From early morning, Fuyu had already become lively.
The young people, full of endless energy, tugged on long sky-blue silk ribbons stretching tens or even hundreds of meters from one end of the street to the other.
They molded soft clouds into sculpted pillars, twined the ribbons into floral decorations, and hung them up, extending all the way into the sea.
As the first rays of sunlight broke through the sky, Wushao City of Fuyu was already awash in vivid blue.
Fuyu, with its vast skies and rivers, adored the color blue most of all.
In past years, such hustle and bustle had nothing to do with Yu Lin’an.
This year, however, it was somewhat related—he planned to invite a girl from the academy, who also studied fujì divination, out in the evening.
Young people in Fuyu were bold and direct, unafraid to express affection toward those they admired and take initiative.
This kind of thing, originally, shouldn’t have involved Su Lingxi.
But the first heart-fluttering moment of Yu Lin’an’s life was… special.
According to his first description, the girl was small, timid, introverted, afraid of crowds—the livelier the world outside, the more she curled up at home.
The only way to coax her out was through the art of incense-blending.
Yes, this girl’s body was in fujì, but her heart belonged to incense arts.
She liked Su Lingxi a lot.
Even though Yu Lin’an repeatedly told her Su Lingxi was incredibly unlucky—brilliant in incense arts, yet completely stagnant in other basic skills, often getting scolded at least three times a month by the Headmaster and fleeing in disgrace.
She was also the Headmaster’s most troublesome student—able to drive the notoriously strict Headmaster into bouts of self-doubt.
Yu Lin’an, who was close to Su Lingxi, once overheard the Headmaster shouting during a lesson: Why can’t you understand something so simple?
The tone was as despairing as when they were thrown into the Mirror of Water and couldn’t climb back out.
But the girl’s blind adoration knew no bounds.
Yu Lin’an could only seek help from his good friend Su Lingxi.
However, early that morning, when he went to her home, she was already gone.
Ye Zhuxu was also nowhere to be found.
He suspiciously pulled out his spirit orb to check—no messages.
Su Lingxi had many friends, but when he asked around from one end of the street to the other, no one knew where she had gone.
Standing at the far end of the street with the gift he had prepared, Yu Lin’an had a ridiculous thought:
Could those two have snuck off early to spend the festival together?
Didn’t they agree to go together?
He couldn’t help but message Su Lingxi with the spirit orb, expressing his worry and reproach over the possibility:
You and Ye Zhuxu have been together for two years.
You spend every single day together.
Don’t you know which comes first and which is more important…?
Would you really want to see your good friend’s first love come to nothing?!
Normally, Su Lingxi would have replied instantly with something like:
Why would I not want that?
But this time, nothing.
In the end, Yu Lin’an returned to the academy.
The lecturers lived in the outer city, and there was one place Su Lingxi visited often—her mother lived there.
Both of Su Lingxi’s parents had been lecturers at the academy.
During a trial with academy students, an accident occurred: the Mirror of Water reversed, and the formation backfired.
With hundreds of disciples about to be swallowed by a vortex, her father leapt into the heart of the formation without hesitation to stabilize it and died on the spot.
Her mother brought the remaining children back but soon collapsed, and had been unconscious ever since—her life sustained only by spiritual marrow provided by the spirit clans.
Su Lingxi was one year old at the time.
She was raised by the lecturers and the families of those saved during that disaster.
She had been too young to remember the tragedy, and so never deeply felt the pain of losing her parents.
She was clever from a young age, knowing who was strict and who was lenient.
Every time she was scolded by the lecturers, she’d throw a tantrum and threaten to run away.
Who didn’t feel grateful to her parents?
Who didn’t pity her?
She’d only need to walk down the street, and within moments someone would pull her into their home, feed her, wipe her face, let her cry and hug her to sleep.
Even when their own children cried to return home from the academy, the families didn’t dare interfere.
But if Su Lingxi cried, few could resist.
Every few days, people would visit the lecturers with gifts under the guise of courtesy—then bring up how a child so young shouldn’t be treated too harshly.
If the lecturer was especially strict and unyielding, they’d change tactics and start weeping over Su Lingxi’s parents.
Even the strictest hearts softened eventually.
So the years passed.
Su Lingxi grew increasingly mischievous.
When the lecturers discovered her talent in incense arts, they trained her with dedication.
But they couldn’t stop everyone from spoiling her.
The older she got, the more unruly she became—fearless, wild, defiant, unbound by convention.
Yu Lin’an had been her devoted little follower since then.
This carefree life ended the year the Headmaster officially took Su Lingxi as a disciple.
The Headmaster.
Just the name made people’s limbs weak and foreheads sweat.
This top-ranked leader among the Four Great Academies was full of rules and precision.
Strict with herself, and stricter with others. When Su Lingxi disobeyed, the Headmaster would respond with strategy.
When she wouldn’t read or listen to teachings, the Headmaster made her read aloud, word by word, drilling her on the fundamentals of conduct—what it meant to be virtuous, moral—and forced her to learn discipline and not act too wildly.
Visiting her father’s grave during Qingming, visiting her mother on New Year’s Eve—speaking to them—were all assignments given by the Headmaster.
Over time, Su Lingxi developed the habit of visiting her mother before going on long trips.
Yu Lin’an slipped in through a side gate in the south, crouching low.
A woman who had long cared for Su Lingxi’s mother was sweeping fallen leaves with a bamboo broom.
She squinted for a moment before recognizing him.
“You’re one of Little Xi’s friends, aren’t you?”
“Aunt Jiang.”
Yu Lin’an asked, “Has Su Lingxi been here recently?”
“She has.”
His face froze, heart sinking—but before the chill could fully settle, the woman added, “She told her mother she was going to the mortal world with the Twelve Witches on business. Been gone a while. Didn’t you know?”
His eyelid twitched. He did know the Twelve Witches had been sent temporarily to the mortal realm… but Su Lingxi?
What was she doing with them?
How could he possibly know?
“Did she say when she’d be back?”
He asked.
“Said it wouldn’t be long. She’d return for the festival.”
The woman glanced up at the sky, surprised.
“Oh? Today is the festival. Little Xi’s not back yet?”
“Not yet. Maybe later—it’s still early.”
Yu Lin’an wiped his face, but didn’t leave immediately.
Instead, he turned and walked into the house.
“I’ll check on Aunt Su.”
Before entering, he unconsciously adjusted his hairpin, brushed his sleeves, then solemnly knocked on the door three times and pushed it open.
Inside was a small formation, its pale blue glow spread across the floor.
The furnishings were complete, elegant and quiet.
A large screen shielded the bed behind which lay one of Fuyu’s most respected lecturers.
“Aunt Su.”
Yu Lin’an bowed respectfully.
After rummaging through his spirit ring for a while, he pulled out a few remaining pieces of spirit marrow and placed them into the formation.
The light in the room instantly grew stronger.
“It’s been a while—I saved up some spirit stones.”
After standing there awkwardly for a bit, he began mumbling about the girl he liked.
He clenched his fists, saying that even though Su Lingxi had brought Ye Zhuxu home when she was just sixteen, he would still try his best.
After a while, Yu Lin’an prepared to leave.
Before turning around, he added out of habit, “I hope you’ll wake up soon.”
Since Su Lingxi had gone with the Twelve Witches to the mortal world, then Ye Zhuxu must still be in Fuyu.
Yu Lin’an thought it odd—why hadn’t even he shown up?
Something wasn’t right.
By afternoon, the festival atmosphere had reached its peak.
Preparations for the evening festivities were in full swing—vibrant and intense.
But in the end, that year’s reunion day never came to pass.
It was around the third quarter of the hour of You.
The sun had set in the west, and darkness was rising from the east, slowly unfurling across the sky.
Near and far, the sound of drums echoed—
Then, a thunderclap tore through the heated atmosphere, overpowering the brilliance of the sea of lanterns.
Heaven and earth trembled.
The outline of the Gate of Floating Jade appeared in everyone’s sight, no matter how many thousands of miles away, bringing with it an immense, inescapable sense of oppression.
Its will surged silently into every mind through some blood-borne connection.
From this day forth, the Twelve Witches are expelled and struck from the records of Floating Jade.
Su Lingxi has committed an unforgivable crime.
In consideration of her parents’ sacrifices, she is granted a grace period of half an hour to return through the gate. After that, she will face the same punishment—permanent banishment, without pardon.
It is said that everyone born in Floating Jade has a small gate inside them, linked to the Great Gate.
That’s why, no matter where one roams, one can always return home.
In the past, the younger generation never believed it.
People in the mortal world exaggerated Floating Jade, but it wasn’t that magical—until that day.
That day, they learned the truth.
They finally saw it with their own eyes.
The Gate, more towering than ten thousand-foot peaks, opened and closed repeatedly.
Each time it did, it was like a massive bronze bell being struck—its sound thunderous, echoing across the land, reaching every ear clearly, making one’s entire body shudder.
Every toll marked the severing of one more person.
From that moment on, they were no longer part of Floating Jade—no matter the fate, the ties, the dignity or disgrace—it all came to an end that night.
“Forever severed”—that phrase could tear one’s heart into pieces.
All sound ceased.
The world fell into an uncanny stillness… and yet, not quite.
Yu Lin’an realized it as he once again fell from the clouds. His blood roared in his veins, his heart beat wildly—he was running, running toward the giant gate with all his might.
And he wasn’t the only one.
He recognized some of the faces around him.
Gradually, more voices rose—people asking what had happened, why it had come to this.
What had occurred in the mortal realm that even the Twelve Witches couldn’t handle, something so grave that it cost them everything, something so grave that they were to be banished?
These were the Twelve Witches, after all.
Floating Jade had seventeen cities, countless academies, and each generation had hundreds of thousands of young talents.
The Twelve Witches were chosen through trials that had never changed over centuries—each of the twelve paths grueling and absolute.
Anyone who passed even one was a peerless genius, without question.
They were the future of Floating Jade.
The Twelve held great power, made decisions. Rarely did they act in unison.
So when they went to the mortal world, no one had worried about them.
Yu Lin’an pulled out his spirit orb.
His mind was in chaos.
So many questions roared through his head, but his hands shook uncontrollably.
Even the term “bolt from the blue” fell short of describing his anguish.
In the end, he could only repeat one line over and over:
“Su Lingxi, come back. Hurry! Hurry up. Just a little faster!”
He had never been to the mortal realm.
He didn’t know how vast it was.
Didn’t know which city she was in.
Didn’t know how far from the gate she still was.
Only that the distance from her academy to the gate was immeasurably long.
By the time he arrived, the eleventh chime had already rung.
The half-hour grace period was nearly over.
Many had already gathered.Three Grand Instructors, many teachers, and the families of the Twelve Witches.
Every face was solemn.