Taiyi did not return to Feng Jiu's chambers. His feet carried him elsewhere, guided not by reason but by the longing buried in his heart. Quiet as moonlight, he moved through the Fire Realm until he arrived before a familiar door — his daughter's room.
Inside, Tie Ling lay curled under silk blankets, her breath even, her delicate features softened in slumber. The faint flicker of a firestone lamp painted her silver hair with a sheen that looked almost divine.
For a long while, Taiyi remained by the doorway, unmoving. His gaze traced every line of her face, every detail that mirrored both himself and Feng Jiu. She had grown, her beauty blossoming into something ethereal, yet in his eyes she was still the little girl who once clutched his sleeve and demanded he carry her through mountain paths.
A tide of memories surged — nights spent in mortal valleys where he told her tales beneath the stars, mornings where she practiced clumsy sword swings under his patient guidance, afternoons filled with laughter as they shared roasted chestnuts on the roadside. Those years had been fleeting, yet to him they were priceless, moments where he could forget titles and burdens and simply be her father.
Suppressing his aura completely, Taiyi stepped inside and seated himself quietly at her bedside. He thought he had hidden everything, but blood cannot lie. His bloodline resonated, a faint hum stirring within him — and within her.
Almost instantly, Tie Ling stirred. Her lashes trembled before her eyes flew open, their silver-blue glow piercing through the veil he thought concealed him.
"Father… is that you?"
Her voice cracked with disbelief, but before Taiyi could reply, she bolted upright and threw herself into his arms.
Taiyi caught her instinctively, his arms tightening around her slender frame. He felt her sobs against his chest, hot tears soaking into his robes. For a moment the world shrank, and there was no Heavenly Emperor, no cultivator who challenged heaven itself — only a father holding his daughter, rediscovering warmth he thought he had severed forever.
He stroked her hair gently, his lips curved in a tender smile. As long as she exists, I exist, he thought. Even if the heavens erase my name, my blood and love live on in her.
After a long while, her sobs softened. Reluctantly, she pulled away, her tear-streaked face lifting to study him. Her gaze wandered over his hair, his robes, his eyes — searching, comparing, as if afraid that this vision might shatter if she blinked.
"Girl, how have you been?" Taiyi finally asked. The words came out clumsy, stiff, and he cursed inwardly. He had faced countless foes, commanded armies, and suppressed entire realms, yet before his daughter, he was a fumbling man unsure of how to speak.
Tie Ling lowered her head, her fingers tightening on her sleeves. "I have been well…" Her voice wavered, then broke as she whispered, "But what about you? Why… why didn't you come for me?"
Her question pierced him like a sword. Beneath her words lay the wound of abandonment, raw and aching. His chest tightened, guilt and sorrow battling within him. Slowly, he raised his hand and wiped the tears trailing down her cheeks.
"I wanted to," he said softly, voice hoarse with honesty. "But circumstances shackled me. When I returned, burdens heavier than mountains pressed upon me. I needed strength — overwhelming, absolute strength — before I could seek you. Without it, I would only place you in danger. I could not allow anyone to use you against me, as they once used me against my own brother. I would rather bear your resentment than see you suffer."
His tone was calm, but each word carried the weight of years of helplessness. He remembered the bitterness of being manipulated, the fury of weakness. He would not allow his daughter to endure the same.
Tie Ling's eyes glistened. "Then… why is Mother so afraid of you meeting me?"
"She is not afraid of you meeting me," Taiyi replied after a pause, his gaze distant. "She fears you meeting the other me… the man I once was."
Her brows knitted. "The other you? What is he like?"
Silence stretched. Taiyi's lips pressed into a line, his eyes lifting to the ceiling as if unwilling to meet hers. At last, he exhaled a long sigh.
"The other me," he whispered, "was a stranger. Cold. Heartless. He severed emotions, wielded authority as if it were a blade. To your mother, and to the entire realm, he was the Heavenly Emperor. But to you…" He shook his head slowly. "To you, he would have been nothing but a shadow, incapable of being a father. That was the other me."
Tie Ling's shoulders trembled. She bit her lip, torn between disbelief and acceptance. The man before her was both the father who carried her through mortal towns and the terrifying ruler who suppressed the heavens. Could they truly be one and the same?
Seeing her confusion, Taiyi's chest ached. He reached out, brushing a lock of silver hair from her face. "I know it is difficult to accept. But truth does not bend. She is your mother, and I am your father. That is a fact no realm, no heaven, no dao can change. If you doubt, then test me — ask me what only your father would know."
Tie Ling's lips trembled. Her eyes searched his face, looking for lies, for cracks. Yet she found none.
She finally whispered, "Then… which one are you now? The father I knew, or the stranger they feared?"
Taiyi's hand paused midair. He lowered it slowly, his gaze shadowed. "That… I cannot answer. Perhaps I am both. Perhaps I am neither. But know this, girl—" His voice deepened, each word firm and unyielding. "I will never let you go again."
The room fell silent. Outside, the flames of the Fire Realm crackled softly, yet within her chambers, a fragile warmth lingered — a warmth that could melt even the coldest dao heart.
Tie Ling's heart pounded as her father's final words hung in the air. "Perhaps I am both. Perhaps I am neither. But know this—I will never let you go again."
The warmth of that promise soothed her, yet a seed of unease lingered. She stared at the man before her, the father she had longed for, the father she remembered from her childhood, but also a being her mother had always spoken of with fear.
Her lips trembled as she asked, "If you are both… then what does that mean for me? What kind of father will I have?"
Taiyi hesitated. His fingers brushed the carved wooden edge of her bed, grounding himself. His gaze softened, but in his eyes flickered something ancient, something vast — the weight of the countless lives he had ruled and destroyed when he walked as the Heavenly Emperor.
"For you," he said slowly, "I will always be your father. No throne, no realm, no title can change that. But… the other me—the one your mother fears—is not so easily buried. He is the part of me that ruled without mercy, that treated bonds as shackles and feelings as weaknesses. That man could not love. He could only conquer."
Tie Ling bit her lip. "And Mother fears that man will take you back."
Taiyi's silence was answer enough.
She turned away, hugging her knees. "Then… am I supposed to choose between them? Between the father who held my hand, and the Emperor the world remembers?"
Taiyi's chest tightened at the sight of her trembling shoulders. He reached out, placing his hand gently on her head.
"No. You do not need to choose," he said, his voice firm yet quiet. "Because I have chosen. I have chosen to be your father. That path may clash with the dao I once walked, it may even invite heaven's punishment, but I no longer care. I will not sacrifice you for power, nor erase myself for the world's sake. If the heavens demand I become heartless again, then I will defy them as I always have."
His words struck her like thunder, yet also wrapped around her like a shield. For the first time, she saw not just the legendary figure spoken of in whispers, but the vulnerable man who had lost, who had erred, who now sought redemption through her.
Her eyes filled again with tears, though this time they did not fall. She lifted her face to him, silver hair glinting in the firelight. "Then why… why does it feel like I don't know you anymore?"
The question was soft, but to Taiyi it cut deeper than any sword. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"Because you don't," he admitted. "The man who raised you in the mortal realm was me… but he was also a fragment, a shadow of who I once was. I had cast away much of myself then. What you see now is the whole—the fragments and the shadow combined. That is why I call the other self a stranger. He is mine, yet he is not me. Do you understand?"
Tie Ling shook her head, confusion and pain warring in her eyes.
Taiyi did not press her further. Instead, he shifted the topic gently, though his tone remained grave. "Your mother does not fear me as I am now. She fears what may awaken if my heart falters again. She has seen it once, she knows its weight. And she fears… that if you are caught between those two selves, you will suffer most of all."
Tie Ling's breath hitched. She remembered her mother's gaze — cautious, conflicted, protective. She had thought it was distance, but now she realized it was fear.
"But…" she whispered, voice breaking. "If Mother fears you, and you fear the past… then where do I belong?"
This time Taiyi did not answer immediately. Instead, he drew her into his arms again, holding her close, his silver hair mingling with hers.
"You belong here," he murmured into her hair. "With me. With her. Between us, not apart. Whatever we were, whatever shadows linger, you are the bridge that binds us. You are proof that even the coldest dao could not erase every trace of warmth. You are my greatest defiance against the heavens themselves."
Tie Ling's tears finally fell, hot and unrestrained, soaking into his robes once more. Yet unlike before, these were not only tears of sorrow — they carried relief, release, and the fragile beginnings of acceptance.
For a long time, father and daughter remained like that, two figures locked together against the silence of the night. Outside, the Fire Realm blazed eternally, but within the chamber, a softer fire burned — fragile, yet unyielding.