I Will Return Too

Those three words fell into the sealed chamber so softly that they barely seemed to echo at all.

And yet they made the already heavy atmosphere even harder to breathe in.

Quan Nha did not explain what she had just experienced.

She did not say what, exactly, she had absorbed from the Heavenly Eye.

She simply stood before the four Deputy City Lords, her expression so calm that Hao Nhien could not guess what was moving through her mind.

After a while, she finally spoke.

“Stand.”

No soul power pulled the four men to their feet.

No invisible force compelled their bodies to obey.

Huu Liet was the first to rise.

Tien Phong followed.

Ta Minh was a beat slower.

Trung Vu continued watching Quan Nha for a while longer before finally straightening.

No one asked why.

Hao Nhien saw the entire process clearly, and it only made him more certain that these four men were not being controlled.

They stood because she had told them to.

Naturally.

As though that had always been the proper thing to do.

Only then did Quan Nha turn toward Hao Nhien.

Their gazes met.

For one very brief moment, Hao Nhien almost instinctively waited for something familiar.

Perhaps only a blink.

The faintest trace of a smile.

Any small reaction that, in the past, would have been enough for him to understand what she was thinking.

There was nothing.

Quan Nha looked at him calmly.

Not coldly.

Not deliberately distant.

But the easy closeness that had once existed naturally in her eyes was gone.

That disturbed Hao Nhien more than the soul fluctuation from moments before.

She looked at him only briefly before turning back toward the four Deputy City Lords.

Huu Liet lowered his head first.

This time, he did not immediately kneel.

Instead, he cupped his hands, his manner carrying a reverence completely different from before.

“Greetings, God-Lord.”

Tien Phong was silent for a moment before bowing as well.

Ta Minh remained still longer, his eyes carrying one last trace of scrutiny, but in the end he too lowered his head.

Trung Vu was the slowest.

Yet when his gaze finally dropped, the hesitation from before was gone.

Four voices sounded one after another.

“Greetings, God-Lord.”

Hao Nhien did not look at them.

From beginning to end, his eyes remained on Quan Nha.

She still had the face he knew best.

The same hair.

The same figure.

The same underlying aura.

But for the first time since they had begun traveling together, Hao Nhien felt that he could no longer simply walk up to her as naturally as before.

Not because he was afraid of her.

Nor because he believed the person before him had become someone else.

Something had simply appeared between them that had never existed before.

Enough to make gestures that once required no thought suddenly become things that did.

Hao Nhien did not know whether that distance was temporary or whether it would remain for a very long time.

He did not know what Quan Nha had absorbed either.

But he understood one thing.

From today onward, things between them could not simply return to how they had been as though nothing had happened.

The outer door slowly opened.

The sound was very faint, like something sealed for far too long finally allowing itself to separate from its old position.

The moment the first gap appeared, the invisible presence around Quan Nha quietly spread beyond the chamber.

It was not violent.

It did not become a pressure forcing others to bow.

Yet wherever it passed, the surrounding atmosphere naturally grew still.

The people standing near the great hall gradually fell silent.

One gaze after another turned toward the doorway.

Quan Nha stepped out first.

She made no display.

She did not deliberately circulate spiritual power.

Every step was perfectly ordinary.

Yet when her foot came down upon the first stone step, Hao Nhien still had the strange impression that the entire plaza before the hall had slowed by half a beat.

The light outside fell across her.

Her long hair stirred gently in the wind.

Her face was unchanged.

But her bearing was not.

It was not coldness.

Nor arrogance.

It was a stillness that made others feel she did not need anyone’s recognition to stand where she stood.

The four Deputy City Lords emerged behind her one after another.

None moved ahead of her.

All remained half a step behind.

Only half a step.

But everyone outside the hall was experienced enough to understand what that meant.

Hao Nhien walked last.

He did not look at the four men ahead.

His gaze remained on Quan Nha’s back.

The unfamiliar feeling from the inner chamber had not faded.

Here, in this scene, it only became clearer.

The two rows of guards outside the hall were the first to react.

One man who had been standing straight suddenly trembled faintly.

The vigilance in his eyes became shock, then gradually transformed into something Hao Nhien had seen countless times throughout Heavenly Eye.

Reverence.

The man slowly knelt.

No one ordered him to.

The person beside him saw it, hesitated for a while, then lowered himself as well.

Then another.

And another.

Within only a few breaths, more than half the guards were kneeling.

But some remained standing.

A few frowned.

Some looked at Quan Nha, then toward the four Deputy City Lords behind her.

Others simply had no idea how they were supposed to react.

Hao Nhien found that reassuring.

If everyone had dropped to their knees in a single instant, that was when he would have truly worried.

Faith was never the same in every person.

Some believed deeply.

Some only enough.

Some merely followed rules.

And some had never truly believed at all.

But those who had devoted most of their lives to that faith now seemed to have finally found what they had been waiting for.

Quan Nha continued walking.

The presence around her slowly spread across the plaza, then flowed along the nearby streets.

Not quickly.

But continuously.

People in conversation fell silent.

Workers carrying goods raised their heads.

An old man by the roadside stared toward the great hall for a long time before suddenly beginning to tremble.

His lips moved faintly.

“God-Lord…”

The call was very soft.

The NovelPhoenix publication is the author's own post, but this page copied its chapter without permission.

But the person beside him heard it.

Then another voice followed.

Then another.

At first, the voices were scattered and disconnected.

Gradually, they joined into a low wave, uneven but spreading farther and farther.

Those whose faith ran deepest knelt first.

Some had tears in their eyes.

Some bowed while crying, as though something they had believed in for decades had finally taken a shape they could see.

At the edges of the plaza, many remained standing.

No one forced them.

Quan Nha said nothing.

She simply stood at the highest step of the hall and let the wind move through her robes while each person chose how to respond.

Hao Nhien stood behind her and silently watched the scene unfold.

The calls of “God-Lord” continued spreading from the plaza.

At first they came from only a few scattered places.

Then they slowly joined into a low current moving through the streets near the great hall.

Some knelt in tears.

Some only bowed.

Some remained standing with doubt on their faces.

But for those who had placed their faith in Heavenly Eye for many years, what they had waited for seemed to have finally appeared before them in a form they could recognize.

Hao Nhien watched them for a long time.

He had once asked himself whether belief could be destroyed with a sword.

A statue could be shattered and rebuilt.

A God-Lord could be killed and replaced by another.

Because what truly held people might not lie in the statue or the name at all.

It might lie in the need to believe.

He had once thought that if Heavenly Eye was ever to change, the people here would first have to see another road.

He had not expected the first change to come like this.

No fortress had fallen.

No battle had killed thousands.

Yet the people below were still kneeling.

Only the object toward which they directed themselves had changed.

That did not allow Hao Nhien to feel truly relieved.

If what he wanted was for these people to have a real choice, then what he was seeing now could not be called the final result.

It only meant the center of their faith had shifted.

Where that faith would lead them from here was something no one yet knew.

In the end, Hao Nhien’s gaze returned to Quan Nha.

She stood at the highest step of the great hall, countless eyes directed toward her.

Yet from beginning to end, she made no deliberate gesture to hold their attention.

That calmness only made the distance between her and those below feel even clearer.

Hao Nhien knew he should be proud of her.

Nothing happening today had been handed to Quan Nha by him.

She had passed the Quan Family secret realm by herself.

Received her own inheritance by herself.

And now she had stepped into the core of Heavenly Eye and touched something that had existed there for an unknown number of years.

But alongside that pride was an emptiness inside him that was difficult to name.

The Quan Nha in his memories had never been someone who enjoyed standing beneath countless gazes.

Most of the time, she simply remained beside him.

Sometimes she would lightly tug at his sleeve.

Sometimes she would quietly watch him do something she thought foolish, then laugh very softly.

Those gestures had once been so small that Hao Nhien had almost never noticed them.

Now they were clearer in his memory than anything else.

The person before him was still Quan Nha.

She had simply changed.

Hao Nhien did not know how far that change would go.

But he also understood that he could not force her to become exactly as she had been simply because he was afraid of losing what felt familiar.

That thought remained with him until the end of the day.

By sunset, Hao Nhien and Quan Nha stood on the highest terrace of Heavenly Eye City’s central palace.

Below them, the entire city was still restless from what had happened in the great hall and plaza.

Neither of them mentioned it.

The last red light of the day stretched across the sea of sand, drawing thin bands of brilliance toward the horizon.

Wind from the Western Wastes rose around them, dry and cool in the late evening.

Quan Nha stood beside Hao Nhien.

Only two steps separated them.

Not far enough to call it distance.

But no longer as close as before.

Hao Nhien did not try to close that space.

The woman beside him still had the same face.

The same voice.

The same eyes.

Only days ago, she had stood close to him in the street, holding up a newly purchased hairpin and asking whether it suited her, then laughing at his reaction.

Sometimes she had said nothing at all, simply caught the edge of his sleeve and walked beside him with such ease that Hao Nhien had never imagined those tiny habits might one day become so vivid in his memory.

And yet, if he looked farther back, the Quan Nha he had first met had been completely different again.

Cold.

Quiet.

But never arrogant.

She had once promised to help him find his parents.

She had also reminded him more than once to keep his heart calm, because a cultivator who allowed emotion to pull him too far would eventually throw his own path into chaos.

One layer of memory after another rose in his mind.

Hao Nhien found himself studying the person before him more carefully.

She was still Quan Nha.

But her presence had changed too much.

The calmness in her eyes was no longer merely coldness or stillness.

There was something else in it now.

Something difficult to describe.

Like a person who had already become accustomed to looking down upon a hall full of people.

Accustomed to others waiting for her decisions.

Accustomed to reverence being directed toward her.

A sovereign.

Hao Nhien turned his head toward her.

For some reason, he suddenly remembered Quan Nha once frowning and scolding him in the middle of a tea house.

Putting that girl beside the woman standing here now, he truly found it difficult to believe they were the same person.

The thought made him smile faintly without realizing it.

Quan Nha heard him and turned.

At that moment, a gust of wind passed by, blowing several strands of hair across her face.

Hao Nhien raised a hand almost instinctively.

The movement was too familiar.

But halfway there, his hand stopped.

He looked at her.

Then at his own hand.

As though only now realizing that an invisible distance had appeared inside a gesture that had once required no thought at all.

Hao Nhien started to lower his hand.

Quan Nha moved first.

She reached out, caught his wrist, and gently guided his hand upward until it rested beside her hair.

Hao Nhien paused.

Then his fingers slowly moved, carefully brushing the windblown strands aside.

Quan Nha kept looking at him.

Only after Hao Nhien withdrew his hand did she ask,

“You find me more unfamiliar now, don’t you?”

That choice of address alone made Hao Nhien’s eyes shift slightly.

He heard it.

But he did not correct her.

After a while, he nodded.

“Mm.”

Quan Nha looked at him for another moment before turning back toward the horizon.

Hao Nhien remained silent for quite some time, as though he needed to arrange thoughts that had never before needed words.

“Maybe I became too used to who you were before.”

He paused, then looked at her.

“And who you are now…”

“I’m not used to yet.”

There was no accusation in his voice.

No expectation that she immediately return to what she had been.

Hao Nhien simply said the most honest thing in his heart.

Quan Nha did not appear upset.

She lowered her eyes toward her own hand.

“Neither am I.”

Hao Nhien frowned slightly.

Quan Nha continued,

“With myself.”

She fell silent for a while, as though some things were clear inside her but still difficult to shape into words.

“I still remember.”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

Quan Nha did not avoid his gaze.

“I remember the first time I met you.”

“I remember what we went through.”

“I remember when I began wanting to stay beside you more often.”

“And I remember why, later, walking with you became something natural to me.”

Her voice remained calm.

“Those things are not gone.”

She paused slightly.

“I have not forgotten my feelings either.”

Hao Nhien said nothing.

Quan Nha looked into the distance.

“It is only that now, when I try to reach for those feelings, they are no longer sitting right where I can touch them as easily as before.”

“They are still there.”

“But they feel as though they have sunk deeper.”

Her fingers tightened faintly.

“I know I once followed you wholeheartedly.”

“I know all of that was real.”

“Not because someone else told me so.”

“And not because they are merely memories left behind.”

Quan Nha turned toward him.

“They are mine.”

For the first time, there was a certainty in her voice that felt close to the Quan Nha he had known before.

“I will not let them disappear.”

Hao Nhien looked at her for a long time.

But Quan Nha was not finished.

“It’s just…”

She paused.

“I also don’t want you to accept who I am now only because you once loved a different Quan Nha.”

Hao Nhien’s gaze changed slightly.

Quan Nha continued looking directly at him.

“If you look at me now but spend all your time searching for the person I used to be…”

“And because of everything we already had, force yourself to treat me as though nothing changed…”

She slowly shook her head.

“I would feel suffocated.”

There was no accusation in the words.

Only honesty.

Quan Nha looked at her hand for a while before continuing.

“Perhaps I need time to understand what kind of person I will become now.”

“And I also need time for the things buried deeper inside to return naturally, if they are going to return.”

Hao Nhien understood what she meant.

She was not rejecting the past.

Nor was she trying to cut away the Quan Nha she had once been.

She simply did not want the past to become a chain forcing both of them to keep loving one another in exactly the same way.

After some time, Hao Nhien asked,

“Do you regret it?”

Quan Nha turned toward him.

This time, she barely needed to think.

“No.”

She continued,

“If I returned to that moment, I would probably still choose the same thing.”

“It was my choice.”

“So the price should also be mine to pay.”

Hao Nhien paused.

The words reminded him of himself, and the corner of his mouth lifted without him realizing it.

“You still remember?”

Quan Nha smiled faintly.

“Not everything you say is useless.”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

“Only most of it?”

“Mm.”

This time, he truly laughed.

The sound was soft.

But in that brief moment, a piece of the Quan Nha he had once known so well seemed to appear before him again.

Only a little.

Not enough to erase everything that had changed.

But enough to make the distance between them feel less cold.

They fell silent again.

Neither tried to seize that moment and pretend everything had returned to normal.

After a while, Hao Nhien looked toward the setting sun and said,

“I still have a few things to finish here.”

“Once they’re handled, I’ll leave Heavenly Eye City.”

Quan Nha turned toward him.

“Back to Lac Van?”

“First.”

Hao Nhien nodded.

“I still need to return and see how things are there.”

“After that, I’ll go back to Hoa Van.”

“The people who returned, those still scattered elsewhere, Luu Ho’s situation, and the things still unfinished all need to be arranged.”

Quan Nha listened before asking,

“And after that?”

Hao Nhien looked toward the distant sea of sand.

“Continue searching for the remaining key fragment.”

He paused.

“If I want to unravel everything connected to the Firmament, and find the path beyond Foundation Establishment, I cannot remain in the Western Wastes forever.”

Quan Nha nodded lightly.

She did not ask whether he could stay longer.

Hao Nhien did not ask whether she wanted to leave with him.

There were questions they might once have asked each other naturally.

Now, they did not need to.

Quan Nha looked down at Heavenly Eye City below.

From this height, the streets could be seen stretching between the buildings, with the city walls farther beyond and the sea of sand gradually sinking into the darkness of evening.

“I will stay here for a while.”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

Quan Nha continued,

“What happened today only changed Heavenly Eye at the center.”

“It does not mean everything beneath it will change on its own.”

“There are still people being held.”

“Tribes still being forced.”

“Places outside still caught in conflict.”

“I need time to see everything clearly before deciding how far to go.”

Hao Nhien nodded.

“Right.”

Quan Nha looked at him.

“I remember the things we talked about.”

“At the very least, people who do not want to kneel should not be forced to kneel.”

Hao Nhien did not answer immediately.

After a while, he smiled faintly.

“That alone will keep you busy for a long time.”

“Perhaps.”

She looked down at the city.

“But now I am in this position.”

“If there are things I do not do, there may be no one else with a reason to do them in my place.”

Hao Nhien understood.

This, too, was part of the change he had to learn to accept.

Quan Nha was no longer simply someone who could leave with him whenever she wished.

From the moment the four Deputy City Lords bowed before her, things had appeared on her shoulders that had never existed before.

And the same was true for him.

His own road had never ended in the Western Wastes.

One needed to stay.

One needed to leave.

Not because the feeling between them had faded.

But because both now had things that could not be entrusted to someone else.

Hao Nhien remained silent for a long time before saying,

“Maybe this is good.”

Quan Nha looked at him.

“Do you really think so, Brother?”

The old form of address returned naturally for the first time.

Hao Nhien paused slightly, though he did not show much reaction.

He thought before answering.

“I don’t know whether it is good.”

“But I think we both need some time.”

Quan Nha did not disagree.

Hao Nhien continued,

“You need time to understand what kind of person Quan Nha will become after today.”

“And I need time to look at that person without constantly comparing her to the one in my memories.”

Quan Nha remained silent.

He looked at her.

“I don’t want us to force everything to continue exactly as before simply because we were together before.”

“If we do that, I think both of us will become tired.”

Quan Nha lowered her eyes slightly.

“I think so too.”

Her voice was very soft.

“I don’t want you to accept me only because of what existed before.”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

“But I also don’t want to lose what we had.”

Quan Nha looked up.

He smiled very faintly.

“Then let it stay there.”

“Stay there?”

“Mm.”

Hao Nhien looked toward the horizon.

“There is no need to hurry to prove it still exists.”

“And no need to decide immediately what it will become.”

“When we meet again, maybe we’ll know naturally.”

Quan Nha was silent for a long time.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of what?”

“That if we stay apart too long, we’ll truly become distant.”

Hao Nhien did not answer immediately.

After a while, he said,

“I am.”

Quan Nha’s eyes shifted slightly.

Hao Nhien did not hide it.

“But if a little distance is enough to make everything disappear, then keeping each other beside us now would not preserve it much longer.”

Quan Nha looked at him.

“And if it doesn’t disappear?”

“Then when we meet again, we won’t need to force ourselves to return to what we were.”

He turned toward her.

“We only need to see whether, at that time, we still want to take a step toward each other.”

Quan Nha said nothing.

The wind moved through her hair.

This time, the strands Hao Nhien had just fixed only shifted softly before settling over her shoulder.

The sunset was almost gone.

After a while, she asked,

“How long?”

Hao Nhien shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Quan Nha’s gaze lowered slightly.

Hao Nhien caught the faint trace of sadness that passed through it, but she did not ask him to promise a specific day.

In the end, she only said,

“Then remember to come back, Brother.”

The words were very soft.

Not a demand.

Not an attempt to hold him back.

Hao Nhien looked at her for a long time before nodding.

“I’ll remember.”

The two turned toward the sunset again.

Neither spoke further.

As the last light was about to disappear beyond the horizon, Quan Nha’s hand moved faintly at her side.

Whether by accident or intention was impossible to tell.

Her fingertips brushed Hao Nhien’s hand.

He did not move away.

After a while, Hao Nhien slowly turned his palm over.

Their fingers touched.

Then gradually intertwined.

Not tightly.

Not like the times in the past when she had naturally reached for him.

Not like a promise to keep the other person close.

Only a very gentle holding of hands.

Quan Nha did not look toward him.

She only said,

“I will return too.”

Hao Nhien tightened his hand around hers ever so slightly.

The two continued looking toward the Western Wastes as they slowly sank into darkness, letting the warmth between their joined hands hold onto something familiar neither of them wanted to name too quickly.

Tomorrow, there would still be many things to do.

After that, perhaps they would walk in different directions for a time.

But for now, neither let go first.