The Time Has Come

When Shen Qingzhou returned and pushed open the door, a faint scent of cooked food washed over him.

Su Yu was dozing beside the earthen kang, a half-mended garment resting on her knees.

At some point, her hair had turned completely snow-white. Though her face was still lovely, it now carried traces of advancing age.

A few years were but a fleeting moment to cultivators, yet they had left clear marks upon Su Yu, as though she had truly become an ordinary mortal.

"Mm—"

Perhaps Shen Qingzhou's movements had awakened her. Su Yu's lashes trembled lightly as she slowly opened her eyes.

She looked around in confusion, then her gaze settled on Shen Qingzhou.

She picked up the garment from her knees and instinctively held it against him to measure it, muttering, "Good, the size hasn't changed. It still fits—"

Those once-crafty eyes seemed veiled in a thin mist.

Suddenly, she asked with great seriousness, "What was your name again?"

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Shen Qingzhou only felt as though something had lodged in his throat, leaving it dry and astringent.

Looking at this senior sister before him, white-haired and unable even to remember his name, unspeakable emotions surged within him.

In the end, he tugged at the corner of his mouth and answered calmly, "Shen Qingzhou."

Several more years passed. Shen Qingzhou's mana had long since been worn away, reducing him to a mortal, but his physical body only grew stronger.

Hunting, martial practice, farming—life continued in orderly fashion.

He no longer felt anxious. Instead, he quietly improved himself, tempering and polishing his body.

The Eight Forms Demon-Shaking Fist had long reached the point where practice made perfect. Demon after demon died beneath his hands, while his body continuously advanced under the enhancement of the