ETR | Chapter 13

On his end, Qin Lou had already watched that crystal orb’s recording dozens of times. The first clip had given him enough confidence. The second… enough information.

The most important detail?

That cloak.

Qin Lou had confirmed again and again—there was absolutely no way such cold weather existed in the Upper Realm. He’d sent people to investigate, even went running around himself. True, there were some exceptions—like certain races who liked the cold and used spiritual techniques to alter the weather around their territory—but those places never allowed outsiders in. Just in case, the Wangtian Immortal Sect had already dispatched people to confirm one by one. Still, there wasn’t a single trace of Xiao Xueman.

Across all eighteen heavens, considering large-scale climate conditions, there were only three places where such cold weather could’ve existed on that day:

“The Ninth Heaven in the Middle Realm, the Thirteenth Heaven in the Lower Realm, and the Seventeenth Heaven,” a subordinate reported cautiously, then added, “The cloak the Empress was wearing… the image’s too blurry, so it’s hard to tell what kind of beast fur it is. All we could do was find a few possible matches.”

The possible sources of the fur added up to dozens of species, most of them native to the Lower Realm. The cloak clearly had no spiritual energy—it was pure white, no aura at all. Combine that with the weather, and the search range narrowed again.

“The closest match is the forest rabbit. That species only appears in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Heavens, and it’s a very low-grade spiritual beast.” The subordinate had even obtained a piece of the fur and presented it for comparison. After a pause, he lowered his voice and added, “Dijun, our movements didn’t go unnoticed by the Silver Eagle group… They’ve been restless lately because of the Empress. Should we—”

Qin Lou, still holding the fur, didn’t even look up. He wasn’t surprised.

“I never expected to hide it completely,” he said flatly. “Let’s see who’s more capable.”

He still remembered the silver eagle that used to bring him Star Sand from Duanqing Peak. And he knew he wasn’t the only one who missed Xueman.

To many people here, Xueman meant more than words could say. He couldn’t stop them.

The subordinate didn’t speak further. He understood all too well—the clues all pointed to one thing: the Empress was in the Lower Realm. Most likely… in the Seventeenth Heaven.

That would also explain why the Star Map—which should’ve been constantly updating after locating its target—seemed to have frozen. The signals were faint not just because of the distance, but because the Seventeenth Heaven was infamous for its spiritual energy drought—a perfect hiding place.

The Wangtian Immortal Sect, stationed long-term in the Upper Realm, had to confirm things layer by layer. By the time Qin Lou finally got the report, a full month had passed.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t in a hurry—it’s just that whenever he thought of Xueman, as long as there was the tiniest bit of progress, his heart would be filled with joy.

No one could understand the pain he’d gone through after losing Xueman. And likewise, no one could understand his current joy at possibly finding him again.

He clung tightly to this one sliver of hope—the hope he’d waited so long for—and descended to the Lower Realm alone.

Logically speaking, Xiao Xueman should never have appeared in the Lower Realm.

Someone of his strength had no business staying here—especially not in the Seventeenth Heaven. And judging from the image, the content of that scene… Qin Lou was terrified Xueman had been threatened or harmed.

But at the same time, Qin Lou knew all too well: he had been part of Xueman’s pain too. He didn’t dare make a grand appearance in the search. If the Upper Realm suddenly sent people pouring into the Lower Realm, it would be impossible to hide—especially in a place like this. If Xueman caught even the slightest hint, he’d vanish again, and this time, there might be no more trail.

Plus, Qin Lou wanted to avoid certain people.

Maybe Xueman never wanted to see him again. But Qin Lou… he couldn’t let go.

He’d clung to this tiny bit of hope for so many years. Xiao Xueman was his entire heart—his life itself.

Not everyone had Xueman’s god-tier talent for casually slapping down seals. Qin Lou had rummaged through the sect’s treasury and found a rare, failed spiritual artifact—a black cloak. It had been meant for defense, but ended up with a side effect: it suppressed spiritual power. Useless for most. Perfect for him.

He forced himself to wear it, pressing his spiritual energy down to the lowest it would go. But even so, Qin Lou’s power was so immense, he could only suppress it to Spirit Knight Tier 9.

The Seventeenth Heaven’s ceiling was Tier 3.

That was too big a gap.

Descending here, it didn’t take long for him to feel short of breath. The sensation came from the harsh rules of this realm—it felt like being stabbed all over. And the longer he stayed, the worse it got.

This place had no major cities—just scattered little towns, like stars dotting a vast expanse. The Seventeenth Heaven had fewer people compared to other realms—barely ten million. In such a wide region, that made it feel almost deserted. After all, anyone who could leave, did.

Qin Lou still carried the crystal orb linked to the Star Map, but it dimmed almost instantly after entering the Seventeenth Heaven—no spiritual energy to power it. With no other leads, he had no choice but to stow it away carefully.

That left him with no direction.

Just pain.

Still, he endured the suppression, braved the discomfort, and went from town to town, searching blindly.

No matter how well Xueman hid his strength, that face—that face—anyone who’d seen it would remember.

Qin Lou searched the Seventeenth Heaven for three months straight without rest. The suppression had reached an unbearable level. His whole body felt like it was filled with lead, pressure coming from every direction. The pain didn’t matter—he was used to that. It was the suffocating weight that was harder to bear, like being suspended between life and death.

Anyone else would’ve gone back to the upper layers to take a break.

But Qin Lou couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Because in his mind, what if I find him the next second?

He didn’t dare waste even a moment.

Finally, he got a hit.

This little town looked no different from the dozens he’d visited before—maybe even smaller and shabbier. But when he entered and asked the meat vendor near the city gate, the moment he mentioned “Xueman,” he hadn’t even finished describing him before the vendor reacted.

“Xueman? You mean that guy with the pretty green eyes? Yeah, I know him.”

The vendor was loud and casual, clearly ready to chat. But then he looked Qin Lou up and down, saw the black cloak and couldn’t make out his face. The hoarse voice didn’t help. Suddenly, he set down his bone-cutting knife and grew wary.

“Who are you? Why are you asking about him?”

He knows Xueman!

Qin Lou was hit with such an intense wave of joy that his brain short-circuited for a few seconds. His hand, hidden under the cloak, was visibly trembling.

Pulling together every ounce of reason he had left, he realized the vendor was getting suspicious. If he let his emotions go wild, he’d scare him off.

So, slowly, he raised a hand and pushed back the cloak’s hood, revealing his face—trying his best to appear sincere.

“I…” He opened his mouth, suddenly unsure what to say. “I’m Xueman’s lover. We… got separated a long time ago because of some things. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

He looked like he’d been through hell. But his eyes were shining with light.

The vendor’s expression softened a little. He seemed sympathetic.

“You’re late,” he said regretfully. “Xueman and Xiao Wan moved out over three months ago. Left in a hurry. Didn’t tell us where. But that Xiao Wan kid was really smart. Probably went upward. School here’s nothing to write home about.”

That sentence slammed Qin Lou straight from heaven to hell.

But what really caught his attention—was the unfamiliar name that had been mentioned.

“Xiao Wan… who’s that?”

The vendor gave him a weird look, then picked up the bone knife again.

“You said you’re Xueman’s lover, and you don’t know who Xiao Wan is?” he asked. “You’re not lying, are you?”

Qin Lou was stunned. His mind had gone completely blank. Before he could respond, the next sentence hit him like a meteor.

“Xiao Wan is Xiao Xueman’s son! You didn’t know?”

In the Spirit Realm Continent, having a child was just a matter of spiritual power merging—it didn’t matter what genders were involved. Male pregnancies were more difficult, sure, but not unheard of.

“What’s wrong with you?” the vendor grew more agitated. “Xueman ran that shop and raised that kid all by himself. Do you know how hard that was? Xiao Wan’s already five! And you didn’t even know you had a kid? What kind of dad are you?”

Qin Lou was thoroughly scolded. He didn’t say a single word in return.

Xueman… has a child.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over. He wanted to take each word apart, analyze it, and understand what it truly meant.

They’d been separated for over a hundred years. The child was only five. To most people, that’d scream “you’ve been cheated on.”

But Qin Lou knew—he and Xueman weren’t ordinary people. If they had a child, even a hundred-year pregnancy wasn’t unusual.

The stronger the parents, the harder it was to conceive. In the First Heaven, couples often waited hundreds of years. With lifespans that long, it was nothing.

He and Xueman—be it spiritual fusion or… other kinds of fusion—they’d done all that a long time ago.

Qin Lou couldn’t speak. He felt like the heavens had finally noticed his suffering and decided to throw him a bone.

He and Xueman… had a child.

⸻

Author’s Note:

Gong: It’s the fruit of our love! 😭💖

Me [calm]: Buddy. Wake up. Xueman doesn’t like you anymore. The kid doesn’t like you either. You got nothing.

Also, has anyone noticed? Xiao Wan has never asked Xueman where his other daddy or mommy is. [spreads hands]