Chapter One: Encounter—A Captivating Divine Face

Heaven and Earth were once united, a realm of primordial chaos. After a thousand years, the worlds of Gods, Demons, and Mortals were divided. In the early days of turmoil, a figure sought to unite the three realms, bringing calamity to all. The Way of Heaven struck him with sixty-four bolts of divine lightning, yet he ultimately escaped.

Fearing his return, the Three Realms gathered their essence of frost and snow to create a primordial spirit, giving it form and making it sovereign above all. She was tasked with finding the source of chaos and destroying him, but due to certain causes, she was banished to the mortal world for a thousand years of reincarnation, before finally reclaiming her place as the chief deity of the God Realm.

Outside the residence, a man stood with a dozen attendants, while many others bustled in and out, maintaining this anxious vigil for three days and nights. At dawn, a young girl was born, and an extraordinary phenomenon occurred—the Heavenly Realm, which had not seen snow for a millennium, was suddenly blanketed in falling snow.

“Congratulations to the War God Qianfeng on receiving the Phoenix Essence,” referring to the newborn girl.

Qianfeng hurried inside, worried for his wife. Upon entering, he saw his wife Lingxi on the bed, weary-faced, while the little girl lay quietly beside her, neither crying nor fussing.

“Lingxi, are you feeling any discomfort?” he asked, gently helping her up and channeling divine power into her to ease her fatigue.

“It’s nothing, I feel much better already.”

“Our daughter is truly mischievous, making you suffer for three days and nights,” Tianxu glanced at the infant.

“And why don’t you mention I carried her for ten years, enduring suffering all that time?” Lingxi cast Tianxu a reproachful look.

“Our daughter was born with a divine body—naturally, she is different,” Qianfeng observed the faint white glow surrounding the girl and the frost-flower mark on her brow.

“A divine body?” Lingxi asked, puzzled.

“Indeed, a divine body. With such powerful parents, wouldn’t it be unnatural for the child to be weak?” Tianxu laughed, lightly tapping Lingxi’s nose.

“In the end, you’re just praising yourself,” Lingxi brushed his hand away, turning her head and smiling gently.

“Lingxi, if you smile, let it be for me, otherwise I’ll be unhappy,” he said, gently turning her face back toward him.

The swaddled child suddenly wailed. Qianfeng panicked, not knowing what to do, and was mocked by Lingxi.

“Give her to me.”

“You shouldn’t tire yourself, let me handle it,” without waiting for Lingxi’s reply, Qianfeng carried the baby out of the residence.

Soon, a rumor spread: the mighty War God Qianfeng, holding a child, was at a loss, asking everywhere how to care for her, only to eventually return her to Lingxi, the Divine Lord.

...

Forty thousand years later.

A line of attendants passed by. A mischievous figure hid in the corner, waving her jade hand secretly, sending a flurry of snowflakes onto their heads. The sudden chill startled them, causing them to drop what they carried. The playful figure burst out in laughter, drawing their attention.

They saw a girl dressed in blue, her raven hair tied with a blue ribbon, a frost-flower mark between her brows, her beauty unmatched, her demeanor mischievous.

Seeing it was Qianfeng’s daughter, Lord Qinglan, they quietly paid their respects. She was an Immortal Lord, while they were only minor immortals. Her rank was high; they dared not offend her.

Besides, it wasn’t the first time they’d been showered with snowflakes, so they paid it little mind.

In a moment, Qinglan vanished from where she stood and appeared elsewhere, only to accidentally tumble into the Lotus Pond of the God Realm with a splash.

Qinglan immediately lifted her head, her brows tightly knit in displeasure, and soared onto the bridge above the pond, fuming. When had she ever been so embarrassed? Unhappy, she snapped her fingers, and the vast Lotus Pond froze over.

“Hmph, now I won’t fall in again.” With that, she walked a few steps and disappeared, as if nothing had ever happened.

After causing more mischief, she returned to Qingxuan Hall, where Lord Qingxuan sat upright, his hair white but brows black and unwrinkled, dressed in robes of deep green, his eyes tightly closed.

“Master, when will I ascend to become a Divine Lord?” Qinglan asked, unwilling to concede.

“When your cultivation is sufficient and the time is right, you may ascend,” Qingxuan replied calmly.

“Look at Sister Yuzhi, she’s already ascended,” Qinglan pouted.

“You silly girl, Yuzhi is more than ninety thousand years older than you. And you, ascending to Immortal Lord at forty thousand years—how do you think your master feels, stuck at Divine Lord after hundreds of thousands of years?” Qingxuan opened his eyes, stood up, and spoke with mock indignation.

“Master, is there anything more to teach? I’ve learned it all, and explored the God Realm completely,” Qinglan said, a little proud.

“There’s nothing left. What should be taught has been taught—and what shouldn’t, I’ve taught anyway. You can look for some ancient texts and practice minor spells if you like,” Qingxuan said helplessly.

“Minor spells?” She immediately cast one, her face changing to resemble Yuzhi’s.

“Disguise technique! You truly are gifted. Your master can teach you no more,” Qingxuan said, amazed.

“Master, you always talk about the Demon Realm and Mortal Realm. I want to visit them,” Qinglan clung to his arm, acting spoiled.

“Everyone in the God Realm dotes on you. The other two realms—better not go. I fear you’ll turn them upside down with your mischief,” Qingxuan thought of her past antics and shook his head, most worried she might be bullied, for though mischievous, she had spent these tens of thousands of years diligently cultivating and was yet untried by the world.

“That’s not true! I was practicing spells,” Qinglan protested at his assessment.

Qingxuan looked at her, unconvinced. Having spent tens of thousands of years with her, how could he not know her nature?

“Take this. If you visit the other two realms, bring it with you. It can alter your aura,” Qingxuan produced a white jade pendant.

“I can conceal my aura myself—why bring it?” Qinglan asked, puzzled.

“I worry you’ll forget who you are once there. This will remind you not to use your powers. Remember: in the Mortal Realm, never use divine power lest you suffer backlash; in the Demon Realm, best not use spells either, to avoid stirring up trouble,” Qingxuan said, tying the pendant to Qinglan’s waist.

“I know, Master!” With those words, Qinglan vanished.

Qingxuan looked helplessly at the spot where she disappeared, unsure if he had done the right thing.

Mortal Realm.

It was deep autumn in the Mortal Realm. The wind was gentle, leaves fell everywhere, drifting on rivers like tiny boats, but the street called Leisure Lane remained bustling.

A pale blue figure bounced along the street, gazing around with curiosity.

Just then, a man carrying bundles of grass walked by, strings of red fruit encased in a crystal-clear glaze, calling out, “Candied hawthorn for sale!”

“Candied hawthorn?” Qinglan called out to him.

“Miss, would you like to buy some?” The vendor stopped.

“Yes, one please,” she said, taking a moment to ponder. This was the Mortal Realm, perhaps different from the God Realm. “Do I need to exchange anything for it?”

“Just three coins will do,” the vendor answered kindly.

“I don’t know what coins look like. Could you see if I have anything to trade?” Qinglan scratched her head, smiling apologetically.

“Never mind, take it as a gift—a good deed,” the vendor said kindly, turning away.

“People of the Mortal Realm are so nice,” Qinglan praised, munching the candied hawthorn.

She strolled leisurely along the lively street, thinking the Mortal Realm was fun and lively—she might as well stay a few days. It would only be a stick of incense’s time; surely her master would help cover for her.

Unexpectedly, she came upon a crowd gathered around. Curious, she approached, seeing a woman, gaunt and sallow, leaning against an elderly lady. From what people said, the old woman was ill, and the younger one begged passersby to sell herself to cure her mother.

In the God Realm, people rarely fell ill; Qinglan was unsure what to do. Thinking it over, she decided to use a spell—backlash wouldn’t destroy her soul, after all, so she reasoned to herself.

Just as she was about to step forward, another figure moved faster. Dressed in bamboo-green robes, he approached and took the old woman’s pulse. Unfortunately, her heart was weak, and her throat clogged with phlegm—she wouldn’t live long, and he could do nothing.

“How is she? Can she be saved?” Qinglan asked as the man was leaving.

He shook his head, meaning there was no hope, and turned away. Qinglan watched him leave, saw him salute a carriage on the street, and unexpectedly, the wind lifted the curtain, revealing his face.

“Who would have thought such beauty existed in the mortal world,” Qinglan mused. She casually used her divine power to heal the old woman, then walked over to greet him.

“Sir, please wait!” Qinglan called urgently as the carriage prepared to depart.