Tan Yin’s brow furrowed gradually, feeling a growing sense of disgust at Han Nu's casual tone, as though treating human lives like insignificant grass.
“If Tai He were awake, he wouldn’t approve of your methods,” she said coldly.
“No matter about Tai He—so, that means you don’t actually oppose what I’m doing.” Han Nu smiled sweetly as she clasped Tan Yin’s hand. “I know you’re even more anxious than I am.”
Tan Yin slowly pulled her hand back, turned her head away, and replied icily, “I do oppose it. I won’t let you kill the Grand Monk.”
Han Nu’s expression shifted subtly, and after a moment of realization, she asked in surprise, “Could it be that you have feelings for the monk from the Fox Clan? Why are you protecting him like this?”
Tan Yin’s frown deepened. “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Your body is deteriorating—you need to be fully sealed in the Divine Crystal. That will keep you alive until Tai He wakes, and then we can figure things out together. There’s no need to rush.”
Han Nu seemed to ignore her, smiling as she continued, “I always thought you were deeply infatuated with Tai He. I never imagined I could be so wrong.”
“Enough!” Tan Yin’s face darkened with anger as she glared at her.
Unperturbed, Han Nu chuckled softly. “You resent me for taking Tai He away, I know that. But that’s no reason to lower yourself by getting entangled with a mortal monk. You’re the unparalleled goddess, Wu Shuang, after all…”
Tan Yin raised her hand, fixing her gaze on Han Nu. “Go on. Keep talking.”
A small golden seal gleamed in Tan Yin’s palm, radiating divine power. Even if Han Nu’s body weren’t already beginning to dissolve, this seal could easily deliver the torment of soul-shattering pain.
Han Nu’s face remained impassive. She glanced at the seal, then back at Tan Yin’s frosty expression. A strange, fervent gleam flashed briefly in Han Nu’s eyes.
“…Very well, I was wrong,” Han Nu said softly, her voice apologetic. “It wouldn’t be pretty to push you too far, my little fool.”
Tan Yin silently withdrew the seal. Han Nu’s words made her feel deeply uncomfortable—she didn’t like the way she spoke so loftily, as if the Grand Monk’s life was nothing but dust.
But, truth be told, hadn’t she initially seen him in the same way? Han Nu’s words had pierced the shadow in her heart, and Tan Yin suddenly felt regret—regret for her own foolish arrogance.
Even though she knew Tan Yin’s origins were mysterious and her intentions unclear, the Grand Monk had still allowed her to follow him. Despite his temper, which was even more unpredictable than Tai He’s—sometimes joyful, sometimes furious—he was at least open and straightforward. He laughed, cursed, and expressed his emotions freely. Even knowing he would die, he had still placed himself in harm’s way to protect her. In many ways, he was far better than she, the scheming goddess.
“…Don’t ever speak like that again,” Tan Yin said, taking a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll find some Divine Crystal to seal your body.”
The Divine Crystal was one of the divine realm’s greatest treasures, and extremely scarce. Tan Yin, thanks to her privileges as a master craftsman, had managed to stockpile some. But after using it to seal Han Nu’s body, there would only be enough left for one more person. She took out the box filled with the crystal, glanced at Han Nu, and after a moment’s thought, decided to carry the remaining Divine Crystal with her—just in case Han Nu tried to use it for some other schemes.
“…Tai He will be heartbroken,” Han Nu remarked suddenly, as Tan Yin worked on sealing her body.
Tan Yin pretended not to hear.
Han Nu continued to watch her, and after a long silence, she added softly, “I’ll be heartbroken too.”
Tan Yin’s hands faltered for just a second before she resumed sealing Han Nu’s body with steady precision.
“You knew three cycles ago that Tai He’s left hand was with the Fox Clan. Why did it take you so long to act?” Han Nu asked in a low voice, ignoring Tan Yin’s silence.
“Because I didn’t make any moves in the mortal realm, you decided to release your godhood frequently over the past three cycles to keep an eye on me?” Tan Yin replied indifferently.
If the immortals and demons of the mortal world knew that the fabled Tianguang Kaihe was nothing more than a goddess releasing her godhood to search for someone, she wondered what they would think.
Han Nu smirked mischievously. “I know everything about you. Just think of it as me looking out for you. Not that I expect you to believe me. Now, answer my question.”
Tan Yin shook her head. She didn’t want to explain.
In the days before Tai He’s slumber, as his divine power faded, he hardly ever left his chambers. Tan Yin hadn’t gone to see him, and maybe if she had acted more cheerful or easygoing, things would have been different. If she had just tried to make him smile, gone to visit him as she used to, laughed and talked with him and Han Nu like they always did—maybe she should have given Tai He and Han Nu her wholehearted blessing. The divine realm was vast and cold; it was fortunate to have a companion.
But she simply hadn’t wanted to go. In fact, whenever she caught sight of Tai He from afar, she would quietly slip away. She spent countless hours in her messy temple, pondering over nothing in particular, clutching the hammer and nails she knew so well, yet completely uncertain about what to make. So many ideas had once filled her mind, but now there was only emptiness.
As she sat there, staring blankly at her hammer for days, Tai He had suddenly appeared.
He arrived so silently that when Tan Yin turned and saw him, she had no idea how long he had been standing there. His expression was calm.
She instinctively bolted behind a pillar, peeking out with wide, bewildered eyes. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to be there—but she had nowhere to go. So she stood frozen, like a stubborn nail stuck behind the pillar.
Tai He suddenly smiled, and as he did, Tan Yin’s confusion only deepened. He smiled for a long moment, then sighed.
“Tan Yin, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Don’t dwell on what I said last time.”
He called her Tan Yin—the name she had when she was mortal. He used to always call her that, but at some point, like Han Nu, he had begun calling her Wu Shuang instead. But now, he called her Tan Yin again.
Slowly, Tan Yin edged out from behind the pillar, still not speaking, only looking at him.
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