Tongque frowned in confusion. "Why bring up Mt. Tianheng?" Song Yinjian's lips curved.
"I plan to relocate your shrine to Mt. Tianheng."
"The scenery is beautiful, and it's less than ten li from Liyue Harbor." "From there, you can see the thriving prosperity of Liyue at any time." That last line hit Tongque like an arrow.
His wisp had remained bound to this statue for a thousand years for one reason— to witness the peaceful age his Lord had promised.
He didn't hesitate.
"I'm willing to move my shrine to Mt. Tianheng."
After that, Song Yinjian asked Tongque several questions. At first, Tongque answered cooperatively.
But the questions became… increasingly strange.
"Have you ever had the thought of serving Rex Lapis at bedtime?" "Have you ever felt the impulse to touch Rex Lapis's chest muscles?" Tongque began to feel something was off—
but he still answered honestly.
Back in those days, Rex Lapis was adored and worshipped by the adepti. Who hadn't wanted to be closer to their Lord?
After he finished questioning, Song Yinjian left with Shenhe.
Back at the shop, he sat at his desk, took up brush and paper, and began writing furiously—fully immersed.
For days, it continued like that.
Shenhe would sometimes come by, pick up the pages he'd just written, and read in silence. As she read further, her expression grew increasingly strange.
The story was set during the Archon War—Tongque fought for Rex Lapis, conquered battlefields, and died a heroic death.
But the main body of the novel focused on the tangled, unspeakable love and resentment between Tongque and his Lord.
Their feelings went beyond anything ordinary—yet worldly ethics were an invisible shackle, binding them tight.
They could only bury that burning emotion deep in their hearts, suppressing it, restraining it. So close they could meet each other's gaze—
yet never able to speak the love and longing aloud.
In the end, when Tongque fell, to spare his Lord guilt and pain, he spoke cruel words— and died with endless regret.
When Shenhe finished, a look of reluctance and discomfort flickered through her eyes. "Why must it be so sad?"
Song Yinjian answered patiently, "Only tragedy leaves people unable to let go. It makes them cherish what they have."
Shenhe fell silent for a long while, then said softly, "I don't like that ending." She turned as if to leave.
Song Yinjian jumped up in panic.
"Senior Sister—I'll change it! I'll change it right now!" At that, Shenhe's lips lifted slightly.
A smile bloomed—like a white lotus opening atop a snowy peak.
In that instant, it felt as if every beautiful thing in the world had gathered on her face. Song Yinjian froze, stunned.
In his memory, his senior sister had never looked like this.
That smile pierced straight through his heart, and his pulse quickened without permission. Shenhe saw him staring dumbly. A faint blush rose on her cheeks.
Flustered, she turned and hurried away—leaving Song Yinjian behind, still replaying the dreamlike moment.
…
Several days later, a novel titled Patriarch of the Immortal Path quietly appeared on the shelves of bookstores all across Liyue.
At first, it was like countless unknown martial tales—ignored, shoved into some corner, unnoticed.
Then on a bright morning, a young man in green robes stumbled upon it. He opened it.
And by the first page, he was hooked—as if an unseen force had seized him.
If not for the shopkeeper's reminder, he might have stood there reading until nightfall. He paid immediately and continued reading on the spot.
He loved it—especially the delicate, restrained depiction of Rex Lapis and Tongque's emotions, the hazy, beautiful ache that felt almost real.
At the end, Tongque fell during the Archon War. In Rex Lapis's arms, he finally confessed: "If there is a next life… when my long hair reaches my waist, would you be willing…"
"…I would."
And then the story ended abruptly, leaving endless aftertaste.
The young man adored it. He recommended it to everyone he knew.
With his enthusiastic pushing, the novel spread quickly—first within a small circle, then like wildfire, drawing more and more readers.
Unlike most popular novels, Patriarch of the Immortal Path found its main audience among women.
Compared to men, women's emotions often ran finer, richer—so they felt the lingering tenderness of the story more sharply.
Soon, on Liyue's streets and lanes, almost every woman carried a copy.
Even Hu Tao was handed one.
But she had no interest at all—two men being wishy-washy didn't strike her as entertaining. So she tossed it to Zhongli, who was calmly sipping tea nearby.
Zhongli accepted it and flipped through casually. As he read, his expression gradually stiffened.
When he finished, he stood with a blank face and walked straight toward Xianjia Rites.
…
Song Yinjian still hadn't noticed danger quietly approaching. He was sprawled at his shop's entrance, basking in the sun.
He'd recently taken a fairly profitable job, earned a tidy sum, and gained ten cultivation points. He was now in mid-stage Qi Refining (180/200).
What thrilled him even more was that his novel had blown up far more than expected.
Many female readers bought it repeatedly after finishing it once, driving sales higher and higher. His royalties had already surpassed twenty million mora.
At this rate, he'd likely earn fifty million in total.
That meant the funds for rebuilding Tongque's shrine and hosting the rite were practically secured.