The night was quiet.
Ling Xian sat beneath a towering pine tree, bathed in moonlight. The breeze carried a soft whisper of ancient memories, stirring something deep within him. His eyes were closed, but his mind wandered far beyond the Fallen Sky Realm—back to the time when he was known not just as a cultivator, but a deity.
He remembered the faces of the women who had once stood beside him, whose beauty was unmatched, whose strength had shaken heavens. Each of them had touched his soul in a way no ordinary person ever could.
Goddess Yaoxi, the Divine Star Maiden. A true goddess born of celestial essence, worshipped by billions. Her cultivation surpassed even his at one point. Cold and distant to the world, but fiercely affectionate in private. They had once ruled twin star realms as consorts.
Xue Lian, the Ice Phoenix of the Glacial Palace—elegant, untouchable. Her soul was cold as the deepest winter, yet she melted only for him. Together, they meditated for centuries in frozen solitude, transcending mortal understanding.
Qin Yue, now the leader of the Myriad Elixirs Hall—an influential organization renowned for its mastery of pills and potions across realms. Spirited and wise, she had loved him without condition and was the only one to willingly share him with others.
Yue Lianhua, the Lotus Witch of the Nine Springs—a master of illusions and charm arts. Her dual cultivation technique complemented his perfectly, and together they weaved dreams into reality.
Feng Ruochen, a sword maiden who had reached the peak of martial dao. Her every movement was a dance of death, her blade an extension of her will. She had fought beside him in countless celestial wars.
Chi Yeyan, the Demon Empress of the Abyssal Flame Domain. Her infernal might and burning soul allowed her to dominate the demon realm with unmatched fury. Born from darkness and flame, she was a being of raw power and unshakable will. Her beauty was otherworldly, her aura oppressive. She wielded darkness not just in battle, but in her soul. Yet, it was this very darkness that drew Ling Xian to her. When she allowed her guard down, he glimpsed the fierce, unwavering loyalty hidden beneath the layers of ruthless dominance.
Lin Xianni, the Master of the Thousand Arrays Pavilion—a peerless formation master whose constructs could trap even saints. Reserved and mysterious, her intellect had earned her a place in his circle as a trusted tactician and lover.
Zhao Feiyun, the enigmatic leader of the Veilheart Sect, a sect known for cultivating through yin-yang harmony and dual cultivation. Her understanding of balance helped stabilize his cultivation in more ways than one.
And then there was Yu Ruoxi.
She had been the last one—powerful, proud, and arrogant. The one he failed to save. She'd been captured by their enemies during the ambush. Her voice still echoed in his soul till now as parting with him.
He clenched his fists.
"I'll find you again," he whispered into the dark. "All of you. Even if heaven collapses, I will bring you back."
His eyes opened, gleaming with the fire of determination.
But now, in this new life, someone else had entered the web of fate.
Yan Ruyin sat by a quiet stream not far from where Ling Xian rested. The water glistened under the moonlight, but her eyes were not on the ripples. They were lost in thoughts.
Who is he really?
From the moment he saved her, something shifted in her heart. She had never allowed any man to get close—not even those from her own sect. Her constitution made her a magnet for greedy cultivators seeking benefits. As a core disciple of the Heavenly Lotus Pavilion, she had cultivated aloofness like a shield.
But this man—this outer disciple with a fake name and mysterious aura—he had shattered her distance.
His presence was magnetic. Not just his looks, though those alone could make goddesses swoon. No, it was the way he moved, the way he spoke, the power he kept hidden like a blade in the dark. His confidence wasn't loud—it was absolute.
He didn't beg. He didn't flatter. He simply stood in front of me when death came, without hesitation.
She brushed her fingers against her lips. She could still feel the wind from his sword swing, still hear the pulse in her ears when he turned and said, "Back away."
Mo Ling, she thought again.
But that name didn't suit him. It was too plain. Too small for someone like him.
And then there was the proposition he made—not out of lust or manipulation, but necessity. And yet, it still weighed heavy on her.
He hadn't demanded anything. He had told her the truth, laid bare the risk, and asked nothing in return.
She looked up toward the moon, heart unsure but no longer untouched.
This man… he's dangerous, she thought. Not just to my body… but to my heart.
And somehow, that didn't scare her anymore.
To be continued...