The second day of the journey passed in perfect quiet.
Ancient spirit-pines lined the road like silent guardians, their heavy branches woven so thickly overhead that only thin blades of sunlight pierced through. The air carried the cool, resin-sweet scent of pine needles and distant snow. Inside the carriage, a gentle breeze slipped through the half-open window slit and played with the edges of Yu Xiao's hooded cloak.
She had turned the spacious carriage into her personal bedchamber on wheels. Thick quilts from the ring's storage space were piled into a nest; soft pillows supported her back; even a tiny incense burner released faint wisps of calming sandalwood. Curled among the blankets like a cat, Yu Xiao slept deeply, letting out the tiniest, most delicate snores. To the twins riding guard outside, that soft sound had become the journey's lullaby.
Near noon on the third day, a low, ferocious growl rumbled through the carriage.
Yu Xiao's eyes snapped open. She pressed a hand to her traitorously empty stomach, sat up slowly, and rubbed her face. "Is it night already…?" she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
She crawled to the front, pushed aside the black silk curtain, and poked her head out.
The convoy had stopped in a wide clearing beside the road. More than thirty outer-sect cultivators from Beiming were scattered about: some meditating beneath the great trees, some napping against their swords, a few tending to the spiritual horses. A cheerful fire crackled in the centre, and above it hung a large iron pot that sent the most heavenly aroma drifting on the wind.
Yu Xiao's stomach roared again, louder this time. Cheeks burning, she slipped out of the carriage and padded toward the smell, cloak trailing over pine needles like spilled ink.
She found the source quickly: a broad-shouldered cook in grey robes stirring millet noodles in fragrant broth. Han-Yun and Han-Qing stood beside him, sleeves rolled up, passing bundles of fresh herbs and raw noodles.
Han-Yun spotted her first.
"Lady Yu!" he called brightly, waving a ladle like a banner. "Come eat!"
Han-Qing looked up from the brown jade plate piled high with roasted chicken and root vegetables. A rare, open smile lit his face.
Any lingering shyness Yu Xiao felt vanished at the sight of food. She hurried over, boots crunching softly.
The moment she reached them, Han-Yun flicked two fingers. A simple wooden stool flew from a nearby stack and landed perfectly behind her with a gentle thud.
Yu Xiao froze, mouth half-open. "You… you just used a spell? Without a spatial ring?" She glanced at her own hand where Lùnyuè Huā rested, then back at him, eyes wide. "Where do you even keep things? Inside your bones?!"
Han-Yun burst out laughing at her genuine bewilderment. Still chuckling, he guided her to sit.
"Sit, my Lady. The noodles are still hot; be careful."
He placed a steaming bowl in her hands. Han-Qing added a small plate of fire-roasted pork belly glazed with spirit-honey and colourful root crops still sizzling from the flames. Han-Yun summoned a low folding table with another casual flick of spiritual energy, arranging everything neatly in front of her like a private banquet.
Yu Xiao inhaled the steam rising from the broth—peppery, savoury, with a hint of star-anise and wild mountain herbs—and felt her soul leave her body for a blissful second.
One sip, and her eyes fluttered shut. "These are illegal levels of good," she whispered.
The other cultivators began lining up with their own jade bowls. The cook ladled generous portions for everyone, including the twins. Soon the clearing filled with the quiet, contented sounds of men eating after a long morning on the road.
Yu Xiao glanced at her table. The plate of root crops alone could feed five people. She bit her lip, then leaned toward Han-Yun.
"Duan Han-Yun," she called softly.
He paused mid-bite, chopsticks still in his mouth, and looked over immediately.
She picked up one perfectly roasted lotus slice, set it aside for herself, then nudged the overflowing brown jade plate toward him.
"Share the rest with everyone, please."
Han-Yun blinked. "My Lady, this was prepared for—"
She gave him a tiny, insistent nod, eyes bright.
He hesitated only a heartbeat before standing. Han-Qing lifted an eyebrow across the fire, but a shrug and a half-smile said he already knew the outcome.
Han-Yun raised his voice over the clearing. "Brothers! Our Lady wishes to share her portion. Come fill your bowls; there are plenty!"
Smiles broke out everywhere. One by one the cultivators approached—some bowing shyly, others calling out cheerful thanks—until the plate was scraped clean and every man had seconds.
Yu Xiao watched them with a small, satisfied smile, cheeks pink from the fire's warmth and something softer.
When the last man walked away, she suddenly reached up and tugged at the hem of Han-Yun's robe.
He looked down, startled.
"I'll remember this as an offence," she said, narrowing her eyes in mock sternness.
Han-Yun crouched beside her stool at once, voice low and teasing. "May I know the punishment, my Lady? If it is death, I will not resist."
She snorted, unable to hold the serious expression. "Idiot," she muttered, then shoved a piece of honey-glazed pork into his hand. "Just eat before it gets cold."
Han-Qing, watching from the other side of the fire, hid a smile behind his own bowl.
The sun climbed higher, filtering gold through the pine needles. Somewhere a spirit-bird called. The horses stamped lazily. And for the first time since arriving in this world, Yu Xiao felt something she hadn't dared hope for:
Simple, ordinary happiness.
She finished her noodles, set the empty bowl aside, and leaned back against the stool with a tiny, contented sigh.
Han-Yun noticed and immediately offered the last piece of chicken from his own plate.
She shook her head, smiling. "I'm full."
Then, softer, almost too quiet to hear: "Thank you… for the stool. And the food. And… everything."
Han-Yun's ears turned faintly red. Han-Qing pretended not to notice, but the corners of his eyes curved.
In the distance, the carriage driver called that they would depart again in half a shichen.
Yu Xiao stood, brushed crumbs from her cloak, and stretched like a cat in the sunlight.
"Two more days," she said to no one in particular, voice light with anticipation. "Two more days until the Northern Domain."
She glanced back at the twins, eyes sparkling beneath the hood.
"Try to keep up, protectors."
Then she twirled once—cloak flaring dramatically—and sauntered back to her rolling bedchamber, leaving laughter and warm millet-scented air in her wake.
On the third day, they finally reached the Great Western Road called the Jade Ribbon Immortal Passage (Yùdài Xiānlù). The only safest route that connects the Southern Vermilion Domain to the other three Domains, through the Western White Domain, is a winding valley of pure white jade stone.
The Jade Ribbon Immortal Passage is a single, perfectly straight road 30,000 li long, carved from seamless white jade that never stains or cracks. It is exactly 33 metres wide, enough for two large carriages to pass side-by-side.
The road is slightly elevated, with gentle slopes; no stairs, no sharp turns. Both sides drop into bottomless white mist; no railings, no edges you can see. At night the jade itself glows faintly, like moonlight trapped under ice.
After the Southern Vermilion Domain partially collapsed 300 years ago, direct spatial arrays and flight routes became unstable or sealed.
*Rules of the Road (enforced by the valley itself)
No flying—anyone who tries is gently "pushed" back down by invisible pressure.
No spatial leaps—teleportation arrays fizzle out within 100 li.
No violence—the moment killing intent rises, the jade under your feet turns burning hot. The stronger the intent, the hotter it gets. Full-on battles = you're cooked alive from the soles up.
Walk or ride only—carriages, spirit beasts, or your own two feet. That's it.
Aside from that, mystery waits ahead if you make a wrong move. Travellers must be cautious.
Cultivators say the place is enveloped with illusions and the mysterious white mist beasts.
Once more, the passage is safe for merchants, rogue cultivators, and low-key immortals, but
absolutely not safe for anyone being hunted—because there is only one path and nowhere to hide.