“So there’s nothing to talk about, huh?” The door slammed shut like a cold iron gate.
Xiyue barely blinked, as if she’d read my refusal long before it ripened on the branch.
“You’re the one refusing. You know I’m dead set against war bursting like a brushfire.”
I shot Xiyue a sideways look; this visit was me courting boredom in a gray drizzle. But then what? Merging is impossible. Cutting the tie between two worlds… that’s a mountain of stone wrapped in thorns.
Even at the Pinnacle of Origin Realm, with the reins of the Prime Realm in my hands, some knots won’t untangle—like persuading Xiyue, or cleaving the worlds clean with a single stroke.
Before the whole world, Xiyue and I are only peaks within the ring. We were born from shards of the world’s Primordial Source core, glittering like broken stars. No matter how high we climb, we can’t step beyond its bounds; to sever two worlds takes strength outside the world’s scale, a blade bigger than the scabbard.
If it were easy, I wouldn’t be here trading words like dull coins. Compared to splitting, merging flows like rivers joining—simpler, more grounded.
Annoyance pricked like rain on iron. I never thought power would be my headache. From the summit, there’s nowhere left to climb; the Pinnacle of Origin Realm is the world’s ceiling, a sky that won’t lift.
“That’s why I say the Prime Realm is a stagnant pond,” Xiyue said, voice like a pebble skimming water. “Every force is held under the Mizumi Clan’s lid, unable to grow. Yes, wars got rarer, but then what? After centuries, no real change, no pulse. Is this changeless sky what you hope for, Xinuo?”
“…”
Xiyue rolled out her usual rhetoric like a silk scroll. I hate to admit it, but there’s truth woven in. Since the Mizumi Clan rose, the Prime Realm’s gears slowed, then clogged.
To me, the Prime Realm today isn’t much different from a thousand years past. Meanwhile, the Inner World shines like a city of glass and light; they use arcane elements as public energy, flooding streets and homes like starlight in pipes. Productivity surged, and progress raced like a river in thaw.
Aside from innate limits—resources and size—the rest has outpaced the Prime Realm like a hawk leaving a tortoise in dust.
“Looks like you’ve read the Inner World well, Xinuo,” Xiyue smiled, eyes bright as frost. “With your will, nothing under heaven hides from your gaze.”
She paused, a spark lighting her eyes. “Seeing beats hearsay. Instead of sweeping with divine sense, why not walk the streets and let your own eyes drink it in?”
“Xiyue, what’s your real move?” I asked, cutting for the bone like a clean blade.
“Simple. Quarreling gets us nowhere. If you think I’m wrong, come tour the Inner World with me. Maybe it’ll loosen that rigid, old mountain in your mind.”
She threw the invitation like a bright banner in wind. Honestly, I wanted to refuse, but that’d look like flinching from daylight and truth. And set aside that vexing woman—part of me wants to see the Inner World with my own eyes, to feel its heat and hum.
“Since you’ve pressed this far, I’ll linger in the Inner World for a while,” I said, letting it settle like a drifting leaf.
In the end, I agreed. I’ll see what tricks Xiyue brings to turn me—cards on the table, clouds on the horizon.
“Sister…”
FrostyLily Dream, quiet till now, watched me with worry, eyes soft like rain on panes. “The Inner World is their turf. Could this be a trap?”
“Really now, do I look like some gutter snake?” Xiyue’s laugh rang, wind through silver chimes.
She tilted her head, smile like dawn. “You too, little sister—come see the Inner World. I promise it’ll open your eyes wide.”
“…”
She glanced at Xiyue, then at me; FrostyLily Dream stayed taut, a bowstring drawn but silent.
“With me here, you’ll be fine—stay under my wing. If you truly can’t trust that woman, FrostyLily Dream, I can send you back first,” I said, offering shade like an umbrella in storm.
“Thanks for caring, Sister, but I’m coming too,” she answered, steps set like stones across a stream.
She shook her head, voice firm as steel; her resolve clicked into place like a lock.
“Good then. No time to waste—follow me. I’ll host you well,” Xiyue said, a door opening with a soft sweep.
Xiyue smiled, a crescent over calm water, then turned away. I moved with FrostyLily Dream, our steps threading her shadow like needles through silk.
I expected another repeat—words souring, a fight, then dispersal like storm breaking apart. Unexpectedly, the path bent toward this quiet, a road curling under an unknown moon.
“Lady Xiyue, is it fine to let them into the Inner World like this? Should we…” Voices buzzed like insects under leaves.
Soon, several Origin Realm figures slipped from the distant shade to murmur at Xiyue’s side. They warded the sound, but my ears caught every drop, clear as rain in a bowl.
Hm. We’re not welcomed—no surprise. If Xiyue wanted to tour the Prime Realm, I’d be the first to bar the gate and let the cold wind speak for me.
“Don’t worry,” Xiyue said, raising a hand like a folding fan. “After so many years with Xinuo, I know her well—like the lines of an old map.”
“Just be smart. Don’t provoke Xinuo, and nothing will crack the lake.”
“Oh? You trust me that much?” I let the question drift like a leaf on the stream.
“Of course. Who knows you longer than I do? Your lazy, trouble-hating nature is etched in my mind like old carvings on stone.”
Her easy flourish makes me want to plant a fist in her smile, clean as thunder in clear sky. And she’s not wrong—that’s exactly what grates like sand in the teeth.
“…Sister, you and Xiyue don’t seem as bad as I thought,” FrostyLily Dream whispered, ice thawing around her words. “You look… almost friendly.”
She stayed guarded, yet her view of Xiyue softened like snow in sun, trickling into a small stream.
“That’s her act. Don’t relax,” I said, and pinched FrostyLily Dream’s soft, cute cheek like peach skin warming in spring.
“Hurtful, Xinuo,” Xiyue sighed, laying out her smile like a gentle fan. “Weren’t we close back then? I reached the Pinnacle of Origin Realm thanks to the knowledge you taught me. In that, my respect and gratitude run deep, like a river cut through mountains.”
She slowed to walk beside me, wearing the warmth of longtime friends like a familiar cloak on a cold road.
“Blame my naïveté then; I didn’t see the blade in your nature in time, silk hiding steel.”
“Don’t paint me as a monster—danger this, danger that,” she said, offering an olive branch like green shade. “It’s just ideology: conservative and radical, camps on different hills. Normal. Like this—drop bias, talk calmly—it’s good. If I could, I’d return to how we were.”
“…”
Pretty words, all lacquer, no wood. Talking circles with Xiyue is useless, so I let silence fall like a curtain and stopped feeding her lines to weave.
