The Place Where He Was

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Immortal Court.

Deep within the curtained space, Qin Zhaoer's figure, who had also been asleep for a long time, suddenly trembled slightly with her eyelashes.

The next moment, her eyes slowly opened.

At first, his eyes were still somewhat dazed, staring unfocusedly at the top of the tent, as if he had not yet come back to his senses from a dream.

After a long while, the scattered particles gradually coalesced.

"... You're back."

In her soft murmur, it was hard to tell whether she felt relieved or disappointed.

But a single, glistening tear, without warning, slid silently from the corner of her eye and disappeared into her hair.

It seems to be the latter.

The young maid who was standing guard was the first to notice that her mistress had woken up. She shuddered and, without thinking of anything else, hurriedly got up and tiptoed out, calling the other maids in as well.

Before long, several figures stood with their hands at their sides in front of the bed.

Even the snow-white Spirit Fox, which was coiled on the jade couch, sat up, its eyes timidly gazing into the tent, not daring to move.

This master's temper is notorious throughout the Immortal Court.

Arrogant, domineering, and capricious. If you accidentally anger her, you might be punished by kneeling, or worse... the consequences are unimaginable.

So at this moment, although everyone had arrived, no one dared to speak first. They didn't even dare to breathe, just waiting for the leader to speak.

As a senior servant, he was used to his master's temperament and was more composed than others. He also knew that he should take the lead in this matter.

After regaining her composure, she took half a step forward and spoke softly.

"Miss, you're finally awake."

This was said very cautiously.

In truth, no one knows what the young lady was doing while she was asleep.

Whether it was seclusion, healing, or something else, no one knew, and no one dared to ask.

Everyone assumed that their master had gone into seclusion, so they offered their congratulations.

"Congratulations on your successful completion of your seclusion, Miss!"

As soon as he finished speaking, all the maids in the room held their breath and lowered their heads, waiting for the first order from their ancestor after he opened his eyes—most likely, to find fault with someone again.

However.

Qin Zhaoer was on the couch, did not speak, but slowly propped herself up.

Once I sat up straight, I belatedly realized what was happening and gently wiped the corner of my eye.

There was a slightly cool dampness on the back of my fingers.

Looking at the tear stains, she paused, a wistful smile curving her lips.

The maidservant rushed forward, carefully supporting her and placing a soft pillow behind her.

Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her snow-white shoulders and neck like a waterfall; her loosely draped cloud-like gauze nightgown accentuated her graceful figure, and her languid awakening exuded an indescribable allure.

Even without makeup, she possessed an unparalleled beauty that could captivate all beings.

But the first question uttered by this stunningly beautiful woman stunned everyone in the room.

"Where is Old... Qin Wangchuan?"

"Is he... awake yet?"

The sound was soft, gentle, and complex.

There was melancholy, sadness, a dazed feeling as if waking from a dream, and a lingering attachment that was hard to define.

His melancholy appearance was a far cry from his former arrogance and domineering nature.

All the maids in the room were stunned.

Is this still the master they recognize?

"Reporting to... Miss," a maidservant replied timidly, "His Highness Divine Son has emerged from seclusion."

"You've made it out of quarantine."

Qin Zhaoer responded softly, her eyelids drooping slightly.

"That's good..."

"That's good..."

As she was talking, she suddenly burst out laughing.

How foolish.

I knew it all along.

He knew it was just a trial, and he knew that even if he died, he would return here unharmed.

But on that day, in that small courtyard, I saw his cold body.

She still cried.

She cried so hard, so heartbreakingly, as if she were truly separated from him Celestial Person.

Even knowing it's fake, I still can't stop myself.

Tell me, what else could this be but a fool?

The maid glanced up furtively, a strange sense of surprise rising within her.

The young lady seems... a little different today.

His usual aloofness and ever-present hostility had vanished, replaced by a gentle warmth that made him almost unrecognizable.

This surprise also caught Qin Zhaoer's eye.

Normally, if the maids dared to show such offensive looks, they would be severely punished, perhaps even physically.

But at this moment, she couldn't even be bothered to glance at him. She just sat there blankly, her gaze fixed on the shimmering light outside the tent, her thoughts drifting far, far away.

The Ten Directions Immortal Court.

This place is Holy Land that countless people dream of entering, a place of supreme glory.

I'm home. I should be happy.

But for some reason, upon returning this time, I felt not a trace of joy, but rather an indescribable sense of melancholy.

She wanted to stay a little longer, to stay in that place.

... No.

As the thought crossed her mind, Qin Zhaoer's eyes suddenly sharpened.

Stop lying to yourself.

What I truly can't bear to leave behind is never the place itself, but rather—the place where he was.

The moment the thought crossed my mind, the lingering sense of loss in my heart suddenly dissipated.

He raised his hand.

"You may all leave."

The maids, as if granted a pardon, quietly withdrew, leaving only one person in the vast bedchamber.

Qin Zhaoer nestled back into the soft brocade quilt and slowly closed her eyes.

'Since we can't go back to the past... then let me linger a little longer.'

'Just for a little while.'

Clinging to the lingering afterglow, she wanted to go back for one last look.

Back to that small town.

Back in that little courtyard.

The curtains hung down, blocking out the light streaming into the room.

In the darkness, the small town paved with bluestone, the creaking courtyard gate, and the figure that always watched her with a faint gaze gradually became clearer before her eyes.

In a daze, it felt as if I had never left.

The Qin Family's Small World, the Realm of True Dragons.

In the heart of the True Dragon Realm, within the Ancestral Dragon Palace, there is a cultivation ground specially set aside for Dragon Scale.

It was a barren, reddish-brown wasteland, with several blazing suns hanging in the sky, scorching it year-round, where not a blade of grass could grow.

At this moment, a fierce and earth-shattering battle is raging on the scorched earth.

A High Antiquity ferocious beast, as large as a mountain and covered in dark scales, roared and lunged at the figure.

The one that was pounced on and bitten was a tall and stunningly beautiful figure.

Her white and blue Heavenly Qilin Dress billowed as she Movement Method, the ribbons around her flowing and fluttering. She weaved and darted among the fangs and claws of the enormous creature, a thrilling yet indescribably beautiful sight.

It was Dragon Scale in her mature, older sister form.

Golden light flowed around her, and every punch and kick carried the dragon's Dragon Might could shatter mountains.

Those golden eyes held no trace of murderous intent, only an almost indifferent calm, giving them the upper hand.

At the same time.

A figure stood quietly in the stands not far away.

If we were to describe the Heavenly Qilin Dress worn by Dragon Scale on the scorched earth, it would be a stunningly beautiful, awe-inspiring, and dazzling display of celestial light.

This figure, then, represents the complete opposite extreme.

She wore a long, dark black dress. In the depths of the ink, fine scales shimmered with the light, reflecting a faint, watery hue, as if living creatures were moving among the hem of her dress. She was serene, composed, and dignified.

One is radiant, the other aloof; one is open, the other reserved, like the light of day and the abyss, each occupying its own territory.

Once one could clearly see the face revealed beneath that skirt, it was even more captivating.

With skin as white as snow and eyes that were cool and aloof, she possessed a breathtaking beauty, yet exuded an air of dignified indifference that kept strangers at bay, making people hesitant to look at her a second time.

It was none other than Long Yue, the Sacred Heir Fate Warden of the True Dragon Tribe.

She gazed at the figure flitting across the scorched earth, and her usually aloof eyes unconsciously curved into a smile.

All the hardship these past few days has paid off; this girl is truly getting stronger and stronger.

(Isn't the comparison here a bit impressive? Others might write something like "one is ice, the other is fire," or "a world of ice and fire," etc.)

But the way it's written—one blue and white, the other jet black—isn't that kind of unbeatable?