heartily: “Seeing him so desperate brings me some joy. The mortal hatred for killing me—this now settles it with him.”