When Bai Liang returned to the mirror space he noticed something different. It was difficult not to notice though when it was his reflection that was missing.

Before he could think of anything, the mirrors suddenly cracked and shattered, crumbling to nihility. The world exposed beyond it was like the galaxy he saw countless times with Dantalion. He was standing above a wide river of glittering stars with its head and foot stretching out of sight.

“The River of Reincarnation. This is where the souls of 7,000 worlds gather,” the familiar voice echoed in the void space. “Welcome back, Bai Liang. Though there were some minor problems, I see you left with no regret.”

Bai Liang serenely watched the flowing stars, “Whatever the outcome will be, I think I’m ready to accept it.”

“I expect nothing less. The other gods questioned my trust in you, but you proved them wrong.”

“So when you said it was heaven’s decision, you actually meant it was your own?”

“I merely offered the suggestion for the ultimate solution. In the end, this would not have happened without all of our approval,” the voice said. “And regarding your post, there is a vacant position under my jurisdiction. The former deity in charge left a pile of work unattended. She was always a willful one. It is one of the things that caused you and your master’s situation. With your accumulated experience, I believe you can sort it well.”

“…So you’re just sending me to clean up your subordinate’s mess? Or is this a part of your plan?” Bai Liang raised an eyebrow.

The voice chuckled, “I never planned to give you an easy job. This still serves as your punishment, no?”

“Not like I have any say in this,” Bai Liang sighed. He fell silent for a while and looked up, “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how things would be like, but I’m glad I took up this chance.”

“You found peace and acceptance by yourself. Destiny merely dictates our shared benefit. Devote yourself to heaven if you are truly grateful. Words rarely mean anything here,” the voice calmly said.

“I didn’t think heaven is such a cold place,” Bai Liang raised an eyebrow.

“I believe we do not have any ‘temperature’ to begin with,” the voice said in amusement. “We ended up chatting too long. It is time to piece back your master. Are you ready?”

Bai Liang touched his chest and firmly nodded.

A second after, his body slowly ascended, making the river below him smaller and smaller. His heart glowed with a golden light, gradually becoming brighter than the stars around him. Soon, 5 orbs flew out of his body and gently circled around him in their own orbit.

“Master,” Bai Liang softly whispered. He cupped his hands and closed his eyes, “please forgive my selfishness. I want to see you again.”

The orbs of light gathered towards Bai Liang’s palms one after another. They merged into a single blinding sun before slowly forming into an entire figure; strong shoulders that could carry the sky, powerful arms that could split the earth, a firm back that never bent towards heaven, and steel legs that crushed any obstacles within their path.

Yet, when the hands that could bring destruction with a flick of their finger touched the person most precious to them, even the surface of a spring wouldn’t ripple.

Feeling the warmth on his cheeks, Bai Liang felt his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure whether it was still beating in the first place, but if it didn’t, the racing that came afterward must be his illusion as well.

He slowly opened his eyes and raised his gaze.

“My Little Jade,” Qing Shan gently wiped his tears with a fond smile. “My hands can finally reach you.”

The more his tears were brushed away, the more they poured from Bai Liang’s eyes. There were many things he wanted to say, but he could remember none of them. His mind was already full of everything at the present.

His master was back.

His master could touch him again.

His master’s hands weren’t cold anymore.

“You’ve worked hard,” Qing Shan pressed their foreheads together. “You truly have worked hard. Because I was foolish, because I was weak.”

“Master,” Bai Liang couldn’t hold himself back anymore and his face crumbled in his cry. “Master!”

“I’m here,” Qing Shan embraced Bai Liang tightly, burying his head to the nostalgic softness. “I’m here, My Little Jade. Forgive me for leaving you. Forgive me…”

Bai Liang could only wail, saying incoherent words that he couldn’t understand himself. All his feelings crashed back into him that he didn’t know what he should be feeling first.

Although he loved all his master’s reincarnations, in the end, he only loved them as the vessel he was borrowing. The only person he loved as Bai Liang was only his master and the only person who could love him as Bai Liang was his master.

He missed him so much.

So very much…

As he let Bai Liang vent his grief, Qing Shan felt a little guilty for his joy and relief. In truth, he had always been watching, deep inside his reincarnations’ subconsciousness. In every world, how Bai Liang loved each of them, the different ways Bai Liang drowned them with affection…how they made love with each other.

It was torturous.

But what right did he have to look away? He knew best that Bai Liang both loved and respected him. To look away was to deny Bai Liang’s form of love towards him and everything was his fault to begin with. What right did he have to resent his own reincarnations when he created them himself?

Still, at some point of time, he started to fear Bai Liang would forget about him. It was an idiotic thought since he knew everything Bai Liang did was for his sake, but seeing how happy he was with his reincarnations, those thoughts always found their way to creep into him.

Never had he thought he could lose so much confidence in himself. But the moment Bai Liang shed his tear for him, he knew he was suffering in his own way from losing him. Feeling happy for it was undoubtedly a terrible thing.

How could a horrible person like him be loved by such a precious jade? But however atrocious he was, he wouldn’t let Bai Liang go. He couldn’t. He rather lived his life bearing this guilt.

“Master, I’m sorry,” Bai Liang said once he slightly calmed down. He sniffled, “I made a deal with heaven to get you back.”

“That explains everything,” Qing Shan’s hold tightened. He raised his head, “I’ll take responsibility. Whatever Ah-Liang promised to do, I’ll do it for him.”

“It does not work like that,” the voice finally spoke again.

“What do you mean it doesn’t work like that? What are you planning to do with him?” Qing Shan’s eyes turned fierce, the space rumbled around him.

“I-it’s my own fault, Master. Please, calm down. Your soul isn’t stable yet,” Bai Liang worriedly reminded.

“Ah-Liang…”

“Bai Liang went on a rampage after your death, almost collapsing the world itself. In exchange for retrieving you back, he agreed to become a servant of heaven. This is his punishment that no one could bear for him,” the voice explained. “You have two choices, Qing Shan. One, your soul will be recycled into a new one to enter a new cycle of reincarnation. You will forget everything–”

“The second one?” Qing Shan coldly cut their words.

“You may serve under Bai Liang as his familiar,” the voice patiently said. “He became a deity in your second last world but only a part of you had become a worshipped ancestor. He will have to share his godhood with you to let you enter our realm.”

Bai Liang hurriedly said, “Master, you don’t have to do it. To be under me–”

“I’ll be his familiar,” Qing Shan unhesitantly declared. He smiled at Bai Liang, “I’ll be your first and most devout believer. Won’t you accept me?”

Bai Liang’s chest swelled with indescribable emotion. He didn't think his master would accept the situation without any second thought, his master who never lowered his head to gods and demons.

“Of course, I will,” he gladly nodded.

With his words, light burst from between Bai Liang’s eyebrows and formed his divine seal, a crown of silver clouds spanning across his forehead. Qing Shan’s seal formed along with it, a smaller version on the center of his forehead.

Once the light dimmed, a shimmering golden gate appeared next to them. The world beyond its frame was enveloped in a thick cold mist that they couldn’t see anything within it from where they stood.

“I suggest you read the law book provided in your office. I am certain you will memorize it well,” the voice said. He then added knowingly, “Do exert moderation. You have a mountain of tasks due on your desk.”

Bai Liang softly laughed, “I believe it’s time for me to know my employer’s name?”

In a room with nothing but a single throne, a man with magnificent dragon horns protruding from his forehead faintly curled a smile.

“You may address me as Longshen.”