She had lived in this world for five hundred years, which was far too long, so long that she felt that being freed from this world was a luxury.

Standing atop the mountain, she said in a deep voice, "Your Highness, Sang Rong is not immortal. Her lifespan of five hundred years is merely an unchangeable curse from the very beginning. If Your Highness does not believe me and insists on taking Sang Rong away by force, then it's up to each of us to decide—"

With a wave of her long sleeves, the surrounding soldiers collapsed like the receding tide.

After a long while, the other side roared through gritted teeth, "You're all useless idiots! Charge in and capture them alive!"

At a command, they swarmed forward.

With the last of her divine power, most people could not get close to her. In the chaos, a cold arrow grazed her face, the rope snapped, and the mask fell to the ground.

Her long, glossy black hair slipped out of her hood and fluttered in the wind. She slightly raised her head and looked around. In an instant, the world became quiet.

No one has ever seen the true face of the Valley Master of Floating Flowers.

Legend has it that she is immortal, but she only has the face of a Rakshasa witch, so she hides herself and reveals her true self.

But the woman before them was more beautiful than anyone else in their entire lives.

Beautiful, extremely beautiful.

With delicate eyebrows, red lips, spring-like eyes, and a face like a peach blossom, she seemed to embody all the beauty of the world. But what was most captivating was her serene and noble temperament, which was more inclusive and magnanimous than the inviolable majesty of royalty, just like... a descendant of a god.

What surprised the prince even more was that Sang Rong's appearance was somewhat similar to Ping An's, but Ping An was not even a tenth as beautiful as her.

The long, stagnant silence was suddenly shattered by a heart-wrenching roar.

"Sang Rong—"

She looked in the direction of the voices, and although it was pitch black in front of her, she seemed to see with her own eyes his anxiety and panic as he crossed the vast sea of ​​people, disregarding everything, coming alone just for her.

"Why...did you come back? I don't want you to see me like this."

As dawn broke, tears streamed down her gray eyes. In an instant, the graceful and beautiful woman froze on the spot, her body slowly solidifying and dimming from her feet until she became a stone statue that neither smiled nor moved.

His five-hundred-year lifespan had finally come to an end.

She was content to be able to meet him again in her lifetime and to see him find the woman he loved.

Nevertheless, he still harbored some selfish motives.

Zhuo Yan's portrait had been with her for five hundred years. If it weren't for her spiritual power, it would have been reduced to ashes long ago. After she died, the painting would also disappear.

She didn't want him to know the truth, so she fabricated the story that Zhuo Yan was his father, yet she despicably hoped that he would discover that her love, which she could never express, was only for him from beginning to end.

Ling Xiao is Zhuo Yan, and Zhuo Yan is also Ling Xiao.

seven,

The magnificent scenery of Floating Flower Valley, stretching for hundreds of miles and bursting with vibrant colors, vanished in an instant, turning to ashes.

After the soldiers withdrew, the mountaintop was deathly silent.

Standing before the lifelike stone statue of a woman, Ling Xiao covered his face with his hands and wept uncontrollably.

He doesn't know when it started, but he often dreamed of a beautiful young girl.

He had heard foreign legends since childhood, saying that lovers from a past life would remember each other in the next. So he painstakingly drew the woman's image. When he unexpectedly met Ping An at the foot of the mountain, he was overjoyed, thinking that Ping An was his lover from a past life.

Perhaps he was just infatuated with the magical legend, rather than truly in love with Ping An. Otherwise, why would he have been disappointed and hesitant when Sang Rong asked him to get married, and why would he have panicked and collapsed when he learned that Sang Rong had decided to leave him?

If Sang Rong weren't blind, if she could see Ping An's face, she would surely understand his feelings. The woman he had hidden in his heart wasn't Ping An, but Sang Rong, who had been with him for twelve years, whose face he never knew…

He was wrong. He was wrong from the very beginning. He was terribly wrong! Unforgivably wrong! And he would never have the chance to tell her any of this.

"Young master, the Valley Master has passed away, and Green Ivy must also return."

"Go back? Where?"

“Go back to our country, keep heading north, on the other side of the Qilian Mountains. That story came from our country.”

That's a story, not a legend.

She and he, from a foreign country, fell in love at first sight and quickly became a couple, but they could not be together because of their different identities. He tried to take her away to escape, but they failed.

Before his execution, he made a promise to her, telling her not to be sad or afraid, that he would come back to find her in the next life and recognize her at first sight.

A passionate love affair transformed the timid saintess, raised in the palace, into the bravest woman in the world. She prayed to the gods, forsaking reincarnation in exchange for a lifespan of five hundred years, even if it meant turning into desolation and vanishing from the world after her death.

This time, it's her turn to find him, her turn to save him.

Over five hundred years, she traversed rivers and mountains, crossed snowy wastelands, and could not stay in any place for too long in order not to arouse suspicion. Dynasties rose and fell one after another, and she had nowhere to hide. In the end, she could only choose to live in seclusion in the deep mountains, which is now known to the world as the Valley of Immortality.

In the endless river of time, solitude is my only companion.

Perhaps she had searched for far too long, so long that she was almost ready to give up, which is why she chose to swallow the truth after finally finding him.

"You said... I am Zhuo Yan... If that's true, why did Sang Rong never try to tell me?"

He roared out, and old memories suddenly surfaced in his mind.

He was fourteen years old that year. Because he started learning martial arts too late, he was often scolded by Sang Rong. He felt lost and aggrieved all day long. It was at that time that he found the portrait in Sang Rong's room.

The man in the painting looks a lot like him, so they must be related by blood.

My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!