Chapter Twelve: The Storm Gathers, Winds Fill the Tower (Part 2)

In the illusory spiritual realm, under the sacred mountain of Lingyue, Hao Dan and Fairy Bai Ling were engaged in a lively chase, one after the other. It seemed that Hao Dan had managed to infuriate Fairy Bai Ling. With a coquettish yet angry voice, she called out, “Stop right there, you wretched boy! Are you itching for a beating again? Unless I thrash you so hard you’re picking up your own teeth, I won’t be satisfied today!”

Hao Dan, with an impish grin, darted ahead, laughing and teasing, “Hee hee~ Ha ha ha, come on, catch me if you can!” On Mount Song, there was never anyone willing to join in his mischief, for the Seven Heroes of Dongtian were all older and of the same generation as King Wu of Cheng Tang, so Hao Dan had always been careful not to go too far.

Outside this realm, two days had already passed. Even if Grand Minister Yi Yin and Seventh Lady rushed at full speed, it would take at least three and a half days to reach the capital of Great Xia. Two days here meant that Hao Dan had spent two years within this illusory spiritual world—a fleeting span, yet within it, the bond between him and Fairy Bai Ling had only grown deeper, their feelings blossoming over time. All of this was witnessed by Lord Lu Ya, who watched with a smile hidden in his heart, sighing at the mysteries of fate.

As the two frolicked at the foot of the mountain, Lord Lu Ya observed in silence. There were secrets weighing on his heart, and a slight frown creased his brow. After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head and murmured to himself, “Two lifetimes of entanglement, and still unfinished; in this life, love’s knot is harder still to untie. Ah!”

Not long after, Fairy Bai Ling, sulking like a mortal girl, leaned against a mulberry tree. Hao Dan knelt beneath her, his face bruised and battered, pleading for mercy. “Fairy Bai Ling, please don’t be angry—I only meant to make you happy, truly!”

“You’re just asking for a beating, do you hear me? If you dare be so rude or impudent again, don’t blame me for not holding back—I’ll break you!” Though her words were full of feigned anger, if Hao Dan could have caught the fleeting smile on her peerless face, he would have been dumbstruck. Her secret laughter was as radiant as spring breezes, making it clear her anger was not genuine.

In such a scene, one might say: “For a scoundrel’s life, to win a beauty’s smile—why not?”

Earlier, it turned out that Hao Dan had secretly bitten his finger and scrawled a messy blood charm on a yellow talisman. The writing was indecipherable and the lines utterly crooked, a haphazard mess. Yet, as befitted someone of her cultivation, Fairy Bai Ling studied and divined its meaning. When she finally understood, her beautiful face turned crimson, her fair skin flushed with color—she was utterly embarrassed by Hao Dan’s shameless gesture. Only words like “flushed and dazed” could describe the moment.

For both were practitioners, and matters of love were as hazy and innocent as first awakening feelings. Fairy Bai Ling, raised among the immortals, felt her heart race like a startled fawn.

How did this shameless Hao Dan manage to make the frosty Fairy Bai Ling so bashful? The answer was simple: on that yellow talisman, instead of a charm to ward off evil, he had written three bold words: “I like you!”

Who else but Hao Dan would dare to desecrate a Daoist talisman so? He was truly one of a kind! More brazen still, he made the talisman adhere to Fairy Bai Ling, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t remove it. One had to admit, the boy was remarkably talented.

No wonder Hao Dan was on his knees begging for mercy—who else in the world would court their beloved in so outrageous a manner? Only Hao Dan would dare such antics.

Yet for all her feigned anger, when Fairy Bai Ling finally removed the little talisman, she did not return it to Hao Dan. Instead, with an unknown spell, she secreted it away, even managing to hide it from Hao Dan himself.

“Get up. Your cultivation today was quite good. I won’t tell Master about your little stunt, and you’d best keep quiet as well, understood?” Perhaps feeling some pity, Fairy Bai Ling rose from the tree and sang a secret spell, releasing Hao Dan from his bindings.

“Thank you, Fairy Bai Ling, for sparing my life!” Hao Dan replied with his usual roguish charm.

…

When the two returned to the Hall of Tranquility, Lord Lu Ya’s voice sounded: “I have seen today’s progress. Let Hao Dan come in; I have something to discuss with him.”

“Yes, Master,” Fairy Bai Ling cast a glance at Hao Dan and withdrew.

Hao Dan entered, saluted Lord Lu Ya, and sat on a cushion opposite him.

“My young friend,” Lord Lu Ya began earnestly, “I summoned you to remind you: when you awaken from this dream, whatever you may learn or remember, do not act rashly. Keep all you have learned here hidden, just as you did when you first arrived—practice patience and restraint. Only in this way will you succeed.”

“Elder Lu Ya, how is it you always seem to know what’s on my mind? Is this some kind of mind-reading technique? Could you teach me?” Hao Dan’s curiosity was piqued.

Lord Lu Ya, fully aware of his thoughts, picked up his horsetail whisk and rapped Hao Dan on the forehead before he could finish, causing the boy to protest, “Elder Lu Ya, why—!?!” Halfway through, he realized he’d given himself away.

“You are gifted, but don’t squander your talents on frivolous pursuits. I could teach you, but it is not as effective as you imagine. Still, do you wish to learn?” Lord Lu Ya smiled, knowing full well that Hao Dan’s true motive was to understand Bai Ling’s feelings.

“Yes, yes! Of course I want to learn!” Hao Dan replied eagerly. In his two years with Bai Ling, he’d always been at a disadvantage—not only outmatched in cultivation, but often unable even to win a verbal sparring match. Of course he wanted to learn such an art.

“Heh, but not yet. When you have cultivated here for seven years, I will teach you myself!” Lord Lu Ya seemed to be teasing him. Mind-reading was not something learned so easily—it required years of observation and experience. Only a naive youth like Hao Dan could imagine it would be so “simple.”

“Thank you in advance, Elder Lu Ya!” Hao Dan kowtowed gratefully.

“One more thing: I hope you will advance your cultivation as swiftly as possible in this realm. In the future, you will face great trials. Without sufficient strength, you will struggle to achieve your goals. This is my final piece of advice!” Lord Lu Ya, uncharacteristically stern, spoke with gravity.

“What sort of trials could make you so serious, Elder Lu Ya?” Hao Dan asked, puzzled.

“I cannot say. Remember my words, that is enough. I must now tend to my injuries. You may go.” With a wave of his whisk, a gentle breeze swept Hao Dan out of the hall.

…

After this episode, Bai Ling found herself truly fond of Hao Dan. But as a reserved young woman, how could she confess? Her heart was thrown into chaos, pounding like wild horses. Yet in that moment, Hao Dan had captured her heart, and she secretly pledged herself to him.

From then on, Bai Ling’s mercurial nature emerged—sometimes cold, sometimes warm, at times stern, at others lively and willful, as bold as a princess of the heavens, as brash and impetuous as a wild child. Her ever-changing moods left Hao Dan exasperated; each day in the illusory realm brought a new temperament, and as the days passed, their affection deepened.

One day, Hao Dan mastered countless mystical arts, but Bai Ling never taught him the secret of the Life Gate. He was curious: what was so mysterious about the forbidden arts of the Life Gate? Yet Bai Ling fell silent, giving no answer. And so the matter was dropped, but Hao Dan remembered that day clearly: it was the first time he’d seen Bai Ling frown in deep thought, so unlike her usual dreamy demeanor. Her delicate face and lowered gaze were as inscrutable as the heart of a woman, leaving Hao Dan endlessly perplexed.

From then on, Bai Ling appeared to bully him, but in truth, she was frustrated by his slow progress. The arcane path of the Qimen, wondrous and profound, required a union of heaven’s essence and earth’s spirit to truly understand its mysteries. Though Hao Dan was clever and determined, his mortal body was ill-suited to such arts. Without repeated practice and a taste of failure, it would be impossible for him to fully grasp their secrets.

The Death Gate comprised four arts: Divine Retribution Net, Essence Refinement, Hundred Phoenixes’ Return, and Frost Dominance. Though he learned the methods, Hao Dan could only master two. Divine Retribution Net was formidable—he could barely wield it. But when he attempted Frost Dominance, he suffered greatly, enduring months of seclusion in the frozen caves of the illusory icy plains before finally succeeding. Bai Ling often cast him into the ice cellars to teach him the meaning of “three feet of ice is not formed in a single day.”

Through their playful banter, they never forgot to lean on each other for comfort. The night scenery in the illusory realm was breathtaking—mortal beauty could not compare, lacking even a fraction of its wonder.

When Hao Dan first mastered the Death Gate’s methods and tore open the void, it nearly wreaked havoc. Thankfully, Bai Ling cleaned up the mess. Yet Hao Dan, ever restless, was mesmerized by the celestial stars. Secretly, he used the Open Gate technique—Shifting Stars and Distant Retrieval—to arrange the stars into a heart-shaped constellation, a symbol of love.

Fortunately, the charming Bai Ling smiled, radiant as spring. Already secretly in love, she teleported behind Hao Dan and kicked him back into the illusory realm.

But this was just one memory. There were also times when Bai Ling helped him chase azure phoenixes and white cranes high above the illusory sky. Hao Dan, proud of his powers, often played pranks on the divine beasts. But the azure phoenix and white crane, loyal to Lord Lu Ya and capable of traversing heaven and earth, were not easily bullied. United, they turned on Hao Dan, and Bai Ling had to help him chase them in a game of “catching phoenixes in the sky, snapping turtles in the sea.”

The king turtle of the illusory sea was truly a tyrant—its massive body rivaled a mountain. When Hao Dan dove underwater, he mistook the creature for an island and shamelessly relieved himself atop its shell, as was his wont.

Of course, the turtle could not endure such humiliation and swore to take revenge on Hao Dan.

Once again, Bai Ling had to assist in his punishment, leaving the turtle too afraid to surface for years, hiding at the bottom of the sea and venting its frustrations on the smaller fish and shrimp.