This Is a Matter of the Great Way

The night wind swept across the top of the tower, carrying a chill and a crisp freshness.

The stars were still twinkling in the sky, and the moon still hung at the edge of heaven.

In the distance, the countless lights of the Divine Capital remained brilliant, like the reflection of a galaxy of stars.

But Luo Zhao could no longer see any of it. She only knew that she had to do something.

No.

She absolutely had to do something.

The thought circled through Luo Zhao’s mind like an eagle finally spreading its wings.

It wheeled slowly through the sky above her consciousness, casting down a vast shadow.

The shadow enveloped Luo Zhao, yet instead of frightening her, it brought her peace.

Because she finally had a direction. She finally knew what she had to do.

The overwhelming despair and helplessness she had felt moments ago had, in this instant, all been transformed into steel tempered in fire.

It pressed heavily against Luo Zhao’s chest, making it difficult for her to breathe, yet it also left her clearer-minded than ever before.

More importantly, it shattered every last hesitation and uncertainty into dust, scattering them to the wind.

Luo Zhao’s heart had always been soft toward Gu Chengyin.

So soft that she could accept all his offenses, all his transgressions, even all the ways he bullied her.

But that heart had been hard at first—hard enough to disregard any person or thing.

It was only through his repeated rescues, assistance, guidance, protection, and instruction that it had inevitably softened, little by little.

Even water droplets could pierce stone, let alone people who spent their days and nights together.

That was why Luo Zhao had never been able to make up her mind.

Should she treat Gu Chengyin the way he had treated her at the beginning?

Even if it was the most effective method, even if it could grant her everything she wanted.

But Luo Zhao could not bear to do it.

She could not bear to use such a method against Gu Chengyin.

It was a woman’s instinct. No matter how deeply she had been hurt, when faced with the person she loved, she would still instinctively protect him.

Yet after learning that Gu Chengyin would leave once he broke through to the Core Formation realm, Luo Zhao finally made up her mind, without the slightest hesitation remaining.

Only, she could not let Gu Chengyin know.

Nor could she let Lin Qingyan or Shangguan Yunying know.

Luo Zhao silently recited the names of the three people in her heart, one by one.

It was as though she were counting the enemies on a battlefield, or confirming every risk that needed to be avoided.

Gu Chengyin was far too clever; no subtle abnormality could escape his notice.

Lin Qingyan’s intuition was terrifying. She did not even need to see something to sense what was hidden beneath the surface.

Although Shangguan Yunying was not as perceptive as the other two, she had been by Luo Zhao’s side for far too long and understood her far too well.

Therefore, she had to be careful.

She had to be more careful than ever.

She had to hide every thought, every plan, and every unspoken, impermissible desire in the deepest corner of her heart.

Then, with the forbearance she had honed, she had to wrap them layer by layer.

She had to bind them up tightly, leaving no opening and allowing not even the slightest trace of their presence to escape.

Fortunately, it was not too late for anything.

The Taihe War had not yet begun.

Gu Chengyin had not yet broken through to the Core Formation realm.

He would remain in the Divine Capital for some time yet. Perhaps not long, but long enough for her to prepare.

Luo Zhao still had time, still had an opportunity, and still had a chance to turn the tables.

As long as Gu Chengyin had not left, as long as he remained within her sight.

As long as she could still see him every day, hear him, and feel his presence.

Then she had not lost. She had not lost everything.

Besides, Gu Chengyin could never suspect her.

Because she was the most obedient Good Doggy.

A Good Doggy would never harm its master.

She only wanted to remain by her master’s side forever.

This was her strongest armor, and her sharpest weapon.

Thus, her rich experience in enduring and concealing her feelings, built up time and again, hid every change in Luo Zhao’s thoughts.

She pressed all her emotions into her heart, swallowed every grievance, and shed every tear in the lonely depths of the night.

Her face always wore that same cold, proud, and aloof expression.

No one could see her joy or anger, fathom her depths, or find any weakness they could use against her.

This was a skill Gu Chengyin himself had personally trained into her.

At this moment, that skill was useful once again.

Even with Gu Chengyin holding Luo Zhao in his arms, even with one arm wrapped around her waist, even with her face pressed against his chest.

Even though she was close enough to hear every beat of his heart.

Gu Chengyin still noticed nothing amiss.

More precisely, reason had tried to sound an alarm, but his Dao heart had vetoed it outright.

It had even slapped reason across the face and warned it, “This concerns the Great Dao. Children shouldn’t meddle.”

So what Gu Chengyin felt was her grievance, her tears, and the unconscious force with which Luo Zhao’s fingers clenched the front of his robes.

He understood those emotions. He truly did.

After all, Gu Chengyin could leave. Lin Qingyan and Shangguan Yunying could leave as well. But Luo Zhao could not.

When all the people closest to her had left, Luo Zhao might appear to possess everything, but in truth, she would be alone.

It was cruel, but that was reality.

Gu Chengyin wanted to say something to comfort her, but the words turned once on the tip of his tongue before he swallowed them back down.

Because he knew that at a time like this, any comfort would be pale and powerless, and any promise uncertain.

Every word would be like a worthless promissory note, with no telling when it might be honored.

Yet Gu Chengyin still spoke.

He did not want Luo Zhao to think that he did not care. He did not want her to feel that she was merely a plaything.

“I’ll still come back when I have the time.”

Luo Zhao merely gave a soft hum in response.

Both she and Gu Chengyin knew that no one could say what the future held.

When would he have the time?

A month later?

A year later?

Ten years later?

Or a hundred years later?

By the time he truly had the time to return, the seas might have turned to fields, and everything might have changed beyond recognition.

This was a world of cultivation. Ordinary people were mortals; those in the Core Formation realm were immortals.

There was a divide between immortals and mortals.

After breaking through to the Core Formation realm, Gu Chengyin’s lifespan would lengthen, and his appearance would remain unchanged. The very concept of time would become entirely different to him than it was to mortals.

To him, ten years might pass in the blink of an eye.

But to Luo Zhao, ten years would be enough time to change everything.

Over those ten years, she would grow from an inexperienced Crown Princess into a mature Empress.

So the Luo Zhao of ten years from now would certainly not be the same Luo Zhao she was today.

Then would the Gu Chengyin of ten years from now still be the same Gu Chengyin he was today?

Would he still remember her?

Would he remember all the things that had happened between them?

Luo Zhao did not know.

But she knew she could not place her hopes in the words “when I have the time.”

Even if Luo Zhao would sooner or later break through to the Core Formation realm as well.

She had that confidence, and she had that ambition.

But that did not mean everyone else could do the same.

The familiar people, familiar events, familiar objects, familiar surroundings, and everything else would, with the passage of time, either change, disappear, drift away, or become unrecognizable.

Luo Zhao did not want to become someone who could seek solace only in her memories.

She did not want to wake in the middle of every night and find the space beside her empty, with nothing there at all.

With only herself remaining.

Therefore, the best—and only—solution was this:

She could not let Gu Chengyin leave.