The little girl seemed rather vexed.
Ding Ling was puzzled:
"My cultivation and abilities have grown stronger, so it's only natural that I can hear you, right? But judging from your expression, why do you seem so troubled?"
"It isn't normal."
The little girl spoke in a crisp, childlike voice:
"My mother said that ordinary immortals can't hear me. But you can. How strange!"
"Immortal?"
Ding Ling was astonished. "Who is your mother?"
"You've seen her before."
"I have?!"
Ding Ling was confused.
"The heavenly maiden reflected in the stone stele's image a few years ago was my mother!"
The little girl's voice was sweet and crisp, like a cute two- or three-year-old speaking, with a childish lilt.
Whenever she mentioned her mother, the love and dependence in her voice were almost thick enough to become tangible.
"A few years ago?"
Ding Ling remembered.
"You mean that peerless beauty who buried the Sky Ladder, planted the Everlasting Tree sapling, and erected the stone stele?!"
"That's her."
There was joy in the little girl's voice:
"You really do remember my mother."
"Who is your mother?"
Ding Ling asked.
"Her name is Shen Shanhai."
"Shen Shanhai?"
Ding Ling had never heard such a name before. Even after searching through ancient texts and novels, it was difficult to find anything. As expected, Shen Shanhai was definitely not a Native character of the Martial World or the Xianxia World.
Alternatively, she might simply be someone he didn't know, or a figure beyond his imagination.
"Then what's your name?"
"I don't have a name."
The little girl sounded somewhat dejected:
"But when my mother buried me, she seemed to call me Xiao Shanhai. I don't remember clearly, though. Still, I've decided to use that name."
"Xiao Shanhai. Do you remember anything else about your mother?