The sounds around Huang Rang’s ears ceased. She waited a long while longer before finally opening her eyes cautiously.

Di Yiqiu stood right before her, covered head to toe in stone dust. Through his disheveled hair, only those eyes remained bright and sharp, emanating a chilling light that seized one’s very soul.

“Di Yiqiu?” Huang Rang called to him softly again. She reached out her hand and gently cupped his chin. “Look at me. I’ve come back.”

After another long while, Di Yiqiu finally extended his hand. He first touched her nose tip with his fingertip, then pinched her cheek. Huang Rang grasped his hand and said, “It’s not a dream, Di Yiqiu. It’s not a dream.”

“You…” Di Yiqiu attempted to speak his first word, but the rest of what he wanted to say hesitated on his lips, unable to emerge.

For Huang Rang, this separation had been but an instant between life and death, over in the blink of an eye. But for him, it had been a lingering death lasting thirty-seven years. His beast transformation had gradually intensified. He no longer approached crowds, no longer conversed with others. He disliked bright light, so he carved stone statues all day long. When tired, he would choose a cave and sleep in solitude.

Huang Rang gently wiped away the grime on his cheeks. Though she was clearly smiling, tears rolled down her face: “It’s all right now, it’s all right.”

She opened her arms, wanting to embrace Di Yiqiu, but was choked into coughing fits by the dust that scattered up.

“I thought when we met again this time, there would be flowers blooming everywhere, butterflies circling around. I never expected…” Huang Rang said between uncontrollable coughs, “it would still be this wretched.”

Huang Rang thought carefully back and realized that all the romance she had idealized seemed to have been given to Xie Hongchen. Meanwhile, this person beside her lived with her amidst the mundane world, surrounded everywhere by everyday necessities.

She carefully wiped clean a small patch on Di Yiqiu’s face, then pressed her red lips to it, giving him a kiss: “But I like it.”

At this moment, the Jianzheng took out a storage magical treasure and rummaged through it.

Huang Rang asked, “What are you looking for? After being apart for so long, you don’t seem very excited…”

As she chattered on, she said, “Tell me what it is and I’ll help you look.”

Di Yiqiu didn’t speak, but retrieved a scroll painting. He handed the scroll to Huang Rang. She took it and slowly unrolled it.

Di Yiqiu’s skill in painting went without saying. The painting depicted a jade-green lake. In the lake was an island, on the island maple leaves blazed crimson, surrounded by trees that embraced a small courtyard. The courtyard had white walls and black tiles, with pines and bamboo.

There was even a swing in the back courtyard!

“This is…” Before Huang Rang’s words could finish, Di Yiqiu formed a hand seal and everything before her suddenly went dark!

Huang Rang heard the sound of water. She opened her eyes to find herself standing on a path paved with decorative bricks. Beside her, jade-green water rose in mist and fallen leaves drifted down. She caught one in her hand and discovered it was a maple leaf.

The small courtyard ahead was nestled amid crimson maple groves, so pristine it seemed removed from the mortal world.

Behind her, breathing approached against the nape of her neck. Huang Rang quickly turned around—Di Yiqiu stood right behind her.

Time seemed to freeze. After a long while, he finally said, “Before, everything was always rushed, and official duties were heavy. I always made you live poorly. After you left, I forged this Void-Like Realm.”

He raised his gaze slightly to meet Huang Rang’s eyes and slowly said, “I kept thinking… what if… you could come back?”

Huang Rang rushed into his embrace like a swallow returning to the forest.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what this world becomes. The wretchedness of mundane worldly affairs doesn’t matter either. As long as I’m in his arms… Huang Rang’s tears fell like rain.

The dust on Di Yiqiu’s body stained Huang Rang’s pale golden dress. He scooped Huang Rang up horizontally and slowly walked into the small courtyard.

The courtyard had decorative rocks and green bamboo, pavilions arranged here and there—small and exquisite. Before Huang Rang could examine it closely, Di Yiqiu was already carrying her, hurrying into the bedroom. Outside the bedroom, a hot spring pool had actually been channeled in.

The pool surface was laid with white jade, luxurious everywhere.

Huang Rang looked at it strangely and said, “These are things you incorporated using painting-array fusion techniques, right?”

Di Yiqiu hummed in acknowledgment and set her down on the ground. Huang Rang was still puzzled and said, “It’s too extravagant, doesn’t quite seem like it came from your hand.”

“After Yuanrong Tower was demolished, it left behind many废materials.” Di Yiqiu spoke without evasion. “Quite a few of them were still usable.”

He spoke frankly, and Huang Rang suddenly understood: “That makes sense.”

Di Yiqiu thought for a moment and asked, “Do you find it inauspicious? It can be torn down and rebuilt—it’s not difficult.”

“Why rebuild?” As Huang Rang unfastened the tie at his waist, she said matter-of-factly, “To deal with Shi Wenyu, you were gravely injured and I nearly lost my life. Taking some of his discarded floor tiles and wood—isn’t that perfectly justified?”

Di Yiqiu deeply agreed. By the time he reacted, Huang Rang had already removed his dust-coated outer garments.

She was about to remove his inner clothing too when Di Yiqiu blocked her hands. After quite some time, he said, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh.” Huang Rang agreed but stood there without moving. Di Yiqiu looked at her for a long time before finally saying, “Could you… go out first?”

Huang Rang stared at him with dark eyes for a long while, then suddenly pounced forward and forcefully pulled off his middle garment: “You wish! Today I absolutely must scrub five basins of black water off you! No wait—six basins!”

Di Yiqiu wanted to dodge but feared she would fall, so he could only let her pounce. The two fell backwards into the hot spring jade pool together.

Huang Rang chased after Di Yiqiu, desperately trying to help him bathe.

But Di Yiqiu was avoiding her. Huang Rang didn’t know why, but she could clearly feel it. Di Yiqiu frowned and said again, “I’ll do it myself, all right?”

Huang Rang pretended not to notice his stiffness and said lightly, “Fine then. You wash up properly. Are there clean clothes here? I’ll get them for you.”

But Di Yiqiu only said, “There are some in the storage treasure. Go look around. After I bathe, I’ll naturally come find you.”

Tsk, how cold.

Huang Rang said, “All right then.”

Having said this, she turned and left, preparing to explore this small island within the painting.

Only after she left did Di Yiqiu finally remove his inner clothing. In the steaming mist, he examined his own body. His right arm and chest were already covered with a patch of jade-green serpent scales!

This was… the price of bodily beast transformation. Whenever his emotions fluctuated, these serpent scales constantly reminded him of what kind of thing he had become.

Di Yiqiu submerged his entire body in the water. A moment later, a giant serpent rolled and undulated up and down in the pool.

During the years Huang Rang was away, he had even begun to grow accustomed to this serpent body.

But… could she grow accustomed to it?

Huang Rang didn’t understand why Di Yiqiu refused to let her approach. Of course it couldn’t be because he was too dirty.

She walked about on this small island and observed that it wasn’t extravagantly luxurious everywhere—Di Yiqiu had never been a superficial person. He had simply appropriated some discarded materials from the imperial palace to forge this realm.

But the more Huang Rang looked, the more delighted she became. Every blade of grass, every tree, every body of water, every grain of sand—all were perfectly to her liking.

She took a deep breath and, facing the jade-green water, cupped her hands into a megaphone shape: “I’m back!”

The jade-green water responded to her in layer upon layer of echoes. Delighted like a little bird, she shouted again, “Di Yiqiu, I’m back—”

Her voice spread through the painting and faintly transmitted outside it.

In the mortal world, gentle breezes blew, tree leaves swayed lightly, common people sowed seeds in the spring sunshine, and all things flourished with vitality.

Only one person had already walked for a very long, very long time.

Before Shi Wenyu stretched endless yellow sand. Around him should have been a river. But this river had long since dried up. Fine, soft yellow sand paved this entire world. With every breath he took, he felt his lungs fill with dust.

“Hmph! A mere Time Prison, that’s all. You think you can trap this venerable one?!” His eyes were sinister as he constantly contemplated ways to leave this place.

He surveyed his surroundings and said, “If this realm had succeeded, how would it differ from the real mortal world? It’s just that this venerable one failed…” He refused to admit defeat, murmuring, “It’s merely a small failure, that’s all. As long as this venerable one breaks through your cage, let’s see what abilities you have left.”

He desperately talked to himself, as if doing so could prove he was still calm.

This world was devoid of people. He had searched through every grain of yellow sand, but there was nothing inside. This was precisely the world he had once created.

Originally, when Xie Hongchen had completely taken control of Yuanrong Tower, he had intended to enter the tower to compete for it. However, at the instant of entering the tower, time shifted, and he was permanently detained within this realm.

And this desertified realm was even more desolate and barren than the future境realm that Huang Rang had visited.

Apart from sand, there wasn’t even a single skeleton.

Shi Wenyu explored toward the world’s borders again and again. But each time he was about to step out of that dried riverbed, time would reset. His entire person would return to the center of this realm, then begin another trek.

“That Di Yiqiu boy could break through a Time Prison—I have no reason why I can’t get past it.” He murmured, “I can do this. I definitely can!”

But in this vast world, empty and silent, there was no one who could respond to him.

Too exhausted to continue forward, Shi Wenyu sat down on the ground, gripping the yellow sand in his hands. Under the direct sunlight, because there was no water, his hands had already cracked. Yellow sand seeped into the wounds. He began to feel pain and thirst.

The taste of water deprivation—he hadn’t experienced it in many years. But now, they were like the hands of demons, slowly tearing at his flesh. He could only stand up and walk step by step toward the dried riverbed.

Just as he was about to step out of the riverbed, time reset and he returned to the world’s center. Yet amid the yellow sand everywhere, he repeated the cycle of walking or withering to death.

He gripped the yellow sand and began to laugh. Then slowly, he didn’t know what his own mouth was saying.

Sometimes he endured the scorching sun and dragged his exhausted body to the boundary. Only this way could he temporarily return to his state when he first fell into this place, temporarily not troubled by hunger and thirst.

But this comfort vanished in an instant. The remaining time was all his sentence.

Shi Wenyu knew he had been trapped by the Heavenly Dao.

But so what if he knew?

Yuanrong Tower had been destroyed. He cycled infinitely in this realm, forever and ever, unable to attain liberation.

“Kill me, kill me—” From within the endless wind and sand came shrill screams. But gradually, even these screams began to grow hoarse. Wind and sand burrowed into his mouth and nose, obscured his vision. He refused to close his eyes, so his eyes were invaded by the yellow sand.

—He went blind.

He could only grope forward step by step like this, either dying of thirst and starvation, or walking for eternity.

“Let me go, let me go—” He didn’t know how much time had passed. All along, there had been only the sound of wind in his ears, along with his own wailing or pleas for mercy.

Such tragic sounds—Shi Wenyu didn’t know how many times he had heard them before.

Only at this moment did he understand the despair within them.

“Just kill me.” He looked up at the sky with both eyes and murmured.

Yellow sand rubbed in his eyes, and he shed a trail of bloody tears. The sunlight fiercely scorched the earth. Time slowly passed by him, refusing to respond.