Category: I Am the Female Lead’s Cat

Chapter 91: The Ghost

They slipped into the room silently. The cat and dog made no sound, but the woman was acting strangely, still applying makeup at this late hour, the moon already high in the sky.

The ghostly aura in the room was so strong it was impossible to ignore. Bai Jingxue realized it was emanating from beneath the bed.

She had faced many dangers, but the thought of crawling under the bed and coming face to face with a horrifying ghost was too much for her heart to handle.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself, but in those two seconds, Lü Qingyan had already slipped under the bed, kicking out a red embroidered shoe.

The shoe, damp and cold, skidded across the floor, leaving a trail of water, stopping beside Bai Jingxue. Then, it began to shake.

A moment later, Lü Qingyan emerged, her paw planted triumphantly on the shoe, her voice filled with pride. “She retreated back into the shoe when she saw me.”

Their cultivation had improved. They could speak even in their animal forms. In her excitement, she had forgotten their current situation.

The woman, startled by the sudden voice, dropped her comb, her voice trembling with fear. “Who’s there?”

She turned, but she saw nothing.

Bai Jingxue quickly covered Lü Qingyan’s mouth. The dog was still standing on the ghost-possessed shoe. The two demons and the ghost remained hidden beneath the bed.

The woman was the one Bai Jingxue had encountered earlier. She glanced around, then, seeing that she was alone, she touched her forehead, her brow furrowed. “Don’t overthink it,” she muttered to herself.

“I’m just tired,” she said. “Time for bed.”

She blew out the candle and lay down.

The cat and dog, relieved that they hadn’t been discovered, exchanged a look. The ghost, its voice muffled by the shoe, said, “Aren’t you two supposed to be powerful demons? Why are you hiding?”

They had forgotten. Their cultivation had increased so rapidly that their minds hadn’t caught up.

They had already captured the ghost. Lü Qingyan, activating her teleportation ability, took Bai Jingxue and the ghost with her.

Ying was playing fetch with the fox, tossing a small ball. The plump fox would chase after it, retrieving it and placing it in Ying’s palm.

Bai Jingxue, watching them, thought the fox seemed rather dog-like. She glanced at Lü Qingyan, who was licking her fur, and asked, “Do you want to play?”

Lü Qingyan shook her head. “No way,” she said.

The ball suddenly flew towards them, and Lü Qingyan, her tail bristling, instinctively leaped, catching the ball in her mouth. She then realized what she had done and spat it out.

“Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!”

Ying, finding this amusing, seeing Lü Qingyan’s disgusted expression, quickly reassured her. “Don’t worry, it’s a new ball,” she said. “Xiao Bai hasn’t touched it.”

Bai Jingxue frowned. Ying was referring to the fox, but why was she calling it “Xiao Bai”? That was Lü Qingyan’s nickname.

But Luo Nianshang wasn’t here, and no one else would call Lü Qingyan “Xiao Bai.” She dismissed the thought.

The ghost, seeing Ying, her eyes widening in terror, was stunned. She hadn’t expected to encounter a dragon in this remote location. Her heart pounded in her chest, her initial desire to escape vanishing.

She wondered why these powerful beings were bothering with a small, insignificant ghost like her.

Realizing that hiding was futile, she revealed herself. Her hair was loose, her clothes, a red wedding dress, soaked through. She was identical to the woman in the room.

Her voice trembled with fear. “I haven’t harmed anyone,” she pleaded. “And I don’t taste good.”

There was a method of rapidly increasing one’s cultivation: consuming souls, especially those filled with resentment.

This method was considered demonic, but demons could also utilize it.

However, absorbing too much resentment could lead to madness. Even demon cultivators, who were known for their ruthless pursuit of power, considered it a forbidden technique.

But this ghost hadn’t been a cultivator. She was probably referring to something else.

Bai Jingxue, transforming back into her human form, stood before the ghost, her gaze piercing. “What are your regrets?” she asked. “Why haven’t you moved on?”

The ghost’s eyes filled with tears. “I have no regrets,” she said. “But I couldn’t find the path to reincarnation.”

Her body trembled, her voice filled with terror. “There were hands dragging me down, but they suddenly stopped. I managed to escape.”

Bai Jingxue’s eyes widened. She questioned the ghost about her death, learning that she had died seven nights ago. She had been engaged and had been trying on her wedding dress.

She had seen a cute cat in the courtyard and had gone outside to pet it, but she had accidentally fallen into a well.

When she had returned to the mortal realm, she had discovered that someone had taken her place.

She had been uneasy, afraid that this imposter had malicious intentions, so she had remained, watching.

Bai Jingxue thought for a moment. It was normal for a ghost who had died suddenly to linger, her resentment growing. And it seemed she harbored a deep hatred for the person who had taken her place.

Fang Xin had tried to tell her something, but she had been prevented from speaking, clearly bound by some kind of restriction. Was this what she had wanted to say?

But if that were the case, why could this powerless little ghost speak freely?

Seven nights ago…

Bai Jingxue suddenly remembered the stars she had seen that night. It had been seven days ago. Had something significant happened in this world?

The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. She decided she needed to visit the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, or perhaps consult Luo Nianshang, to share what she had learned.

The ghost, seeing Bai Jingxue lost in thought, her voice a desperate plea, said, “Immortal, I truly mean no harm. I won’t hurt anyone. Please spare me.”

Bai Jingxue, her gaze piercing, as if she could see through the ghost’s facade, said nothing.

Ying, however, interjected, “I think she’s lying.”

Bai Jingxue nodded. She scooped up Lü Qingyan, who was sitting obediently beside her, then glanced at the darkened building.

She retrieved a scroll from her spatial ring, muttering a few words. The blank scroll glowed, and before the ghost could react, she was pulled into it.

She turned the scroll over, and the image of a woman in a red wedding dress appeared on its surface.

The Sword Saint’s gifts were always useful, though she seemed to be deliberately limiting their power, setting restrictions.

They could only use items that matched their cultivation level.

If it hadn’t been for those restrictions, they might have been able to defeat Ancestor Xuan Tian.

She rolled up the scroll, tucking it away in her spatial ring. “Let’s go,” she said to Ying.

Before leaving, she waved a hand, casting a spell on the sleeping woman in the building.

Ying had taught her that spell, but Bai Jingxue’s execution was even better. “You’re really talented,” Ying said, her voice filled with admiration.

Bai Jingxue, petting Lü Qingyan’s head, didn’t respond.

Lü Qingyan, however, puffed out her chest, her voice filled with pride. “Of course she is.”

Bai Jingxue squeezed Lü Qingyan’s ear.

The imposter was clearly human.

Armed with this new information, Bai Jingxue was no longer interested in playing detective.

The Dream Truth spell was a minor technique, its effects harmless. It simply amplified the victim’s guilt and anxiety through their dreams.

By tomorrow morning, the truth would be revealed.

As she had predicted, the next morning, the imposter went to the authorities, confessing her crime. She had been a servant in the Xiao household, her skills in disguise leading her down a dark path.

She had deliberately lured the young woman out with a cat, then had pushed her into the well.

The water had been cold, and the young woman, her body weak, her throat already weakened by a recent illness, had quickly drowned.

She had disposed of the body, but her guilt had haunted her. She had been terrified of being exposed, spending hours every day perfecting her disguise.

Bai Jingxue, in her cat form, sat on the roof of the courthouse, watching as the servant girl, her crime deemed unforgivable, was sentenced to death.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked softly, her voice directed at the scroll she had unfurled beside her.

The woman’s voice, filled with a weary acceptance, echoed from within the scroll. “So that’s what happened.”

After a long silence, her voice returned, this time laced with gratitude. “Thank you, Immortal.”

Bai Jingxue smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Xiao Yuyan.”

As they spoke, Ying landed gracefully beside Bai Jingxue. She frowned, her voice filled with confusion. “I followed her soul,” she said, “but it didn’t enter the cycle of reincarnation. It was dragged down.”

Just as Xiao Yuyan had described.

Bai Jingxue thought back to Fang Xin’s cryptic words.

“Humans have both good and evil within them,” she had said. “But what about the world?”

But how could she decipher the meaning of those words with so little information? Her head throbbed. She sighed, then stood up.

She leaped from the roof, transforming back into her human form as she landed.

Lü Qingyan had taken the white fox to feed the fish. Bai Jingxue, storing the scroll away, was about to join them when Lü Qingyan appeared.

She waved at Bai Jingxue, her voice cheerful. “Jingxue, are you done?”

Bai Jingxue nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. She had deliberately left Lü Qingyan behind, not wanting her to witness such ugliness.

This trip had been intended to help them relax and heal, not to expose them to the darkness of the world.

But their journey had to be postponed. They had to return to the Ejian Sect.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her silence, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Bai Jingxue shook her head, her voice gentle. “Nothing,” she said. “But we have to go back to the Ejian Sect. We can continue our trip once we’ve taken care of some things, okay?”

Lü Qingyan, realizing the source of Bai Jingxue’s guilt, chuckled. “It’s okay, Jingxue,” she said. “As long as I’m with you, anywhere is a good place to be.”

The white fox, circling Lü Qingyan, then leaped into Ying’s arms. Ying, petting the fox’s soft fur, her voice teasing, said, “That was a good line, Xiao Gou. Teach me how to do that.”

Lü Qingyan, though pleased by the compliment, was confused. Why was Ying learning how to flirt?

She suddenly remembered the book Help! All Seven of My Girlfriends Are in Love with Me!

She had read it. One of the girlfriends was a fox demon.

And the other six, except for one demon cultivator, were all furry beasts.

She stared at Ying, who was now petting the fox obsessively, unable to hide her disdain.

“Tsk,” she thought. “What a player.”

Chapter 90: You Too

Ever since transforming back into a dog, Lü Qingyan had refused to become human again. Being a dog meant being carried by Bai Jingxue, so she had been clinging to Bai Jingxue for days.

Bai Jingxue didn’t force her. She wondered if she was spoiling Lü Qingyan too much, but seeing the dog’s happy, wagging tail, she decided to let it go.

Spoiling her a little wouldn’t hurt. Besides, holding Lü Qingyan was rather enjoyable. She was soft and warm.

Life at the Ejian Sect had been a monotonous cycle of cultivation and meals. Now, they didn’t even need to eat, making their days even more boring.

The mortal realm, however, was far more lively. They were currently in a town with a lake at its center. Walkways and pavilions extended over the water, and a platform had been built near the shore. According to the locals, it was a stage.

It wasn’t the right season, but during festivals, the area would be decorated with lanterns, and there would be performances on the stage.

Bai Jingxue walked along the walkway, her gaze fixed on the fish swimming in the lake. Red and white fish jostled for food, their movements creating ripples on the surface of the water.

She was mesmerized. She had often gone to the park with Lü Qingyan in her past life, feeding the fish in the lake.

Life at the Ejian Sect had been so different from her past life. Now, in the mortal realm, she found herself surrounded by familiar sights and sounds, triggering memories, each one tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia.

She gripped the railing, Lü Qingyan, nestled in her arms, also excited as she recounted their past experiences, comparing them to their current situation. “These fish aren’t as fat as the water pigs we used to feed,” she said.

“Water pigs” was Lü Qingyan’s nickname for the goldfish in the park. They had been overfed by countless visitors, their bodies plump and round.

Lü Qingyan, despite her complaints about their size, had always bought a bag of fish food, scattering it into the water, her laughter echoing through the air as she watched the “water pigs” compete for food. She had been a regular visitor. Their obesity was partially her fault.

Now, presented with another opportunity to feed fish, she was eager to participate, but they were surrounded by people. Transforming here would cause a panic.

She nudged Bai Jingxue’s chest with her nose, her voice a playful whine. “Jingxue, I want to feed the fish.”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the adorable dog, couldn’t deny her weakness for Lü Qingyan’s cuteness. She hated how easily she caved, but she resigned herself to her fate, purchasing a bag of fish food.

Lü Qingyan, her paws unable to grasp the bag, struggled for a while, then sighed, her ears drooping, her gaze fixed on her paws, her frustration evident.

Bai Jingxue wanted to laugh, but she spared the dog’s pride. She poured some fish food into her palm, holding it out so that Lü Qingyan could reach it with her paw.

“Push it into the water with your paw,” she said.

Lü Qingyan’s eyes lit up. She did as she was told, pushing a portion of the fish food into the water, then watched with delight as the fish swarmed, their movements creating a frenzy of ripples.

Bai Jingxue, staring at Lü Qingyan’s wagging tail, its speed resembling a miniature tornado, thought that if Lü Qingyan were any larger, her tail would be hitting Bai Jingxue in the face.

Lü Qingyan, pushing more fish food into the water, her tail wagging even faster, was clearly enjoying herself.

“She understands you,” a voice said, its tone curious. “What a smart dog.”

Bai Jingxue turned to see a young woman, her clothes expensive, her hair adorned with numerous hairpins and flowers, a servant girl by her side. She was probably a noblewoman.

Sensing no malice, simply curiosity, Bai Jingxue nodded curtly.

She usually maintained an aloof demeanor around strangers. It helped to avoid unnecessary interactions. She hated socializing.

The young woman, intimidated by Bai Jingxue’s cold demeanor, hesitated. She had noticed Bai Jingxue’s elegant attire and refined aura. This woman was clearly of high status.

But she couldn’t resist the dog’s cuteness. She had been observing them for a while.

After some deliberation, she decided to try her luck. “Would you be willing to part with your dog, miss?” she asked. “I would be happy to purchase her.”

Lü Qingyan, hearing this, her fur bristling, glared at the woman, barking furiously. The woman couldn’t understand her, but Bai Jingxue could.

Those were some rather creative insults.

Bai Jingxue had no intention of selling her beloved. “My dog doesn’t want to leave,” she said, her voice firm.

The woman, startled by the dog’s aggressive barking, took a step back, abandoning her attempt. “My apologies,” she said, then, her gaze lingering on the dog, she turned and left.

Bai Jingxue, however, noticed something as the woman walked away. A faint ghostly aura clung to her.

Lü Qingyan, seeing that Bai Jingxue was staring at the woman, her ears drooping, nudged Bai Jingxue’s palm with her nose, her voice a low whine. “She’s not even as pretty as me.”

“Aw, the puppy is jealous,” Bai Jingxue thought, her lips curving into a small smile.

She decided to tease Lü Qingyan.

She thought for a moment, then said, her voice serious, “You can’t say that.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes widened, and she frantically pawed at Bai Jingxue’s palm, her movements frantic, until Bai Jingxue, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck, lifted her, silencing her.

She had gone too far. Bai Jingxue, despite her occasional mischievous tendencies, still cared about Lü Qingyan’s feelings.

She pulled Lü Qingyan into her arms, petting her gently, her voice soothing. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “How could she possibly compare to you? I was just teasing.”

Lü Qingyan instantly perked up, her tail wagging, her body wriggling as she rolled around in Bai Jingxue’s arms, nearly falling into the lake. Bai Jingxue quickly grabbed her tail, stopping her.

The fish, seeing that the dog hadn’t fallen in, dispersed.

Bai Jingxue pulled Lü Qingyan back into her arms, chuckling as she squeezed the dog’s ear. She was in a good mood.

Ying, carrying the fox, approached them, and Bai Jingxue mentioned what she had noticed about the woman.

Ying’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I’ve never seen a ghost before!” she exclaimed.

Thankfully, Bai Jingxue had anticipated this and had cast a soundproofing spell. Otherwise, Ying’s loud voice would have attracted unwanted attention.

But what was so interesting about ghosts? Bai Jingxue had already encountered a ghost. Fang Xin’s ghost had been rather friendly. She hadn’t met any malevolent ghosts yet.

And if that book was accurate, Ying herself could be considered a “lecherous ghost.”

She mentally scoffed, then her thoughts returned to the woman.

The ghostly aura clinging to her had been cold and unsettling, suggesting a malevolent presence. If they ignored it, it could endanger the woman’s life.

Lü Qingyan, realizing that Bai Jingxue’s interest wasn’t romantic, her mood improving, her jealousy fading, transformed back into her usual helpful self.

They discussed the situation, then decided to investigate.

Finding someone was a simple task for Lü Qingyan. She had managed to locate the male lead amidst a chaotic battle, her nose guiding her through the stench of blood. She simply sniffed the air, then pointed them in the right direction.

They soon arrived at the Xiao family manor. Bai Jingxue, closing her eyes, her body enveloped in white light, transformed into a cat, landing gracefully on the ground.

Lü Qingyan, delighted to see Bai Jingxue’s cat form again, circled her excitedly. Bai Jingxue, annoyed, placed a paw on the dog’s head, silencing her.

Lü Qingyan, as if frozen, stopped circling, settling down to stare at Bai Jingxue.

Bai Jingxue glanced at the tall wall, then, with a powerful leap, she scaled it.

Lü Qingyan was about to teleport when she felt herself lifted into the air, then thrown. She sailed through the air, her body forming a perfect arc.

She turned to glare at the culprit, but Ying simply grinned at her, her voice a cheerful, “You’re welcome!”

Lü Qingyan stared at her, her mind conjuring up images of roasted dragon meat.

She quickly looked away, afraid she might lose control and attack. She leaped over the wall, landing inside the manor.

Lü Qingyan landed on her backside, yelping in pain. She tried to rub her bruised bottom, but her legs were too short. She mentally cursed that stupid dragon.

“Does it hurt?” Bai Jingxue asked, her voice echoing in Lü Qingyan’s mind.

Lü Qingyan’s pain instantly vanished, but she maintained her pitiful expression, whimpering, “It hurts. I can’t reach it.”

She then presented her backside to Bai Jingxue, her voice a playful whine. “Jingxue, help me~”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the shameless dog, wanted to roll her eyes. Lü Qingyan, in her dog form, seemed to have abandoned all sense of human decency.

She chuckled, then swatted Lü Qingyan on the head with her paw.

“Ow! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Lü Qingyan cried, her voice echoing in Bai Jingxue’s mind.

Seeing Lü Qingyan cowering on the ground, Bai Jingxue withdrew her paw.

The moment she did, Lü Qingyan jumped to her feet, her voice filled with a dramatic sigh. “Being human is better,” she said. “You wouldn’t hit me if I was human.”

Bai Jingxue ignored her, melting into the shadows, heading towards the young woman’s room.

The manor was brightly lit, its courtyards filled with servants and guards. It was a wealthy household.

But the people here seemed listless, their energy drained.

The cat and dog moved silently through the shadows.

They passed a well, and Bai Jingxue paused, leaping onto its edge. She peered down, sensing a thick, cloying aura of resentment emanating from its depths.

She thought for a moment, then jumped into the well. It was a trap. There was no ghost, only resentment.

Lü Qingyan, unable to contain her excitement, said, “Jingxue, we’re going ghost-hunting!”

Bai Jingxue, hearing her voice in her mind, was grateful that Lü Qingyan hadn’t spoken aloud. Otherwise, the ghost, if there was one, would have fled.

But what was so exciting about ghost-hunting?

She closed her eyes, then opened them, her vision enhanced, scanning the area. There was no sign of a ghost.

But the ghostly aura was stronger now. It seemed the ghost had left the well and was heading towards a small building.

Bai Jingxue had read some books. Unmarried women in mortal families often resided in small, separate buildings. This was probably a young woman’s room.

A lamp was lit on the second floor, its warm glow a beacon in the darkness. The shadow of a woman, her movements suggesting she was embroidering, was visible on the paper window.

Bai Jingxue, her target confirmed, exchanged a look with Lü Qingyan, then the dog dashed towards the building.

They didn’t use any techniques, afraid of alerting the ghost.

The door to the building was slightly ajar. The cat and dog, their bodies small, easily slipped through the gap.

The young woman’s room was on the second floor. Bai Jingxue climbed the stairs.

The door to the room was also slightly ajar. They could see the woman’s back. Her clothes seemed to match those of the woman they had encountered earlier.

Chapter 89: My Deity

Perhaps because she had acquired a new furry companion, Ying’s obsession with Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan had diminished. She had even generously taught them how to transform back and forth between their human and animal forms.

They decided to postpone their return to the Ejian Sect. The events in the secret realm had left them feeling unsettled, and life at the Ejian Sect was rather dull. Bai Jingxue wanted to travel, to explore the world.

It was a journey without a destination, a chance to clear their minds and heal their hearts.

Lü Qingyan, since leaving the secret realm, had become unusually quiet, her thoughts seemingly troubled. Ying, however, was now the loudest one, her constant chatter filling the silence.

She was still amazed by their rapid progress in cultivation. Her questions were endless.

“That’s strange,” she said. “It wasn’t like that when I went in.”

Bai Jingxue discreetly observed her, confirming that Ying’s confusion was genuine. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself for now.

She had initially suspected Ying of deliberately trapping them in that secret realm, but now, it seemed unlikely. The dragon was simply too straightforward, her personality bordering on clueless.

When they had first described their experience, Ying had been shocked, then, without hesitation, she had jumped into the rift, emerging a while later with several injuries.

She had encountered countless enemies, but she hadn’t experienced the same story.

Bai Jingxue, listening to her, wondered if that secret realm had been specifically designed for them, but that seemed too coincidental.

Regardless, the outcome had been favorable.

The white fox, which had been clinging to Ying’s neck like a furry scarf, yawned, its eyes drooping.

Bai Jingxue stared at the excessively plump fox. Its fur was nearly covering Ying’s entire face. At this rate, Ying would develop neck problems.

Did dragons even get neck problems?

She was once again lost in her thoughts, a hint of disdain in her heart. If she were Ying, she wouldn’t spoil the fox so much.

She suddenly felt a weight on her shoulder and turned to see Lü Qingyan leaning against her, her eyes drooping. She felt a pang of sympathy.

“Are you tired?” she asked softly.

Lü Qingyan nodded, her voice slurred with sleepiness. “Mmm, so tired.”

She had overused her teleportation ability in that secret realm. It was understandable that she was exhausted. But they were in the middle of nowhere. There was no comfortable place to rest.

As Bai Jingxue contemplated taking a break, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her neck. She looked up to see Lü Qingyan clinging to her.

In their past life, she would have collapsed under Lü Qingyan’s weight, but this life was different.

Lü Qingyan loved using this tactic. Whenever they fell, Lü Qingyan would end up on top of her.

She would blush, her heart pounding, demanding that Lü Qingyan let go, but Lü Qingyan would simply laugh, her arms tightening around Bai Jingxue’s waist.

Lü Qingyan, in her sleepy daze, had assumed this was their past life, that her childish trick would still work. But seeing that Bai Jingxue was standing firm, her gaze fixed on Lü Qingyan, she finally realized something was different. “Oh,” she mumbled. “Things have changed.”

Bai Jingxue sighed, patting Lü Qingyan’s head, her voice soothing. “Let go of me,” she said. “You need to rest.”

“No, hold me, Jingxue. I’m so tired.”

This wasn’t appropriate. The dragon and the fox were watching.

Bai Jingxue felt trapped. Pushing Lü Qingyan away would be cruel, but carrying her felt too intimate.

She decided to simply endure it. Her neck was strong enough.

But she had underestimated Lü Qingyan’s determination. Seeing that Bai Jingxue wasn’t reacting, Lü Qingyan leaped, her legs wrapping around Bai Jingxue’s waist, like a koala clinging to a tree trunk.

“If Jingxue won’t hold me, then I’ll hold Jingxue~”

Bai Jingxue, though proud of her ability to resist temptation, found this rather embarrassing.

But she was resourceful. She quickly devised a solution. “Transform back into your original form,” she said, “and I’ll hold you.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes flew open, her tail wagging excitedly. “Really?”

Bai Jingxue nodded.

A soft white light enveloped Lü Qingyan, her body shrinking, changing shape, then the light dissipated, revealing the adorable little dog.

Bai Jingxue, as promised, scooped her up, her lips curving into a small smile as she watched Lü Qingyan curl up in her arms.

She looked up to see Ying and the fox staring at her, and her cheeks flushed. She coughed, her voice regaining its usual calmness. “Let’s continue our journey,” she said.

She then walked past Ying, her pace quick, almost as if she were fleeing.

Ying, since they were traveling through the mortal realm, had concealed her horns.

She had become accustomed to mortal cities and no longer found them particularly interesting.

Her curiosity, however, had shifted to Bai Jingxue. Her constant chatter gave Bai Jingxue a headache.

“You two are so close,” she said. “Not like my philandering father. I can’t even count how many concubines he has.”

Dragons were known for their promiscuity. It was a common trait in this world. But Ying, in the original story, had simply been a magical bracelet, her personality unexplored.

But her current personality, so straightforward and innocent, didn’t seem capable of such behavior.

Bai Jingxue wasn’t sure if she should trust She Yuwei’s stories or her own judgment.

She remained silent, but Lü Qingyan, disturbed by Ying’s chatter, raised a paw, covering her ear, her brow furrowed.

Seeing her discomfort, Bai Jingxue cast a soundproofing spell. The moment the spell activated, Lü Qingyan lowered her paw, letting out a contented sigh.

She snuggled closer to Bai Jingxue, and Bai Jingxue, watching her, couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ying, cradling the fox, seeing that Bai Jingxue was ignoring her, pouted. “You’re such a boring cat,” she said.

Bai Jingxue, having not heard that particular insult in a while, didn’t argue. “Yes, I’m boring,” she said, her voice flat.

Her agreement, however, made the usually carefree dragon feel a bit awkward. “Well, not really,” she said, trying to make amends. “You’re actually quite nice, except for the whole not talking thing.”

Seeing that Bai Jingxue still seemed unhappy, she quickly added, “Not talking isn’t a bad thing. It’s called… what’s that word again? Oh, aloof. Like the Sword Saint.”

Bai Jingxue found Ying’s frantic attempts to appease her rather amusing. She wanted to prolong this act, to enjoy the dragon’s flustered demeanor.

And Luo Nianshang wasn’t aloof. She was simply socially awkward. It was hard to imagine someone so powerful being so socially inept. Perhaps “socially terrifying” was a more accurate description.

Night fell, and Bai Jingxue gazed up at the stars. One star, brighter than the others, was surrounded by a cluster of smaller stars.

Suddenly, the bright star began to dim, its light fading until it blended into the darkness, while the surrounding stars grew brighter, one in particular shining even brighter than the previous star.

Bai Jingxue’s heart skipped a beat. She was about to examine it more closely when Lü Qingyan, nestled in her arms, shivered, drawing her attention back to the dog.

She covered Lü Qingyan with her sleeve, and when the dog stopped trembling, she looked back at the sky, but it was too late. The stars had vanished.

Meanwhile, in the Demon Realm’s Demon Palace, the left envoy, staring at the Sword Saint, who was carrying a child, felt a surge of anger.

This was the Demon Palace, the most dangerous place in the Demon Realm. Show some respect! And why bring a child here?

She didn’t recognize the child as her lord, her gaze filled with disdain.

The Demon Lord, subjected to such disrespect, was bewildered.

Luo Nianshang was also surprised by the lack of resistance. The Demon Palace’s defenses were wide open. She assumed the Demon Lord had anticipated her arrival and had ordered her subordinates to disable them.

But if that were the case, why wasn’t the Demon Lord here to greet her? Perhaps she didn’t want to see her.

After all these years, the Sword Saint once again felt the sting of rejection.

She was mortified. Her embarrassment made her expression even colder, and the left envoy, sensing the shift in atmosphere, her heart pounding, took a step back, her head bowing slightly.

But she was the Demon Lord’s trusted subordinate. She couldn’t show weakness in front of an enemy. She straightened her back, forcing herself to meet Luo Nianshang’s gaze.

She suppressed her fear, her voice trembling slightly, as she asked, “What brings you here, Sword Saint?”

Luo Nianshang, mentally replacing the left envoy with a harmless cabbage, her anxiety lessening, stated her purpose. “I’m looking for the Demon Lord.”

The Demon Lord, nestled in Luo Nianshang’s arms, her ears perking up, was stunned. She hadn’t expected Luo Nianshang to be looking for her. Then, realization dawned, and her heart soared.

Luo Nianshang had called her beautiful!

Oh my god! She had called her beautiful!

“Hmph, she has good taste,” the Demon Lord thought, her jealousy vanishing, replaced by a smug satisfaction.

But while one was overjoyed, the other was confused. Luo Nianshang’s answer had left the left envoy speechless.

The Demon Lord had ordered her to capture the person Luo Nianshang was looking for. But Luo Nianshang was looking for the Demon Lord herself.

So the Demon Lord had ordered her to capture the Demon Lord?

Her head throbbed. Perhaps she had sustained some kind of brain damage while resisting Luo Nianshang’s aura. “Are you looking for the Demon Lord, Your Excellency?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

Luo Nianshang nodded, surprised by the left envoy’s question. Had the Demon Lord’s left envoy become deaf?

The left envoy’s headache intensified. She couldn’t capture the Demon Lord. And she had no idea where the Demon Lord was.

She couldn’t complete the first task, but she could still fulfill the second one.

She was disappointed, but she wouldn’t question her lord’s orders.

She composed herself, her voice regaining its usual calmness. “The Demon Lord is away,” she said, “but she left a gift for you. Please follow me.”

Luo Nianshang, confused, but sensing no hostility, and confident in her own power, followed.

The left envoy led her to a small room, then left. A moment later, Luo Nianshang sensed something was wrong.

She stood up, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance. “A formation.”

But then she realized that the formation wasn’t hostile. It seemed to be beneficial.

Ethereal threads of destiny materialized, their color a brilliant gold, and the Demon Lord, watching them, her lips curving into a smile, thought, “Such blessings belong to fools like Luo Nianshang.”

She glanced up at Luo Nianshang, her eyes wide with surprise, then she leaned against Luo Nianshang’s shoulder, seeking a moment of warmth.

“My deity,” she thought. “May the world be illuminated by your light.”

Chapter 88: Sacrifice

Bai Jingxue held Er Ya close, feeling the child trembling in her arms.

She didn’t think much of it, assuming Er Ya was simply frightened by the sudden chaos. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Don’t be afraid.”

But Er Ya’s trembling didn’t cease. Her eyes were filled with not only fear, but also guilt and panic.

They had initially assumed this was simply a case of a powerful sect bullying a weaker one, but the glowing runes that began to appear on the walls and floor of the inn suggested something far more sinister.

Fang Xin, since embarking on the path of cultivation, had been a diligent student, her studies extending beyond combat training. She had devoured countless ancient texts. She recognized the shifting, colorful runes, her voice filled with a horrified realization. “It’s a Soul Refining Formation!”

Bai Jingxue, based on the formation’s name, understood its purpose. Seeing the fear and despair in the Fang sisters’ eyes, she knew they were in trouble.

Er Ya trembled even harder, tears welling up in her eyes.

Bai Jingxue, her own anxiety growing, gently wiped away Er Ya’s tears. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re here.”

Lü Qingyan, standing beside them, her smile unwavering, as if they weren’t facing imminent danger, added, “Yeah, we’re here for you.”

But behind her smile, she knew they were in serious trouble.

Bai Jingxue unleashed a burst of flames, trying to incinerate the runes, but the flames simply danced harmlessly above them, then vanished.

Her most powerful weapon was useless. Her heart sank.

She glanced at Lü Qingyan, their eyes meeting.

Bai Jingxue’s voice, calm and steady, echoed in her mind. “Can you still teleport?”

Lü Qingyan tried it, relieved to discover that it worked. She easily escaped the formation, then returned, intending to take Bai Jingxue and the others with her, but the moment her hand touched Bai Jingxue’s shoulder, her ability failed.

Seeing Lü Qingyan’s panic, Bai Jingxue understood.

She stared at Lü Qingyan, her voice calm. “If things get really bad, just leave,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Lü Qingyan’s heart ached, her throat tightening.

It was always like this. Bai Jingxue would always choose self-sacrifice, putting the needs of others before her own. But that wasn’t what Lü Qingyan wanted.

But she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She stared at Bai Jingxue, her voice trembling with a raw, unfiltered emotion. “Are you abandoning me again?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue’s heart twisted, and she turned away, unable to meet Lü Qingyan’s gaze.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her avoidance, wiped away her tears, her voice rising. “Don’t underestimate me!” she shouted. “I can sacrifice myself too! Do you think you’ll be happy if I die for you?”

“Why do you always leave me to suffer alone?”

“Is it because hurting yourself is easier than hurting others?”

Bai Jingxue couldn’t answer. Her spiritual energy was draining, her body weakening. She sighed, then, seeing that Lü Qingyan was about to speak, perhaps to avoid answering her questions, she leaned forward, her lips capturing Lü Qingyan’s.

The unexpected kiss silenced Lü Qingyan, her anger and sadness forgotten. Her eyes widened, her ears and tail perked up in surprise.

But the kiss was fleeting, a gentle brush of lips. Bai Jingxue turned away, her expression hidden, her voice calm. “I was wrong,” she said. “Consider this compensation.”

Lü Qingyan, however, noticed that Bai Jingxue’s tail was twitching. Her emotions weren’t as calm as her voice suggested.

Bai Jingxue, unaware that her true feelings had been exposed, suddenly realized that her past life was still influencing her actions.

She had always believed that her family was a burden to Lü Qingyan, a burden not only financially, but also emotionally.

She had felt insecure, her personality too quiet and introverted. She had believed that Lü Qingyan deserved someone more vibrant, someone who could bring joy to her life.

She had felt like a burden, her own awkwardness a constant source of frustration. She had often thought that Lü Qingyan would be better off without her.

So she had always chosen to leave, sacrificing her own happiness, believing it was the best solution.

But now, in this new life, she had the power to change things. She could fight for what she wanted.

Every formation had a focal point. She closed her eyes, then opened them, her vision enhanced, the world simplified, but the result was as she had expected.

This formation was different. It had multiple focal points, their locations constantly shifting. She tried to decipher their movements.

After observing them for a while, she realized they were moving along two intersecting circular paths. There were four focal points on the path closest to them, seven on the other.

She unleashed a burst of flames, targeting the nearest focal point. A sound like shattering glass echoed through the air.

But the destroyed focal point instantly regenerated. She realized she had to destroy them all simultaneously.

She calculated their trajectories, then, carrying Er Ya, she approached Lü Qingyan. Seeing the hope in Lü Qingyan’s eyes, she averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing.

But embarrassment was a trivial matter. Escaping this formation was their priority.

Before she could explain her plan, a voice, booming and authoritative, echoed from above, its power making their blood run cold.

Bai Jingxue quickly covered Er Ya’s ears, but it was too late. Blood trickled from the girl’s nose and mouth, staining Bai Jingxue’s white sleeve crimson.

Lü Qingyan’s face was pale, her body trembling. The weaker cultivators in the inn had already fainted.

“The Xuan Tian Sect has no desire for conflict,” the voice boomed. “Hand over the evil god, and we will spare your lives.”

Fang Xin, her voice filled with righteous indignation, retorted, “How can you, a leading sect of the cultivation world, accuse us without evidence? If you claim there’s an evil god among us, then identify them! Provide proof!”

The voice scoffed. “Ask the child in the cat demon’s arms,” it said. “She knows the truth.”

Er Ya’s face paled even further. She looked up at Bai Jingxue, her lips moving, but no sound emerged. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She then shook her head vehemently. “It’s not me.”

Lü Qingyan, her anger boiling over, shouted, “You’re insane! She’s just a child! What do you expect her to say? That she’s an evil god?!”

The voice, laced with a cold fury, said, “You foolish dog demon.”

A bolt of lightning shot out, aimed at Lü Qingyan’s back.

Lü Qingyan’s fur bristled, and she instinctively teleported, narrowly avoiding the attack. The lightning struck the banister, splitting it in two, its surface charred.

Another bolt of lightning followed, and Lü Qingyan unleashed a burst of flames, intercepting it. The collision created a small explosion.

Fang Xin shielded Lü Qingyan and the others, while Fang Yue Lian protected the unconscious Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor.

They were the only ones left in the inn. The Xuan Tian Sect had clearly planned this.

“You had a chance to survive,” the voice boomed, “but you chose to defy us. Then perish with the evil god!”

The runes on the walls and floor twisted, their movements serpentine, as they coalesced, forming weapons: swords, spears, axes, halberds.

Bai Jingxue, seeing the weapons descending, grabbed Lü Qingyan, her voice a urgent whisper. “I’ll tell you eleven locations,” she said. “Use your spatial ability to envelop my flames. Release them when I say ‘go.’”

Lü Qingyan’s fists clenched, her expression turning serious.

This plan was risky, but a wide-area attack wouldn’t work. They had to target the eleven focal points.

The weapons struck, and Bai Jingxue unleashed a torrent of flames. Lü Qingyan, her spatial abilities activated, split the flames into eleven separate streams, guiding them towards the focal points.

The weapons, their descent halted, began to crack and shatter, their fragments dissolving into dust.

The runes dimmed, their movements ceasing, then vanished.

Bai Jingxue, feeling her spiritual energy returning, her heart soaring, realized they had broken the formation.

It had all happened so fast that Fang Xin and the others were still stunned.

This was their chance to escape. “Qingyan, let’s go!” she shouted.

Lü Qingyan, reacting instantly, her teleportation ability no longer restricted, activated it. They vanished from the inn.

But their relief was short-lived. The space around them constricted, their escape blocked.

A hand tore through the fabric of reality, pinning them in place.

Fang Xin and the others tried to break free, but their bodies wouldn’t obey. They looked up to see their captor, and Fang Xin’s voice was filled with a horrified realization. “Ancestor Xuan Tian!”

Why was the founder of the Xuan Tian Sect here? He was at the Integration stage, a level far beyond their capabilities. They were doomed.

Ancestor Xuan Tian glanced at Er Ya, his gaze wary, then his attention shifted to Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.

He tried to divine their fates, but it was impossible. He couldn’t see their paths.

His heart pounded. There were only two possibilities: they were either destiny itself, or they were unbound by the laws of this world.

He had set up the formation to suppress Er Ya’s divine power. If she awakened, the most powerful cultivators in the world would be targeted and eliminated.

The cultivation world would be devastated.

He pondered this, then noticed that Er Ya’s gaze, fixed on Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, was filled with concern.

The god, before fully awakening, still retained a shred of humanity. An idea formed in Xuan Tian’s mind.

“Evil god,” he said, his voice booming, “you have two choices. Come with me willingly, or I will kill them all.”

Bai Jingxue held Er Ya close, while Lü Qingyan, struggling against the invisible restraints, reached out to them.

Er Ya, seeing their struggle, her heart aching, though she still refused to acknowledge her identity as an evil god, looked up, her voice trembling. “I’ll go with you,” she said.

She wriggled out of Bai Jingxue’s arms, forcing a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I was happy here.”

The pressure vanished, and Xuan Tian and Er Ya disappeared.

Bai Jingxue, her fists clenched, her heart filled with a helpless rage, pounded the ground.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Lü Qingyan smiling at her. Their eyes met, and no words were needed. They understood each other.

Bai Jingxue, glancing at Fang Xin and Fang Yue Lian, their expressions filled with concern, forced a smile. “Go back to the Ejian Sect, Senior Sisters,” she said. “We have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Fang Xin, understanding their intentions, wanted to follow, but Fang Yue Lian held her back.

Fang Xin, her anger subsiding, fell silent.

Bai Jingxue, after asking for the location of the Xuan Tian Sect, turned to leave. She had a feeling this might be their last meeting. She stopped, her gaze meeting Fang Yue Lian’s. “You’re not a burden,” she said, her voice soft. “Don’t be afraid to express your happiness. And don’t shoulder everything alone.”

She then turned to Fang Xin, her voice a warning. “Don’t accept any missions involving demon cultivators.”

She then turned and left, Lü Qingyan by her side.

They arrived at the Xuan Tian Sect, Bai Jingxue effortlessly dismantling the outer layers of barriers. Lü Qingyan, her sense of smell acute, quickly led her to Er Ya’s prison.

It wasn’t an ordinary cell. It was a large, sealed chamber, its only opening a small, square window, barely large enough to accommodate an adult’s face. A faint layer of spiritual energy covered the window.

For some reason, there were no guards. This was convenient.

Er Ya sat huddled in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest, her head bowed.

“Er Ya!” Bai Jingxue called out, her voice a low whisper.

Er Ya looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. She was both happy and terrified. “Why are you here?” she cried. “It’s dangerous!”

They knew it was dangerous, but they had decided to try anyway. And it seemed surprisingly easy.

Lü Qingyan, seeing Er Ya’s confusion, pointed at Bai Jingxue, chuckling. “Even when she was weak, she loved meddling,” she said. “And she always tried to hide it. Now that she’s powerful, she’s even more…”

Seeing the dangerous glint in Bai Jingxue’s eyes, she quickly changed the subject. “Besides, you still owe me a story,” she said, her voice cheerful. “Don’t be a bad girl and break your promise.”

Bai Jingxue interrupted them. “Quiet,” she said. “Let me take a look at this.”

She then carefully examined the chamber, trying to find a way to open it.

Er Ya, watching them, her heart aching, felt a surge of guilt.

She had always suspected there was something wrong with her. Whenever she was sold to a new owner, regardless of their initial personality, they would eventually become cruel and malicious.

They would beat her, insult her, and she would cower in fear, her fear transforming into hatred. She would curse them.

And her curses would always come true. Seas of flowers would engulf those she hated.

But she knew it was wrong. The flowers didn’t discriminate. Innocent people were also consumed.

She had become afraid, her dreams haunted by the faces of those who had died, their voices accusing. She would wake up, only to be pulled back into another nightmare.

A goddess, tall and imposing, her hair adorned with flowers, her face obscured, her voice echoing in Er Ya’s ears, had appeared in her dreams.

The goddess had told her that destruction was her duty, that destruction led to rebirth.

She had shaken her head, her voice filled with a terrified denial. She didn’t want this.

“You are me, and I am you.”

“I’m not!” she had screamed.

She had convinced herself that she was just an ordinary girl.

But the truth couldn’t be denied. That was why she had been so terrified when Xuan Tian had appeared, her memories returning.

She smiled, her gaze fixed on Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, her voice calm, as if she had finally accepted her fate. “You can’t open it,” she said. “Give up. He was right. I am an evil god. I’m just not fully grown yet.”

Bai Jingxue, assuming she had been brainwashed, was about to argue, but Er Ya opened her palm, revealing two seeds.

She picked up a sharp piece of stone, slicing her palm open. The seeds, nourished by her blood, sprouted, two blue flowers blooming in her hand, then instantly withering.

Bai Jingxue stared at her, her eyes widening. Er Ya possessed no spiritual energy. And that fleeting floral scent was familiar.

The wound on Er Ya’s palm had already healed. “The people at the Xuan Tian Sect told me a lot of things,” she said, her voice filled with a weary resignation. “They said this happened in my past life. Anyone who came into contact with me, their negative emotions would be amplified, fueling my divine power. And the stronger my power became, the wider its influence spread. That’s how I destroyed the cultivation world.”

She looked up at Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, seeing the shock in their eyes, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears. She quickly looked away.

“You’re good people,” she said. “You shouldn’t be corrupted by me.”

Lü Qingyan, her voice filled with a passionate anger, said, “It’s not your fault!”

Bai Jingxue nodded in agreement. But was there really no solution?

Er Ya’s voice, soft and pleading, reached their ears. “I’ve accepted my fate,” she said. “But before it’s too late, will you tell me your stories?”

She was still huddled in the corner, her eyes red-rimmed, a sad smile curving her lips.

Lü Qingyan readily agreed, then she turned to Bai Jingxue, waiting for her consent.

Lü Qingyan, her voice animated, her gestures dramatic, painted a vivid picture of a world Er Ya had never known, a world where humans could fly without spiritual energy.

Er Ya listened intently, her heart filled with a longing she had never experienced before. Her world was a harsh and unforgiving place. She had suffered, her experiences teaching her that in the eyes of her owners, she was nothing but an animal.

She longed for peace, for a chance to experience a different kind of life.

Lü Qingyan then told her about Luo Nianshang and the others, explaining how they had arrived in this realm.

Er Ya listened carefully, her mind absorbing every detail.

“So you came here from a secret realm by the sea?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue nodded.

The details were mundane, but Er Ya listened intently, committing them to memory.

She knew the people from the Xuan Tian Sect would be arriving soon. “You have to leave,” she urged.

Seeing their hesitation, she smiled. “Only a god can kill a god,” she said. “This is the fate I’ve chosen.”

“I won’t die,” she continued. “I’ll simply be reincarnated. But you shouldn’t sacrifice yourselves for me.”

She stared at them, her gaze intense. “Would you be willing to let each other die?”

Bai Jingxue glanced at Lü Qingyan, who was also staring at her.

She turned away, her heart aching. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Lü Qingyan. They hadn’t come here to die. They had simply wanted to help. They would try, and if they failed, they would leave.

She felt a surge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Er Ya smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I don’t deserve to be saved. But trust me, we might meet again someday.”

Bai Jingxue’s heart was heavy. “We will,” she said, her voice firm, as if she were reassuring herself. “I’ll wait for you, a thousand years from now.”

Lü Qingyan also felt a pang of sadness, but Er Ya’s constitution was too dangerous. Saving her would harm countless others.

But this was just the present. Perhaps the future would be different. There had been no mention of a flower-related disaster in the future she knew.

She sniffed back tears, then smiled brightly. “See you in a thousand years!”

They had little time left. Lü Qingyan smelled the scent of the powerful cultivator who had taken Er Ya away. Her face paled, and she grabbed Bai Jingxue’s hand, teleporting them away.

Ancestor Xuan Tian approached the cell, his gaze fixed on Er Ya. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

He hadn’t expected the second generation evil god to be so selfless, so willing to sacrifice her own power for the sake of others.

Er Ya stared at him, her voice calm. “What about you?” she asked. “You’re sacrificing your entire sect, your own life.”

Xuan Tian was silent for a moment, then he said, “It’s worth it.”

Lü Qingyan pushed her spatial abilities to their limit, teleporting them as far away as possible. They didn’t stop until they could no longer sense any danger.

They hadn’t gone far. The Xuan Tian Sect hadn’t pursued them.

A bolt of lightning split the dark sky, followed by a barrage of lightning strikes, their targets the Xuan Tian Sect’s buildings.

Bai Jingxue watched in horror as a golden formation enveloped the sect, its power amplified by the lightning, destroying everything within its reach.

She didn’t know how long it lasted.

The mountain where the Xuan Tian Sect had stood was reduced to rubble, the lightning and the formation vanishing, replaced by a sea of flowers.

A shimmering sphere, spinning slowly, hovered above the flowers, then expanded, engulfing Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.

She felt like she was floating in water, a voice echoing in her ears. “This is a gift,” it said.

She opened her eyes to find herself submerged in water, her hand grasping something. She turned to see Lü Qingyan’s hand in hers.

They were suddenly lifted from the water, deposited on a beach.

Ying’s voice, filled with disbelief, reached their ears. “What happened to you two?!” she exclaimed. “You’re at the Nascent Soul stage?!”

Bai Jingxue finally understood. They were back. She clenched her fist, feeling the surge of power within her.

So that was the gift.

Lü Qingyan shook her head, then squeezed the water from her tail.

Bai Jingxue, mimicking her, squeezed the water from her own tail, then realized it was a pointless gesture. She could simply use a spell.

She stood up, eager to know how much time had passed.

Before she could ask, a white fox leaped onto Ying’s shoulder.

Ying, cradling the fox in her arms, introduced it. “This is You Mei, my new friend,” she said. “Isn’t she cute?”

She was cute, but Ying was a furry enthusiast.

Lü Qingyan, however, wasn’t happy. She suddenly remembered that it might have been an illusion, that their promise to meet in a thousand years might have been a lie.

She was about to voice her concerns when Bai Jingxue settled beside her. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan, her ears drooping, her tail wagging slowly, said, “That illusion. Our promise to meet in a thousand years… it was fake.”

Bai Jingxue stared at the ocean, the wind whipping her hair around her face. “Perhaps not,” she said, her voice soft.

She turned to Lü Qingyan, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth. “Do you trust me?”

Lü Qingyan’s ears perked up. “Really?” she asked, her voice filled with hope. “Of course I trust you!”

Bai Jingxue nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon, her voice distant. “I don’t think it was an illusion.”

Chapter 87: A Request

The Demon Lord was stunned when Luo Nianshang had offered to take her on as a disciple. Her plan had worked surprisingly well.

But she already had a disciple identity, and using a body double would increase the risk of being exposed. She spent the entire journey trying to figure out how to decline the offer.

Luo Nianshang, however, wasn’t in a hurry to return to the Ejian Sect. She changed direction, heading towards the Demon Realm.

The Demon Lord was confused. She was nestled in Luo Nianshang’s arms, close enough to hear her heartbeat, its rhythm strangely soothing, drawing her closer.

Luo Nianshang, assuming she was afraid, said gently, “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

They were surrounded by clouds. The Demon Lord had no idea where they were. She nodded, her grip tightening on Luo Nianshang’s robe, feeling Luo Nianshang’s body stiffen slightly.

She stared at the bell Luo Nianshang had given her, her heart filled with a strange warmth. Having a child’s body was convenient. She could ask anything without arousing suspicion.

She shook the bell, her voice sweet. “Big Sister?”

“Call me Master.”

“Master, where are we going?”

They were going to the Demon Palace to see the Demon Lord. Luo Nianshang wasn’t sure where the Demon Lord was, but she had left in a hurry, and there were important details about the unbinding process that she hadn’t had a chance to explain. Delaying the process could be dangerous.

Although the righteous and demon realms were enemies, Luo Nianshang, at her level of cultivation, could go anywhere she pleased. The Demon Palace’s barriers, however, were troublesome.

She sighed. She had once viewed the Demon Lord with hostility, then she had believed the Demon Lord could be redeemed. Her hostility had lessened. And then, they had somehow become entangled.

Now, she felt a strange awkwardness around the Demon Lord.

Seeing that Luo Nianshang hadn’t answered, the Demon Lord called out again, her voice soft. “Master?”

Luo Nianshang, snapping out of her thoughts, looked down at the child in her arms, her gaze meeting the girl’s innocent eyes.

She suddenly felt a pang of envy. Her own childhood hadn’t been ideal, but her masters had protected her. She had been carefree. It was only after she had faced the world alone that she had realized the true extent of its darkness.

But she was a master now. Perhaps she could do better than her own masters.

Her mood lifted, and a smile curved her lips, then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “We’re going to the Demon Realm to see a sister,” she said, her voice resuming its usual calmness.

She had chosen the word “sister” to describe the Demon Lord.

But the Demon Lord wasn’t pleased. She was jealous. “Is she pretty?” she asked, her voice childish, her expression innocent, her true intentions hidden.

Luo Nianshang paused, her mind conjuring up an image of the Demon Lord. Her beauty was as vibrant and alluring as her favorite red robes, especially her eyes, shimmering like pools of water, their depths seemingly filled with emotion, yet ultimately cold and empty.

A memory of that night surfaced, unbidden: the Demon Lord’s face, her eyes closed, her lashes fluttering.

Her breath hitched, and she quickly chanted a calming mantra, suppressing the unwelcome desire that stirred within her. “She’s beautiful,” she said, her voice regaining its usual calmness.

The Demon Lord’s jealousy intensified. She had somehow forgotten that she was the “beautiful sister.” She was convinced that Luo Nianshang had fallen for a demon cultivator.

It was an absurd thought. The Sword Saint was renowned for her aloofness, her unwavering commitment to righteousness.

But that night, Luo Nianshang had been so… passionate, so skilled. The Demon Lord couldn’t help but overthink.

She wanted to bite Luo Nianshang, but that would be strange. She suppressed her anger, her heart filled with a bitter resentment.

She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, her voice laced with a hint of malice. “I want to see how beautiful this sister is,” she said.

Her words sounded strange, and Luo Nianshang, her brow furrowed, asked, “What?”

The Demon Lord, realizing her mistake, quickly recovered, her expression innocent. “She’s definitely not as beautiful as Master,” she said, her voice sweet. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Beauty was Luo Nianshang’s least valuable trait, but she couldn’t help but chuckle at the child’s strange competitive spirit.

She had never tried to flatter her own masters. She suddenly felt a pang of regret.

She patted the girl’s head, her mood turning somber. She longed to master that resurrection technique, to tell her masters that she had become a powerful cultivator, capable of protecting others.

To tell them that she had always missed them.

She imagined their faces, their eyes filled with pride as they said, “You’ve done well.”

The Demon Lord, sensing Luo Nianshang’s sadness, her own jealousy momentarily forgotten, asked, “What’s wrong, Master?”

The clouds beneath them darkened. It wasn’t a storm. They had entered the Demon Realm.

Luo Nianshang, staring at the scenery below, her voice flat, said, “Nothing.”

The clouds thinned as they flew deeper into the Demon Realm, and the Demon Lord could now see the ground clearly.

Mo Li had been managing the Demon Realm in her absence. Although the left envoy’s mind seemed to be a bit… unusual, her abilities were exceptional. The Demon Realm had recovered quickly from the rebellion.

But why was Luo Nianshang heading towards the Demon Palace?

“Damn it,” she thought. “Who dared to seduce the Sword Saint behind my back?!”

She focused her will, using the pearl she had given Mo Li to contact her.

Mo Li was buried in paperwork, the stacks of scrolls and jade slips taller than her. If they fell, she would be buried alive.

She was currently frowning at a jade slip. It contained a report about a rebellious demon general, Zhao Yudeng, who had escaped from prison. His current whereabouts were unknown.

Zhao Yudeng had a history. She had been a servant to the previous Demon Lord, then, after the Demon Lord’s death, she had served the city lord of Suzhou. When the current Demon Lord had ascended to the throne, Zhao Yudeng had resigned and returned to the Demon Palace.

When the city lord of Suzhou had joined the rebellion, she had acted as an inside agent, her knowledge of the Demon Palace’s defenses a serious threat.

Just as Mo Li was about to write her response, the pearl in her pocket grew hot. The Demon Lord’s voice reached her ears.

“Mo Li, disable the palace defenses and prepare to welcome the Sword Saint,” the Demon Lord ordered. “And capture the person the Sword Saint is looking for.”

Mo Li’s body stiffened. Why was the Sword Saint coming here? And why was she looking for someone? Did the Ejian Sect have a spy within the Demon Palace?

“Yes, Your Excellency!” she replied, her voice firm.

A moment later, the Demon Lord’s voice returned. “And prepare the formation,” she said. “We’ll execute the plan once the Sword Saint arrives.”

Mo Li hesitated. “Your Excellency,” she said, her voice hesitant, “why don’t you simply claim the destiny for yourself?”

“Are you questioning me?”

Mo Li quickly lowered her head. “I understand, Your Excellency,” she said, her voice filled with a forced obedience.

The pearl fell silent.

Mo Li, suppressing her anxiety, left her room, heading towards the Demon Palace’s dungeon.

It was a dark and oppressive place, its walls not only blocking out the sunlight, but also shielding its occupants from the heavens’ gaze.

This method, provided by the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion to Su Yunluo, had fallen into the Demon Lord’s hands after the rebellion had ended.

The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion might not be as powerful as the now-defunct Xuan Tian Sect, but it was the closest thing to it.

The Xuan Tian Sect, millennia ago, had achieved the impossible: they had slain a god. But the sect had been destroyed, corrupted by the god’s dying aura, transforming into a sea of flowers.

Mo Li hadn’t known this. She had learned it from the secret correspondence between the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion and Su Yunluo.

The first leader of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion had stumbled upon the ruins of the Xuan Tian Sect, inheriting the legacy of its founder. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, seeking to emulate the Xuan Tian Sect’s power, had sought to manipulate destiny.

Unfortunately, the current leader was a weak and indulgent fool, easily manipulated by Su Yunluo.

Ouyang Ba, subjected to relentless torture, had become numb to the pain. He had initially dreamed of escaping and inflicting even greater suffering upon his tormentors, especially Qiu Yingxi.

But it was futile. If it hadn’t been for the powerful demon cultivator sharing his burden, he would have died from the pain. He had abandoned all thoughts of revenge.

Mo Li peered through the small, square window in the cell door, her gaze cold and calculating, like a butcher assessing a lamb.

A wisp of black smoke emerged from Ouyang Ba’s body, its color faint. It would dissipate after one more use.

This was the first demon cultivator he had encountered since his imprisonment. The demon, his voice filled with a desperate hope, shouted, “You’re a demon cultivator, aren’t you? Bring the Demon Lord to me! I’m the previous Demon Lord’s master! You can’t do this to me!”

Mo Li, finding him annoying, cleaned her ear with a finger. “I don’t care about the previous Demon Lords,” she said. “I only serve the current one.”

The demon, his frustration growing, didn’t want to endure this torture any longer. If he didn’t escape soon, his soul would be shattered.

He couldn’t accept this fate. He had tried everything to escape, but it had been futile.

But there was one more option. He stared at Mo Li through the window, his voice low and seductive. “Open the door,” he whispered. “Let me out.”

Mo Li’s eyes glazed over, her body swaying slightly. “Open the door,” she repeated, her voice a monotone.

The demon, his heart filled with triumph, whispered again, “Hurry.”

Mo Li placed her hand on the barrier protecting the cell door, her demonic energy flowing, dismantling it.

The demon grinned, then glanced at Ouyang Ba, who had clearly lost his mind. He was going to escape alone.

But he noticed that Ouyang Ba was staring at something behind him. He turned to see Mo Li, her eyes now clear, her expression cold.

“This is impossible!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and despair.

Mo Li chuckled. “You think you’re the only one who can control minds?” she asked, her voice laced with a mocking amusement.

The Demon Lord only wanted that mortal’s destiny. This demon was expendable.

Her eyes narrowed. “Kill yourself,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

The demon, to his horror, felt his body obeying, his form dissolving. “No!” he screamed, his voice a desperate wail.

Mo Li, watching him vanish, removed her mask, holding it to her chest, her eyes closed. “May you find peace,” she whispered.

Then, she turned to Ouyang Ba, who was the only one left, her smile cold and cruel.

Ouyang Ba could see her beautiful face, but he felt no desire, only fear. He backed away, his back pressed against the wall, then he burst into laughter, his mind clearly broken.

Chapter 86: The Burden

A sense of urgency gripped Lü Qingyan as she pondered how to improve the relationship between the Sword Saint and the Demon Lord.

But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t come up with a solution. Their opposing stances weren’t a trivial matter, and Luo Nianshang’s masters had been killed by demon cultivators. Changing her perspective involved overcoming deep-seated hatred.

Lü Qingyan, her head spinning, her frustration growing, glanced at Er Ya, who was watering a pot of flowers.

The girl was smaller than other children her age, her wrists and the back of her hands covered in faint scars, the marks suggesting years of abuse.

How had she endured those years of being sold and resold, her childhood filled with pain and fear? She was so quiet and withdrawn. It wasn’t normal for a child.

Fang Xin and Fang Yue Lian had finished their shopping, but the sect had assigned them a new mission, forcing them to remain in the city for a while longer.

Lü Qingyan didn’t mind, but Zhu Er, her hopes of visiting the Ejian Sect dashed, was feeling rather gloomy.

Bai Jingxue was still cultivating. Lü Qingyan didn’t want to disturb her, but her mind was restless, her body filled with a nervous energy. She wandered the hallways, unable to settle down.

Seeing Er Ya, her demeanor calm and focused, Lü Qingyan approached her. The girl seemed to enjoy caring for plants.

Lü Qingyan, in her past life, had also tried to express her affection for Bai Jingxue through flowers. Her first attempt had been during their final year of high school.

Her relationship with her parents had been strained. They had been busy with their careers, their interactions with her infrequent and distant.

She had felt lonely, her rebellious actions an attempt to gain their attention, but it had been futile. Their disapproval had only intensified.

She had sought solace in her friends, but they had simply been companions for drinking and partying, their motives often selfish, their loyalty fleeting.

After all, Lü Qingyan had been wealthy and generous.

Drinking, skipping classes, fighting for her friends… she had been a rebellious teenager, her life a chaotic mess, until she had met Bai Jingxue.

Bai Jingxue had been different from everyone else she had known: beautiful, kind, and accepting. Her smile had been gentle, like a warm breeze.

It had been love at first sight, at least for Lü Qingyan. But the more time they had spent together, the more Lü Qingyan had realized how strong and mature Bai Jingxue was. She had felt like a spoiled, unreasonable child in comparison.

One day, she had caught a cold, her fever spiking, forcing her to stay in bed. Bai Jingxue had set aside her studies to care for her.

She had watched as Bai Jingxue had placed a hand on her forehead, her brow furrowed with concern. “You’re so old, yet you still don’t know how to take care of yourself,” Bai Jingxue had scolded gently.

Seeing Lü Qingyan’s listless form beneath the blankets, her usually cheerful face pale, her breathing shallow, Bai Jingxue’s heart had softened.

She had blown on the cold medicine, then held the spoon to Lü Qingyan’s lips, but Lü Qingyan had simply stared at her.

Bai Jingxue had assumed the medicine was too hot. She had tested it on her own lips, then, satisfied that it was cool enough, she had offered it to Lü Qingyan again.

“It’s not hot anymore,” she had said. “Drink it.”

Lü Qingyan had opened her mouth, swallowing the medicine. Bai Jingxue had fed her, spoonful by spoonful.

Even after finishing the medicine, Lü Qingyan’s gaze had remained fixed on Bai Jingxue.

Bai Jingxue hadn’t understood. Did the spoiled rich girl think she was a bad caretaker? No one had ever spoon-fed her medicine when she had been sick.

She had simply swallowed it all in one gulp.

Now, watching Er Ya, her demeanor calm and focused, Lü Qingyan couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia.

She approached Er Ya, her voice gentle. “What are you doing?”

Er Ya, her movements precise as she watered the plant, her gaze fixed on the delicate leaves, didn’t look up. “Watering the flowers,” she said.

Lü Qingyan settled beside her, her tail wagging. “They’re pretty,” she said. “What kind are they?”

Er Ya glanced at her, her expression blank. “I don’t know,” she said. “Someone gave them to me.”

Lü Qingyan wanted to ask who had given them to her, but she stopped herself. It was probably one of those horrible people who had abused her.

She didn’t want to bring back any painful memories.

She smiled, her voice cheerful. “I like flowers too,” she said. “Especially lilies. They’re so elegant.”

Er Ya didn’t respond.

Lü Qingyan, realizing she had made the atmosphere awkward, tried to think of a new topic of conversation. She noticed a small scar on Er Ya’s wrist.

“What happened to your wrist?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Er Ya glanced at the scar, then quickly hid her hand beneath her sleeve. “Nothing,” she said.

Lü Qingyan knew it wasn’t nothing. But she also knew that pushing Er Ya wouldn’t help.

She changed the subject. “Do you like animals?”

Er Ya’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of interest in her usually blank expression. “Yes,” she said. “Especially cats.”

Lü Qingyan grinned. “Me too! I used to be a cat.”

Er Ya stared at her, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You were a cat?”

“Yes,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice filled with a playful pride. “A very powerful cat.”

She then proceeded to regale Er Ya with tales of her adventures as a cat, exaggerating her feats, making herself sound like a legendary hero.

Er Ya, listening intently, her lips curving into a small smile, seemed to enjoy the stories.

Lü Qingyan, seeing that she had finally managed to connect with the child, her heart filled with a warmth she hadn’t expected, continued her tales, her voice animated, her gestures dramatic.

She had never been good with children, but she was determined to make Er Ya smile.

After all, she had been that lonely, neglected child once.

Holding onto this playful banter, Bai Jingxue chuckled. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan’s voice, hoarse from her fever, was unusually soft, her usual arrogance replaced by a vulnerability that tugged at Bai Jingxue’s heart. “No one has ever taken care of me like this,” she whispered.

Bai Jingxue was surprised. She had accepted this job for the money. Her family was poor, her parents favoring her brothers. They had been eager to marry her off, to use the dowry to support their sons.

If she hadn’t resisted, she might have already been married, her life consumed by childbirth and domestic duties, like the other girls in her village.

She had assumed that someone like Lü Qingyan, with her confident personality, had everything.

Her voice softened. “Your parents are just busy,” she said, tucking the blanket around Lü Qingyan. “It doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

Lü Qingyan shook her head vehemently. “They don’t love me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m the fifth child. They have six more children after me. They don’t even see me.”

Eleven children?! Her own family, with only three children, was already struggling.

Bai Jingxue was stunned. She had never known this. Eleven children…

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Bai Jingxue stared at Lü Qingyan, her eyes red-rimmed, her heart aching.

Lü Qingyan coughed, sniffing back tears, her voice even weaker. “Once, on my birthday, they wrote the wrong name on my cake,” she whispered. “And it was my brother’s birthday.”

This was a new level of unhappiness. Bai Jingxue had never encountered such a situation.

Lü Qingyan continued, her voice filled with a childish petulance that had vanished. Bai Jingxue listened patiently, knowing she simply needed to vent.

She suddenly stopped, her eyes filled with a hesitant uncertainty. “Am I talking too much?” she asked.

She was a popular figure at their school. On her first day, she had gotten into a fight with a boy from another class, earning a reprimand from the principal.

But that hadn’t stopped her. She had continued to cause trouble, her reputation as a rebellious troublemaker spreading throughout the school.

But now, this fearless girl lay in bed, her usual arrogance replaced by a heartbreaking vulnerability, her voice filled with a fear of being a burden. It was a stark contrast.

Bai Jingxue realized that Lü Qingyan’s actions, though often impulsive, had always stemmed from good intentions. But as a student, her methods had been flawed.

She had gotten into that first fight because a boy from another class had found her confidence annoying. He had tried to attack her.

There had been no cameras, no witnesses. And Lü Qingyan, with her history of troublemaking, had been unable to defend herself against his accusations.

Her homeroom teacher had summoned her mother, and Lü Qingyan, standing outside the office, had been slapped the moment her mother had arrived.

It had been a loud slap, silencing the entire classroom.

Then, Lü Qingyan’s cries of pain and anger had mingled with her mother’s scolding.

But it had been during class. The lesson had continued, the teacher’s voice drowning out the sounds of their argument.

When Lü Qingyan had returned to her seat, the entire class had stared at her, their expressions a mix of amusement and pity.

Remembering that incident, Bai Jingxue glanced at Lü Qingyan’s left cheek. It had been swollen, the imprint of her mother’s hand clearly visible.

She reached out, her fingers tracing the faint scar, then quickly withdrew her hand, startled by the heat radiating from Lü Qingyan’s skin.

She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Perhaps she simply wanted Lü Qingyan to be happy, not burdened by this pain.

She masked her emotions, forcing a smile. “No, you’re not talking too much,” she said. “It’s normal to want to talk about things that are bothering you.”

Lü Qingyan, finding her words too formal, regretted her emotional outburst. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, only her eyes visible.

She knew about Bai Jingxue’s family, about her struggles. She shouldn’t have burdened Bai Jingxue with her own problems.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”

Bai Jingxue had never seen Lü Qingyan so subdued. She couldn’t help but tease her. “You’re apologizing?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement. “That’s not like you. It’s strange.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze meeting Lü Qingyan’s. “If I were staring at you like this,” she said, “you would probably say, ‘What are you looking at?!’”

After that slap, when everyone had been staring at her, Bai Jingxue had glanced back, and Lü Qingyan, her eyes narrowed, had snapped, “What are you looking at?!”

Bai Jingxue, not wanting to cause trouble, had simply looked away, but now, she stared at Lü Qingyan, her gaze lingering on her face. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice soft.

Lü Qingyan’s face, hidden beneath the blankets, burned even brighter. Bai Jingxue gently pulled the blankets down, ensuring she could breathe, then said, “Get some rest.”

She took the empty medicine cup and left the room.

The door closed softly, and Lü Qingyan felt her cheeks burning even hotter.

She tossed and turned, her mind restless, but sleep eventually claimed her.

When she woke up, the sky was dark. She had slept for a long time. Her head throbbed. A bottle of pills and a small note lay on the bedside table, illuminated by the lamp.

She picked up the note, recognizing Bai Jingxue’s elegant handwriting.

I went to study. There are pills on the table and porridge in the kitchen. If it’s cold, heat it up. Don’t be lazy and eat it cold. I know you.

I understand what you said. But you’re still you. Some things, like your parents’ love, are beyond our control. Let it go.

But you have to love yourself. Didn’t you promise to get into the same university as me? Everyone said it was impossible, but you’re Lü Qingyan! You can do anything!

Prove them wrong!

Lü Qingyan stared at the note, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

She traced the words with her finger, imagining Bai Jingxue’s expression as she had written them, then carefully tucked the note away in her drawer.

She swallowed the pills, then went to the kitchen. A bowl of congee, with preserved egg and pork, sat on the counter. It was cold.

She lifted the lid, about to eat it, then remembered Bai Jingxue’s instructions.

She set down the spoon, placing the bowl in the microwave.

Beside the refrigerator hung a small calendar, and Lü Qingyan stared at the prominent heart marking Valentine’s Day, lost in thought.

There was a flower shop nearby. She finished her porridge in a hurry, then, still in her pajamas, rushed downstairs.

The flower shop was busy. The owner was clearly swamped, but seeing a potential customer, she set aside her scissors and approached Lü Qingyan. “Are you buying flowers for your boyfriend, little miss?” she asked, her voice cheerful.

Lü Qingyan shook her head. “I’m choosing a bouquet for my friend,” she said. “What kind of flowers do girls like?”

The owner, though confused, remained enthusiastic. “Roses are the best choice for Valentine’s Day,” she said.

Lü Qingyan didn’t think roses were appropriate. Their meaning was too direct. She wasn’t ready for that.

She coughed, then spotted a display of lilies. The owner, seeing her interest, quickly said, “Lilies are also a good choice. They symbolize a harmonious and lasting relationship.”

The phrase “harmonious and lasting” resonated with Lü Qingyan. She purchased ninety-nine lilies, asking the owner to arrange them into a bouquet.

When Bai Jingxue returned from her study session, she saw the bouquet of lilies in the corner. A pang of sadness struck her, but she quickly suppressed it, her voice teasing. “Who gave you these?” she asked. “It’s Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Lü Qingyan blushed, then lied, her voice a nervous stammer. “I saw them downstairs and thought they were pretty, so I bought them.”

Bai Jingxue sensed something was amiss, but it was a personal matter. She didn’t pry. “You’re so impulsive,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

She then went to take a shower.

Lü Qingyan, hearing the sound of running water, relaxed. She slumped onto the sofa, staring at the lilies, her heart filled with regret.

“What are you looking at, Sister Qingyan?”

Er Ya’s voice brought her back to the present.

She smiled, her gaze fixed on the white flowers in the pot, their shape similar to lilies. “Nothing,” she said, patting Er Ya’s head. “Come on, didn’t you say you wanted to tell me a story?”

Er Ya, her hand grasped firmly, couldn’t escape. But she needed time to prepare.

“Can we do it tomorrow, Sister Qingyan?”

“No, I want to hear it now.”

They bickered as they left the hallway, entering Lü Qingyan’s room.

Once they were gone, the white flowers in the pot slowly changed color, their petals turning a deep purple. A sweet, cloying scent filled the air.

Lü Qingyan provided Er Ya with paper and a brush, then sat back, watching as the girl struggled to write.

She loved teasing people, even if picking on a child wasn’t exactly a noble act.

“Write it down,” she said. “That way, I can reread it when I’m bored.”

Er Ya, seeing that the door was closed, no escape possible, resigned herself to her fate. She picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, then froze, her mind blank. She was about to tell Lü Qingyan that she couldn’t do it when she noticed Lü Qingyan’s expression: a mixture of shock and envy.

“You can write?!”

Er Ya, startled, her hand trembling, a drop of ink staining the paper, realized what had surprised Lü Qingyan. “One of my previous owners was a scholar,” she explained. “He taught me how to read and write.”

Lü Qingyan felt a surge of frustration. She felt like an illiterate fool. She had learned a lot since arriving in this world, but it seemed she was still less educated than a ten-year-old child.

But a scholar who taught a child how to read and write? Er Ya’s life with him must have been relatively pleasant.

Er Ya stared at the single line she had written, then lowered her head.

The scholar had only taught her out of boredom. He had bought her for a ritual. He had failed his imperial examinations multiple times and had resorted to a desperate measure.

There was a rumor in his village that offering a child under the age of five to the gods would grant one’s wishes.

But it hadn’t worked. The gods seemed to have been angered by his actions. He had been buried in a landslide.

The door opened, and Bai Jingxue, her expression neutral, entered the room. She had heard Lü Qingyan teasing Er Ya from the next room and had come to investigate. She wasn’t here to play the role of a mediator. She was simply curious.

She glanced at the paper, seeing the incomplete sentence, then her attention was drawn to the commotion outside.

Fang Xin, her face contorted with rage, her sword drawn, was about to storm downstairs, but Fang Yue Lian was holding her back.

“Sister, calm down!” Fang Yue Lian pleaded. “He’s from the Xuan Tian Sect! We can’t afford to offend them!”

Fang Xin, however, was furious. “I don’t care if he’s from the Xuan Tian Sect!” she shouted. “How dare he slander us! He claims we brought a cursed object into the city! I’ll show him what a curse really feels like!”

The commotion at the doorway had attracted Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan’s attention. They exchanged a look, then followed Fang Xin.

Bai Jingxue placed a hand on Fang Xin’s shoulder. “What happened?” she asked.

Fang Yue Lian, sighing, explained, “We just received an eviction notice from the city lord’s manor. A Xuan Tian Sect elder divined that we brought a cursed object into the city.”

Lü Qingyan, her temper flaring, was also outraged. They had entered the city peacefully, hadn’t done anything wrong. How could they be accused of carrying a cursed object?

She was about to join the fight, her guqin in hand, but Fang Yue Lian, already struggling to restrain Fang Xin, quickly grabbed her arm.

Bai Jingxue, closing her eyes, then opening them, her vision enhanced, scanned the people around them. There was no sign of a curse.

She closed her eyes again, then asked, “Is the Xuan Tian Sect known for divination?”

Fang Yue Lian, having finally managed to restrain both Fang Xin and Lü Qingyan, nodded. “Yes.”

Bai Jingxue thought for a moment. So they were like the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion in the future.

She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down to see Er Ya staring at her.

“What is it?” she asked.

Chapter 85: On the Way

On their journey to the Ejian Sect, Bai Jingxue kept glancing at Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor.

She had learned a bit about him over the past few days. He was an orphan, his health frail, his life dedicated to serving his country.

But his efforts had been in vain, the capital destroyed in an instant. He had nowhere to go, so he had accepted Fang Xin’s offer to recuperate at the Ejian Sect.

She felt a pressure against her waist and looked down to see Lü Qingyan’s arm wrapped around her. She sighed. “Qingyan.”

Lü Qingyan, her ears twitching, feigned innocence. “Huh?”

“You two seem close,” a gentle voice said, amusement lacing its tone. It was Fang Yue Lian, her words clearly directed at Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.

She wasn’t sharing a sword with Fang Xin. She was hovering beside Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, her expression curious.

Bai Jingxue, seeing her, felt a surge of emotion. The memory of Fang Yue Lian, her white robes stained with blood, leaping into the ghost formation, was still vivid.

And Luo Nianshang, her face a mask of despair and anger.

Seeing them both alive and well, their voices light and teasing, was a strange experience.

But Lü Qingyan’s tightening grip brought her back to the present. She patted Lü Qingyan’s hand. “Let go,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, however, refused to obey when she had the opportunity to take advantage of Bai Jingxue. She wouldn’t go too far, of course. Just a little touching, a little hugging.

She was always a timid puppy in front of Bai Jingxue.

Fang Yue Lian, watching them, her gaze envious, smiled. “You’ll be elders once you join the sect,” she said. “You’ll have the authority to take on disciples. Perhaps you’ll find some you like.”

Bai Jingxue hadn’t considered taking on disciples. She simply wanted to escape this illusion and return to the present.

And she wasn’t sure how time flowed in this realm. What if they returned to find that years, or even centuries, had passed? That wouldn’t be ideal.

She shook her head, but the topic of disciples had piqued her curiosity. “What kind of disciple are you looking for, Senior Sister Fang?” she asked.

The moonlight was bright, its soft glow illuminating Fang Yue Lian’s delicate features, her beauty enhanced by a veil of shadows.

A wine gourd hung from her waist. She was clearly fond of alcohol.

Fang Yue Lian, surprised by the question, chuckled. “Simple,” she said. “Someone beautiful, cheerful, and talented.”

Luo Nianshang possessed beauty and talent, but “cheerful”… that was a stretch.

Luo Nianshang was about as cheerful as a rock.

Bai Jingxue hesitated, then said, “I wish you luck in finding such a disciple, Senior Sister Fang.”

The sound of a cork popping reached their ears, followed by the aroma of wine. Fang Yue Lian had opened her gourd.

She took a sip, then, her brow furrowed, she asked, “Why do you sound so resigned?”

Bai Jingxue simply smiled.

Lü Qingyan, glancing at Fang Yue Lian, then at Bai Jingxue, noticed that Lü Qingyan had become even bolder, her chin now resting on Bai Jingxue’s shoulder.

Bai Jingxue’s patience was wearing thin. She raised an eyebrow, her voice calm. “You haven’t fulfilled our agreement yet,” she said. “This is crossing the line.”

Lü Qingyan’s face fell, her ears drooping, her expression pitiful.

She loosened her grip, but she didn’t let go.

Bai Jingxue sighed. She didn’t know what to do with this dog.

She felt like her bad luck hadn’t vanished. If she was the only one suffering, it would have been fine, but she was afraid Lü Qingyan would be dragged down with her, just like in their past life.

Lü Qingyan was so persistent, and Bai Jingxue couldn’t bring herself to be cruel.

Their awkward, affectionate dynamic was driving Fang Yue Lian crazy. She flew closer, her voice a low whisper. “What agreement?”

Lü Qingyan, ever the straightforward one, replied, “She wants me to make two powerful individuals, who are on opposing sides, become best friends.”

That was an accurate description. In the original story, their relationship had been a constant cycle of poisoning and beheading. If it hadn’t been for the male lead’s intervention, one of them would have died, the other severely injured.

Those scenes had been painful to read.

Fang Yue Lian, hearing this, was stunned. “That’s impossible!”

She then stared at Bai Jingxue, her expression a mixture of disapproval and pity. “I know demons are different from humans,” she said, her voice gentle, “but Qingyan clearly loves you. Don’t string her along.”

Bai Jingxue felt a surge of exasperation. She was about to explain when Lü Qingyan interrupted, her voice firm. “No, it’s me,” she said. “I’m the one pursuing her.”

She puffed out her chest. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. “Making them become best friends? I can do it!”

Fang Yue Lian stared at her, her jaw slack, then she burst out laughing. “Is this some kind of weird foreplay?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Bai Jingxue, her cheeks burning, quickly denied it. “No!”

But Fang Yue Lian didn’t believe her. She laughed again, then flew away, catching up to Fang Xin. They whispered to each other, their voices low.

Bai Jingxue, seeing Fang Xin’s shocked expression, wished she could disappear.

They were still a long way from the Ejian Sect. They decided to stop at a city known for its cultivators.

Fang Xin and Fang Yue Lian needed to purchase supplies for their sect: elixirs, artifacts, spirit herbs, ores. They always prioritized the sect’s development.

Bai Jingxue wasn’t fond of going out, and Lü Qingyan hadn’t requested a sightseeing trip, so she stayed in her room, focusing on her cultivation.

But she had barely settled into her meditation when Lü Qingyan appeared, her movements furtive.

Bai Jingxue opened her eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

Lü Qingyan settled beside her, her tail deliberately brushing against Bai Jingxue’s. Seeing that Bai Jingxue didn’t react, she grinned, eager to share the gossip she had just acquired.

She leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “I just saw Zhu Er and Luo Liancheng in the hallway,” she said. “They were chatting and laughing.”

“As expected,” Bai Jingxue thought, then she simply said, “Oh.”

Her lack of reaction confused Lü Qingyan. Others might not know, but Lü Qingyan was well aware of Bai Jingxue’s hidden nature. She might seem aloof and indifferent, but her exceptional memory allowed her to effortlessly recall every juicy detail posted on the confession wall.

Whenever someone was gossiping, she might appear uninterested, but her ears would twitch, her body leaning slightly towards the source of the gossip.

These movements were subtle, easily missed, but there were always exceptions.

Bai Jingxue had never imagined that the rebellious student sitting in the back of the classroom, her grades abysmal, had been secretly observing her for an entire semester.

She had enjoyed listening to those romantic rumors, but why wasn’t she interested now?

Lü Qingyan, disappointed by Bai Jingxue’s lack of reaction, sighed, her arms spread wide as she lay on the bed. “This is boring,” she said. “I thought you would like this.”

Bai Jingxue, staring at her, her voice calm, said, “You’re lying on my tail.”

Her voice was deceptively calm, a warning of the impending storm. If Lü Qingyan didn’t move, she would face the consequences.

Lü Qingyan, wisely choosing to avoid a confrontation, rolled to the side, then decided to stay.

“Jingxue, let’s sleep together again tonight,” she said.

“…”

“Please, Jingxue~”

“…Whatever.”

“Yay! You’re the best, Jingxue!”

Seeing that her tactic had worked, Lü Qingyan rolled around on the bed, her joy overflowing.

Then she felt something poking her back.

Bai Jingxue chuckled. “You’re lying on my tail again,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, her cheeks flushing, quickly got off the bed, then carefully picked up Bai Jingxue’s tail, stroking it gently before placing it back on the bed.

Her mission accomplished, she didn’t want to risk angering Bai Jingxue. She teleported out of the room.

Bai Jingxue, alone again, sighed. “Am I that scary?” she muttered.

If she had been a cat, she would have smacked Lü Qingyan on the head, but now that Lü Qingyan had the same face as her past self, she couldn’t bring herself to be harsh.

She chuckled, shaking her head, then finally settled into her meditation.

Lü Qingyan, back in her own room, found Er Ya sitting on the bed, staring at her.

The child was too young, her exceptional talent making her a target, so the Fang sisters had been keeping a close eye on her.

She assumed the Fang sisters were out, and she couldn’t intrude on Zhu Er and Luo Liancheng’s budding romance, so she had come to Lü Qingyan’s room.

Lü Qingyan didn’t mind. She was happy to have company. “Did the Fang sisters send you here?” she asked.

Er Ya shook her head, her voice small. “I’m scared to be alone.”

Lü Qingyan walked over, pinching Er Ya’s cheek gently. They hadn’t lacked food or clothing during their journey, but Er Ya was still thin. Her cheeks were hollow.

Lü Qingyan wasn’t disgusted. She simply felt a pang of sympathy. She scooped Er Ya up, settling onto the bed, her voice cheerful as she tried to distract the child. “You’ll become a powerful person one day, Er Ya,” she said. “No one will be able to bully you.”

Er Ya, her fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, her expression blank, asked, “Will I become an immortal?”

“Yes, an immortal.”

But Er Ya’s next question left Lü Qingyan speechless. “Are there many immortals?” she asked, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. “Do immortals bully each other?”

Lü Qingyan had wanted to preserve the child’s innocence, but Er Ya seemed far too mature for her age.

Perhaps her past suffering had forced her to grow up too quickly.

Lü Qingyan patted Er Ya’s head, her voice gentle. “Then you should become even stronger, so no one can bully you,” she said.

“But there will always be someone stronger than me,” Er Ya replied. “And if I become stronger, I might bully others.”

This child was a bit too aware of the world’s harsh realities.

Lü Qingyan’s gentle pat turned into a playful swat. “Why are you so pessimistic?” she asked. “Are you going to bully others when you’re stronger?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was going nowhere.

Thankfully, Er Ya changed the subject. “Is Jingxue your beloved?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Yes,” Lü Qingyan replied.

Now that they were on this topic, she wanted to enlighten this child. Her worldview seemed a bit skewed. She needed guidance.

It was important to start them young.

She smiled, her expression filled with a nostalgic sweetness, as she recounted her love story.

“She’s always been unlucky,” she said. “It’s like fate is playing tricks on her. She overcomes one obstacle, only to face another.”

Er Ya looked up at her. “Obstacles?” she asked. “But she’s so powerful. Does she also face obstacles?”

Lü Qingyan’s heart ached. “Yes,” she said. “Her family was poor. She suffered a lot. When she grew up, her parents tried to force her to marry for money. Then, because of our relationship, she was ridiculed and ostracized. She found a job, but she was bullied and framed because she was too quiet. She found another job, but her health failed.”

“She never gave up,” Lü Qingyan continued, her voice filled with admiration. “She always lived her life on her own terms.”

Er Ya interrupted, her voice laced with confusion. “But aren’t you demons?”

Ordinary animals needed luck to become demons. Most demons had no memories of their parents and didn’t live with them. And blending into the mortal world, seeking employment? That was unheard of.

Even if there was a demon who was bored enough to do that, if they were bullied, they wouldn’t simply find a new job. They would unleash their demonic nature and devour their tormentors.

Lü Qingyan, realizing her mistake, quickly explained, “That was our past life! We have memories of our previous lives!”

That made sense.

Er Ya stared at her feet. “I think I also dream about my past life,” she said.

Lü Qingyan, intrigued, gently pinched Er Ya’s ear. “What were you in your past life, Er Ya?”

Er Ya shook her head. “It’s just a blurry figure,” she said. “I run towards her, and she turns around, her sword pointed at me.”

What kind of nightmares was this child having? Lü Qingyan couldn’t help but ask, “What happened before we found you?”

Er Ya thought for a moment, her voice still flat, devoid of emotion, as if she were a puppet. “I don’t remember much,” she said. “My earliest memories are of being a slave. My first master was kind, but there was a famine. He wanted to eat me before he starved to death, but a demon ate him first.”

Lü Qingyan, who had grown up in a peaceful world, couldn’t comprehend such cruelty. Children should be cherished and protected, not subjected to such horrors.

She covered Er Ya’s mouth, her voice soothing. “It’s okay,” she said. “Forget about those memories. You’ll never experience that again.”

Er Ya nodded, and Lü Qingyan released her. Wanting to cheer the child up, she scooped her up, heading towards the door.

Seeing that Lü Qingyan was taking her outside, Er Ya struggled, her voice filled with panic. “Sister Fang said I can’t go outside,” she said. “There are bad people who will steal my spiritual root.”

Spiritual roots could be stolen and transplanted. That was why the Fang sisters hadn’t taken Er Ya outside. This city was filled with cultivators. Someone would surely recognize her potential.

Lü Qingyan slapped her forehead. She wasn’t as observant as the Fang sisters. She needed to find another way to entertain the child.

“Do you want to hear a story?” she asked.

Er Ya shook her head, her voice laced with a hint of disdain. “No.”

Lü Qingyan sighed. This child was difficult. She tried several other activities, but they were all rejected.

Just as she was about to give up, Er Ya, perhaps taking pity on her, said, “Fine, tell me a story.”

Lü Qingyan wanted to throw the child out the window, but she restrained herself. This poor child had suffered enough. She deserved kindness.

She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

Er Ya stared at her, her eyes unfocused.

Compared to her previous life, filled with pain and abuse, her current life was almost too good to be true. She was afraid to let herself believe in it.

But she was also afraid that it was all a dream, a dream that would eventually end. Would losing this newfound happiness be even more painful?

She was unlucky. She wanted to know how another unlucky person coped.

“You said Jingxue is unlucky,” she said. “What about her new life? Is she still unlucky?”

Lü Qingyan chuckled. “No, she’s very lucky now,” she said. “Except for those times when she gets dragged into illusions and secret realms, her life is pretty good.”

“She was adopted by the most powerful person in the world,” she continued. “She transformed quickly, and she’s made a lot of friends. But…”

Er Ya, noticing her hesitation, her expression turning somber, asked, “But what?”

“We know how the story is supposed to end,” Lü Qingyan said, her voice laced with a hint of sadness. “We know that all her friends will be hurt by a very bad person. They’ll become his concubines.”

“She doesn’t like that ending, so she’s trying to change it. But that bad person is favored by destiny, by the heavens. It’s a dangerous path.”

Er Ya’s eyes widened. “Are there really gods who are that bad?”

“Yes, but we, as cultivators, have a chance to become gods ourselves. Perhaps then, we can defy fate and give them all happy endings.”

Er Ya sat in silence for a long time. She could sense that Lü Qingyan was being honest, and that honesty made her heart heavy.

She clenched her fists. “You will succeed,” she said, her voice firm.

“Of course we will!” Lü Qingyan exclaimed. “If we become gods, I’m going to rewrite all those bad endings!”

Er Ya, hearing her bold declaration, smiled, a rare sight. “I’ll cultivate diligently too,” she said. “I’ll become a good god and chase away the bad ones.”

Lü Qingyan, relieved to see Er Ya’s newfound optimism, let out a sigh of relief. But her relief was short-lived.

She had clearly underestimated this child’s ability to drop truth bombs.

“But what if we all become gods,” Er Ya asked, her voice serious, “and we disagree about the endings?”

Lü Qingyan was speechless. She was, at her core, a simple, happy-go-lucky dog. Her thoughts were straightforward. She pursued what she wanted, she picked herself up after failures, and she reveled in her successes.

This question was beyond her comprehension.

She patted Er Ya’s head, her voice firm, trying to maintain her dignity. “Don’t overthink it,” she said. “You’re still a long way from becoming a god. Thinking too much will only lead to anxiety, and anxiety leads to suffering. How can someone who’s suffering save others?”

She had used a bit too much force. Er Ya rubbed her head, then nodded obediently. “I understand.”

Lü Qingyan set her down, then crouched before her, smoothing her clothes, her smile returning. “Don’t be so pessimistic,” she said. “Life is long. You’ll meet good people and bad people. Don’t let one bad person make you lose faith in the world.”

“Perhaps one day, someone will come for you too.”

Er Ya listened quietly, her gaze fixed on Lü Qingyan’s gentle face. She thought of Bai Jingxue’s mission.

She had already encountered so many kind people.

She retrieved a flower from her pocket, offering it to Lü Qingyan. It was a bright orange flower, resembling a miniature sun, its petals slightly wilted and incomplete.

Lü Qingyan, staring at the flower, a sense of familiarity washing over her, examined it. She had seen this flower before. It was the same type that had been planted in the pot that had fallen on her head in her past life.

She had actually liked the flower, but it had also been the catalyst for her transmigration, leading her to Bai Jingxue in this life.

A mix of emotions surged through her, then she smiled, her voice soft. “Is this for me?” she asked. “Thank you. I love it.”

Er Ya nodded shyly, then, after a moment of hesitation, she asked, “If there really are gods, and they could grant you a wish, but it came with a price, what would you wish for?”

Lü Qingyan thought for a long time, then smiled. “I would use all my luck to make Jingxue’s life lucky,” she said.

She didn’t have any grand ambitions. Bai Jingxue wanted to change the fates of those around her, but Lü Qingyan simply wanted to change Bai Jingxue’s fate.

Er Ya stared at her, her voice filled with envy. “You two are truly in love.”

Lü Qingyan puffed out her chest, her voice filled with pride. “Of course! There’s no couple more in love than us!”

Er Ya, having been sold to a brothel as a servant girl, had a rather limited understanding of love. She associated it with physical intimacy.

“Have you slept together?” she asked, her voice innocent.

Lü Qingyan quickly covered the child’s mouth, her cheeks burning. She couldn’t believe this child would say such a thing, especially in broad daylight.

But then she felt a surge of frustration. They had done it in their past life, but not in this one.

She was miserable. She decided she would sing the Demon Lord’s praises to Luo Nianshang, hoping to turn them into friends!

Meanwhile, at a secluded spirit spring in the Demon Realm, the dog, oblivious to her girlfriend’s plans, was unaware that the seemingly uptight Sword Saint was currently struggling with a child.

The Demon Lord, disguised as a child, clung to her clothes, her voice filled with panic. “Big Sister, it’s okay,” she said. “I’ll wash myself when I get home!”

The spirit spring, Luo Nianshang, the attempted undressing… her PTSD was triggered. And she had a precious talisman concealed beneath her clothes. No ordinary child would possess such a thing.

Luo Nianshang didn’t understand her resistance. The child was filthy. She simply wanted to give her a bath. And this spirit spring was special. It could suppress evil thoughts and purify the soul.

But her recent experience had made her question the spring’s effectiveness.

Seeing the child’s fear, she decided to let it go.

She suddenly remembered that Bai Jingxue, before her transformation, had also been afraid of baths. But that was because she had nearly drowned.

She paused, then scooped the Demon Lord into her arms, patting her back soothingly. “It’s okay,” she said. “Go to sleep.”

She retrieved a piece of cloth from the ground, spreading it out, then gently placed the Demon Lord on it.

The Demon Lord didn’t want to sleep. She sat up, then her eyes widened as she recognized the cloth.

It was her own discarded robe!

Her face turned green. She glared at Luo Nianshang, then noticed that Luo Nianshang was still wearing her undergarments.

They were wet and clinging to her body, but the Demon Lord couldn’t help but scoff. “How stingy,” she thought. “Who would even look at you?”

She turned away, then, a moment later, she peeked.

She felt like a pervert, but she had already done everything with Luo Nianshang. Looking couldn’t hurt.

She resumed her observation, her guilt fading.

Chapter 84: The Child

Luo Nianshang wasn’t in a hurry to return to the Ejian Sect. She wanted to soak in the spirit spring for a few more days. After all, her recent episode had resulted in someone getting hurt, although the method of injury had been rather unusual.

The Sword Saint blushed, then sighed.

How had things escalated to this? A “lesson she’ll never forget” shouldn’t be this unforgettable.

Walking down a bustling street, she suddenly paused, her gaze fixed on her hand. She stared at it for a long time, then, her cheeks burning, she quickly turned and walked away.

The Demon Lord, following her discreetly, had initially intended to return to the Demon Realm, but seeing that Luo Nianshang wasn’t heading back to the Ejian Sect, she had changed her disguise and continued her pursuit.

Despite her recent defeat, she was confident. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

She was determined to understand what had happened to Luo Nianshang, but as the Demon Lord, she wouldn’t get any answers. She needed a new approach.

She stared at the flower basket in her hand, her simple, patched-up clothes a stark contrast to her usual luxurious attire. She mussed her hair, then, her target identified, she ran towards Luo Nianshang, blocking her path.

She held up the basket, her voice timid. “Big Sister, would you like to buy a flower?”

Luo Nianshang, seeing the girl’s worn clothes, assuming she was from a poor family, retrieved a silver ingot from her sleeve, placing it in the girl’s hand. “I’ll take them all,” she said.

The Demon Lord’s eyes widened. “Thank you, Big Sister,” she said. “Are you leaving the city?”

This was the righteous realm. Luo Nianshang had only come here to keep an eye on the Demon Lord. Now that the Demon Lord was gone, there was no reason for her to stay.

She nodded, but the little girl, her expression filled with alarm, grabbed her sleeve. “Don’t leave the city, Big Sister,” she pleaded. “There are monsters outside.”

This area bordered the Demon Realm, but it wasn’t as if the Demon Realm was right outside the city gates. There was a vast expanse of wilderness separating them.

Luo Nianshang wasn’t afraid of monsters. She had a whole collection of them at home.

This realization made her pause. She, the leader of the righteous realm, was surrounded by demons.

A cat demon, a dog demon, a flower demon, a bird demon, and a dragon.

She patted the little girl’s head, her voice gentle. “I’m not afraid,” she said.

But the Demon Lord clung to her sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes, her voice trembling. “Please don’t go, Big Sister,” she sobbed. “My mother was attacked by a monster outside the city. She’s still unconscious.”

Luo Nianshang was concerned, but she faced a bigger problem. She had no idea how to comfort a crying child.

She crouched down, wiping away the girl’s tears, her movements awkward. “Don’t cry,” she said. “Can you take me to her?”

The Demon Lord, her sobs subsiding, looked up at her. “Can you heal her, Big Sister?”

Luo Nianshang nodded. “Take me to her.”

The Demon Lord was delighted. The Sword Saint was so easily deceived.

But her excitement got the better of her. She made a sudden movement, then winced, her hand flying to her lower back.

Seeing Luo Nianshang about to leave, she panicked. She had hastily applied a pain-suppressing talisman, but her sudden movement had dislodged it.

“Damn it,” she thought. But she couldn’t risk revealing her true nature in front of Luo Nianshang. “My mother is ill,” she said, her voice weak. “I’ve been working too hard, trying to care for her.”

Luo Nianshang, touched by the girl’s filial piety, found her even more adorable, but this wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Seeing the girl’s pale face, she scooped her up into her arms.

“Where do you live?”

The Demon Lord, startled, pointed towards a random direction. “Over there.”

Luo Nianshang, noticing the girl’s flushed cheeks, asked, “Are you feeling hot?”

The Demon Lord shook her head.

Luo Nianshang, reassured, carried her in the direction she had indicated.

As they walked, Luo Nianshang realized they were in a poverty-stricken area. Beggars lined the streets.

Worried about the girl’s mother, she ignored them.

The Demon Lord, however, glared at them, her heart filled with disdain.

She had been a beggar once. It had been an unpleasant experience. She wondered how many of these pitiful creatures were actually villains in disguise.

They walked for a while, then the Demon Lord pointed at a dilapidated shack made of wooden planks. “That’s it,” she said.

Luo Nianshang pushed open the door, but the shack was empty.

The girl was clearly surprised. “Mother?”

Of course, it was empty. She had simply chosen a random location.

The Demon Lord, her expression a mixture of panic and despair, said, “How could this be? I only left for a little while. Where did she go?”

Luo Nianshang, staring at the girl’s worried face, her breath catching in her throat, felt a strange sense of familiarity.

She composed herself, her voice soothing. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Describe your mother to me. I’ll find her.”

Then, realizing the danger of leaving a child alone in such a chaotic place, she asked, “Where’s your father?”

The Demon Lord wiped her eyes, her voice trembling. “He died of an illness.”

Luo Nianshang didn’t know how to respond.

She considered this for a moment, then decided to keep the child with her. She was confident in her ability to protect her. And she couldn’t see the girl’s destiny.

Perhaps they were fated to meet.

She had taken on two disciples, but they rarely interacted with her eldest disciple. This went against her intentions.

This child was lively and energetic.

She considered taking her on as a disciple. “Don’t worry,” she said. “What’s your name?”

The Demon Lord, clinging to Luo Nianshang’s neck, said, “Cai Lian.”

She had chosen the name randomly. She had forgotten the names of her two puppets.

“I’m leaving the city,” Luo Nianshang said. “Are you afraid of monsters?”

The Demon Lord, of course, wasn’t afraid of monsters. She had killed plenty of them. But she couldn’t reveal her true nature.

She clung to her role as a helpless, vulnerable child. “I’m not afraid,” she said. “I have to find my mother.”

Luo Nianshang, touched by her determination, her fear masked by a brave facade, sighed softly. “Come with me,” she said.

She was powerful. She could protect this child.

She left the city, expanding her divine sense, searching for the girl’s mother.

The Demon Lord’s heart pounded. She hadn’t expected Luo Nianshang to take her search seriously. She hadn’t prepared a backstory. There was no “mother.”

But Luo Nianshang soon withdrew her divine sense. “I found her,” she said.

The Demon Lord was surprised. She hadn’t expected Luo Nianshang to actually find someone. Fate was clearly on her side.

Luo Nianshang flew towards the location, then paused, her brow furrowing.

She cast an illusion spell, making the corpse less gruesome.

The Demon Lord recognized the spell and saw the corpse.

Or rather, the partial corpse. Only the skull and a few ribs remained.

She silently offered a prayer for the unknown demon. The death of a single mortal wouldn’t usually concern a cultivator, but Luo Nianshang was a meddler.

This demon had simply been unlucky.

Luo Nianshang, seeing that the girl was staring at the corpse, her expression blank, assuming she was simply overwhelmed by grief, covered her eyes with a hand. “Don’t look,” she said gently.

Catching the culprit hadn’t been difficult. It was a rat demon.

The matter resolved, the Demon Lord, nestled in Luo Nianshang’s arms, burst into tears, her sobs echoing through the forest.

Luo Nianshang, oblivious to the fact that she was being taken advantage of, wondered how to comfort the child. But the child eventually cried herself to sleep.

The girl’s even breathing calmed Luo Nianshang’s heart. She wiped the sweat from the girl’s brow, her gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks, still stained with tears.

She suddenly missed her own masters. She had often fallen asleep in Master Yue Lian’s arms.

She had considered resurrecting them.

But their cultivation levels had been far higher than the little whale demon’s. Resurrection came at a price.

During those two months of unconsciousness, Bai Jingxue had sometimes placed her hand on her neck, her grip tightening, as if she were trying to strangle herself. Thankfully, Lü Qingyan had been there, calling for help. The consequences could have been dire.

Luo Nianshang had gradually abandoned the idea of resurrection. She had studied the giant tree and had been observing He Rong, but she couldn’t figure it out.

She sighed, a shiver running down her spine. Even she had considered exploiting that method. Others would surely be tempted as well. It was a good thing she had kept it a secret.

She carried the sleeping child towards the Demon Realm.

As they approached the spirit spring, the girl woke up.

Seeing that she was flying, she clung to Luo Nianshang’s neck, her eyes wide with fear.

Once she realized she was safe, she looked up at Luo Nianshang, her voice filled with wonder. “Are you a goddess, Big Sister?”

“Yes,” Luo Nianshang replied.

The girl seemed skeptical. “Can you bring my mother back?” she asked.

Luo Nianshang, staring at her innocent eyes, shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

The girl’s face fell, then she apologized, her voice small. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m asking for too much.”

Luo Nianshang, touched by the girl’s politeness, smiled. “It’s alright,” she said. “I just can’t do that.”

Seeing the sadness in Luo Nianshang’s eyes, the Demon Lord seized the opportunity. “Do you also have someone you want to resurrect, Goddess?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The Demon Lord was delighted. Luo Nianshang was answering all her questions. “Your parents?” she asked. “Do goddesses have mothers and fathers?”

Luo Nianshang paused. “Yes,” she said. “But I…”

She stopped, her memories of her parents faded, overshadowed by her memories of her masters.

She had spent more time with her masters. Her parents were distant figures.

She couldn’t even remember their faces.

But she couldn’t tell this child that.

She simply patted the Demon Lord’s head. “Are you tired?” she asked.

Acting was exhausting. And her body ached.

Thankfully, Luo Nianshang had carried her most of the way.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Then sleep.”

The Demon Lord obediently closed her eyes, her heart filled with joy.

This disguise was perfect. She no longer needed an excuse to be near Luo Nianshang.

But she suddenly felt a pang of worry. She had created too many disguises.

She couldn’t even remember the names of her two puppets. And now she had another one.

She thought about it for a moment, then dismissed it. She wouldn’t need any more disguises.

Chapter 83: A Sea of Flowers

As they walked, they encountered numerous flower vendors, young girls carrying baskets filled with colorful blooms, approaching wealthy women, their voices sweet as they offered their wares.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan no longer had to wear those suffocating head coverings. Fang Xin had taught them an illusion technique. They couldn’t fully conceal their ears and tails, but they were now invisible to ordinary mortals.

Zhu Er had also learned the technique, practicing it repeatedly. Her admiration for the Ejian Sect grew with each passing moment.

They stood out in the crowd, their beauty and their confident demeanor drawing stares. But that was only part of it.

This mortal kingdom imposed strict rules on women, demanding obedience and subservience. Women like Bai Jingxue and her companions, who radiated an aura of strength and independence, were rare.

One such woman might have been overlooked, but four of them together attracted unwanted attention.

Bai Jingxue didn’t care. She was just a visitor. Once they left, these memories would fade.

But someone, it seemed, was determined to provoke them. A folding fan suddenly appeared before her, snapping open with a flourish.

A young man, his clothes expensive, his features handsome, but his eyes filled with a lecherous glint, his intentions clear, grinned at her. “Are you new in town, little lady?” he asked, his voice oily. “Perhaps I could show you around?”

Before Bai Jingxue could react, Lü Qingyan, her temper flaring, lashed out, her foot connecting with the man’s stomach, sending him flying.

She had held back. “Scumbag!” she snarled, her face contorted with rage.

Bai Jingxue, her ears twitching, stared at Lü Qingyan, her expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

The onlookers, seeing that the man who had dared to approach them seemed to be dead, quickly retreated, their own intentions forgotten.

A large empty space formed around them, as if a plague had swept through the area.

Fang Xin chuckled. This scene brought back unpleasant memories. The details were hazy, but the feeling of disgust remained.

She had been riding her horse one day when the prince, returning to his mansion, had spotted her. He had sent his guards to capture her, but she had whipped them all, sending them sprawling to the ground.

But the prince had been persistent. He had approached her father, demanding her hand in marriage.

She had drawn her sword, but Fang Yue Lian had stopped her, shaking her head.

She sheathed her sword, then turned away, her face cold, her fists clenched. She was afraid she might lose control and attack someone.

But then she noticed Fang Yue Lian’s hand moving. She was casting a spell.

Fang Xin recognized it as a poison curse. The victim would endure agonizing pain, day and night. A swift death would have been more merciful.

Fang Yue Lian, her actions exposed, blinked, her expression innocent.

Fang Xin stared at her, speechless.

After all these years, she was still the same, her methods subtle, her actions hidden. But Fang Xin found it endearing.

She must be insane. She hated deceitful people.

Zhu Er, finding this scene incredibly exciting, had been holding Er Ya’s hand, but she quickly covered the girl’s eyes.

But Er Ya, her voice calm, said, “It’s okay, Sister. I understand.”

Zhu Er, surprised, withdrew her hand. This child must have suffered a lot.

She crouched down, patting Er Ya’s head. “When you’re stronger, you can fight back too,” she said, her voice gentle.

Er Ya remained silent, her gaze fixed on the unconscious man.

Zhu Er suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. She hugged herself, then looked up at the clear, sunny sky.

Bai Jingxue and the others had already moved on. Zhu Er, grabbing Er Ya’s hand, was about to follow when she noticed the Imperial Advisor standing in a nearby alley.

Remembering that she still had his jade pendant, she thrust Er Ya into Lü Qingyan’s arms. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

She had only taken a few steps when the ground began to shake. Cracks appeared, widening rapidly, swallowing the people around them.

Vines, their roots thick and strong, emerged from the cracks, grabbing those who had managed to stay on their feet, dragging them down.

One of the vines wrapped around Bai Jingxue’s ankle, but she quickly incinerated it with her flames.

She had no time to conceal her identity. She summoned her sword, hovering in the air, her gaze scanning the chaotic scene below.

Lü Qingyan, carrying Er Ya, leaped onto a rooftop. The cracks had widened, their depths filled with a writhing mass of vines. “Damn it,” she muttered.

Those who had fallen were doomed.

A silk thread shot out, attaching itself to the side of the building, then tightened. Lü Qingyan saw Zhu Er, carrying someone in her arms, swinging towards them.

It was the Imperial Advisor.

Lü Qingyan stared at Zhu Er’s four extra arms, remembering a dance performance she had seen on television in her past life, the Thousand-Hand Guanyin. Zhu Er’s current form reminded her of that.

Zhu Er set the Imperial Advisor down. He had almost fallen into the chasm, and she had used her silk threads to rescue him.

He stared at the scene below, his face pale with horror.

The number of casualties far exceeded those of the rat demon’s victims.

But they had no time to mourn. Flowers of all shapes and colors bloomed from the vines, their beauty a stark contrast to the carnage below.

They bloomed instantly, their petals unfurling.

The stench of blood was replaced by the cloying sweetness of flowers. Sensing the presence of living beings, the flowers turned, their gazes fixed on their nearest targets.

Bai Jingxue and the Fang sisters were hovering in the air on their swords, so the closest targets were Lü Qingyan and the others.

The vines, their growth rapid, reached the building, their tendrils wrapping around it, then pulling. The building collapsed.

Lü Qingyan, carrying Er Ya, mounted her sword. Zhu Er, carrying the Imperial Advisor, leaped onto another rooftop.

The vines, abandoning their pursuit of Lü Qingyan, turned towards Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor.

The once bustling city was now a ruin, a sea of flowers blooming amidst the debris, their beauty masking the horror.

Bai Jingxue was about to pull Zhu Er up when a silk thread shot out, wrapping around her sword hilt. Zhu Er, using the thread to propel herself upwards, landed gracefully beside Bai Jingxue.

The scent of living beings faded, and the vines, their movements serpentine, rose, intertwining, their numbers growing.

Fang Xin, watching this, cold sweat beading on her forehead, her voice strained, said, “There’s no demonic aura. And I can’t sense its cultivation level.”

Bai Jingxue, staring at the sea of flowers below, channeled her spiritual energy, unleashing a torrent of flames.

The outer layers of the vines, their leaves and flowers, were incinerated, and Bai Jingxue, seeing that her flames were effective, felt a surge of relief.

But a moment later, the flowers began to devour the flames.

She had never seen anything like this. The flames and the flowers battled, each consuming the other, until only a few flickering embers remained.

Having absorbed the flames, the vines grew even faster, the burned areas regenerating rapidly.

Bai Jingxue realized, with a surge of horror, that these flowers possessed the same ability as her flames.

“We have to go!” she shouted.

They fled, their swords carrying them swiftly towards the city gates, the vines reaching for them, their movements relentless.

But the flowers were slow. They managed to escape.

But when they reached the city gates, they discovered that the same strange phenomenon had spread beyond the city walls.

They flew for a long time, finally reaching Zhu Er’s dilapidated temple.

Fang Xin, landing gracefully, summoned a messenger bird. This was beyond the capabilities of the Ejian Sect. They had to inform the other sects.

“You can put me down now, Immortal,” the Imperial Advisor said.

Zhu Er, startled, realized she was still carrying him. This was the first time she had been addressed as an “immortal.” It felt strange.

She set him down, then, remembering something, she retrieved a jade pendant from her sleeve, offering it to him. “Here,” she said. “This is yours.”

The Imperial Advisor, taking the pendant, his emotions complex, stared at it. The capital, in the blink of an eye, had been reduced to rubble. Chaos would surely follow.

And he, who should have died, had been saved by this pendant, though his life wouldn’t last much longer.

He tucked the pendant away, his voice sincere. “I am indebted to you, Immortal,” he said. “May I know your name?”

Zhu Er, who had never encountered someone so eloquent, smiled. “I’m Zhu Er,” she said. “And you?”

“My name is Luo Liancheng.”

Zhu Er nodded, her voice filled with approval. “Luo Liancheng,” she repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Bai Jingxue, overhearing their conversation, her brow furrowing, glanced at them. Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor hadn’t stood together at the inn. Now, seeing them side-by-side, she felt a strange unease.

Seeing that the Fang sisters had finished sending their message, she approached them. “Do you two have any disciples?” she asked.

Fang Xin shook her head. “No.”

Fang Yue Lian, assuming Bai Jingxue was making a request, smiled. “We have high standards,” she said. “We haven’t found anyone suitable yet.”

Bai Jingxue mentally calculated the timeline, but she wasn’t sure. “How long have you been at the Ejian Sect?” she asked.

It wasn’t a secret. The Fang sisters exchanged a glance, then Fang Xin replied, “Eighty-six years.”

Eighty-six years. Luo Nianshang hadn’t been born yet.

Bai Jingxue, realizing the implications, turned to stare at Zhu Er and Luo Liancheng, her eyes wide with horror.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her reaction, tugged her sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

Bai Jingxue, processing her suspicions, her gaze fixed on Zhu Er and Luo Liancheng, felt a strange mix of emotions.

If she stayed here for a few years, would she be able to hold the newly born Luo Nianshang?

This was confusing. She was Luo Nianshang’s pet, but also Luo Nianshang’s master’s junior sister, and now, she was the same generation as Luo Nianshang’s mother.

She couldn’t figure it out.

So Luo Nianshang would be half-human, half-demon.

Remembering something that had happened before her transformation, her suspicions solidified.

She turned to Lü Qingyan. “Look at them,” she said. “What do you see?”

Lü Qingyan stared at Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor. They were chatting, one filled with excitement, the other with a barely concealed sadness.

Lü Qingyan thought for a moment, then slapped her thigh. “Clueless and Grumpy!”

Bai Jingxue, surprised by that answer, looked at them again.

“Hey, she’s right.”

Chapter 82: Let Go

After Bai Jingxue’s sincere but fabricated praise, the Fang sisters couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

They hadn’t realized their sect had such a formidable reputation, inspiring these strangers to claim affiliation with the Ejian Sect.

But their sect was impoverished, its resources scarce. It was far from being a haven for powerful cultivators. Inner sect disciples at the Nascent Soul stage? They wouldn’t even dare to dream of such a thing.

Bai Jingxue also felt a twinge of guilt. She had received Fang Xin’s assistance after escaping Fang Yue Lian’s dream realm. But caution prevented her from revealing the truth.

However, seeing the Fang sisters alive and well filled her with joy. In the future, they would both meet tragic ends, one lost in her own memories, the other waiting in vain for her beloved to awaken.

Fang Xin, noticing Bai Jingxue’s intense gaze, turned to her, her brow furrowed. “What is it?” she asked.

Bai Jingxue shook her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing,” she said. “But Qingyan and I are both demons. Can we still join your sect?”

Fang Yue Lian, idly twirling a chopstick between her fingers, its movements a blur, propelled by her spiritual energy, chuckled. “Technically, no,” she said. “But who would know?”

Bai Jingxue, staring at Fang Yue Lian’s gentle smile, the mischievous glint in her eyes, couldn’t help but agree.

Rules were meant to be broken.

The view from the window was beautiful. They could see the green mountains beyond the city walls, their peaks shrouded in mist, the morning sunlight painting the scene in hues of gold and rose.

Bai Jingxue’s heart calmed.

They had left the inn and were now seated in a private room in a luxurious restaurant.

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan had started their journey at the pinnacle of this world, one taken in by the Sword Saint, the other by the Demon Lord. The future Ejian Sect and Demon Palace were far grander than this small room.

But Zhu Er had never experienced such luxury. She gazed around the room, her eyes wide with wonder.

Er Ya, however, was ten years old. She sat stiffly, her head bowed, her breathing shallow, her demeanor timid.

Fang Xin, observing them, her heart filled with a joy she could barely contain, smiled.

This trip had been incredibly fruitful. Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, with their strange abilities, were already valuable assets, but the other two were even more promising.

The little spider spirit possessed a pure heart. Her low cultivation level was simply due to a lack of guidance. And the little girl, with her head bowed, was a treasure, a rare gem with a top-grade water spiritual root.

Adding the Imperial Advisor they had met earlier, they had unearthed five treasures on this single trip. Any other sect would be envious.

Fang Xin’s usual frown softened, and she placed a piece of meat in Er Ya’s bowl, her voice kind. “Eat,” she said. “You need to gain some weight.”

Er Ya, staring at Fang Xin, her eyes wide with fear, her voice trembling, said, “My meat isn’t tasty.”

Fang Xin, confused, withdrew her hand, abandoning her attempt to feed Er Ya.

Fang Yue Lian, seeing her sister’s failed attempt, chuckled. “The little one thinks you’re going to fatten her up and eat her,” she said.

Fang Xin’s frown returned.

Bai Jingxue, watching them, wanted to laugh, but remembering their tragic fates, these ordinary moments became precious.

She suddenly noticed that her own bowl was piled high with meat. Another piece was added, and she looked up to see Lü Qingyan, her chopsticks working diligently, building a mountain of meat.

“That’s enough,” Bai Jingxue said, her voice laced with amusement.

Lü Qingyan reluctantly set down her chopsticks, her gaze lingering on the meat, as if she wanted to add more.

Bai Jingxue was a foodie, but she had no appetite at this early hour.

Lü Qingyan, however, ignored her, piling her own bowl with meat, her chewing enthusiastic.

Once she was finished, she wagged her tail contentedly.

Bai Jingxue, seeing a grain of rice stuck to Lü Qingyan’s lips, reached out, gently removing it. Then, noticing the oil stain on Lü Qingyan’s mouth, she retrieved a handkerchief, wiping it clean.

Although she wouldn’t publicly acknowledge their relationship, she couldn’t help but care for Lü Qingyan.

It was troublesome. Her emotions were still entangled with Lü Qingyan’s.

She sighed inwardly, then noticed someone staring at them.

It was a normal action, but their interaction seemed intimate, their movements tender.

Fang Xin, after observing them for a while, Bai Jingxue’s gaze meeting hers, couldn’t help but ask, her voice curious, “Are you two partners?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

The conflicting answers confused Fang Xin, but the conversation she had overheard that night suggested their relationship was more than just friendship.

The cat demon’s flushed cheeks were clearly a sign of embarrassment.

Fang Xin mentally confirmed her suspicions.

Bai Jingxue, seeing Fang Xin’s knowing smile, her cheeks burning even brighter, grabbed Lü Qingyan’s tail.

Lü Qingyan, startled, turned to Bai Jingxue, her eyes pleading, and Bai Jingxue’s heart melted.

“Ugh, dogs are the cutest creatures in the world,” she thought.

But a moment later, she gasped, realizing that Lü Qingyan had grabbed her tail.

She glared at Lü Qingyan, her anger simmering. “Lü Qingyan, you’re the worst dog in the world!” she thought.

She tugged her tail, her voice a low warning. “Let go, or else…”

Or else what? She had no idea.

Lü Qingyan, however, seemed genuinely annoyed. “No,” she said, her grip tightening.

Bai Jingxue realized this argument was childish. She wanted to let go, but she also wanted Lü Qingyan to let go first. They stared at each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.

The sound of a door opening broke the stalemate. They turned to see a figure standing at the entrance.

Fang Yue Lian greeted him. “Imperial Advisor.”

The man, his features delicate, his complexion pale, his red robes unable to conceal his illness, was the Imperial Advisor they had encountered earlier.

He looked young, his smile gentle and approachable.

And he was indeed approachable, his voice warm as he replied, “You honor me with that title, honored immortal.”

He coughed, his face filled with a polite apology. “Excuse me.”

Fang Yue Lian, aware of his condition, though she had accepted his fate, still felt a pang of regret.

The room was filled with women. He hesitated at the doorway, not entering. Fang Xin had summoned him, and the matters they were discussing were confidential. He hadn’t brought any attendants.

He had already paid them. Logically, this should have been their last meeting.

“Is there something else you require, honored immortal?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Fang Xin, never one for beating around the bush, stared at him, her heart aching.

Such a pure and powerful ice spiritual root, wasted.

She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She turned away, her voice brisk. “We summoned you here to discuss a marriage proposal.”

The Imperial Advisor’s gentle smile vanished. He had never married due to his poor health. Countless people had urged him to find a wife, someone to care for him, but he had always refused.

Were even immortals obsessed with matchmaking?

He took a deep breath, his voice firm. “I appreciate your kindness, honored immortal,” he said, “but I have no intention of marrying.”

Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, their eyes meeting, their shared love of drama making them forget their previous conflict, simultaneously released each other’s tails.

Fang Xin was about to try to persuade him, but seeing the flicker of annoyance in his eyes, she knew it was a lost cause. She might have been disappointed in the past, but now, with a room full of treasures, she didn’t need him.

She readily agreed to let him leave.

The Imperial Advisor, relieved by her understanding, his heart still pounding, remembering the rat demon’s victims, said, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

Fang Xin nodded curtly, his departure of little consequence to her.

He turned to leave, his movements hurried, and he didn’t notice that he had dropped something.

The matchmaking session had ended before it had even begun, much to the disappointment of Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, who had been enjoying the spectacle.

In their past life, they had both been subjected to countless matchmaking attempts. Bai Jingxue, in particular, with her quiet nature, her domestic skills, and her stable job, had been a prime target.

Her refusals had been ignored, her own family betraying her.

Exasperated, she had finally resorted to claiming that her family was deeply in debt, her siblings still too young to work. That had finally silenced the matchmakers.

Lü Qingyan had had it easier. She had always been rebellious, her temper so fierce that she had even punched a matchmaker. She had been blacklisted.

Fang Yue Lian, noticing their disappointment, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan replied in unison.

They exchanged a look, then Bai Jingxue, unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, said, “Let’s go to the Ejian Sect.”

Fang Xin, delighted, stood up. “Alright,” she said.

Fang Yue Lian followed.

Zhu Er, trailing behind them, her excitement about visiting the Ejian Sect growing, tripped, her foot catching on something.

“Ouch!”

She rubbed her bruised backside, then glared at the culprit.

It was a jade pendant. She picked it up, examining it. It looked familiar.

The character “Luo” was engraved on its surface, but Zhu Er couldn’t read. She simply recognized the shape.

“Zhu Er, come on!” Lü Qingyan called out.

Zhu Er, hearing Lü Qingyan’s voice, tucked the pendant away and hurried after them.

Lü Qingyan, seeing her, asked, “What took you so long?”

Zhu Er, holding up the pendant, her voice laced with annoyance, said, “I tripped over this.”

Lü Qingyan’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the Imperial Advisor’s?”

Zhu Er, remembering, nodded. “I’ll return it later,” she said.