After stumbling through the night, Caesar ran blindly, his vision blurred by tears. The wind tore past his ears, yet all he felt was a bone-deep chill.
—Was the Immortal Lord mocking him? All his efforts, his persistence, even the times he forced himself to learn and accompany him, were they only to earn such a remark? “Can’t even tell genders apart?” This absurd excuse felt like the cruelest insult imaginable.
The shame of being ridiculed cut through his heart like a blade, burning so intensely he wanted to scream. Memories of countless nights replayed before him—endless discussions and planning with the Immortal Lord until dawn, days spent scheming just to earn his favor—now all reduced to a cruel joke by a single sentence.
“Ridiculous… it’s all so ridiculous…” he muttered to himself, a bitter, self-mocking echo. His frustration and anger were so overwhelming that when he stumbled, he almost wished to sink into the darkness. Yet the expected collapse never came. A gentle wind rose, lifting him steadily.
Caesar looked up. Ten paces away, the Immortal Lord stood, his white robes like a solitary lamp under the starlight. His normally calm black eyes now held clear traces of guilt. Caesar’s chest tightened; he quickly turned his face, unwilling to let him see his disheveled state.
The Immortal Lord raised a hand slightly. White light gathered at his fingertips, forming a pure mist that brushed Caesar’s tear-streaked face, cooling the burning tracks. Caesar shivered, intending to recoil but frozen in place.
“I am truly sorry,” the Immortal Lord said, his voice low and steady. “I did not intend to mock or humiliate you.”
“Then what do you mean?” Caesar spun toward him, voice cracking as he shouted, “You’ve always treated me as a male… How could anyone be so ignorant as to confuse genders?!”
A trace of remorse flickered across the Immortal Lord’s eyes. “It is natural that you feel anger. This was my fault. My ignorance and recklessness regarding the rules of this realm caused offense… you are right to scold me.”
He paused, holding back his emotions, then slowly revealed the truth: “I am not from this world. I am a cultivator from the Realm of Immortals—there, females differ greatly from your kind. I never anticipated that this difference would hurt you.”
Caesar froze. “Realm of Immortals… cultivator?” The words were as alien as another galaxy. The Immortal Lord was not of this world? And so, he had never been a male here? Shock and confusion overtook him, leaving him unable to respond, feeling a barrier he had never encountered before.
The Immortal Lord glanced toward the main hall, his expression briefly heavy. “I came to this world to guard this Immortal Palace.”
Caesar’s heart jolted. Suddenly, all the strange anomalies he had sensed made sense—answers he hadn’t dared hope for.
Turning back to Caesar, the Immortal Lord’s tone grew resolute: “If you still wish to remain in the palace, everything will proceed as before. I will teach you all I know. If not…”
His fingertips shifted, white light faintly radiating a pulse that unsettled the heart.
“I can swear a Heart-Demon Oath never to appear before you again. Should I break it, my soul will be destroyed, and I will forever be severed from you.” His voice was calm, as if life and death were nothing to him. Yet to Caesar, the words struck like a death warrant.
Caesar’s chest constricted violently. Fear and attachment overpowered his anger. His throat felt blocked with stone, unable to utter a sound. He feared losing him, feared that this being would vanish completely from his life.
“Who—who asked you to swear any oath!” Caesar shouted, wiping tears from his eyes, his voice raw and desperate. “Don’t presume! I don’t care whether you appear or not!”
Fists clenched tight, nails biting into palms, his stubbornness finally broke under the Immortal Lord’s calm, accepting gaze.
“I—I’m not…” Caesar’s voice trembled, faltering mid-sentence. Using all his strength to resist the humiliation, he could only drop his head, and in a whisper of restrained pleading said:
“…I don’t want you to disappear.”
The words left him flushed, a mix of shame and longing exposed in the cold night. His pride remained, yet his vulnerability now lay bare, unguarded.
The Immortal Lord paused, eyes glinting like waves beneath the black depths. He stepped forward, voice steady but softened: “I will not leave.”
Caesar spun away, refusing to let him see the full extent of his breakdown. “…Then fine. I didn’t say I wanted you to leave anyway,” he muttered, low, almost swallowed by the wind.
“Caesar,” the Immortal Lord’s voice flowed like the gentle night wind, carrying calm reassurance: “You need not doubt your worth because of my ignorance. Your value is not diminished by gender or race.”
Caesar’s shoulders trembled slightly. His clenched fists slowly relaxed. The anger in his chest cooled, leaving only a bitter-sweet ache. He wiped the last of the tears, stubbornly raising his head, muttering: “…I don’t care.”
Yet his feet felt rooted in place, unable to move. Though he claimed indifference, his chest fluttered with the rare warmth of the Immortal Lord’s praise.
Moonlight fell between them, both illuminating and dividing the space, highlighting the distance yet showing a faint connection.
From that day on, life returned to its rhythm. Yet something had fractured irreparably.
The Immortal Lord no longer stayed to discuss inventions after dinner, no longer accompanied him to sleep, never entered his room. His teaching remained composed, as if nothing had happened.
Only Caesar understood that the extreme calm itself, like the moonlight at night, was both distant and painfully gentle.
Memories dissipated like smoke. In the dim, cold interior of the Black Market palace, reality’s chill returned. Caesar gripped the Qinglan Flower ring so tightly his knuckles whitened. He looked to the high moon outside the window, cold and remote, just like the Immortal Lord—still untouchable from afar.
The Immortal Lord had given him endless care and guidance, yet always kept himself behind a wall. A chasm lay between them, deep and unbridgeable, no matter how hard Caesar tried. What secrets did that palace hold? And why were the cultivators appearing one after another—what did they seek to take?
Had the Immortal Lord truly sealed himself in the so-called “Key”? And what did this “Key” mean? The mysteries wrapped Caesar’s chest in a knot of frustration and anxiety.
At that moment, Liyou’s voice broke the silence: “Master, the resurrected nobles request your presence.”
Caesar focused, eyes gleaming with ferocity: “The Key hasn’t been found yet, and they’re already rushing me?”
The holo-screen flickered to life, revealing a luxuriously dressed female insect with a false, flattering smile. “Your Majesty, good evening.”
“Speak if it’s important; otherwise, leave,” Caesar’s voice was low, icy, oppressive.
The female insect’s smile stiffened, then she leaned in, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper: “Your Majesty, you must have realized… Landai is from the Realm of Immortals. Do you know why they came here? To destroy the ‘Key’.”
Caesar’s pupils contracted violently. Murderous intent surged: “What did you say?”
“Therefore, Your Majesty must act first.” The noble female’s eyes gleamed with cruelty. “The Immortal Lord’s soul is locked within the Key. You must retrieve the Key before them… or eliminate every intruding cultivator.”
The transmission ended. Silence reclaimed the room.
Caesar narrowed his eyes, fingertips tracing the ring. Cultivators aiming to destroy the Immortal Lord? And these nobles sought to use him as a weapon? Rage and agitation roiled in his chest. At the thought of the Immortal Lord’s soul in danger, it felt as though a blade tore across his heart.
“Liyou, what’s your assessment?” he asked, voice low, edged with lethal resolve.
The mechanical voice responded calmly: “Master, it is evident they intend to use another’s hand to strike. They seek to manipulate your feelings for the Immortal Lord to oppose unknown cultivators. Recommendation: track Landai’s movements first, then act accordingly.”
Caesar let out a dark laugh, a cruel, feral curve tugging at his lips, eyes blazing with a blood-red determination:
“Use me as a tool? Hmph… I don’t care what games they play. If anyone dares touch the Immortal Lord, no one will leave alive. Once I uncover the truth, these trash… all will go to hell with me.”