Inside the translucent chamber of the medical pod, the process of gene recalibration was unfolding—methodical, precise, and consuming more time than one might hope.

While Nüwa’s extensive database did record the schematics for far more advanced models—cutting-edge versions capable of completing a full genetic optimization cycle in less than half a day—she was still restricted by the technological bottlenecks of the present era. The current materials and tools were simply insufficient to produce anything beyond a basic prototype.

Functionally, it got the job done. But the price was time.

Three days. Seventy-two hours. That was how long it took to transform Huang Rong’s physique to perfection.

Slowly, awareness returned.

Floating in nutrient solution, her body suspended in a faint blue glow, Huang Rong’s long lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened sluggishly, adapting to the sterile light. The nutrient-rich fluid that had filled her lungs didn’t suffocate her—but it was still an alien, discomfiting sensation. It tickled the back of her throat, created an odd tightness in her chest.

But the discomfort didn’t last.

With a muted hiss, the nutrient solution drained from the bottom of the chamber. Air replaced the fluid, and as pressure stabilized, the transparent pod cover slowly rose.

She sat up. Wet black hair clung to her shoulders and down her back, rivulets of fluid trailing down skin that now gleamed with almost pearlescent clarity. Everything about her seemed subtly different—brighter, more refined.

Across from her stood a hovering projection of Nüwa, arms crossed with smug satisfaction, lips curled into a playful grin.

«All done,» Nüwa said, proudly. «And I must say—the results are excellent.»

Her new reflection emerged moments later: a moonlit fairy, clad in flowing white, the delicate sheen of her robe catching the lab’s light. Her long black hair now framed her face like a waterfall, her skin glowing with a warm translucence.

Huang Rong stepped in front of the mirror.

The person who looked back—wasn’t the Huang Rong she used to know.

She was radiant. Ethereal. Her eyes shimmered like pools of autumn water, her cheeks carried the natural blush of spring. Her skin glowed softly like pearl.

So beautiful, it almost frightened her.

«This… is me?»

Tears welled in her eyes—tears of joy.

For so long, she had admired Xing-gege from the shadows. His otherworldly presence made her feel like a simple country girl.

But now… now she could stand beside him with pride.

She was no longer just a clever girl from Peach Blossom Island.

She was worthy of a celestial.

«Sister Nüwa… where is Xing-gege?»

«I knew you’d ask,» Nüwa smirked. «Come with me. He’s… cultivating. But fair warning—you’re going to be surprised.»

Confused, heart pounding, Huang Rong followed her.

When they emerged from Mount Zi and stepped once more into the majestic halls of the Eastern Sovereign Palace, Huang Rong’s breath caught.

Under the cold, pale moon, the grand altar of the Solar Court gleamed.

And there stood Xuan Yuan  .

His robe flowed like fire—woven with golden thread, embroidered with suns and flame and rolling cloud motifs. His every movement radiated power and elegance.

With a sweep of his arm, flame erupted—dragons twisting in the air, roaring silently as they circled him.

Between his brows, the blazing sigil of the Sun flickered.

Then—another shift. The fire dragons transformed mid-flight, wings spreading. Phoenixes burst forth, dancing across the heavens.

A high, clear cry rang out—like a phoenix singing in the night.

Huang Rong stood frozen.

«…This is…»

Nüwa sighed. «No falling blossoms. No drifting petals. Just dragons and phoenixes. Rong’er, I hate to say it, but your Peach Blossom Palm just got completely overshadowed.»

Huang Rong: «???»

Nüwa gave her a look. «Our Celestial Sovereign Taiyi doesn’t specialize in subtlety. He’s all about maxed-out visual effects. Watch this—»

Xuan Yuan  swept his arm once more.

In an instant, the entire mountain peak transformed. The snow melted. Trees bloomed. Grass greened. Flowers exploded into life.

From dead winter… to vibrant spring.

Huang Rong: «——!!!»

She was stunned.

This was what her Falling Blossom Sword Palm became in his hands?

«At the very least,» she murmured with a sheepish smile, «Father definitely won’t guess that I taught him Peach Blossom Island’s martial arts…»

She laughed awkwardly, pride and disbelief colliding in her chest.