Qianqian and Wuxia took it in stride. They had met enough legendary seniors by now that the psychological preparation came automatically.

The Qiluo Immortal, however — sealed away for tens of thousands of years, cut off from every development in the outside world — was not prepared for the artifacts in their hands. She stared, then exclaimed: “You — you’ve received the Divine Sword’s recognition? Impossible. The Divine Sword has never once recognized a woman as its master. And the Divine Staff — why is the head missing? The dragon-head crest, the most important part, the dragon-pearl housing — gone. Without it, the staff’s power must be a fraction of what it was.”

The three of them looked at each other.

The Prison Emperor’s Divine Staff had been like this since the moment they acquired it. No crest, no dragon-pearl — that was simply the condition it had arrived in.

As for why the Divine Sword had accepted Qianqian rather than a male master — that, at least, had an explanation. The sword’s true recognition was Yueyang’s. But the Prison Emperor’s lingering will had, in a moment of well-intentioned generosity toward future generations, created a situation that defied straightforward description: the actual recognized master couldn’t wield it, while Qianqian — who held it, who carried imperial bloodline, who was the Prison Emperor’s descendant — had become the one who could.

What occupied Yueyang’s attention more than any of this was the revelation that divine artifacts could evolve and transform. Each successive master brought out different things in them. Which meant that what these artifacts could do was not fixed — it was contingent on who held them and what they brought to the relationship. If he could push that relationship to its fullest expression, who was to say he couldn’t reach the level the Buried Sword Immortal had achieved?

Or exceed it.

Three divine artifacts in hand. The Divine Mirror taken by some unknown celestial warrior. The Divine Armor seized by Tianyu of the Central Temple and his disciple Ji Wuri — the very Ji Wuri who walked around the heavenly realms with that infuriating air of superiority. And the Divine Bell gone missing after the Buried Sword Immortal’s death.

The Prison Emperor had been able to wield the six divine artifacts. That was established fact. Which meant Yueyang could do at least as well, and almost certainly better. The collection wasn’t complete — but it wasn’t beyond completing either.

He had scores to settle with the Central Temple. Reclaiming what had been stolen seemed like a good starting point.

“You are all extraordinary,” the Qiluo Immortal said warmly. She gathered both women into her arms with the tenderness of a grandmother greeting grandchildren she never expected to meet, smoothing their hair, kissing their heads. “If my successor could be anything like either of you, I would ask for nothing more. I love you both dearly — but because you are here in the hourglass world, I cannot pass on everything I have while you’re within it. Perhaps after you leave it will be different. But please — do not attempt to challenge the authority of the ancient gods while you are here. Their prohibition on this place is absolute.” She drew back and looked at them both with eyes full of something that had been waiting a very long time for an outlet. “I am so glad to have seen you. After this meeting, even returning to sleep holds no sadness. In my dreams, I’ll have something to tell my husband.”

She paused, then smiled. “Three of the six divine artifacts in the hands of that lucky young man. He may well surpass the original master. And you two — you’ve both grown into something more capable and more valuable than I was in my own time. Children, I wish you well from the bottom of my heart. Live fully. Be happy. The future of the Sky Stairway belongs to you.”

“Thank you,” Qianqian and Wuxia said together.

Only those who have loved completely understand what is most precious in the world. A woman separated from her husband for tens of thousands of years, whose longing had not diminished by a thread — her blessing carried the particular weight of someone who had been denied the thing she was wishing others. She could not have happiness herself. So she gave her whole heart’s wish to those who still could.

The Qiluo Immortal held both women close and gave them everything she had left to give.

Then she turned her gaze to Yueyang. “Lucky boy. You mentioned a second matter. What is it?”

Yueyang held back his questions about the Five-Color Divine Radiance.

Part of him wanted to press — the green fragment, somehow ending up in the Sky Stairway’s Zodiac formation; the other four fragments, whereabouts unknown; that person called Jiuxiao who had apparently forged a black imitation, which made no sense unless he’d had contact with the original. The questions were there, fully formed, pressing for answers.

But he let them go. She had been sealed away before the aftermath fully resolved — she would know less than he did about where those fragments had scattered. Asking would only produce the frustration of questions that couldn’t be answered. He set it all aside and brought himself back to his purpose.

He bowed with genuine courtesy. “Senior — what I’d like to ask is whether I might open a channel here, to allow the water energy of this world to neutralize the fire energy on the Inferno Sovereign’s side. If that’s possible, this water world would be significantly disrupted. I wanted to ask your permission before proceeding.”

The Qiluo Immortal understood immediately.

He wanted to flood the fire sea.

She considered the obstacles. The fire sea’s energy was incomprehensibly vast — even if the entire water world were transferred to the other side, the water would evaporate long before it could meaningfully suppress the flames. And with the Inferno Sovereign present and active, directing the energy, channeling water in would be an enormous undertaking for only three people without any assistance from her. There was also a third problem, potentially the largest: without sufficient conversion force, the water energy wouldn’t neutralize the fire sea — it would simply be absorbed and converted into more fire, or pushed back.

The idea was intelligent. The execution would be severely difficult.

She looked at Yueyang with an expression that was more curious than dismissive. “You look confident. Tell me the plan.”

“Senior — his domain power is Creation, though the range is currently limited.” Yueyang glanced at Wuxia. “Combined with my own spirit-sense domain, and guided by Qianqian’s Divine Sword, we’re confident we can transfer a ten-kilometer radius of water to the fire sea in an instant. As for the conversion problem—” Wuxia raised her wrist.

The Energy-Draining Bracelet caught the light.

“Even without the Creation Domain,” Wuxia said, “and without Xiao Wenli’s storm-horn war beasts or the Storm Valkyrie — we still have this. We claimed it from the Toad King. In Yueyang’s hands it was already a powerful weapon. In the hands of someone with a spirit-sense domain, it becomes something else entirely.”

The bracelet’s function was elemental extraction and conversion — drawing an enemy’s elemental energy out and transforming it into another elemental type. For an ordinary practitioner, converting large-scale energy was essentially impossible. Against a single war beast, perhaps. But with Yueyang’s and Wuxia’s combined spiritual force, with domain power behind it — the Inferno Sovereign wouldn’t have time to form a countermeasure before everything went wrong for it.

Yueyang had held back from using it in the fire sea earlier because he hadn’t been confident enough. The Inferno Sovereign was genuinely difficult — a being that had been effectively dead for tens of thousands of years, but whose soul and fire energy still placed it just below the celestial world’s true titans. He didn’t fight battles he wasn’t eighty or ninety percent sure of winning.

But now he had found the water world. Now he had spoken with the Qiluo Immortal and learned the history of the divine artifacts, learned about the Five-Color Divine Radiance. The picture was clearer. His confidence had climbed to where he wanted it.

He was no longer planning a quiet extraction and escape. He was going to fight.

If he could defeat the Inferno Sovereign on its own ground, in its own amplified terrain — that was a benchmark. That meant the next time he encountered the celestial world’s truly great figures, or Ji Wuri and the Central Temple’s forces, he would have a reasonable chance of holding his own.

The Qiluo Immortal was quiet for a moment, then: “I am about to sleep again. To be with my husband’s lingering spirit — I have no attachment to what becomes of this water world. Children, do whatever you need to do. Don’t consider me. Someone as unfortunate as I am should have died long ago. Only the laws prevented it, and the ancient gods’ punishment has pressed down on me ever since.” She looked at all three of them with eyes full of genuine warmth. “Whatever happens — please don’t return to this hourglass world lightly. Some forbidden places must be kept at a distance and treated with reverence. The weight of the ancient gods can leave marks on a future you cannot yet see.” A pause, and then a smile of complete serenity. “Goodbye, children. Having seen you, I have nothing left to worry about and nothing left to regret.”

The water-woman form sank slowly into the surface of the lake.

It was only ever her will sustaining it anyway. The physical self had been gone for tens of thousands of years. And unlike the Inferno Sovereign, who had clawed and fought against the seal, she had chosen to remain within it — to sleep, and dream, and be with what was left of the person she had loved.

Wuxia took the Qiluo Umbrella from Yueyang’s hands and opened it partway, just slightly, then let it close. She looked at Qianqian. Nodded. Said nothing.

Qianqian did something she almost never did: she stepped forward and put her arms around Yueyang. Then her lips found his ear, and in a tone he had genuinely never heard from her before — something soft and coaxing that would have been alarming under any other circumstances — she said: “Could we give the umbrella to Yue Yu? She’s so gentle — I think she’s the perfect candidate to inherit the Qiluo Immortal’s legacy. I know Luohua and Yinan could both be good choices too, but Yue Yu first, and when we find someone even better, we can find another treasure for Luohua and Yinan. Would that be alright?”

Yueyang, despite being comprehensively surrounded by the warm-and-coaxing offensive, kept his head. “Qianqian. Why are you suddenly speaking up so warmly on Yue Yu’s behalf?”

“It’s a secret between us girls.”

A secret. Which meant Qianqian had done something — something that had managed to irritate Yue Yu, a woman whose temperament ran as smooth and placid as deep water — and was now attempting to repair the damage via strategic gift-giving. The coaxing tone confirmed it. Yue Yu was not easy to upset. Whatever had happened must have been genuinely significant.

Yueyang was curious. He was also certain that getting Qianqian to confess voluntarily, right now, was approximately as achievable as climbing a vertical cliff face in sandals. He also had a nagging suspicion that he was involved somehow, which made asking directly feel unwise.

“Fine then, be stingy about it,” Qianqian said, in a tone that didn’t match the words at all. She plucked the umbrella smoothly out of Wuxia’s hands, tucked it happily into her storage ring, then leaned over and planted a quick, decisive kiss on Yueyang’s cheek. “Thank you, Third Young Master.”

Yueyang turned toward Wuxia with an expression of hopeful inquiry.

“After you finish with the Inferno Sovereign,” Wuxia said, “if you still have energy left, as many as you like.”

This was, on the surface, an extremely reasonable offer. In practice, after fighting the Inferno Sovereign on its home ground to a conclusion, Yueyang suspected that wanting to kiss anyone would be the last thing on his mind.

Then again — Wuxia was a woman of her word. Unlike Qianqian, who had a documented history of retroactive amendments to prior agreements. Hope, however thin, was still hope. And there was something about having a promise from Wuxia that reliably made impossible things seem worth attempting.

Yueyang felt his motivation double.

Whether it was the drive to test himself against a truly worthy opponent, or the rather more personal incentive that had just been put on the table — the Inferno Sovereign was going down.

After all, what was the point of a road of cultivation if you didn’t knock over the boss guarding the next stage?