Category: The Heroine Fell Deeply For Her [Quick Transmigration]

Chapter 68: Disciple and Wife

At the entrance to his cave, the cultivator’s face paled. “How…?”

He raised his flute to his lips, its shrill notes echoing through the night, but this time, there was no response.

Tao Ning knew. His Zombie King was dead.

---

Withdrawing her moon-white sword from the shattered skull of the Zombie King, Cen Dianshuang turned to the stunned disciples.

“Have you seen a woman named Tao Ning? She carries a jade token with the character ‘Frost.’”

She stood before them like a celestial being, her movements powerful, her techniques vaguely familiar.

Her aura, however, was overwhelming, demanding obedience. They looked at her like mice facing a tiger, too terrified to speak.

Cen Dianshuang’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t seen her?”

She had sensed Tao Ning’s location the moment she emerged from seclusion, surprised to find her not at the Hanshan Sect, but in this remote city.

Ignoring her senior sister’s message, she had followed the signal from Tao Ning’s jade token, arriving in this desolate, ruined city.

The resentment clinging to the city was thick, a palpable weight, the result of centuries of suffering.

Even cultivators struggled to survive in such an environment, let alone mortals.

One of the female disciples, startled by Cen Dianshuang’s intense gaze, pointed hesitantly down the street. “She… she went that way.”

Cen Dianshuang: “Thank you.” With a graceful leap, she soared into the sky, disappearing in a flash of white.

Her speed left the disciples speechless.

So fast! We couldn’t even see her move!

The disciple who had pointed the way stammered, “You’re welcome, Senior…”

Then, someone realized something. “Wait, you didn’t even ask if she was a friend or foe! Why did you tell her where to go?!”

“She… she looked at me… I just… I couldn’t lie.”

“She looked furious. What if she’s not looking for someone, but seeking revenge?”

“Now that you mention it, she sounded… tense when she said the Senior’s name. Like she was gritting her teeth.”

“Should we follow?”

“We might need to… intervene.”

They set off, running down the street.

Their spiritual energy was depleted, their supply of replenishing pills exhausted. They had no choice but to run.

The cultivator, his face contorted in rage, threw down his flute. “Dead! Already dead!”

Years of planning, ruined. But with Demon Lord Qingji standing before him, it wasn’t a complete loss.

He bowed respectfully. “My Lord, that troublesome cultivator is approaching. What are your orders?”

520, surprised by this unexpected encounter with someone who knew Qingji, and the imminent arrival of Cen Dianshuang, panicked. This could be bad.

It frantically tried to contact Tao Ning. 【Oh no! Are you about to be exposed?!】

Tao Ning, preparing to mute 520 again, paused.

520 quickly added, 【Wait! I have another update! Your progress bar is active!】

This was relevant. “What’s the progress?”

520: 【Current progress: 98.9%. Almost 99%! A bit slower than the last world.】

Ignoring the fact that the progress bar in the previous world had been delayed, it was indeed slower, slow enough to be noticeable.

The brief exchange with 520 was imperceptible. The cultivator awaited his Lord’s command.

Tao Ning: “What do you suggest?”

The cultivator, his face lighting up, assuming he had finally earned his Lord’s favor, replied eagerly, “My Lord’s return must remain a secret. Those Radiant Realm cultivators are prone to overreacting. We should eliminate these… witnesses… and return to the Demonic Realm. You will reclaim your throne!”

Tao Ning nodded. “You’re right.”

The cultivator, beaming, gestured towards his cave. “The Wanhun Cauldron is beneath my cave. I’ll lead you there, my Lord, and break the seal.”

Tao Ning: “That won’t be necessary.”

The cultivator’s face fell. “Why not?” He assumed his true motives had been discovered.

He wasn’t wrong. Tao Ning, raising her hand, sent a wave of spiritual energy into the cave.

The sheer power of the attack revealed her true cultivation level.

“You!” The cultivator shrieked, leaping back, drawing his spirit weapon. “I knew it! Your cultivation has regressed! Qingji, you’ve finally fallen!”

He shook his bell, and a swarm of vengeful spirits, their forms like swirling black smoke, their mouths open in silent screams, emerged, flying towards Tao Ning.

“Qingji, you said nine pairs of children weren’t enough to awaken the Wanhun Cauldron. But your soul… that will be sufficient.”

Tao Ning drew her sword, its tip pointed at the cultivator. “You can try.”

The cultivator specialized in manipulating ghosts, having sacrificed the entire population of Shadow City centuries ago to fuel his spirit weapon, the Heavenly Crippled Bell. He had been gravely injured during the ensuing siege, forced into hiding.

The attacking cultivators, claiming compassion, hadn’t bothered to eliminate the city’s remaining inhabitants, simply sealing the city and leaving.

They had intended to let the city destroy itself, the resentment energy dissipating as the bodies decayed.

Essentially, they couldn’t be bothered.

These self-righteous cultivators, always preaching about slaying demons and showing mercy, rarely acted unless their own interests were threatened.

This, however, had allowed him to recover and perfect his spirit weapon.

The swarm of spirits couldn’t reach Tao Ning. Dodging their attacks with ease, she didn’t flee, but turned, her sword slicing through the black mist, dispersing it.

Lightning spiritual energy was a bane of evil creatures, the Demonic Realm’s least favorite.

Even ghosts feared it, its power akin to heavenly lightning, their destruction absolute, their souls scattered, preventing reincarnation.

Before the cultivator could launch another attack, he felt the ground tremble.

He wasn’t mistaken. Not just his cave, but the entire mountain was shaking, as if something massive was about to emerge.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, the river churning, the moans of the undead echoing through the city, the world reacting to the Wanhun Cauldron’s awakening.

He had spent centuries watching over the cauldron, anticipating its return, but now, as it was finally happening, it wasn’t under his control.

Continuing his attack, he couldn’t help but ask, his voice filled with doubt, “Are you really Qingji? Are you… her descendant? Why is your cultivation so low? Weren’t you killed by the tribulation lightning?”

Tao Ning, her attacks relentless, reached him, her gaze cold, her voice calm. “You seem to know a lot.”

A chill ran down the cultivator’s spine. He understood the unspoken message.

She wanted him dead.

His first instinct was to flee.

Losing one’s composure was a sign of weakness, an invitation for defeat.

He turned to run, but it was too late. A flash of lightning, and Poheng’s heavy blade, usually too dull to even chop wood without spiritual enhancement, nearly cleaved him in two.

His spiritual core shattered, beyond repair. He coughed up a mouthful of black blood, collapsing to the ground.

Tao Ning, not stopping there, placed her hand on his forehead, incinerating his soul, preventing reincarnation and any possibility of his memories being accessed.

He died with his eyes wide open in disbelief.

He had once cheated death, his soul escaping his dying body and possessing a mortal, allowing him to cultivate again. This time, however, there would be no second chances.

Tao Ning, withdrawing her hand, looked at the cave, then at the sky.

The jade token at her waist pulsed, its warmth intensifying as Cen Dianshuang drew closer.

A series of crashes and rumbles echoed from the cave, the ground shaking violently, the tremors spreading through Shadow City.

The Wanhun Cauldron, sensing its master’s spiritual energy, was breaking free.

520 panicked. 【The cauldron! It’s coming! What are we going to do?! Your master is almost here!】

Its hopelessly romantic host, if driven to despair by a misunderstanding, would likely destroy the entire Radiant Realm.

Tao Ning made a decision. “If there’s no other choice, then we’ll face it head-on.”

520: 【What are you going to do?】

Tao Ning, channeling more spiritual energy into the collapsing cave, replied, “Midwife.”

520: 【…You’re joking, right?】 Please don’t joke at a time like this!

It had never believed the online reviews describing Tao Ning as “unpredictable.” Now, it believed. It was officially Tao Ning’s loyal, if slightly terrified, companion.

Tao Ning, her hand glowing, a torrent of spiritual energy pouring from her meridians, said, “Who’s joking?”

The tremors intensified, spreading beyond the city walls, reaching the river, its waves churning violently, the disturbance felt even in the neighboring cities.

The birth of a divine artifact was a significant event, its power felt even by the cultivators in the distant Heavenly Heart Sect.

Xiao Haoran, sheltering within a house, lost his footing, tumbling to the ground. He steadied himself with his saber. “What’s happening? An earthquake?”

He wasn’t sensitive to the unusual spiritual fluctuations, but Er Lan, having lived in the Demonic Realm for centuries, recognized the aura immediately, her expression turning grim. “That aura… It’s the Wanhun Cauldron. It’s awakening.”

Xiao Haoran’s eyes widened. “It’s awakening? But I’m not there yet! How can it…?” Did the Heavenly Book lie to me?

A deafening roar echoed through Shadow City, leaving everyone momentarily deafened, their ears ringing, the world around them a muffled blur.

Their hearing gradually returned, and the disciples running through the streets hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Should we continue?”

Pang Xueting, after a moment of thought, nodded resolutely. “Yes. We have to. Even if we die, we need to know the truth.”

“Senior Sister Pang is right!”

Inspired by her words, they continued their journey.

---

Cen Dianshuang deflected a shower of falling debris with a wave of her sleeve, standing on Xuan Ying, her gaze fixed on the source of the commotion, her expression grim.

Below, amidst the dust and rubble, the Wanhun Cauldron, having shattered its prison, hovered in mid-air, its aura radiating outwards, then slowly descended.

She had sensed the disturbance from afar, but had come anyway.

And she had found the person she was looking for.

Tao Ning stood before the ruined cave, her back to Cen Dianshuang, a small cauldron resting in her outstretched hand.

Turning, she met Cen Dianshuang’s gaze. For the first time, Tao Ning saw no smile on her master’s face.

Her own eyes, usually bright and playful, were now cold and calm, her gaze steady, almost aloof.

She stood there, holding the cauldron, as if waiting.

After a long moment, a faint smile curved her lips. “Why are you just standing there? Come here.”

Cen Dianshuang landed gracefully, walking towards Tao Ning without hesitation.

The Wanhun Cauldron wasn’t simply a demonic or spiritual artifact. It could be both.

Its creator had been a spiritual cultivator, its first user the ghost cultivator Patriarch Wanhun, but its true master had been Qingji.

Her senior sister had told her this, adding that the cauldron, having consumed countless souls, was filled with resentment, even as a spiritual artifact.

Such resentment could influence its user, which was one of the reasons Qingji had sealed it away. She didn’t like losing control.

Cen Dianshuang’s hand touched Tao Ning’s, her fingers enveloped in a warm, firm grasp. “Your hands are cold. Just emerged from seclusion?”

Cen Dianshuang glanced at the cauldron in Tao Ning’s other hand, feeling her grip tighten, then looked back at her disciple.

Tao Ning’s voice held a hint of… something… Cen Dianshuang couldn’t quite name. “Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Cen Dianshuang: “I am. I’m just… thinking about how to answer.”

Tao Ning’s smile returned, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a flash of her earlier, more innocent self. “You’re still the same. You can’t lie.”

Cen Dianshuang began, “I…”

Tao Ning shook her head, interrupting her. “It’s fine. I know you. You came to find me the moment you emerged from seclusion, didn’t you?”

It was phrased as a question, but her tone was certain. And she was right.

Cen Dianshuang, slightly nervous, not wanting to forcibly take the cauldron and risk injuring Tao Ning, simply nodded. “Yes.”

Tao Ning’s smile widened, its warmth infectious. Even knowing Tao Ning was likely influenced by the cauldron’s resentment, Cen Dianshuang felt her own tense muscles relax.

Then, her back pressed against a tree trunk, her lips captured in a sudden, unexpected kiss, a warm, insistent pressure that made her gasp.

Her eyes widened, her hands resting lightly on Tao Ning’s shoulders, afraid to push her away, afraid of hurting her, of breaking the fragile connection after so long apart.

Their previous kiss had been a drunken mistake, a hazy memory.

This, however, was different. She was fully aware, fully present, the sensation… overwhelming.

Tao Ning’s kiss wasn’t gentle, its intensity almost bruising, but a warmth spread through Cen Dianshuang’s body, melting her usual coldness, her muscles relaxing as if she were immersed in a hot spring.

The longing, the pent-up emotions of forty years, poured into the kiss, their intensity undeniable.

Cen Dianshuang, her legs weakening, leaned against Tao Ning, her hands gripping her disciple’s back, their bodies pressed close.

She wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come, only a soft, breathless, “Mmm.”

The simple sound made Tao Ning’s smile widen, her own hand now resting on Cen Dianshuang’s cheek, her face pressed against her master’s, as if she couldn’t survive without her warmth.

But remembering Cen Dianshuang’s reserved nature, she pulled back slightly, her words sending a jolt through Cen Dianshuang’s mind.

“Master, do you remember… that night in Butterfly City? Why did you suddenly enter seclusion? Did you… not want me anymore?”

Cen Dianshuang’s mouth opened and closed, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly dry lips. She looked up, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “No.”

Tao Ning buried her face in Cen Dianshuang’s neck, her voice muffled. “I don’t believe you. You abandoned me.”

Cen Dianshuang, her awkward attempts at comforting her disciple rusty after forty years, gently stroked Tao Ning’s back, her touch light and hesitant.

“I didn’t abandon you. I… I had a breakthrough. I didn’t have time to wait for you. I had to go to Thunder God Valley. My situation is… unusual. It took longer than expected. It won’t happen again.”

Tao Ning, still clinging to her, shook her head, and Cen Dianshuang, assuming she wasn’t convinced, struggled to find the right words.

Then, Tao Ning’s voice, soft and serious, echoed against her neck. “It’s okay, Master. As long as you’re safe.”

Cen Dianshuang’s relief was short-lived. Her disciple, still clinging to her, added, “Kiss me, and I’ll feel better.”

“…”

Cen Dianshuang pulled away abruptly, turning her back to Tao Ning.

Tao Ning, her arms now empty, stood there for a moment, then looked at Cen Dianshuang, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Master?”

Cen Dianshuang wasn’t completely turned away. She was facing sideways, her profile visible, her ears and neck flushed crimson.

She’s blushing? Embarrassed?

After a long moment, she turned, her voice slightly flustered. “If you want a kiss, just ask. Why call me Master?”

She resisted the urge to cover her face, the blush spreading rapidly.

“I feel like I’m… corrupting you.”

Tao Ning, interpreting this as rejection, her shoulders slumping slightly, said softly, “Alright.”

“Alright what? I didn’t say no.” Cen Dianshuang approached, cupping Tao Ning’s face in her hands, showering her with kisses.

Forehead, nose, cheeks, then finally, her lips.

Lest her disciple, still slightly influenced by the cauldron’s resentment, complain about unfairness.

Releasing Tao Ning, she looked away, her voice slightly flustered. “There. This… this isn’t a good thing. I’ll keep it safe. We’ll give it to the sect.”

She bent down to retrieve the Wanhun Cauldron, which had apparently been kicked aside during their… embrace.

Thankfully, her disciple hadn’t shown any interest in the artifact that could control the Demonic Realm…

A thud behind her, and Cen Dianshuang turned, nearly dropping the cauldron as she saw Tao Ning lying unconscious on the ground.

She quickly scooped her up. Spiritual exhaustion. A spirit gathering formation would fix that.

Looking towards the nearby trees, she called out, her voice calm, “Come out.”

A figure emerged from the shadows: Pang Xueting, who had left her junior siblings behind to scout ahead.

Pang Xueting stammered, assuming she had interrupted something… private. “Senior… is… is Senior Tao alright?”

She wanted to say, You two are so adorable! So Senior Tao already has a Dao companion!

But meeting Cen Dianshuang’s gaze, the words came out differently. “So you weren’t an enemy! You were looking for someone! Haha!” She mentally slapped herself. What am I saying?

Cen Dianshuang, initially looking at Tao Ning with a soft, almost tender expression, turned, her face now cold and impassive. “She’s my disciple.”

Pang Xueting’s jaw dropped, and she stumbled, landing hard on the ground.

The other Heavenly Heart Sect disciples, waiting nearby, finally saw their senior sister emerge, only to trip and fall.

“Senior Sister! Are you alright?!”

Cen Dianshuang, her voice calm and detached, offered some unsolicited advice. “Your footing is unstable. Practice horse stance for an hour each day with a water-filled urn on your head. It will improve your balance.” She frowned, wondering why she had even bothered. Perhaps seeing a low-level cultivator triggered her “elder” persona.

She walked away, carrying Tao Ning, her steps unhurried.

Her disciple needed rest. She recalled the spirit jade bed she had brought with her. It would be perfect.

Pang Xueting, her face pale, her hands clammy, stared after her, her mind reeling.

Wait… disciple? Or Dao companion?

Since when do masters and disciples make out against trees?

Chapter 67: Disciple and Wife

The courtyard, crushed under the weight of the dead spider demon, was no longer habitable. The group found another room within the same estate, however.

The spider demon’s lingering aura, permeating its former territory, served as a deterrent against the Thousand-Thread Gu, making it safer than venturing outside.

After settling their injured companion, Pang Xueting approached Tao Ning. “Savior, what brings you to Shadow City?”

Tao Ning offered her usual explanation. “A training mission from my master. Slaying demons and exorcising ghosts.”

520, having heard this countless times, cringed internally.

Pang Xueting, however, looked at her with admiration. “As expected of my savior! I’ve always aspired to follow in your footsteps. I intended to thank you properly after reaching Golden Core, but fate has brought us together again.”

Tu Shimei, one of Pang Xueting’s junior sisters, muttered, …A fate I’d rather avoid.

Pang Xueting, still basking in the unexpected reunion, oblivious to her junior sister’s comment, continued, eager to share her accomplishments. “After you encouraged me to seek refuge in a sect, I joined the Heavenly Heart Sect. I’m now a Talisman Cultivator, studying under True Person Chang Xiang.”

Tao Ning: “True Person Chang Xiang? I encountered a Heavenly Heart Sect disciple claiming to be her student earlier.”

Pang Xueting’s eyes widened. “Where is he?”

Another junior sister spoke up. “Senior Brother Qiu? But wasn’t he… consumed by the white bugs…?”

Tao Ning, sitting on a three-legged stool with a broken leg, shook her head regretfully. They already knew the answer, but hearing it confirmed still brought a pang of sadness.

Pang Xueting, composing herself, said, “Thank you for telling us, Savior.”

Tao Ning shook her head. “No need to call me Savior. My name is Tao Ning. I don’t have a title yet.”

Pang Xueting, adapting quickly, addressed her as “Senior Tao.”

Calling her “fellow cultivator” would be disrespectful. “Senior” was more appropriate.

They were all Heavenly Heart Sect disciples, mostly inner sect judging by their robes and swords, their cultivation levels ranging from Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment, Pang Xueting, at peak Foundation Establishment, the highest among them.

It seemed the entire next generation of the Heavenly Heart Sect was here, along with a few pampered children laden with protective artifacts.

Curious about the mysterious cultivator who had appeared so suddenly, they whispered among themselves, pulling Pang Xueting aside for a private conversation.

Moments later, Tao Ning was surrounded by a group of wide-eyed youngsters, their gazes filled with the same admiration as Pang Xueting’s.

Tao Ning: “…”

To avoid further small talk, she spoke before they could bombard her with questions. “This place is difficult to find. How did you all get in?”

The youngsters, still buzzing with Pang Xueting’s story, exchanged uneasy glances.

A boy covered in protective talismans said, “We were chasing a spirit beast. It wasn’t like this before. Everything changed after nightfall.”

Several others, their clothes more elaborate, nodded in agreement.

A disciple in standard uniform spoke up. “We were hired to find a missing young lady, kidnapped from her family. We followed the kidnappers.”

A female cultivator added, “Then, just like they said, the living became the dead, the food turned into white bugs, and Senior Brother Qiu… he ran out of Fasting Pills, so…”

“Those weren’t ordinary bugs. Those were Thousand-Thread Gu,” Tao Ning corrected. “You’re all from the Heavenly Heart Sect, but you didn’t arrive together?”

They nodded in unison. “Yes, we’re all from the Heavenly Heart Sect.”

Tao Ning: “How long have you been here?”

Pang Xueting, the most senior among them, was about to explain when a roar echoed from outside, the sound neither human nor beast, sending shivers down their spines.

Tu Shimei exclaimed, “They’re back! Put out the fire!”

They scrambled to their feet, their voices filled with urgency. “Hurry! Put out the fire! Don’t let them in!”

“Is it night already?” one wailed. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

“My master is in seclusion. She won’t notice I’m gone. I should have listened to her and stayed put.”

Tao Ning, recognizing the sentiment, chuckled softly. “My master won’t notice I’m gone either.”

Pang Xueting, confused, tilted her head. “Senior Tao?”

Tao Ning gestured towards the others frantically extinguishing the fire. “Why are you putting out the fire?”

Pang Xueting explained, “The Thousand-Thread Gu are afraid of fire. We light fires during the day to keep them away. But at night, the walking corpses emerge. They can’t see, but they can sense our breath and body heat. Fire attracts them. And there are too many to kill.”

The entire city’s population had been turned into walking corpses. They outnumbered the living, filling the streets at night.

They were, after all, still young and inexperienced, easily frightened by nightly visits from the undead and the constant threat of corpse poison.

Tao Ning nodded, then tilted her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So they’re all out now? Because it’s night?”

Pang Xueting: “Yes. They emerge at night. And the Thousand-Thread Gu use the darkness as cover.”

The two threats coexisted, sometimes even cooperating.

Like now.

A loud crash, and a swarm of Thousand-Thread Gu poured through the broken windows, revealing the terrified faces of those inside.

The walking corpses, drawn by the scent of living flesh, converged on the house, their distorted shadows flickering on the walls.

“They’re here again!”

With the spider demon gone, its lingering aura no longer a deterrent, the city’s amplified resentment fueled the Gu, driving them towards the living.

Tao Ning: “Do you know if they’re acting on their own, or are they being controlled?”

Pang Xueting stared at her, confused.

A young man spoke up, his voice filled with suspicion. “What do you mean? Is someone deliberately targeting us?”

The boy covered in talismans, surnamed Zhuang, was the Grand Elder’s son, a pampered and protected child.

Tao Ning waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. The outcome is the same. Stay here. Don’t wander off.”

She jumped through the broken window.

Pang Xueting called after her, “Senior Tao…!”

A flash of light, a surge of spiritual energy, then several thuds. Something rolled across the floor. The clawing hands at the door paused, then moved towards the sound.

The disciples inside exchanged glances, then rushed to the window, peering out cautiously, afraid to venture beyond the relative safety of the house.

Under the pale moonlight, a figure soared across the rooftops, their movements graceful and swift, like a celestial being.

She looked down, her hair swirling around her, her eyes, reflecting the chaos below, calm and unwavering.

Mindless corpses didn’t require her full attention. Standing on the roof, she controlled Poheng, slicing through the grasping hands reaching for her.

From her vantage point, the highest roof in the estate, she could see most of Shadow City, noticing dark shapes moving in the distance.

With Cen Dianshuang’s token, the Thousand-Thread Gu couldn’t touch her, but their sheer number obscured her vision.

She summoned the Flame Dragon Furnace.

“Someone throw me a stick!” she called down.

Pang Xueting, kicking a piece of dry wood, tossed it upwards. “Catch!”

Tao Ning caught it, extending it towards the furnace.

The Flame Dragon Furnace, anticipating a culinary adventure, flickered its flames in confusion, then, hearing Tao Ning’s words, puffed up with pride.

“Your flames are the last embers of the Flame Dragons, a bane of all evil. I need your fire.”

The flattered furnace released a burst of flame, igniting the wood, then, before it could bask in further praise, was recalled.

The disciples below watched, bewildered, then gasped as the sky above them turned a fiery red.

The flames devoured the grey mist, spreading rapidly, their intensity illuminating the entire city.

The heat washed over them, but they resisted the urge to shield their faces, not wanting to miss the spectacle.

Tao Ning amplified the flames with her spiritual energy. Unlike ordinary fire, Flame Dragon fire was difficult to extinguish, yet it didn’t harm inanimate objects. Her initial attempts at cooking with it had required a combination of flattery and deception.

The burning Gu insects recoiled, their swarm scattering, the flames spreading from one to another, illuminating the entire city.

The sky above Shadow City resembled an inverted sea of fire, its crimson waves rolling and crashing.

Countless insects burned, their ashes falling like a fine grey rain.

The disciples below, scrambling for cover, eventually resorted to dismantling a nearby pavilion, carrying its roof like a giant shield.

A front-row seat to a cultivator duel. Can’t miss this!

Tao Ning, watching the giant, moving shield below, tossed them the burning branch.

“Thank you, Senior!” Pang Xueting caught it, using it to incinerate the remaining insects.

The Senior’s fire was far more effective than their own, actually burning the Gu instead of simply repelling them.

These creatures, having festered in Shadow City for so long, had grown resistant to ordinary fire, requiring spiritual fire for their destruction.

With the insects dealt with, Tao Ning turned her attention to the growing horde of walking corpses, glancing at the disciples huddled beneath their makeshift shield. She sheathed Poheng and summoned Jianshu.

Under the moonlight, the zither’s strings vibrated, a deep, resonant melody echoing through the city.

The guttural moans of the walking corpses ceased, an unnerving silence falling over the city.

The disciples, their hearts pounding as they listened to the music, noticed the sudden agitation of the corpses around them.

Like a pack of wolves responding to a call, a louder moan echoed from the distance, and the corpses, initially advancing towards the house, stopped, their own moans rising in response.

The disciples realized that their previous nightly encounters had been mere… appetizers.

Tao Ning, her hands moving gracefully over the strings, the zither hovering in mid-air, supported by her spiritual energy, reached the midpoint of the melody, then, with a graceful leap, took flight.

The walking corpses, their attention now fixed on the figure above them, turned and followed, abandoning their previous targets.

One disciple whispered, “I didn’t see enough.”

Another: “Should we follow?”

With the corpses distracted, they emerged from the house, their torches held high, no longer afraid, their swords flashing as they dispatched the few remaining stragglers.

Stepping over the scattered corpses, they reached the main street, then stopped, their jaws dropping.

Bodies. Everywhere. A mountain of corpses, each one neatly decapitated with a single, precise sword strike.

The estate faced the main street, a wide thoroughfare, now filled with a dense crowd of walking corpses.

The mindless horde retreated, stumbling over their fallen comrades.

At the center of their retreat was a single sword. Or rather, the corpses were retreating from the sword.

Standing on a rooftop, Tao Ning controlled Poheng, its form multiplying into a thousand shimmering blades, their edges glowing with a faint purple light.

Her voice echoed through the night. “Fall.”

The swords descended like a storm of steel, each strike severing a head.

The street cleared, the corpses falling in droves.

Pang Xueting watched, mesmerized. She had known Senior Tao was powerful, but back then, drugged and disoriented, she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the spectacle.

Tonight, however, all her regrets were erased.

A dark shape flickered in the distance, and Pang Xueting shouted, “Behind you, Senior!”

The music stopped. Tao Ning turned, swinging the zither, sending the dark shape flying.

It crashed into a nearby building, the impact demolishing the structure, sending dust and debris flying.

A young man, rubbing the back of his head, winced. “That would have hurt.”

But it wasn’t over. Something was moving beneath the rubble.

Moments later, a figure emerged, its clothes tattered, its body covered in white fur, its face obscured.

The terrified disciples stared at the grotesque creature. “What… what is that?”

“It has… claws…”

“Poheng.” Tao Ning, putting away the zither, summoned her sword.

A clang of metal against metal as the creature lunged, its dark claws scraping against Poheng’s blade.

Tao Ning stepped back, absorbing the impact.

She finally saw its face. Unfamiliar features, covered in dark runes, its eyes glowing red, its pupils thin and sharp, its gaze fixed on her with an unnerving intensity.

Unlike the other corpses, this one could see. And the tattered remnants of its clothing suggested it had once been a cultivator.

Transforming a living cultivator into a Gu-controlled puppet, merging flesh and insect, was a dark and forbidden art.

The once-living cultivator had been slowly consumed, its body transforming, becoming impervious to blades, its skin covered in fur, its mind lost, becoming the king of the city’s undead.

Thankfully, Tao Ning had muted 520. Otherwise, the sight of this… creature… would have shattered her eardrums with its shrieks.

520, oblivious to its silenced state: 【Ahhhhhhhh！A Zombie King! Ahhhhhhhh！！】

After a brief exchange, Tao Ning severed one of the creature’s arms. Raising her sword for the killing blow, she paused as the creature looked down at its severed limb, seemingly surprised, then turned towards the sound of a distant flute.

“It’s running away!” Tu Shimei exclaimed.

Tao Ning gave chase, her attacks relentless.

The Zombie King, who could have easily defeated all of them combined, was now fleeing for its life, pursued by a single cultivator. The sight was exhilarating. The disciples, cheering internally, followed.

Stay close to the Senior! Safety in numbers!

The Zombie King finally stopped at the edge of the city, at the foot of the mountain, disappearing into a dark cave.

Tao Ning stopped at the entrance, peering into the darkness, then scoffed. “This place looks creepy. I’m not going in. I’ll let the elders handle it.”

She turned to leave.

A cold voice, laced with demonic energy, echoed from the cave. “Insolent child! You dare disrespect me?”

Tao Ning, her hand resting on her sword, chuckled. “If you’re too scared to come out, just say so. I won’t judge. No need for theatrics.”

A moment of silence, then a surge of demonic energy, and a hunched figure in black, surrounded by walking corpses, emerged from the cave.

“I was going to give you a quick death, but now… I’ll flay you alive and feed you to my Gu.”

Tao Ning, unfazed by the threat, having heard far worse during her travels, smiled. “So you’re the one controlling the corpses. You look the part. A true connoisseur of insects and the undead.”

She glanced at him, raising Poheng, its blade shimmering. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the rogue cultivator who escaped all those years ago. The one who turned Shadow City into a ghost city. You somehow managed to cheat death and become a… cave-dwelling hermit.”

The figure stared at her, its expression strange, unsettling.

Tao Ning’s smile faded, sensing something amiss.

“Your… your face…” The cultivator’s eyes widened. “Identical… Are you… my Lord…? No, that’s impossible. My Lord is at Mahayana. You’re only at peak Golden Core. You’re not her.”

Only one person was addressed as “Lord” by a cultivator from the Demonic Realm.

The current Demon Lord… few acknowledged his authority. He had simply taken over Demon Lord Qingji’s palace, his cultivation far from supreme.

Tao Ning studied him. She didn’t recognize him.

But Demon Lord Qingji had countless followers. Preoccupied with her own cultivation and her pursuit of ascension, she wouldn’t have remembered every single one.

Someone like this… wouldn’t even have been allowed to enter her presence, more likely to be tossed into a furnace as refining material.

Tao Ning’s voice hardened. “You’ve been hiding here for centuries, creating an army of the undead. What are you planning?”

The cultivator, initially dismissing the possibility of her being his Lord, now hesitated, her tone… familiar.

But her cultivation was only at peak Golden Core. However, with her Lord’s abilities, concealing one’s true cultivation was trivial. What if she had… regressed…?

Tao Ning unleashed her Mahayana spiritual pressure, and the cultivator, his mind reeling, his spiritual consciousness feeling like it was being sliced by a thousand blades, collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.

He didn’t dare cry out, his voice filled with respect. “My Lord! I… I discovered the Wanhun Cauldron sealed beneath Shadow City. I remained here, guarding your treasure, awaiting your return.”

Tao Ning’s voice was ice. “Discovered it?”

The cultivator, his face slick with sweat, insisted, “Yes… I discovered it.”

He wouldn’t admit his negligence, his theft, even if his life depended on it.

So, the missing Wanhun Cauldron was here, in the Radiant Realm. Soon, the protagonist would stumble upon it, forming a contract and becoming its master.

But the cauldron was temperamental, loyal to a single master. This cultivator had failed to claim it after centuries, his cultivation insufficient, his actions defying Heaven’s will.

The cauldron had waited, dormant for centuries, for its destined master, chosen by Heaven. If Tao Ning were the original host, she would also want to kill the protagonist.

Three thousand years of arduous cultivation, ending in death by tribulation lightning, only to pave the way for this… child… How could she accept that?

The cultivator, seeing Tao Ning’s silence, his unease growing, stood up hesitantly. “To celebrate your return, my Lord, I have prepared nine pairs of children with suitable spiritual roots to offer as a sacrifice to the Wanhun Cauldron. I pledge my loyalty and my service in reclaiming your rightful place.”

Tao Ning’s face contorted in disgust. “Who told you sacrificing children would awaken the cauldron?”

The cultivator, confused, stammered, “Then… how…?” He had tried countless methods, all failing to break Qingji’s seal. He had been planning to try a forbidden ritual during the next full moon, when the seal’s power was at its weakest.

A faint, ethereal melody, like the sound of a cold mountain spring under the moonlight, echoed through the night.

Tao Ning turned sharply, her eyes widening in surprise.

It was a melody only Cen Dianshuang could play, a private communication they had developed.

It was a question: Where are you?

The cultivator’s expression hardened. “More cultivators! They’re seeking death! And there are more of them!”

He summoned the Zombie King and the remaining corpses.

The Zombie King, seeing Tao Ning standing at the cave entrance, hesitated, then turned and fled.

Tao Ning, her gaze following him, frowned in thought.

He wouldn’t pose much of a challenge to Cen Dianshuang. She would catch him easily. There was no stopping her.

At the city gates, Cen Dianshuang, receiving no response, frowned, playing the melody again.

This time, the notes were longer, more urgent.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching, followed by lighter, faster steps, and panicked shouts.

“Where did all these corpses come from?!”

“Didn’t Senior Tao eliminate them all?”

“There are so many! Master, save us!”

“It’s all because this city is too big! We lost the Senior!”

Cen Dianshuang instantly recognized that these weren’t her disciple’s voices.

Her disciple was far too composed to scream and run.

Putting away Yaoguang, summoning Xuan Ying, she flew towards the source of the commotion.

She was, however, intrigued by their mention of “Senior Tao.”

According to the jade token, Tao Ning was within the city. She hadn’t responded to her summons, but the token hadn’t issued any warnings, suggesting she wasn’t in immediate danger.

Her ethereal figure soared through the night sky. Xiao Haoran, hiding under the eaves of a building, looked up, their gazes meeting briefly.

She paid him no attention, continuing her flight towards the city center.

Xiao Haoran, however, emerged from his hiding spot, his gaze following her, mesmerized. “A true immortal…” he murmured.

Beside him, Er Lan frowned, her heart pounding. Cen Dianshuang? What’s she doing here?

The surrounded disciples, seeing a figure descending from the heavens, landing gracefully amidst them, scattering the corpses with a wave of spiritual energy, their eyes widened in hope.

A sword, glowing with a pale moonlight aura, flew through the air, decapitating the corpses with swift, precise strikes.

They assumed it was Senior Tao, but then they saw her face: cold and beautiful, a red mark on her forehead.

Who is this? Another powerful cultivator?

Then, the woman in white swung something long and rectangular, sending a dark shape flying, followed by the sound of collapsing debris.

Another ruined building. Slaying demons and demolishing houses.

The Heavenly Heart Sect disciples: “…”

They wiped the dust from their faces, their expressions mirroring each other: stunned disbelief.

That attack… looked familiar.

Chapter 66: Disciple and Wife

Forty mortal years passed like flowing water, enough time for a newborn to reach middle age, but not enough for a cultivator to emerge from seclusion.

A rumor circulated through the Radiant Realm: the Wanhun Cauldron, sealed away by Demon Lord Qingji a thousand years ago, was stirring, its seal weakening.

The various sects were concerned, puzzled by its presence in the Radiant Realm and fearing the chaos it might unleash.

The rumor, initially confined to the sects, spread like wildfire, becoming common knowledge.

Inns and teahouses frequented by cultivators buzzed with speculation.

“Isn’t the Wanhun Cauldron a demonic artifact from the Demonic Realm?”

“It was sealed away. How do you know about it?”

“Did you overhear something?”

“Everyone’s talking about it. Why would I lie? Haven’t you noticed the increased activity from the Heavenly Heart Sect? They’re investigating.”

“I thought they were searching for missing disciples.”

“Missing disciples? Where?”

A chorus of surprised gasps.

“Shadow City? There’s no Shadow City around here.” A man kneading dough at a street stall wiped the sweat from his brow, turning to his wife. “Have you ever heard of a Shadow City?”

His wife, pausing her work, frowned in thought, then shook her head. “No. Never.”

The man, frustrated, insisted, “But it’s…”

Before his wife could dismiss him, a woman in a pink dress intervened, her voice gentle. “If you haven’t heard of it, we won’t bother you any further. We’ll ask elsewhere.”

Smiling politely, Er Lan pulled Xiao Haoran away. This was Heavenly Heart Sect territory. Best not to offend the locals.

“Another dead end? Another wrong turn?” Xiao Haoran grumbled, his frustration growing with each failed inquiry.

His extended stay in Four Borders City, while beneficial for his cultivation, had atrophied his social skills.

Er Lan was accustomed to such behavior. In the Demonic Realm, cultivators often secluded themselves for centuries, their minds focused solely on cultivation.

Despite her growing impatience, she couldn’t deny his exceptional luck. Rare treasures seemed to appear wherever he went. His impulsive nature was a small price to pay for such fortune.

“If the map says it’s nearby, it must be here. Perhaps Shadow City requires a… trigger. It might not be a physical city.”

Xiao Haoran, his hand resting on the divine blade at his waist, consulted the Heavenly Book within his mind. “Impossible. Shadow City is a city, not a secret realm.”

Er Lan, reminding herself of his valuable contribution to her cultivation, forced a smile. “Perhaps I’m mistaken. Let’s keep searching.”

They continued their journey, Er Lan doing most of the talking, Xiao Haoran mostly disagreeing.

An elderly woman, basking in the sun by the roadside, spoke, her voice raspy. “Shadow City… That name sounds familiar. Not a good place. Why are you looking for it?”

They stopped, turning towards her.

Outside a ruined city, a figure stood before an earthen mound covered in vines, her gaze fixed on the reeds swaying gently in the breeze.

The reeds, tall and dense, surrounded the mound like a natural curtain, their movements creating an unsettling atmosphere.

Tao Ning, after a moment of contemplation, drew Poheng, slicing through the vines, revealing a weathered stone.

The Shadow City boundary marker, eroded by time and the elements, was barely recognizable, its inscription partially obscured, its shape distorted.

She stepped past the marker, walking down a narrow path.

As she disappeared into the city, the newly revealed marker was enveloped in a swirling mist, its surface turning a sickly grey.

520 shivered. 【Why are we here?】

Tao Ning’s voice was firm. “To slay demons and exorcise ghosts.”

520: 【I don’t understand.】

Tao Ning reached the city gates. Her journey had been surprisingly uneventful, no demonic beasts or vengeful spirits blocking her path.

She pushed against the decaying gates, the wood groaning in protest. The protective formation shattered under the force of her lightning spiritual energy, the sound like snapping wood echoing through the silent city.

The gates swung open, revealing the desolate landscape within, its silence amplifying the eerie creaking of the ancient hinges.

There was no latch, no barrier. Just… emptiness.

A gust of wind whipped through the city, stirring Tao Ning’s hair, the white feathers on her headband fluttering in the breeze.

“To slay demons and exorcise ghosts. And if the opportunity arises, kill someone and take their stuff.”

She walked down the main street, her hand never leaving her sword, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

Shadow City had once been a small, isolated settlement nestled at the foot of a mountain, neither prosperous nor impoverished, its inhabitants self-sufficient and wary of outsiders.

Their isolation stemmed from their geography: the impassable mountains behind them and the wide, treacherous river before their gates.

Shadow City, or perhaps, Ghost City.

Centuries ago, a rogue cultivator had arrived, seeking to harvest resentment and malice to fuel his spirit weapon. He had turned the city’s inhabitants into mindless puppets, forcing them to slaughter each other.

Deemed insufficient, he had sent his changgui – familiars created from the souls of his victims – to lure outsiders into the city. The disappearances of several cultivators had eventually led to the discovery of the source: Shadow City.

The city’s inhabitants, isolated and self-sufficient, had no contact with the outside world, their lives revolving around the cultivation of gu – venomous insects and other creatures used for both healing and harm.

The cultivators who came seeking answers had assumed it was a minor issue, only to discover a city infested with gu and their puppet-like victims.

One had barely escaped, his warning reaching the nearby sects, who had sent their forces to eradicate the threat.

Shadow City became a ghost city.

After walking for a while, Tao Ning felt a chill, turning sharply.

A loud bang echoed through the city as the gates slammed shut, like a monster’s jaws snapping closed.

She was alone, trapped within the city’s walls.

A rustling sound came from the buildings lining the street, like the skittering of countless insects, the sound amplified by the unnatural silence, making her skin crawl.

She looked towards the source of the sound, then scanned her surroundings, sensing… eyes… watching her from the shadows, their gazes unwavering.

Even 520 shivered. 【What was that?】

Tao Ning: “Scan the area?”

520: 【Did you check with your spiritual sense?】

Tao Ning, continuing her walk, replied, “…Yes. Quite a sight.”

520, morbidly curious, asked, 【Can you… elaborate?】

Tao Ning shook her head, using Poheng’s faint glow to illuminate her path. “Difficult to describe. Best seen in person.”

520, sensing danger, quickly suppressed its curiosity. 【I’ll pass.】

Tao Ning chuckled. “Just a swarm of black bugs. Crawling everywhere. Nothing interesting.”

As she walked deeper into the city, a grey mist began to coalesce, unable to approach her directly, swirling around her like a shroud.

While the rogue cultivator had been eliminated, the lingering resentment of the city’s victims remained, making it uninhabitable. The city gates had been sealed by a powerful formation.

But recently, the seal had been broken, the resentment intensifying.

Tao Ning raised her sleeve to cover her nose and mouth, not from the suffocating mist, but from the realization that it wasn’t mist, but a swarm of tiny, hair-thin, white insects.

A single insect was barely visible, but their combined mass created the illusion of a grey fog.

The jade token at her waist, bearing the character “Frost,” repelled them, a surprising but welcome discovery.

Then she realized – birds were natural predators of insects. The token, imbued with Cen Dianshuang’s aura, was a natural deterrent.

Where is that bird when I need it?

520, unable to bear the sight, shrieked, 【What are those?!】

Tao Ning: “Thousand-Thread Gu. Hair-thin insects that enter through the respiratory system, devouring the host’s brain within fifteen minutes, turning them into puppets controlled by the mother Gu.”

520 fell silent, either stunned into speechlessness or simply resigned to the horrors it was witnessing.

A dark shape emerged from the mist, running towards them, waving something frantically.

520, its voice strained, asked, 【And what is that?】

As a system, it avoided horror movies. Its previous hosts had all been matchmakers, never facing such… unpleasantness.

The figure threw something, and with a whoosh, a burst of flames erupted, incinerating a large section of the mist.

The brief flash of light illuminated the main street.

Tao Ning stopped, watching.

The figure had used a high-grade Fire Talisman. He had no other weapons. Probably a Talisman Cultivator.

And it revealed another weakness of the Gu insects: they were vulnerable to fire.

The figure, seizing the opportunity, turned to flee, then stopped, seeing another person standing nearby.

A living person. “Another victim of that cursed map? You should leave… Wait! Please, help me! I’m a Talisman Cultivator from the Heavenly Heart Sect!”

The incinerated Thousand-Thread Gu were reforming, drawn by the scent of living flesh, their mass coalescing into a suffocating grey cloud.

Seeing Tao Ning standing alone, seemingly unharmed, he assumed she was a powerful cultivator, pleading for her assistance.

Tao Ning: “A Heavenly Heart Sect Talisman Cultivator?”

The cultivator, pulling at his robes, confirmed, “Yes! I’m the last disciple of True Person Chang Xiang. If you save me, my master will reward you handsomely!”

The sharp clang of metal against metal, and Poheng, glowing faintly, sliced through the air, its lightning spiritual energy, a bane of evil creatures, decimating the swarm.

The cultivator, relieved, assuming his plea had been answered, rushed towards Tao Ning, hiding behind her. “Are you a rogue cultivator?”

Tao Ning: “No.”

Seeing the token at her waist, he gasped. “You’re from the Hanshan Sect? What are you doing in Shadow City?”

Tao Ning, focused on controlling her sword, replied casually, “Training mission. Slaying demons and exorcising ghosts.”

The cultivator: “I see.”

He slowly straightened up behind Tao Ning. The city’s perpetual twilight, shrouded in mist, obscured his face. If Tao Ning had turned, she would have seen its unnatural pallor.

“Are you… here to rescue someone?” His cheek twitched as he reached out towards Tao Ning.

His seemingly normal hand suddenly withered, the skin turning grey, a small lump bulging beneath the surface, about to burst and fly towards Tao Ning.

Then, he felt himself flying backwards, landing heavily on the ground.

He had been hit by something heavy, something… rectangular. Like the zither Tao Ning carried.

Coughing up blood, he clutched his chest, his voice filled with confusion. “Why did you hit me with a zither?”

Tao Ning, cradling Jianshu, looked down at him. “You stole my sword. You didn’t expect me to have a zither, did you?”

“…”

Realizing he had been discovered, he didn’t bother asking how. He lunged at Tao Ning.

“Poheng.” A flash of light, and the flying sword pierced his dantian, pinning him to the wall.

After consuming their host’s brain, Thousand-Thread Gu would seek out the most nutrient-rich part of the body: the cultivator’s dantian.

They treated it like a breeding ground, the strongest Gu becoming the mother, producing countless offspring.

This cultivator was already a puppet, controlled by the mother Gu.

He died without a struggle, his last breath releasing a swarm of immature Gu eggs.

【My eyes! My electronic eyes!】 520 shrieked, its voice filled with horror.

Sometimes, 520 truly wanted to quit. It had never experienced such… unpleasantness… in its long career.

Tao Ning, recalling Poheng, walked towards a nearby house, the sounds of a struggle echoing from within.

She had heard the commotion earlier, but had been delayed by the Gu-controlled cultivator.

A massive black spider clung to the roof, its legs tapping impatiently as it toyed with a group of young cultivators trapped in the courtyard below.

It wasn’t ready to kill them yet. Draining their spiritual energy before wrapping them in silk and consuming them alive was far more entertaining.

A young man, deflecting an attack with his sword, swallowed a handful of replenishing pills, his voice filled with despair. “Gu insects, walking corpses, and now a giant spider! Do they want us to live?!”

A young woman, equally distraught, cried, “Who said it was safe because there were no small bugs? A giant spider is obviously safe!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“It doesn’t matter who said it! What matters is whether we survive this!”

The spider raised its massive, hairy pincer, its shadow falling over the young woman, whose spiritual energy was completely depleted.

She couldn’t defend herself. This was the end.

A strong hand pulled her back, and a powerful Explosive Talisman flew from her hand, striking the spider’s pincer, severing it with a sickening crack. The spider shrieked, retreating.

The ruined courtyard, already in disrepair, suffered further damage from the spider’s thrashing limbs, making it even more difficult for the other cultivators to defend themselves.

The young woman, her heart pounding, thanked her rescuer. “Thank you, Senior Sister Pang! Be careful!”

Senior Sister Pang turned sharply, her eyes widening as she saw the spider’s remaining pincer descending towards her.

The relentless beast had targeted her, its attacks focused solely on her, forcing her back against a wall.

She tried to stand, but her injured meridians flared, and she coughed up blood.

“Senior Sister Pang!” The young woman cried, trying to reach her, but the spider’s massive legs blocked her path. Her sword strikes barely scratched its thick armor.

The scent of blood drew the Thousand-Thread Gu, their swarm thickening, making it even more difficult for the cultivators to defend themselves.

Trapped between a mid-Golden Core spider demon and a swarm of venomous insects, their situation seemed hopeless.

Senior Sister Pang, her back against the wall, closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

But the expected pain didn’t come. A gust of wind, a high-pitched shriek, then a heavy thud.

Something had died, but not her.

The sound of collapsing debris, the ruined house crumbling under the weight of something heavy, dust filling the air.

She opened her eyes to see a slender figure standing before her, two white feathers dangling from her headband.

“Senior Sister! Are you alright?” The young woman rushed over, helping her up.

Tao Ning, glancing at them, recalled Poheng, then looked at the small group of young cultivators. “Are you all from the Heavenly Heart Sect?”

Senior Sister Pang, staring at Tao Ning’s profile, gasped. “My savior?”

Chapter 65: Disciple and Wife

Artifact crafting was best done without delay. The process was complex, involving multiple intricate steps. As dawn broke, Jin Jiamu, having prepared the refining room, sent a message via crane, summoning Tao Ning.

A refiner’s workshop was a sacred space, more private than a bedchamber. Allowing someone inside signified a level of trust that went beyond mere words. Each refiner’s workshop was said to reflect their unique personality.

Jin Jiamu, despite her boisterous nature and unpredictable behavior, had a surprisingly… disorganized workshop.

Tao Ning almost couldn’t find a place to stand.

Jin Jiamu kicked something aside with a clang. “It’s a bit… messy. Make yourself comfortable.”

Tao Ning stood on the small cleared space, watching as Jin Jiamu, like a diligent ant, began organizing the chaos around her.

The floor was littered with half-finished projects, abandoned due to creative blocks, and various refining materials, some processed, some raw, some simply… ruined.

This was normal. Every successful artifact refiner had a graveyard of failed attempts.

The Miro Sea, the deepest sea in the Radiant Realm, was said to be bottomless, even Mahayana cultivators unable to reach its depths, its domain ruled by powerful demons.

Alchemy was expensive and prone to explosions. Artifact refining was no different.

Tao Ning looked at the pile of Fire Spirit Stones beside the roaring furnace. Jin Jiamu, despite her outward carelessness, had prepared ample fuel.

Seeing Tao Ning’s gaze, she puffed up her chest. “Don’t worry. I have plenty.”

Having cleared a space, Jin Jiamu surveyed the room, then sighed. “I heard Demon Lord Qingji’s Refining Fire Palace was a spatial artifact, shrinking to the size of a walnut, light as a feather. It had nine hundred and ninety-nine chambers. Only the main hall was used for refining. The rest were filled with materials and finished artifacts.”

Tao Ning: “You want to emulate Demon Lord Qingji?”

Jin Jiamu, lowering her voice, since they were alone, replied, “Which artifact refiner doesn’t aspire to be like her?”

Such sentiments weren’t expressed publicly.

Tao Ning picked up a half-finished project, a small bronze horse, like a child’s toy, but its weight and intricate joints suggested a more complex purpose.

Abandoned by Jin Jiamu, it remained unfinished.

“I heard from Master that the Refining Fire Palace was also a miniature city, its defenses impenetrable, even by Mahayana cultivators.”

Sighing, Jin Jiamu’s face fell. “It’s a shame. After she disappeared, no one could control the palace. It was looted, abandoned, its treasures lost.”

Tao Ning: “Perhaps it wasn’t a great loss to her.”

Jin Jiamu considered this. “Maybe she just saw it as a giant, flying, indestructible storage shed.”

Tao Ning: “…”

Jin Jiamu: “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tao Ning, turning her attention back to the bronze horse, said, “This design is viable. Why did you abandon it? You were close to creating a puppet horse.”

Jin Jiamu’s interest piqued. “Close? What was I missing?”

Tao Ning: “Add some Xuanhan Iron, reforge it with Three Gold Crystals, and add a small piece of Ironclad Beast’s inner core. Once it’s complete, carve Swiftness runes on its legs, create a storage space within its body for weapons…”

“If you want to be… devious, you can use Snowsilk Iron needles for its mane and tail. Snowsilk Iron becomes incredibly flexible when finely spun. Imagine a thousand needles flying towards your enemy. Unescapable.”

“Its appearance should resemble a spirit horse, making it difficult to distinguish from the real thing. Perfect for both defense and travel.”

Jin Jiamu, catching the tossed horse, said, “That’s… complicated. Hardly ‘one step away.’”

“Once you’ve mastered this, everything else will be easy.” Tao Ning, turning away, summoned the Flame Dragon Furnace, its heat intensifying the already sweltering workshop.

“Snowsilk Iron needles as fine as horsehair…”

Jin Jiamu initially found the idea absurd, but the more she considered it, the more feasible it seemed. A sudden realization struck her.

“Wait a minute. You know how to refine artifacts?”

The muttering behind Tao Ning ceased, her attention now focused on the roaring flames.

Jin Jiamu rushed over, pointing at the half-person-tall furnace. “What is this?”

Tao Ning stumbled slightly. “The Flame Dragon Furnace.”

Jin Jiamu shook her head. “No, I mean… what’s on its head?”

Tao Ning, removing the cooking pot from the furnace’s lid, muttered, “I used it to cook last night. Forgot to take it off.”

The Flame Dragon Furnace, unaccustomed to the absence of the pot, flickered its flames uncertainly, as if asking, No cooking today?

Jin Jiamu shrieked. “A cooking pot?! You used an Earth-grade, first-tier furnace to cook?!”

Such disrespect towards a legendary furnace! Her own furnace was meticulously cared for, polished and pampered daily.

The sight was appalling. She almost reached for a cloth to wipe the imaginary soot from the Flame Dragon Furnace.

Before she could touch it, the furnace flinched, its flames flaring defensively.

Jin Jiamu realized the furnace had developed a spirit, and it recognized Tao Ning as its master.

After a moment of stunned silence, she turned to Tao Ning, who was sorting through materials. “Are you… looking for a furnace tender?”

Three months later, the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal continued, the furnace fires burning brightly.

Jin Jiamu, cradling a zither, her fingers gently plucking the strings, looked at Tao Ning, who stood before the furnace. “I can’t tell anymore… which one of us is from an artifact refining family.”

Refining, like alchemy, was a secretive process, its techniques closely guarded.

Even her master wouldn’t share her methods so openly. She couldn’t tell if Tao Ning was simply confident, or… naive.

“You’re teaching me everything. I’m practically stealing your knowledge.”

Tao Ning, examining the blade in her hand, said, “The tip is slightly crooked. I need the hammer.”

Jin Jiamu, her initial reservations forgotten, resigned herself to her role as furnace tender, retrieving the hammer.

Since her offer three months ago, she had become Tao Ning’s assistant, the girl’s refining skills far surpassing her own. While unable to assist with the complex tasks, she was kept busy with the smaller, more mundane ones.

But she felt… fulfilled. Her stagnant mid-Foundation Establishment cultivation was showing signs of progress.

Like a scholar’s journey, practical experience was more valuable than books.

The sword, nearing completion, glowed faintly, the sound of the hammer against its surface shifting from a dull thud to a clear ring, then back to a deeper resonance.

Not the sound of ordinary metal, but something ancient and powerful, like the sword itself.

Placing the blade back into the furnace for the final tempering, Tao Ning retrieved the zither, her fingers moving swiftly as she carved formations onto its surface.

Jin Jiamu watched, not daring to interrupt.

In her mind, her master came first, then Tao Ning. Demon Lord Qingji, a figure beyond comparison, was in a category of her own.

As the last stroke was completed, the zither shimmered, and Jin Jiamu heard a faint, ethereal melody, like a whisper from the heavens.

“Is it… done?” It felt… incomplete.

Tao Ning: “Not yet. But the sword is.”

Just as she spoke, the Flame Dragon Furnace trembled violently, like a caged beast about to break free.

“Whose furnace is about to explode?!”

“Is Qianqi Peak experiencing an earthquake?!”

“Someone’s lost control of their furnace!”

The alarmed cries echoed through Qianqi Peak, especially near the refining workshops, where disciples emerged, looking around for the source of the commotion.

Even the Qianqi Peak’s Senior Sister emerged, her face etched with concern. The only closed door… bore Jin Jiamu’s token.

“It’s Junior Sister Jiamu! She’s still inside!”

The tremors intensified, shaking the entire peak. Elder Qianlian, jolted from her meditation, emerged from her cave dwelling.

“What’s happening? Who’s refining?”

A nearby disciple, equally confused, replied, “…It seems to be coming from the Research Hall.”

Elder Qianlian, her brow furrowed, looked towards the Research Hall, seeing dark clouds gathering overhead. “Evacuate the Research Hall! A divine artifact is about to be born!”

The disciple, scratching his head, muttered, “So it’s not an explosion?”

Elder Qianlian, activating the peak’s protective formation, glared at him. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

“Yes, Peak Master!” The disciple rushed towards the Research Hall, relaying the message.

As the bewildered disciples poured out of the Research Hall, someone asked, “Is everyone out?”

“Second Senior Sister is in seclusion. Sixth Senior Brother is collecting materials… It’s Jiamu! Junior Sister Jiamu is still inside!”

At the epicenter of the tremors, Jin Jiamu, losing her footing, sat down abruptly, sneezing violently.

“Who’s calling me?” Rubbing her nose, she looked at the glowing sword hovering above the furnace, her jaw dropping.

Beside her, Tao Ning also watched, mesmerized, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. She had seen this before, but from a lower perspective.

Like a child, looking up at a sword wreathed in red and blue flames, the furnace’s wide mouth spewing fire, two characters faintly visible near the hilt.

The image flickered, then faded. She couldn’t quite grasp it.

A tug on her skirt. Jin Jiamu’s voice, filled with excitement, broke through her reverie. “What are you going to name it?”

“Poheng,” Tao Ning replied.

As the name was spoken, the sword’s glow intensified, the characters “Poheng” appearing on the hilt.

A deafening crack echoed through the sky as the long-awaited lightning struck, the force of the impact making the onlookers cover their ears.

But even covering their ears couldn’t block the sheer power of the tribulation lightning, a sight few had witnessed.

They stared at the Research Hall in awe.

Elder Qianlian, watching from afar, murmured, “A divine artifact, born with a spirit… It must have been named. Heaven has sent down its tribulation… Three months… This isn’t something my disciple could achieve.”

Turning, she saw Lizhu approaching. “Sect Leader, I thought you were…”

Lizhu, her gaze fixed on the distant storm clouds, said, “I returned after seeing her off. What’s happening here?”

Elder Qianlian: “A divine artifact is being born…”

Lizhu: “A divine artifact? Who crafted it?”

Elder Qianlian shook her head uncertainly. “I’m not sure. I’ll ask when they emerge.”

As the tribulation clouds began to disperse, a faint, ethereal melody echoed through the air, drawing them back together.

Elder Qianlian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Not one, but two divine artifacts?! Even our Grand Ancestor couldn’t achieve that!”

A zither, hovering in mid-air, descended gracefully, settling into its owner’s arms.

A flash of lightning illuminated the side of the zither, and Jin Jiamu saw the characters appear, then fade.

The zither’s owner had whispered a single word: “Jianshu – Mountain Stream.”

The zither pulsed with spiritual energy, flying through the hole Poheng had created in the roof, startling Jin Jiamu, who thought it was rejecting the name.

The tribulation lightning intensified, striking down again and again, making her fear for the zither’s safety.

But like the sword, it endured, its power seemingly amplified by the lightning.

Jin Jiamu, staring at Tao Ning, could only utter a single word, “Monster.” Then, “Are you even human?”

“I’m a human cultivator. There’s no doubt about that,” Tao Ning replied, then added, “You’re about to reach Golden Core. You should enter seclusion. It seems artifact refining suits you.”

With that, she grabbed the zither, slung Poheng over her shoulder, and left.

The Flame Dragon Furnace, shrinking to a fraction of its size, followed her through the hole in the roof, as if fearing abandonment.

Jin Jiamu, blinking in the sunlight, staring at the empty doorway, muttered, “But I’m only at mid-Foundation Establishment…”

As Tao Ning disappeared, two figures landed on the ruined roof: Sect Leader Lizhu and Elder Qianlian.

Having rushed over to witness the birth of a divine artifact, they found Jin Jiamu, on the verge of a Golden Core breakthrough, sitting amidst the debris, a dazed expression on her face.

Elder Qianlian grabbed her by the arm. “You’re about to reach Golden Core.”

Jin Jiamu, feeling the pressure building in her dantian, still reeling from witnessing the creation of two divine artifacts, repeated, “But I’m only at mid-Foundation Establishment…”

Elder Qianlian: “Don’t you realize you’ve skipped two realms? Come with me. You need to enter seclusion immediately.”

Jin Jiamu: “Me?”

Elder Qianlian, not bothering to explain, dragged her away.

The ruined refining room was now empty.

Lizhu, standing under the hole in the roof, her hands on her hips, sighed. “You’re both so impatient. I haven’t even had a chance to ask any questions.”

---

A small bird soared through the blue sky, landing on a branch.

A woman carrying a sword approached, passing beneath the tree, entering the bird’s field of vision.

Three months had passed since the creation of the two divine artifacts. Jin Jiamu, having advanced two realms, was in seclusion under Elder Qianlian’s strict supervision.

Returning to Wangshu Peak, Tao Ning had learned that Cen Dianshuang, unable to control her surging cultivation, had been sent to Thunder God Valley by the Sect Leader half a month earlier.

A brief message, left on a jade slip.

Tao Ning had considered contacting Cen Dianshuang, but decided against it. Disturbing someone during a crucial breakthrough was unwise.

She remained on Wangshu Peak, reaching Golden Core without any guidance.

After her breakthrough, she had left Wangshu Peak secretly, without informing anyone.

The Golden Core tribulation had, of course, attracted attention, but Lizhu, after observing from afar, confirming the girl’s success, had left her undisturbed, not wanting to interrupt her consolidation. When she returned, Wangshu Peak was empty.

Without Cen Dianshuang, Tao Ning was less… patient.

Passing beneath the tree, she stopped, looking up at the small, white bird perched among the leaves.

The bird blinked its beady black eyes, tilting its head as it met her gaze.

After a long moment, Tao Ning blinked, rubbing her eyes. “I lose the staring contest.”

The bird continued to stare, unblinking.

Tao Ning crossed her arms. “Aren’t you here for me? I crafted a sword and a zither. Care to listen to me play?”

The bird: “…”

Seeing its blank stare, Tao Ning frowned. “Are all Shangxi birds this good at pretending?”

The bird finally reacted, hopping on the branch, dislodging a leaf, its small beak opening. “Chirp, chirp!”

Tao Ning, surprised, echoed, “Chirp, chirp?”

The bird, hopping excitedly, repeated, “Chirp, chirp! Chirp, chirp!”

Its movements, like a small white ball bouncing on the branch, revealed its pure white plumage, devoid of any other color.

Tao Ning: “…”

Her face paled, refusing to acknowledge her mistake, she quickly walked away.

As if nothing had happened.

In Thunder God Valley, a massive, white-feathered bird let out a soft chuckle.

Her Soul Transformation tribulation was different from a human cultivator’s. Transforming from a chick to an adult Shangxi took years.

Lately, she had been struggling to control her surging power, her meridians aching, forcing her to revert to her true form for relief.

But it wasn’t as effective anymore. Her size fluctuated uncontrollably, her inexperience nearly crushing her precious plum blossom vase when she accidentally transformed from a hand-sized bird to a small mountain.

Fortunately, she had reacted quickly, shifting her weight to a nearby tree, which, though crushed under her weight, spared the vase and the delicate blossoms.

She was relieved.

Thankfully, the Grand Elder wasn’t in the vicinity. Destroying the carefully cultivated flora of her secluded valley would have been… awkward.

As Tao Ning walked away, the bird also took flight.

After a short distance, a single white feather detached itself, drifting down on the breeze.

A hand caught it, holding it up to the light. While invisible in daylight, under the moonlight, it would shimmer with a faint, ethereal glow.

The feather’s shaft was thicker than before, showing signs of maturity.

Tao Ning thought, The bird’s deception skills have improved.

Tucking the feather away, she continued her journey.

She planned to explore the world, awaiting Cen Dianshuang’s return. She had no specific destination. The original storyline glossed over this period.

With Cen Dianshuang in seclusion and the protagonist busy with his own adventures, Tao Ning could only wait, living each day as it came.

The next time the bird appeared, Tao Ning was fighting off a group of bandits.

It arrived at an inopportune moment, the battle nearly over, Tao Ning’s robes barely stained with blood, her opponents dead.

“You were asking for death,” she muttered, sheathing her sword, a single white feather, plucked from Cen Dianshuang’s bird form, adorning her hair.

A familiar feather.

Cen Dianshuang, meditating in the valley, her white robes flowing around her, a pair of snow-white wings folded behind her:

…Why is my feather in her hair?

Chapter 64: Disciple and Wife

Elder Qianlian, snapping out of her reverie, looked at her disciple, who had been diligently cracking spirit melon seeds all afternoon, her eyes questioning.

“Master, I…” Jin Jiamu began, but Tao Ning interrupted with a gasp, pulling her away.

No one understood what the gasp meant, only watching as Tao Ning led Jin Jiamu away, offering the elders an apologetic smile.

Once they were out of earshot, Tao Ning turned to Jin Jiamu, her expression serious. “I need your help.”

“Me?” Jin Jiamu pointed at herself, giving Tao Ning a You’re joking, right? look. “You want me to craft your spirit weapons?”

Even I don’t believe in my skills. Don’t tease me.

Tao Ning patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Of course you can. Ten years after joining the sect, you’re already at mid-Foundation Establishment. You’ll reach Golden Core any day now. And after that, Nascent Soul isn’t far behind. You’ll surpass your master soon. I have faith in you.”

Jin Jiamu: “Am I really that good?”

Tao Ning gave her a Don’t you trust me? look. “Of course you are.”

Jin Jiamu’s confidence surged.

Hesitating for a moment, a mix of confidence and gratitude swelling in her chest, she said, “You really believe in me? No one’s ever said that before. My master always asks if I refine with my feet, telling me to stop accidentally blowing things up.”

Tao Ning, gritting her teeth, repeated, “I believe in you.”

Jin Jiamu’s eyes filled with tears. “Tao Ning, you’re too kind. You’re a wonderful person.”

A while later, Elder Qianlian watched as her disciple, notorious for her explosive refining experiments, rushed back, her face beaming. “Master, I’m going to craft Tao Ning’s spirit weapons!”

Elder Qianlian, looking at her usually boisterous, hammer-wielding disciple, sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “Go on, then.”

Jin Jiamu thanked her profusely and skipped away happily.

As the elders continued their conversation, Jin Jiamu, no longer wanting to endure the Sect Leader’s rambling now that Tao Ning was here, dragged her friend towards the red plum grove on Qianqi Peak.

The grove, perpetually covered in snow due to Elder Qianlian’s artifact-induced weather manipulation, was a stunning sight, the red blossoms against the white snow a unique feature of Qianqi Peak.

Jin Jiamu, no longer the silent girl from ten years ago, now chattered incessantly, recounting her experiences, her daily routine of cultivation and artifact refining. Tao Ning followed, listening patiently.

Spotting a particularly beautiful branch laden with blossoms, Jin Jiamu suggested, “Let’s have a competition. The winner gets the plum branch.”

Tao Ning shrugged. “Sure.”

After ten years of traveling and countless battles, Tao Ning wasn’t afraid of a little competition. The outcome of a duel between a hammer-wielding refiner and a seasoned combat veteran was predictable.

Tao Ning’s swordsmanship was fluid and effortless, easily deflecting Jin Jiamu’s attacks after a brief exchange.

Jin Jiamu, her wrist throbbing, quickly conceded. “I give up! You win!”

She watched as Tao Ning, her movements graceful and swift, plucked the plum branch, thinking, If it were me, I’d look like a goose trying to take flight.

“You could have disarmed me in three moves. Why drag it out?” she said, then, glancing around, lowered her voice. “Don’t let anyone from Shuhan Peak see that.”

Tao Ning, examining the branch, considering ways to preserve its beauty, tilted her head. “Why?”

Jin Jiamu, confirming they were alone, explained, “Shuhan Peak is full of sword fanatics. They’re always looking for a challenge. Someone with your experience… you’d be fighting non-stop. They’d destroy Master’s precious plum grove.”

Tao Ning looked at the branch in her hand. “Elder Qianlian’s precious plum grove?”

Jin Jiamu nodded, then, after a moment of silence, patted Tao Ning’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll distract Master with another branch.”

Tao Ning, relieved, said, “Thank you.”

Jin Jiamu grinned. “Don’t mention it. Master wouldn’t actually kill me.”

Tao Ning: …Having a disciple who indiscriminately throws people under the bus must be a blessing.

A snapping sound, and Tao Ning turned to see Jin Jiamu, using a rock for leverage, plucking another plum branch.

Landing slightly awkwardly, she waved away Tao Ning’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine!” Then, still slightly off-balance, she rushed towards her master, shouting, “Master! Look! A beautiful plum branch! I picked it for you!”

Tao Ning: “…”

Judging by Jin Jiamu’s wild, careening run and the trail of fallen petals, it was questionable how many blossoms would remain by the time she reached Elder Qianlian.

She finally understood Elder Qianlian’s newfound serenity. It wasn’t enlightenment, but exhaustion from dealing with her disciple.

“What’s this? A stick?” Elder Qianlian, holding the nearly bare branch, looked at Jin Jiamu with a raised eyebrow.

Jin Jiamu, scratching her head sheepishly, replied, “A plum branch, Master. For you.”

Elder Qianlian examined the branch, then sighed. “Next time, try not to run so fast. The blossoms are delicate.”

“Yes, Master.” Jin Jiamu always agreed readily, then promptly forgot.

Elder Qianlian, accustomed to her disciple’s antics, placed the branch aside, intending to take it back to her refining room.

Cen Dianshuang, initially listening to Lizhu, her attention now drawn by Jin Jiamu’s return, glanced towards the grove.

Lizhu, noticing her distraction, calmly sipped her tea.

Cen Dianshuang straightened slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. Lizhu, following her gaze, saw Tao Ning walking towards them, a plum branch clutched carefully in her hands.

Lizhu, her eyes lowered, continued sipping her tea.

Tao Ning, shielding the branch, her movements more careful than Jin Jiamu’s, approached Cen Dianshuang, the air around her filled with the fragrance of plum blossoms.

“Master, I found this in the grove. I used a small spell to preserve its beauty. I hope you like it.”

Cen Dianshuang: “Let me see.” She took the branch, her fingers brushing against Tao Ning’s.

She wasn’t particularly fond of plum blossoms, not like her Senior Sister Qianlian, but receiving it from Tao Ning made it seem… special.

After admiring it for a moment, she retrieved a delicate, ice-cracked vase, placing the branch inside. The red blossoms against the white vase were a striking combination.

Tao Ning: “It looks beautiful. The vase… it complements the blossoms perfectly.”

Cen Dianshuang, pleased with her disciple’s approval, simply nodded.

Elder Qianlian added, “Next time you pick a branch, try to match Tao Ning’s speed. Don’t run so fast.”

Seeing Lizhu admiring the vase, one of her disciples, eager to please, offered, “Master, I’ll find you the most beautiful plum blossom too.”

“Me too!”

“I have a vase for it!”

The enthusiastic Shuhan Peak disciples started towards the grove.

Lizhu: “Wait. Come back.”

Stopping them, she said, “I don’t like plum blossoms. Don’t destroy your Grand-Aunt’s grove. Go practice your swordsmanship.”

The disciples, disappointed, but obedient, turned and left.

The rhythmic clang of swords echoed through the grove again. Lizhu, watching them go, sighed. “These children…”

Elder Qianlian nodded in agreement. “They’ll mature eventually. They’re still young.”

Cen Dianshuang, preoccupied with her new treasure, considered where to place it in her cave.

Somewhere safe, where it wouldn’t be crushed by her true form or blown away by her wings.

She remembered a wind-protecting artifact Elder Qianlian had given her. She would have to find it.

Jin Jiamu’s earlier warning proved prophetic. As the last Shuhan Peak disciple was leaving, she spotted Tao Ning’s spirit sword, a sudden thought striking her. “Senior Sister Tao, you’ve been traveling for ten years. Your swordsmanship must have improved significantly. Care for a spar?”

Tao Ning: “I…”

The eager disciple grabbed her arm. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’ll go first. No spiritual energy, just sword forms.”

Before Tao Ning could protest, or even speak to Cen Dianshuang, she was dragged away, reaching out for help. “Wait! Master, save me!”

Cen Dianshuang, holding the vase, simply waved dismissively.

The disciple, turning back, saw Cen Dianshuang, then added, “Junior Sister Jiamu, you join too.”

“Me again?” Jin Jiamu pointed at herself, her face a mask of disbelief. Why am I always the target?

She had simply wanted to watch, but now, flanked by two Shuhan Peak disciples, she was also dragged towards the training grounds.

“Wait, I’m an artifact refiner! Why are you dragging me into this?”

The two disciples, one on each side, replied, “Artifact refiner or not, everyone learns the Carefree Sword. No exceptions.”

Jin Jiamu, her face a picture of misery, resigned herself to her fate. I’m just here to be beaten up.

Her self-assessment proved accurate. Disarmed after ten moves, she was relegated to sparring with a younger disciple.

Tao Ning, however, was an unknown quantity. The first disciple, initially holding back, soon realized her mistake. Forgetting Jin Jiamu’s warning, Tao Ning, even after being disarmed, continued her attack, dodging a potentially fatal blow and seizing her opponent’s sword with two fingers.

Silence fell as everyone watched, their gazes fixed on Tao Ning’s hand. The attacking disciple, unable to withdraw her sword, stared at Tao Ning in surprise, giving Tao Ning the opportunity to pull her closer and disarm her with a swift strike.

The sword clattered to the ground. The disciple, her spirit weapon inseparable from her since its creation, was stunned.

Recovering quickly, her combat instincts taking over, she lunged at Tao Ning, fists flying.

Both, forgetting the “no spiritual energy” rule, unleashed their full power, turning the friendly spar into a serious duel, their movements fluid and powerful, a display of the Hanshan Sect’s martial arts.

The other Shuhan Peak disciples, abandoning their own practice, gathered to watch.

The disciple sparring with Tao Ning was Lizhu’s thirtieth direct disciple, fifty years into her training, at the early Golden Core realm.

While not the most powerful among her peers, she was considered a rising star, unmatched within her realm.

After a fierce exchange, Tao Ning forced her back with a powerful palm strike, both their gazes fixed on their discarded weapons.

The disciple, regaining her footing, summoned her sword, preparing to attack.

She was fast, but Tao Ning was faster. Breaking through her opponent’s defenses, her spirit sword, crackling with faint purple lightning, stopped a hair’s breadth from the disciple’s throat.

Tao Ning, her eyes lowered, her expression impassive, declared, “You lose, Senior Sister.”

The disciple, glancing at the ordinary, Academy-issued spirit sword at her throat, was stunned.

It wasn’t a personalized spirit weapon, lacking the power and precision of a true bonded blade. Most disciples with resources crafted their own swords, abandoning the basic, mass-produced ones.

Yet, Tao Ning had defeated her with this… unremarkable blade.

Catching her breath, she conceded. “Yes, I lose.”

She had given her all, yet it wasn’t enough. Perhaps it was time to consider traveling the world, honing her skills.

“Thank you for the match.” Tao Ning sheathed her sword with a flourish, turning to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” another disciple called out.

Tao Ning, looking back, her expression confused, replied, “Isn’t the winner allowed to… leave?” Her voice wavered slightly.

The disciple explained, “Yes, you can leave Senior Sister Lu, but not us.”

Tao Ning: “…”

Jin Jiamu, her face buried in her hands, an artifact refiner now mimicking a Buddhist cultivator’s prayer gesture, muttered, “Amitabha.”

Looking at the eager, battle-ready disciples surrounding her, Tao Ning finally remembered something she had forgotten. “Wait, that’s not what I meant! Master, save me!”

Cen Dianshuang, sitting calmly under the red plum tree, watched as Tao Ning was dragged away, the Shuhan Peak disciples chanting, “Even Elder Cen can’t save you now!”

Lizhu, after observing the scene for a while, turned to Cen Dianshuang. “Your disciple is rather… attached to you.”

Cen Dianshuang: “She’s simply expressing her filial piety.”

Lizhu, seeing her expression, knew she was pleased with her disciple. She would have been too.

Intelligent, resourceful, talented, respectful, and surprisingly mature for her age.

But there were certain… issues… Lizhu decided to be the one to address them.

Elder Qianlian had already returned to her refining room, her materials nearing completion.

With no outsiders present, Lizhu, gesturing towards the plum blossom in Cen Dianshuang’s hand, asked, “Do you remember True Person Yunbi?”

Cen Dianshuang, her gaze no longer fixed on the training grounds, her expression unchanged, replied, “Of course. The master-disciple pair who eloped, becoming the left and right protectors of Demon Lord Qingji’s palace. Yunbi’s partner died a hundred years ago during a breakthrough, and Yunbi herself perished while searching for Soul-Gathering Grass. Why do you ask?” She looked at Lizhu curiously.

Lizhu: “What are your thoughts on their relationship?”

Cen Dianshuang’s expression turned serious. “They’ve been dead for a century. I don’t judge the deceased.”

Lizhu, slightly exasperated, began, “But…”

Cen Dianshuang lowered her gaze, adopting a submissive, Scold me if you must, Senior Sister, I’ll accept any punishment, expression.

This tactic had always been effective. Lizhu rarely scolded her when she looked like that, often indulging her instead.

Years of indulgence, however, had only emboldened her junior sister. Lizhu felt a mix of exasperation and fondness.

Judging by Cen Dianshuang’s demeanor, the situation with her disciple hadn’t progressed beyond a certain point. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have brought the girl back. This was a clear cry for help, a plea for guidance.

Cen Dianshuang’s voice was soft, almost pleading. “I’ve made a mistake, Senior Sister. Scold me.”

Lizhu stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth, her long robes swirling around her. Shaking her head, she said, “I won’t scold you.”

Cen Dianshuang: “Are you going to hit me?”

Lizhu shook her head again. “I would never.”

Stopping, she turned to Cen Dianshuang, her expression serious. “Do you know you’re nearing another breakthrough?”

Cen Dianshuang, her hand instinctively covering her wrist, nodded. She knew. She had reached the peak of Nascent Soul. Delaying her advancement any longer would damage her spiritual core.

Lizhu: “Dianshuang, I know you. You’ve never been one for attachments. I don’t want to see you hurt. But can she… can she bear the weight of your secrets?”

She placed her hands gently on Cen Dianshuang’s shoulders, her voice soft, almost pleading.

“I’m here. The Hanshan Sect can protect both of you. But she’s young. Can she withstand the scrutiny, the judgment?”

Her first instinct hadn’t been to protect the sect’s reputation, but to consider the consequences for her junior sister.

She was the Sect Leader, but she was also Cen Dianshuang’s senior sister.

Cen Dianshuang began, “I…”

Then, her brow furrowed, and both looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were gathering.

Lizhu handed her a pill. “Take this. It’s not time yet. Shattering the Nascent Soul and transforming into Soul Transformation is a dangerous step. I’ll take you to Thunder God Valley.”

Cen Dianshuang swallowed the pill, the surging energy within her subsiding, the storm clouds dispersing.

“Thunder God Valley? Isn’t that where the Grand Elder cultivates in seclusion?”

Lizhu: “Precisely. It’s a place of peace and tranquility. I’ve already spoken to the Grand Elder. She’s agreed. And the Thunder God Stones in the valley can help you withstand the tribulation lightning. Once you’ve overcome that, your path will be much smoother.”

If she survived the Soul Transformation tribulation, she wouldn’t have to endure the pain of her meridians being forcibly expanded. Most cultivators struggled with it once or twice. Cen Dianshuang had endured it since childhood, clinging to her master’s hand for comfort.

A demon’s innate talent was often far greater than a human’s, but their tribulations were also more severe.

The previous Sect Leader, fearing for her young disciple’s life, had devised the “mortal realm training” strategy.

She’s a hybrid. Perhaps Heaven will consider her human.

Cen Dianshuang, seeing no other option, agreed.

Having finally escaped the Shuhan Peak disciples, Tao Ning returned to the red plum tree to find it deserted. Cen Dianshuang, and the vase, were gone.

“Where did she go?” She noticed something on the table.

A jade slip, resting on Cen Dianshuang’s usual spot. Assuming it was for her, she picked it up and pressed it against her forehead.

Relieved, she learned that Cen Dianshuang had been summoned to the Shuhan Peak meeting hall and would return later.

Seizing the opportunity, Tao Ning slipped back to Wangshu Peak.

Even with her skills, facing a group of eager challengers was tiring. Discretion was the better part of valor.

Jin Jiamu, however, couldn’t escape. This was her home territory. She called out, “The Sect Leader and Tao Ning have left! Aren’t you going back?”

The Shuhan Peak disciples, seeing this was true, dispersed.

Later that night, Cen Dianshuang, her cultivation suppressed, returned to Wangshu Peak, her senior sister’s words echoing in her mind.

“When are you planning to go to Thunder God Valley?”

After a moment of thought, she replied, “I’ll wait until she finishes crafting her spirit weapons.”

“She,” of course, referred to Tao Ning.

Lizhu, assuming it wouldn’t take long, agreed.

After ten years of living together, Cen Dianshuang instinctively wanted to fly towards the small, brightly lit house halfway up the mountain, but her own dwelling was at the summit.

She stopped on the path, her heart heavy, and continued walking.

In the distance, she saw a figure moving around the small house, the scent of freshly cooked food drifting on the night breeze.

It was Tao Ning. Sensing her master’s arrival, she stepped out of the house, the Flame Dragon Furnace, its task complete, floating beside her, illuminating the darkness.

Cen Dianshuang stopped, her heart pounding.

Tao Ning waited, then, as Cen Dianshuang approached, she hurried forward, taking her hand and pulling her towards the house. “Master, you’re back! I just finished making some pastries. I was waiting for you.”

Cen Dianshuang, allowing herself to be led, her hand still clasped in Tao Ning’s, asked, “Sweet?”

Tao Ning: “Just a little. Not too sweet.”

Seated at the table, Cen Dianshuang took a bite, then, meeting Tao Ning’s expectant gaze, said, “Very sweet.”

“Very sweet? Did I add too much honey?” Tao Ning took a bite, but didn’t find it overly sweet, wondering if her culinary skills had deteriorated.

Taking another bite, she looked at Cen Dianshuang. “Master, is it really that sweet?”

Cen Dianshuang, looking at her, smiled. “Yes, very sweet.”

Chapter 63: Disciple and Wife

“It’s been three days. Why haven’t the Immortal Masters emerged yet?”

Early morning, a maid whispered to her companion as they passed by the courtyard, their gazes drawn to the closed doors.

They had heard the cultivators staying there were the ones who had slain the Skin-Peeling Demon. The most powerful cultivator they had ever seen was the City Lord, whose ability to fly on a sword fueled their imaginations about what true immortals were like.

These cultivators were said to be far more powerful than the City Lord. Their curiosity was understandable.

The maid carrying a flower basket, a white cloth tied around her arm, replied, “I don’t know. I heard from someone in the City Lord’s courtyard that the disciple said the immortals were in seclusion, and they would leave after her master emerged.”

“Disciple? A disciple of an immortal must also be an immortal, right?”

“I’ve seen her. Even spoken to her. She’s… different.”

The maid who had spoken to Tao Ning became the center of attention, the others eager for details. What did she look like? Did she have an aura? Could she fly?

Their chatter was interrupted by a gasp. Someone pointed towards a figure approaching in the distance. “Is that the disciple you mentioned?”

Tao Ning was returning from her morning sword practice in the City Lord’s training grounds. After accidentally bisecting a boulder, she had decided against practicing in the courtyard, fearing she might demolish the inn.

She maintained a strict routine, the only difference being the absence of Cen Dianshuang’s watchful gaze.

The Three Lives Dream had been potent, sending the usually teetotaling bird into a deep sleep, from which she hadn’t yet awakened.

Tao Ning, carrying her spirit sword, walked towards the inn, wondering about Cen Dianshuang’s reaction.

The maids, their curiosity outweighing their apprehension, approached Tao Ning, who looked about their age.

“Is that your sword?”

They had seen their fair share of beauties, but Tao Ning’s appearance was striking.

Her wide sleeves were tied back with wristbands for ease of movement, her hair simply styled, giving her a distinct, almost androgynous charm.

Unlike the other girls they knew, she possessed both an air of elegance and a hint of… ambition.

Tao Ning, offering a polite nod, replied, “Yes.”

She was then surrounded, the enthusiastic maids bombarding her with questions.

“It looks so heavy! You’re so strong!”

“Can I touch it?”

“You’re sweating. Here’s a handkerchief.”

“Do you go out every morning to practice?”

Tao Ning, who had thought she had mastered the art of deflecting unwanted attention after her experience in the Meiyan’s lair, was mistaken.

The young maids, like chattering birds in springtime, were relentlessly cheerful, their enthusiasm difficult to resist.

Dodging the proffered, perfume-laced handkerchief, she circulated her spiritual energy, instantly drying her sweat. “That’s kind of you, but I’m fine.”

This only intensified their excitement.

“How did you do that?!”

“Is that what cultivation is like? Do you think I have the potential to cultivate?”

“Can you demonstrate again? We’ll hold your sword for you!”

“Immortal Master, can you check my pulse? Do I have any talent?”

“Wait, wait…” Tao Ning raised her hands defensively. Even her silver tongue was no match for their combined enthusiasm, especially since they weren’t listening.

520 shook its head, watching the scene unfold like a modern-day Tang Sanzang surrounded by spider demons.

Inside the inn, Cen Dianshuang’s eyes fluttered open. Her first instinct was to check for flooding. Relieved to find the room dry, she relaxed.

Prematurely.

Her eyes snapped open again, her body stiff and motionless, like a corpse. Then, with a swift, fluid movement, she transformed into her bird form, disappearing under the covers.

Cen! Dian! Shuang! What have you done?!

A three-hundred-year-old demon, acting like a drunken fool! What a waste of a long life!

I should just suffocate myself under these blankets.

Then, a thought struck her. The scent beneath the covers wasn’t hers. It was faint and… familiar.

A memory flashed through her mind: being pressed against the bed, her chin tilted upwards, her lips captured in a kiss.

The image made her feathers ruffle in a silent explosion of… something… she couldn’t quite name.

My reputation! My dignity! As a demon, do I have no shame?

The chaotic thoughts subsided, a flicker of hope extinguished like a candle in a storm.

Tao Ning was perceptive. Could she truly remain oblivious to Cen Dianshuang’s true nature after years of living together?

She had identified a Shangxi bird after only a few encounters.

Not everyone would accept a relationship with a demon. Born in the Demonic Beast Realm, raised in the Hanshan Sect, known as Elder Cen for centuries, she wasn’t truly human.

She wanted to tell Tao Ning the truth, but not yet.

Cen Dianshuang, you’re such a coward.

Shaking herself, she smoothed her ruffled feathers, then shifted back to her human form.

Knowing Tao Ning wasn’t in the courtyard, she extended her spiritual sense, easily locating her disciple.

Tao Ning, trapped by the enthusiastic maids, heard a familiar jingling sound, her eyes lighting up.

The maids, also hearing the bell, looked around. “Where’s that coming from?”

Tao Ning held up the communication bell. “My master is calling. Excuse me!”

With a graceful leap, she vanished into the courtyard.

The maids sighed in disappointment.

Tao Ning hurried inside, calling out, “Master, I’m back.”

Cen Dianshuang was sitting at her vanity, her hair unbound, a ribbon clutched in her hand.

She seemed to be attempting to tie her hair with spiritual energy.

Tao Ning, seeing this, offered instinctively, “Let me do it, Master.”

She approached, then hesitated, stopping a few feet away.

If she remembered correctly, the usually aloof bird would refuse such an offer.

Surprisingly, Cen Dianshuang handed her the comb, her expression calm. “Alright.”

Tao Ning, surprised, took the jade comb, her fingers brushing against Cen Dianshuang’s palm.

Cen Dianshuang, facing the mirror, lowered her gaze, her hand fidgeting with her skirt beneath the table, trying to dispel the lingering warmth where their fingers had touched.

The mirror reflected their images: one standing, one sitting.

The seated woman, her white robes flowing around her, her face ethereal, a red mark on her forehead, her long, slender fingers lifting a strand of hair, a silver wristband, a gift from Tao Ning, adorning her wrist.

She couldn’t remember why she had given it. She had simply seen it among the other items in her storage bracelet, its presence drawing her attention.

—The wristband was engraved with a fluffy-tailed fox.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she had given it to Tao Ning, who had worn it without comment.

And she continued to wear it, the sight always bringing a secret smile to Cen Dianshuang’s lips.

Tao Ning, without using spiritual energy, carefully combed her master’s tangled hair, her movements gentle and patient.

Before becoming Tao Ning’s disciple, Cen Dianshuang’s hairstyle had been unchanging. As a child, it had been two simple buns, secured with ribbons.

As she grew older, her master had restyled her hair, declaring the buns unsuitable.

Cen Dianshuang, remarkably lazy in this regard, had simply adopted her master’s style, never bothering to change it.

From her teenage years to her current age, her hairstyle remained the same, only the color of her ribbons changing occasionally, with the addition of ornate hairpins for formal occasions.

Others praised her filial piety, assuming she maintained the same hairstyle to honor her deceased master. In truth, she simply couldn’t be bothered to change it.

Finished combing, Tao Ning straightened up, looking at the mirror. Cen Dianshuang remained still, her eyes lowered, like a meditating monk.

Tao Ning sighed inwardly. The bird has learned to be cautious.

Suddenly, Cen Dianshuang’s eyelids flickered open, her gaze meeting Tao Ning’s in the mirror.

Tao Ning waited, anticipating her words.

“A sword cultivator’s sword is a sacred object. It shouldn’t be touched by others.”

Tao Ning: “?”

Then, realization dawned. Her master had seen the encounter with the maids.

“Understood, Master. From now on, I’ll only allow my Dao companion to touch my sword.”

Cen Dianshuang’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

Early morning, the City Lord received news of the Immortal Masters’ emergence from seclusion. She was slightly puzzled. Was three days a typical seclusion period for a Nascent Soul cultivator?

Regardless, she accepted their explanation.

She was about to see them off personally when a maid informed her that they had already departed on their swords.

The City Lord stopped mid-step. “Very well.”

Wangshu Peak, empty for ten years, finally welcomed its master’s return. The past decade had been spent traveling the Radiant Realm, gathering various materials and honing their skills.

The return journey was swift, a single day’s flight on their swords.

The Hanshan Sect remained unchanged. Two disciples still guarded the mountain gate, the stones lining the Ascending Immortal Steps bearing no new marks of sword intent.

The disciples bowed respectfully. “Elder Cen, Senior Sister Tao.”

Cen Dianshuang, seeing Tao Ning looking at the steps, followed her gaze. “You’re not ready to comprehend our ancestors’ sword intent yet. We’ll return when your cultivation has advanced further.”

Tao Ning: “Will I… misunderstand their meaning if my cultivation is too low?”

Cen Dianshuang shook her head. “Not exactly. Our ancestors were powerful warriors, their swords stained with the blood of countless demons. Their sword intent is sharp and potent. If your cultivation is too low, your mind unstable, you risk being overwhelmed, falling into the demonic path.”

They continued their journey, not rushing back to Wangshu Peak. Their first stop was Qianqi Peak.

It was a rest day for the Academy, and the plaza was filled with students in pale green robes, their waists lacking the direct disciple tokens.

They walked in small groups, heading towards the training grounds to watch the inner sect disciples spar.

Someone spotted the approaching figures, their voice filled with alarm. “Elder Cen! Run!”

His warning sent several Academy disciples scattering, clearing a path around Cen Dianshuang. A few, too terrified to move, remained, bowing respectfully. “Greetings, Elder Cen.”

Cen Dianshuang, her expression impassive, replied with a curt nod.

The disciples, relieved, scurried away like mice fleeing a cat.

Tao Ning, amused by their reaction, asked, “I heard the peak masters occasionally teach at the Academy. Have you ever taught there, Master?”

Cen Dianshuang, accustomed to such reactions, simply glanced at the fleeing disciples. “A few times. Not often. I stopped going.”

Tao Ning: “Why? Too busy with the Disciplinary Hall?”

Cen Dianshuang: “The Disciplinary Hall only requires my attention for serious matters. The Vice Hall Master and the other stewards handle the day-to-day affairs. I stopped teaching because they were too slow. They couldn’t understand.”

Tao Ning understood. The impatient bird had little tolerance for slow learners, their inability to grasp her teachings likely infuriating her.

The students, in turn, found her too strict, her cold demeanor and demanding standards making her classes unbearable, despite her reputation as the sect’s Ice Beauty.

Their mutual dislike had resulted in the current situation: the Academy disciples both respected and feared her.

The rhythmic clang of hammers was the constant soundtrack of Qianqi Peak. The disciples here, unlike their Academy counterparts, didn’t flee at the sight of Cen Dianshuang, greeting her calmly.

Tao Ning suspected it was because their arms were too full of materials to run.

Elder Qianlian, usually found tinkering in her refining room, was surprisingly outside today, brewing tea under a red plum tree.

Cen Dianshuang, following the scent of the tea, led Tao Ning to the tree.

Several figures were seated around a stone table, one with their back to them, pouring tea.

The woman in red, her long hair elegantly styled, turned, a smile already gracing her lips. “Little Junior Sister, you’re back.”

The vibrant red robe and the warm smile belonged to Lizhu. Across from her sat Elder Qianlian, a disgruntled expression on her face after apparently burning her tongue on the tea. Several disciples from Shuhan and Qianqi Peaks stood nearby.

A few others sparred in the distance, their movements fluid and graceful, practicing sword forms, not spiritual attacks.

Jin Jiamu, standing behind Elder Qianlian, winked at Tao Ning.

Lizhu poured a cup of tea. “I figured you’d be arriving soon, so I brewed some tea. Come, have some.”

Cen Dianshuang sheathed her sword, walked over, and sat down, taking a sip after blowing on the hot tea.

Deeming the temperature acceptable, she picked up another cup and handed it to Tao Ning. “Senior Sister’s tea. Don’t waste it.”

The casual intimacy of the gesture surprised Jin Jiamu, who had never been treated with such familiarity by her own master. She stared, her eyes wide.

Tao Ning, her head bowed respectfully, took the cup with both hands. “Thank you, Master.”

Her excessive humility made Cen Dianshuang slightly uncomfortable.

Lizhu smiled. “Your cultivation seems to have stabilized. Nearing Golden Core, I presume?”

Tao Ning, no matter how many times she met Lizhu, always had the same thought: Old fox.

“I’ve reached late Foundation Establishment, Sect Leader. Golden Core requires… an opportunity.”

“Reaching Golden Core is a significant step. Perhaps I should…” Lizhu began, raising a hand.

Cen Dianshuang, grabbing her sleeve, interrupted, her gaze fixed on Lizhu. “If my disciple has any questions, she can ask me.”

Lizhu chuckled, surrendering. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask you instead.”

Perhaps a habit from her years as Senior Sister, Lizhu felt a responsibility towards all younger disciples, showering them with equal attention. She proceeded to question Cen Dianshuang, who answered patiently while sipping her tea.

Jin Jiamu, listening, felt a pang of sympathy. She had just endured a similar interrogation by the Sect Leader, her mind nearly twisting into knots. She had wanted to appeal to her master for help, but Elder Qianlian was even less articulate than her, leaving her to fend for herself.

She glanced enviously at Tao Ning. We’re both disciples, but our experiences are so different.

She hadn’t expected Elder Cen, the terror of the Hanshan Sect, to be so attentive to her disciple. They had all assumed Tao Ning would be sent to the Academy.

Instead, she was receiving personalized instruction, much to the envy of those with numerous siblings.

Lizhu, pausing for another sip of tea, continued her questioning, Cen Dianshuang anticipating the next round, mirroring her actions, also taking a sip.

Jin Jiamu and Elder Qianlian exchanged a knowing look, their expressions mirroring each other: Here we go again.

Lizhu, placing down her cup, said, “You’ve returned for your disciple’s spirit weapons, I presume?”

Jin Jiamu, idly munching on spirit melon seeds, suddenly felt a gaze on her, then heard Cen Dianshuang’s voice. “Yes. My disciple wishes to request the assistance of her friend, Jin Jiamu of Qianqi Peak.”

Jin Jiamu: …Me?

Chapter 62: Disciple and Wife

Tao Ning, unsure of what was about to happen, sat up straighter. “Master? Why are you here so late…?”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Cen Dianshuang approached, her cool fingers gently lifting Tao Ning’s chin.

The faint, sweet scent of peach blossoms, characteristic of Three Lives Dream wine, drifted from her wide sleeves.

Standing by the bed, Cen Dianshuang leaned closer, her pale eyes fixed on Tao Ning’s face, her gaze unusually intense.

Tao Ning met her gaze, noticing a flicker of red in her usually cool, calm eyes.

Then it was gone, Cen Dianshuang’s expression returning to its usual serenity.

The rain had stopped completely, a cool breeze drifting in through the open window, but doing little to cool the warmth spreading through Tao Ning’s chest.

She remained silent, watching as Cen Dianshuang drew closer, her breath warm against Tao Ning’s cheek.

But her movements were… unsteady, uncharacteristic of the usually composed and controlled Cen Dianshuang.

If 520 hadn’t been blocked, it would have been cheering, The widow’s second spring has arrived! Lucky you, Host!

Tao Ning would have been enjoying the moment, but the closer Cen Dianshuang got, the more apparent it became that her eyes weren’t focused. She was simply leaning in to see more clearly.

Cen Dianshuang’s fingers shifted, tracing the faint scar on Tao Ning’s left cheek. “How did you get this scar?”

The scar, a faint red line against Tao Ning’s pale skin, wasn’t deep, but the slight swelling made it stand out.

Cen Dianshuang’s voice was sharp. “Who did this to you?”

How did my disciple get injured in just a few hours? I’ve worked so hard to… improve her appearance.

Their faces were now inches apart, Cen Dianshuang’s nose almost touching Tao Ning’s cheek.

Tao Ning smiled, the movement pulling at the wound. She winced, but the smile remained. “It’s… a little itchy, Master.”

Cen Dianshuang was so close that her breath tickled Tao Ning’s skin.

“Does it hurt?”

Tao Ning’s mind went blank, forgetting her carefully crafted story, simply replying, “It’s… okay?”

Cen Dianshuang, instead of pulling away, persisted, her voice suddenly firm. “You haven’t told me who hurt you.”

Who would dare lay a hand on my disciple?

Tao Ning finally understood. Cen Dianshuang had drunk the Three Lives Dream. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

A proper disciple would have settled her drunken master, brewed some sobering tea, and waited until morning to inquire about her well-being.

Tao Ning, however, asked, “What will you do if I tell you, Master?”

Cen Dianshuang, her expression serious, replied, “I’ll retaliate.”

Tao Ning: “Against anyone?”

Cen Dianshuang: “Anyone.”

Tao Ning sighed dramatically. “What if you can’t defeat them?”

Cen Dianshuang scoffed, tilting her chin upwards. “Impossible.”

The unspoken message was clear: There’s no one I can’t defeat.

Her confidence, her unwavering protectiveness, was a hallmark of the Hanshan Sect.

Tao Ning: “Master, did you drink the Three Lives Dream?”

Cen Dianshuang pulled away abruptly, standing up straight, her expression carefully neutral. “I did not.”

Tao Ning reached out, tugging on her sleeve, sniffing it. “Your sleeve smells of Three Lives Dream.”

Cen Dianshuang pulled her sleeve away, her lips tightening. “You’re mistaken. I’m not drunk.”

Tao Ning, suppressing a smile, her eyes downcast, her lips twitching slightly, replied, “I didn’t say you were drunk, Master.”

From Cen Dianshuang’s perspective, her disciple looked…wronged. She felt a pang of guilt.

Her voice softened. “I only had a… small sip. It was unintentional.”

She had forgotten that the Three Lives Dream had been mixed with her sweet water. She had consumed most of the bottle. Where was the rest…?

The wine’s effects were starting to kick in, clouding her already muddled mind. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to dispel the dizziness.

Tao Ning sat up, her expression concerned. “What’s wrong, Master? Are you dizzy? Do you want me to massage your temples?”

The gesture, though respectful, made Cen Dianshuang nervous. She instinctively wanted to step back, but something held her in place.

As if retreating would be a sign of weakness.

She placed a hand over Tao Ning’s, stopping her. “No, I’m fine.”

Her usually obedient, bright-eyed disciple seemed different tonight, her fox-like eyes, normally sharp and intelligent, now holding a hint of… allure.

The fox whispered, “Then why are you here?”

She hadn’t used the formal “Master” title, blurring the lines between them.

Cen Dianshuang, hearing the question, felt the weight on her heart lift, a sudden lightness replacing the usual burden of responsibility and propriety.

Why am I here? She couldn’t quite remember, only knowing that being near Tao Ning brought a sense of peace and comfort.

She had once read a poem, a line about finding peace in one’s current surroundings. Back then, she had been too young to truly understand. Now, she felt it.

Her mind adrift, she reached out, her hand resting on Tao Ning’s cheek.

She had wanted to do this for a long time. The fulfillment of a long-held desire brought a sigh of relief.

“I forgot,” she murmured.

Tao Ning, her hand covering Cen Dianshuang’s, rubbing it gently, asked, “Forgot? Forgot why you came here?”

Cen Dianshuang: “Yes. I… I just wanted to see you.”

Tao Ning: “Hearing you say that makes me so happy.”

Cen Dianshuang, confused, asked, “Why?”

“Would you be happy if I sought you out immediately, whenever something was on my mind?” Tao Ning tilted her head, her eyes searching Cen Dianshuang’s.

Cen Dianshuang considered this, her eyes brightening slightly. She nodded. “I would.”

Tao Ning’s smile was dazzling. “Me too.”

Her joy was infectious. Cen Dianshuang wanted to smile back, but her face, usually as cold and impassive as a snow doll, struggled to form the expression.

The soft lamplight illuminated Tao Ning’s face, her skin smooth and delicate like porcelain, her hand holding Cen Dianshuang’s as if it were the most precious treasure.

The faint scar on her cheek resembled a brushstroke of rouge, enhancing her beauty.

Cen Dianshuang’s hand trembled, her gaze fixed on Tao Ning’s face, her mind drifting.

She pictured a mist-shrouded hot spring, a silk-draped screen on the bank.

A slender figure, barely visible behind the screen, the soft splashing of water echoing through the quiet night.

Drawn by the sound, she approached, her heart pounding as she saw the face of the person she had been dreaming of.

Wet hair plastered against her cheeks, the steam rising from the water, the air thick with a sweet fragrance, the obscured image only intensifying her desire.

This person was her deepest, most forbidden desire.

Sensing her presence, the figure swam towards the edge, extending a hand. “Why waste such a beautiful night? Join me.”

Cen Dianshuang’s gaze lingered on the hand, a hand she had seen a thousand times, its slender fingers bearing the marks of a sword cultivator.

She had felt a surge of anger, furious that someone would dare wear Tao Ning’s face to tempt her, even more furious at her own reaction, the flicker of desire in her heart.

Ashamed of her own weakness, yet unable to resist, she had fallen deeper into the forbidden longing, its origins unknown, its depths unfathomable.

Love was an illogical emotion, its beginnings often subtle, an inexplicable fascination, growing stronger with every glance, every shared moment.

Perhaps the seed had been planted the moment that small white bird landed on the grey-clad girl’s shoulder.

By the time she realized it, the seed had taken root, its tendrils wrapping around her heart, its growth unstoppable.

Enraged, she had broken the illusion, slaying the Meiyan. But the demon’s dying words, the threat of exposure and ruin, had struck a chord of fear within her.

She feared Tao Ning discovering her true feelings, feared the world knowing her secret. It was ironic. She had always considered herself fearless, yet a few words from a dying demon had shaken her to her core.

She had seen the signs, but had been too afraid to acknowledge them, clinging to propriety and decorum.

So she had silenced the Meiyan, eliminating all traces of its existence.

Tao Ning knew nothing of this.

On their way back, Cen Dianshuang had resolved to maintain a proper distance, to resist the temptation. Such behavior was unbecoming of a master.

Centuries ago, a master had seduced her disciples, leading to a scandal that rocked the Radiant Realm. One disciple, falling in love with another, had attempted to elope, only to be hunted down and killed by her enraged master. The grieving lover, learning of her death, had exposed the truth during a gathering of cultivators, forcing the sect to execute the master as atonement. The Radiant Realm, already intolerant of such transgressions, had become even more stringent in its condemnation of master-disciple relationships.

As a demon, she didn’t care about such social conventions, but the person she loved belonged to the Radiant Realm. She wouldn’t risk their reputation, their future, for her own selfish desires.

But now, the object of her affections was right here, her voice soft, her eyes filled with warmth and… a hint of something more.

She couldn’t resist.

She had learned to emulate humans for her master and senior sisters. Now, she would become the perfect master for Tao Ning.

“Your eyes…”

Tao Ning had been right. Cen Dianshuang’s eyes were glowing red.

Not the red of demonic corruption, but the red of a predator, a thin, black, vertical pupil appearing in the center of each iris, her gaze intense, possessive, turning Tao Ning into prey.

A Shangxi bird’s eyes weren’t red, but a clear, pure black.

Not all demons were evil. Shangxi birds were considered auspicious, cultivating by absorbing moonlight, never harming anyone, their methods pure and untainted.

Cen Dianshuang’s voice was husky. “What about my eyes?”

Tao Ning, not wanting to prematurely expose her master’s secret, licked her lips, her voice slightly breathless. “They’re… beautiful.”

Cen Dianshuang, no longer content with simply touching Tao Ning, leaned closer, gently kissing the scar on her cheek.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, her hand rested on Tao Ning’s shoulder, her fingers tightening slightly as she leaned in, her tongue gently licking the wound.

In the inherited memories from her mother, Shangxi birds preened the feathers of their loved ones, their saliva healing wounds. She had never done this before, but the gesture felt… natural with Tao Ning.

Not family yet, but… cherished. Everything about Tao Ning was cherished: her scent, her smile, her voice.

A jolt of electricity shot through Tao Ning’s body, starting at the base of her spine, reaching her mind, leaving her tingling.

Feeling the wetness on her cheek, she reached up, her hand resting on Cen Dianshuang’s shoulder, a silent plea for… more.

Cen Dianshuang, stopped by Tao Ning’s hand, looked at her, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “It’s not healed yet.”

Tao Ning didn’t resist, perhaps unwilling to truly stop her. Cen Dianshuang leaned closer, her tongue tracing the scar, her breath warm against Tao Ning’s skin.

The scar, a result of a flying rock chip during her overly enthusiastic sword practice, hadn’t even had a chance to be used for sympathy before it was kissed and licked into submission.

In a way, Tao Ning had gotten what she wanted.

Cen Dianshuang pulled back, touching the now-healed skin with a satisfied expression.

Tao Ning doubted the City Lord would have added anything to the Three Lives Dream. The only unusual influence recently had been the Meiyan’s lair, its pink miasma and intoxicating fragrances, which, though initially suppressed by Cen Dianshuang, had been amplified by the wine.

Realizing this, Tao Ning murmured, “I think I’m also… intoxicated.”

Cen Dianshuang, still leaning over her, asked, “Intoxicated by what?”

“Not by any demon,” Tao Ning replied, her hand resting on Cen Dianshuang’s back. “That night at the inn… I know the walls are thin. You heard what I said.”

Cen Dianshuang, who had just kissed, touched, and licked her disciple, almost lost her composure, her gaze darting away.

“What did you say?” Why don’t you repeat it? I’d like to hear it again.

Tao Ning, her hand now tracing patterns on Cen Dianshuang’s back, her voice soft and alluring, like a fox spirit’s, whispered, “Lean closer, and I’ll tell you.”

Cen Dianshuang sometimes suspected Tao Ning deliberately lowered her voice, forcing her to lean in, but then she would question her own perception. Tao Ning’s gaze had always seemed so… pure.

But tonight, there was nothing pure about it.

The smile playing on Tao Ning’s lips was a clear warning: This is a trap. Don’t fall for it.

Yet, as if compelled by an unseen force, she leaned closer, and her lips were captured in a kiss.

Cen Dianshuang’s eyes widened, her hands pushing against the bed, trying to pull away, but Tao Ning’s grip on her neck was firm, inescapable.

Tao Ning’s hand tightened, her touch possessive, despite their positions.

Their robes tangled, lilac and pale green intertwined, their positions shifting until Tao Ning was on top, their lips locked in a passionate embrace.

The clouds parted, revealing a full moon, its light bathing the room, illuminating their entangled forms.

Cen Dianshuang’s hand, resting weakly on the bed, was captured in Tao Ning’s, her fingers intertwining, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Tao Ning, lifting a strand of Cen Dianshuang’s hair, kissed it gently. “Do you know what we’re doing?”

Cen Dianshuang, her eyes unfocused, her breath coming in short gasps, couldn’t answer.

Tao Ning kissed her slightly parted lips, a satisfied sigh escaping her own. “Never mind.”

Never mind? What does that mean?

Cen Dianshuang, her hand gripping Tao Ning’s arm, her eyes shimmering, her cheeks flushed, looked nothing like the Ice Beauty, her face now alive with a warmth and passion that was breathtaking.

Tao Ning: “Three Lives Dream. A dream without a trace. I was worried you wouldn’t remember tonight, dismissing it as a fleeting fantasy.”

The words stung. Cen Dianshuang’s pride, her innate competitiveness, made her want to protest, but the words caught in her throat.

I would never… forget tonight.

The wine’s effects finally overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness.

In her haste, her inexperience with alcohol, she had forgotten that with her Nascent Soul cultivation, she could easily dispel the wine’s effects with a simple circulation of spiritual energy. Instead, she had stumbled into Tao Ning’s room, her mind clouded.

Tao Ning, sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze lingering on the overturned table, a casualty of their passionate encounter, touched her slightly swollen lip.

Cen Dianshuang had bitten her, a sharp nip she hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment, but now throbbed faintly.

She licked her lip, wincing slightly. “I’m just as bad. Just as… lost in the moment. Like a proper married couple.”

Chapter 61: Disciple and Wife

Hair adorned with flowers, golden hairpins swaying, the bridal chamber warm and inviting.

Tao Ning stood at the doorway, momentarily captivated by the scene, before stepping inside.

As she approached, Cen Dianshuang lowered her veil demurely, sitting still and silent.

The space beside her dipped as Tao Ning sat down, reaching out to lift the veil.

The room, illuminated by flickering red candles, brightened as the veil was removed.

Tao Ning gazed at Cen Dianshuang, her eyes filled with a near-obsessive adoration.

520 panicked. 【Host, snap out of it! You’re not that far gone!】

Tao Ning, ignoring its pleas, reached out, gently tilting Cen Dianshuang’s chin upwards, her face drawing closer, as if about to kiss her.

Cen Dianshuang closed her eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering, her cheeks flushed as she felt Tao Ning’s breath on her skin.

But instead of a kiss, a voice whispered in her ear, “Do you know where you made your mistake?”

A thud, followed by a gasp. The sound of a candlestick piercing flesh.

Cen Dianshuang’s eyes flew open, blood trickling from the corner of her lips. She looked down at the candlestick protruding from her abdomen, then at Tao Ning, her eyes filled with disbelief and betrayal.

The “Cen Dianshuang” in bridal attire gasped, her voice laced with pain and confusion. “You… I love you so much! Why…?”

Tao Ning, her expression hardening, her eyes cold and calculating, twisted the candlestick, another splatter of blood staining her face.

“Tsk.”

520, initially frantic, now watched in stunned silence, then whispered, 【So you weren’t fooled after all.】

Tao Ning: “It would take more than that to trick me.”

Examining the sharp end of the candlestick, she walked around the room, searching for something.

Within the illusion, her cultivation was suppressed. She couldn’t access her powers, her subconscious believing she was an ordinary mortal.

520, watching her pace, then return to the candlestick, asked, 【What are you looking for? I can scan the room for you.】

Tao Ning: “The formation’s focal point.”

520: 【…Unfortunately, I don’t have that capability.】 Locating a formation’s focal point was an advanced skill, beyond the capabilities of a three-digit system.

Tao Ning hadn’t expected any help from her system. The quickest way to break an illusion was to find its focal point, but it was also the most difficult, especially if it wasn’t within the illusion itself.

“If it’s not here, then there’s only one other option.”

Before 520 could ask what she meant, it watched in horror as Tao Ning plunged the candlestick into her own neck, its electronic eyes momentarily blinded by a flash of red.

520: 【…】 Ahhhhhhhhhh！！！ I’m just a three-digit system! Why is the world so cruel?!

A sharp pain, then darkness. Tao Ning opened her eyes, the familiar, battle-scarred Meiyan cave coming into focus.

Pushing herself up, she saw Cen Dianshuang lying nearby, still trapped within the illusion.

The Meiyan leader, about to strike, turned to see Tao Ning, sword in hand.

“How…? You escaped so quickly?”

Her expression turned vicious. “But it only delays the inevitable. I’ll kill you first, then take your skin.”

She lunged at Tao Ning, her movements swift and predatory, then was sent flying, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

The Meiyan leader: …Are you two playing games with me?

Coughing up blood – she had lost count of how many times she had done so today – she gasped, “How did you… escape the formation…?”

Cen Dianshuang, her white robes pristine, her face still slightly flushed, didn’t answer.

Her voice, cold and sharp, echoed through the cave. “Absurd. Utterly absurd.”

Her sword flashed, its pale light reflecting in the Meiyan leader’s eyes. As a Nascent Soul cultivator, she wasn’t easily killed, and she certainly wasn’t ready to die.

While others might have interpreted Cen Dianshuang’s stance as aggressive, the Meiyan, with its innate sensitivity to emotions, sensed something else, dodging her attack and lunging towards the beast-shaped ornament.

As the formation’s master, she could access the illusions experienced by those trapped within.

She quickly absorbed the information, then, looking at Cen Dianshuang and Tao Ning, burst into laughter. “You… you have feelings for your disciple!”

Before she could finish, Xuan Ying pierced her Nascent Soul, shattering it.

Blood gurgled from her mouth as she clutched the blade, her strength fading.

But she wasn’t ready to give up. Her dying words, a venomous whisper, echoed through the cave. “My children… will avenge me… They will ruin you…”

Cen Dianshuang’s voice was ice. “Then I’ll kill them all.”

The cave, no longer supported by the leader’s demonic energy, began to tremble and collapse. A scurrying sound from the depths, then a swarm of small, unformed Meiyan emerged.

Several, disoriented, stumbled towards Tao Ning, their deaths swift and brutal.

The others fled, their inherited memories and partial cultivation providing a burst of speed as they scrambled away, their high-pitched shrieks echoing through the tunnels.

Their voices, a chorus of condemnation, chanted, “Cen Dianshuang of the Hanshan Sect! You have feelings for your…!”

Before they could finish, a wave of spiritual energy erupted, sending them flying, followed by a flurry of sword strikes, each one precise and deadly.

The scene was strangely beautiful, like snow falling in the dead of winter.

The Meiyan’s lair collapsed, all traces of their evil eradicated.

Outside the Pink Miasma Forest, Tao Ning shielded her eyes, letting out a low whistle.

She turned to Cen Dianshuang, tugging on her sleeve. “Master…”

Cen Dianshuang turned, a flicker of… something… in her eyes. Seeing Tao Ning staring at her, she asked, “What is it?”

Tao Ning finished her earlier sentence. “Master, I want to learn that technique.”

She had sensed a… loss of control… in Cen Dianshuang’s attack, a surge of uncontrolled spiritual energy.

But now, Cen Dianshuang seemed calm, her face only slightly flushed.

Looking down at the hand on her sleeve, a familiar weight she hadn’t felt in days, she replied, “I’ll teach you another time.”

Tao Ning smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Master! You’re the best!”

With the Meiyan’s lair destroyed, they returned to Butterfly City, bringing news of the demon’s demise. The city erupted in celebration, the City Lord weeping tears of joy, offering to host a banquet in their honor.

Cen Dianshuang, disliking crowds, declined, accepting only lodging for the night, intending to leave the next day.

The City Lord, seeing their resolve, didn’t press further, offering them a treasured bottle of Three Lives Dream, a rare and potent wine.

She had only tasted it once herself, her weak spiritual roots, barely able to guide spiritual energy, somehow achieving Foundation Establishment and losing one of her five spiritual roots after a single cup.

It clearly had some effect on cultivation.

While it was simply spirit-infused wine to Cen Dianshuang, it was the City Lord’s most valuable possession, a token of her gratitude.

“A small gift, Elder Cen. Please accept it.”

Cen Dianshuang had revealed her affiliation with the Hanshan Sect, a name that even the isolated City Lord recognized. She had also identified Cen Dianshuang by her sword, addressing her with the respect due to an elder.

The maid and the steward behind her, however, couldn’t hide their curiosity, their gazes lingering on the two cultivators.

Returning unscathed after slaying such a powerful demon suggested the Hanshan Sect was a formidable force.

While they might have been accustomed to the presence of cultivators, the steward sensed a subtle shift in their demeanor, a sharp, almost predatory aura.

Such an aura was only found in those who had shed blood.

Cen Dianshuang accepted the wine.

The maid, surprised by the sudden lightness in her hands as the bottle vanished from the tray, gasped softly.

The most powerful cultivators they had encountered, aside from the City Lord, were the deceased resident elders, but none of them had possessed such an imposing presence as Cen Dianshuang.

Flustered, she excused herself.

Tao Ning recognized the Three Lives Dream. In the original storyline, it had been gifted to the protagonist by “Hu Feng’er,” helping him purify his spiritual roots.

Having just awakened his bloodline and reached Golden Core, his rapid progress had destabilized his cultivation. The wine had stabilized his realm.

After presenting their gift, the City Lord and her steward departed.

Cen Dianshuang, holding the bottle, addressed Tao Ning. “This wine is quite potent. I’ll give it to you after you reach Golden Core.”

Tao Ning, confused, tilted her head. “Huh?”

Cen Dianshuang: “You kept looking at it. Did you want some?”

Tao Ning: “…I was just curious.”

Cen Dianshuang: “Wine is never a good thing. Avoid it if possible.”

Tao Ning didn’t understand her aversion to alcohol, but agreed nonetheless.

Cen Dianshuang, seemingly not in a talkative mood, gave Tao Ning a few instructions – essentially, stay close and don’t wander off – before returning to her room.

Her departure was so abrupt that Tao Ning didn’t even have a chance to ask about sword practice.

Standing alone in the courtyard, Tao Ning frowned. “Strange.”

520: 【What’s strange?】

Tao Ning looked up at the sky. “I predict rain over the City Lord’s mansion tonight. I should practice my sword strikes before it starts.”

520, checking the humidity levels, disagreed. It’s not going to rain.

Then, realizing something, it added, 【It’s daytime, Host. Not night. How can you predict rain by observing the night sky?】

Tao Ning, practicing her sword forms in the courtyard, her movements precise and fluid even without using spiritual energy, sweat dripping from her brow after a hundred strikes, replied, “Want to make a bet?”

520 felt a sense of déjà vu. It trusted its data more than Tao Ning’s predictions.

【You’re on. I bet it won’t rain tonight.】

Reality, however, proved 520 wrong. That night, a torrential downpour lashed the city, lasting for hours.

520, listening to the rain: Why is the world against me?

Tao Ning, meditating in her room, her eyes closed, her hands forming intricate gestures, spiritual energy flowing through her meridians, was nearing another breakthrough.

She was on the cusp of Golden Core, awaiting the right moment.

Reaching Golden Core wasn’t as simple as advancing from Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment. Guiding spiritual energy was merely the first step on the path of cultivation, Foundation Establishment the second.

Countless cultivators in the Radiant Realm had reached Foundation Establishment, but less than half achieved Golden Core.

Like the City Lord, her five spiritual roots somehow achieving Foundation Establishment after a single cup of Three Lives Dream, she might never reach Golden Core.

An hour later, a faint, clear cry startled Tao Ning from her meditation.

She opened her eyes, but heard only the rain, the sound from moments earlier seemingly a hallucination.

“520, did you hear anything while I was cultivating?”

520, always vigilant during Tao Ning’s meditation sessions, ready to alert her to any danger, replied, 【No. Just the rain. I recorded some of it. White noise is supposed to be good for insomnia. I heard they have that in the main world too.】

Tao Ning: “I see.” She ended her meditation, sitting on the bed, a hesitant expression on her face.

Her hesitation was obvious. 520: 【You want to go find your master again, don’t you?】 So much for being content with a master-disciple relationship. She’s definitely looking for a second spring.

Tao Ning did. And she also remembered the warding screen Cen Dianshuang had given her.

The five-panel ivory screen, depicting a massive white bird, its wings spanning the heavens. But she shook her head. “No, not now. It’s not the right time.”

520 was stunned. It had never heard such words from Tao Ning. It glanced at the rain outside. It wasn’t red. No emergency.

【Host, you’ve changed. You’ve gone from ‘creating opportunities’ to… this. Your sudden consideration for others is unsettling.】

Tao Ning: “…”

“520, let’s talk about our bet this afternoon.”

Soon, the rain stopped.

In the adjacent room, Cen Dianshuang, occupying the larger of the two, was… transforming. If Tao Ning had entered at that moment, she would have witnessed her master’s true form.

Larger than anything Xu Xian had ever seen, it barely fit within the room.

Fortunately, the room was spacious.

Unable to contain the surge of spiritual energy, Cen Dianshuang had reverted to her true form. Not the small, fluffy bird, but a massive, bed-crushing avian creature.

Shangxi birds were considered divine, their plumage pure white, shimmering with iridescent colors upon closer inspection.

Cen Dianshuang lay on the remains of the bed, her tail feathers spread across the floor, their shimmering aura like moonlight on water. She shook her head, suppressing the urge to cry out.

If she hadn’t activated a sound-dampening artifact before transforming, her cry would have echoed through the entire city, revealing her true nature.

This was why her senior sisters had opposed her taking a disciple.

The Radiant Realm’s stance on demons was clear: eliminate all threats. Even the Hanshan Sect, the most powerful sect, would face severe repercussions if discovered harboring a demon.

She was a hybrid, her bloodline a mix of Shangxi and human. The advantage was that she was born with a human form, only occasionally reverting to a small bird.

The disadvantage was that her meridians often struggled to contain her rapidly increasing spiritual energy. Her master had constantly warned her against rushing her cultivation, fearing she might explode.

Otherwise, she would end up like this, reverting to her true form to alleviate the pressure on her meridians.

A demon’s innate abilities were often beyond human comprehension.

Unlike pure-blooded Shangxi, who were born at Soul Transformation, she had been born as a human infant, with spiritual roots and meridians, capable of cultivating like any other human.

She had never met her parents. Her human father had entrusted her to her master’s care.

Her mother, a pure-blooded Shangxi, had sealed her away after birth, only remembering her human lover centuries later, as a great tribulation approached, sending her to him.

Her father, after centuries of unrequited love, had sought out the previous Hanshan Sect Leader, leaving his life’s savings before joining her mother.

According to her master, he had perished under tribulation lightning, her father, unable to bear the loss, choosing to die with her.

Cen Dianshuang couldn’t judge their actions, only knowing that the people she cared about most were in the Hanshan Sect.

The massive bird within the ruined room shimmered, then vanished, replaced by a small lump under the covers, which wriggled and squirmed, eventually emerging.

A small, fluffy bird, its feathers ruffled from its struggles, shook itself, its plumage returning to its pristine white state.

By Shangxi standards, Cen Dianshuang wasn’t an adult. The massive bird had been an illusion, a projection. This small bundle of fluff was her true form.

After sulking for a moment, she shifted back to her human form, changing into a new robe after her previous one had been torn during her transformation.

She restored the room to its original state, retrieving a bottle of pills and pouring one out, then hesitated before swallowing it.

While Frost Flower nectar was sweet, the refined pills were incredibly bitter. Her senior brother, after refining his first batch, had been reduced to tears by their master, fleeing into the rain, refusing to admit he had added Coptis root.

He hadn’t. The other ingredients made the pills naturally bitter.

“I swear to the heavens, I didn’t add any Coptis root! Please, Junior Sister, stop chirping! It’s raining so hard!”

Cen Dianshuang sighed, taking a sip of sweet water to wash down the pill.

The faint fruity sweetness surprised her. She didn’t recall having any flavored water.

Then she saw the bottle, its familiar shape a sudden, unwelcome reminder. It wasn’t flavored water, but Three Lives Dream.

Cen Dianshuang: “…”

In her three hundred and sixty-two years, she had only consumed alcohol twice.

The first time, she had accidentally drunk her senior sister’s spirit fruit wine, waking up three days later to her master’s exasperated lecture about nearly turning Red Stone Spring into a frozen wasteland.

The second time was now.

She froze, a wave of heat rushing to her head.

Hopefully, Butterfly City won’t be underwater when I wake up.

No, I need someone to… prevent me from… doing anything… regrettable.

Hearing the rain stop, Tao Ning opened the window, then turned at the sound of a crash from the next room.

Cen Dianshuang, dressed in a lilac robe, stood in the doorway, her face slightly flushed.

Chapter 60: Disciple and Wife

The City Lord, her eyes filled with grief, said, “I’ll agree to any request. The city’s treasury is open to you, Immortal Masters. Take whatever you need.”

She sat at the table, her slender fingers gripping her teacup, her eyes red-rimmed, her face etched with the pain of a mother who had lost her only child.

The woman in plain robes standing behind her gently steadied her. “City Lord…”

A maid, hovering anxiously nearby, added, “City Lord, the physician warned you against emotional distress.”

“I’m fine.” The City Lord, placing a hand over her steward’s, looked at Cen Dianshuang, whose expression remained calm and impassive. “Please, Immortal Masters, have mercy and save our city.”

Looking at Cen Dianshuang, one wouldn’t have guessed she had been on the verge of storming the demon’s lair the previous night.

Tao Ning had managed to dissuade her, arguing that even a powerful cultivator could be overwhelmed by a demon skilled in manipulation, especially within its own territory.

Now, at dawn, guided by the innkeeper, the City Lord stood before them, seeking their help.

Tao Ning, as a disciple, remained standing behind Cen Dianshuang, glancing at her master before addressing the grieving City Lord.

“Mercy and salvation are the domain of Buddhist cultivators. We are but humble travelers, our cultivation unremarkable.”

The maid protested, “But you’re the only ones who…” She stopped abruptly, realizing her mistake.

Tao Ning, a faint smile playing on her lips, finished the sentence for her. “The only ones who survived, right?”

The maid’s face flushed, and the City Lord nodded, confirming Tao Ning’s words. “Other cultivators have come, answering our pleas… but none returned.”

Tao Ning: “So we’re not the first. But you haven’t been entirely truthful, City Lord.”

The City Lord: “What do you mean?”

Tao Ning glanced at the innkeeper, who was hovering near the doorway, eavesdropping. “They didn’t simply disappear. They died in Butterfly City.”

The expressions on their faces confirmed her words.

Tao Ning continued, “And they weren’t just wandering cultivators. You summoned them from other cities. As City Lord, your word carries weight. You wouldn’t have struggled to find help… until they started dying in your city.”

The City Lord’s face paled.

Hidden motives always lurked beneath the surface. Their motive was simple: to find someone capable of handling the current crisis, regardless of the outcome.

Success meant salvation. Failure meant… no one to blame.

Revealing too much would deter potential saviors. Who would willingly risk their lives?

Tao Ning’s voice softened. “My condolences, City Lord. I’m not trying to reopen old wounds, but I need to know everything about the demon’s lair. Tell me about the Meiyan. Tell me everything.”

The City Lord: “A Meiyan… so that’s what it is.”

She composed herself, her voice firm. “The Skin-Peeling… Meiyan appeared five years ago during the Fragrance Competition. The women of Butterfly City are skilled in the art of fragrance blending…”

Five years ago, during the lively Fragrance Competition, a woman had emerged victorious, merchants vying for contracts to sell her exquisite creations.

The City Lord’s son, then a young man, had challenged the veiled woman, demanding she reveal her face.

The woman, her figure graceful and elegant, smiled softly, removing her veil to reveal a face of breathtaking beauty.

The young man, still unconvinced, asked her name. She couldn’t simply leave with only a stage name.

Before she could answer, a scream echoed from the crowd. A man, his face pale with terror, pointed at the woman on stage. “I know you! You’re Helan Yi, the daughter of the Jade Merchant!”

Those around him, seeing his fear, laughed. “So you recognize her. Why are you so scared?”

The man, his eyes wide with horror, looked at the woman and her two attendants, his voice trembling. “But… she died three months ago! They said a ghost skinned her alive! And her two maids too!”

The supposedly deceased Helan Yi smiled at the young man, reaching out to touch his face. “I like your skin,” she purred.

The young man, confused, stammered, “What…?”

Then, everything happened so fast. The woman, wearing Helan Yi’s skin, grabbed the young man, her two seemingly harmless attendants seizing two other young members of the audience before vanishing.

“The Young Lord! He’s been taken by a demon!”

The sudden disappearance of several people caused panic. By the time the City Lord arrived, the stage was empty.

The City Lord wiped away a tear. “A year after Feng’er was taken, I saw her again. But… she wasn’t herself anymore. She was a monster wearing my daughter’s skin.”

The sight had been devastating.

The monster, wearing her daughter’s face, had attacked her, but not killed her, simply taunting her, saying, “You’re beautiful too, but… too old. But you’re still useful. You gave birth to a beautiful daughter, and a handsome son.”

Having already lost one child, the City Lord couldn’t bear to lose another, desperately trying to protect her remaining son, but her efforts were futile.

“My youngest son… he died on his sixteenth birthday, ten days ago.”

She closed her eyes, unable to bear the memory of the gruesome scene, the image of her son’s mutilated body seared into her mind.

Her grief and rage were useless against such a powerful foe. Seeking revenge would be suicide. And if she died, who would avenge her children?

The Meiyan only targeted Butterfly City, avoiding other cities, keeping its atrocities contained, ensuring the indifference of the outside world.

“The Meiyan leader is at least at Nascent Soul, with two Golden Core subordinates, and a dozen lesser demons. They reside in a cave outside the city.”

A Nascent Soul cultivator, in an area so far from the major sects, was practically invincible. No wonder the city’s inhabitants were so hesitant, their words carefully chosen.

They were desperate, clinging to any hope of salvation.

Retrieving a list from her sleeve, she continued, “In the past five years, the Meiyan has killed one hundred and fifty-one people in Butterfly City. Those with desirable appearances were skinned. They even killed our resident elders, three Golden Core cultivators.”

Cen Dianshuang took the list, scanning the names. Their ages and backgrounds varied, but they all shared one common trait: beauty.

Those deemed unsuitable for skinning had their hearts or Golden Cores extracted.

Leaving the mutilated bodies behind was a deliberate act of cruelty, tormenting the city’s inhabitants.

Even the brief descriptions couldn’t mask the horror of their deaths.

“The demons prevent anyone from leaving the city. Anyone who tries is killed. So no one dares leave. Not even outsiders. Butterfly City has become a trap.”

Cen Dianshuang frowned, flipping through the pages, then stopped, unable to read any further.

Xuan Ying, sensing her master’s distress, hummed softly. Cen Dianshuang’s hand tightened on the hilt, silencing it.

Tao Ning, glancing at the list, noticed a familiar name. “Hu Feng’er…?”

The City Lord’s eyes filled with tears. “My daughter’s name. She was fifteen.”

Tao Ning: “My condolences, City Lord.”

She suddenly remembered something. In the original storyline, after awakening his bloodline, the protagonist had eagerly taken his junior sister from Shuhan Peak on a training journey, claiming it was for her benefit.

On the road, a young master had taken a fancy to the junior sister, attempting to kidnap her. She had killed him, stealing his storage pouch and fleeing.

Killing the young master had, of course, attracted the attention of his family, leading to a relentless pursuit. Separated from his junior sister during the chaos, the protagonist, his cultivation still low, had fallen into a cave.

He had stumbled upon a lost inheritance, his cultivation soaring from early Foundation Establishment to peak Golden Core. Following a tunnel, he had inadvertently discovered the Meiyan’s lair.

Instead of killing him, the Meiyan leader, Hu Feng’er, had fallen in love with him. He learned from her that her mother was the City Lord of Butterfly City, and that she possessed a secret fragrance recipe that induced pleasant dreams and enhanced cultivation within those dreams.

Seeing his new lover’s sadness, he had decided to help her reunite with her family, returning to the city and, unable to convince the grieving City Lord, erasing her memories.

Thus, the long-lost daughter of Butterfly City, Hu Feng’er, returned, becoming City Lord three months later.

In the novel, this entire episode was merely a romantic interlude, a reward for the protagonist’s progress.

Later, he would find his junior sister again—he had to, or he wouldn’t be able to face the Sect Leader—and return to the sect.

Hu Feng’er and her… companions… were forgotten, never mentioned again.

---

Outside the city, a forest shrouded in a pink mist stretched for miles. Three years ago, it hadn’t had a name. The arrival of a group of demons had changed that.

The Pink Miasma Forest, as it was now known, was a place to be avoided. Its sweet, intoxicating mist lured unsuspecting victims deeper into its depths.

The nearby cities were too far away. Only the inhabitants of Butterfly City knew to avoid it.

A scholar, carrying a book bag, approached the forest, walking along the road.

Hearing music, he wondered who was celebrating, looking around for the source. A gentle breeze carried a sweet fragrance towards him, drawing him closer.

Unaware of the miasma’s effects, his mind already clouded by the intoxicating scent, he stumbled through the undergrowth, his eyes fixed on the beautiful figures dancing and singing by a river deep within the forest.

Each one was stunningly beautiful, their movements graceful, their laughter like music. A figure played a melody behind a screen, their shadowy form only adding to the allure.

Seated in the center, a woman in red, as beautiful as a celestial being, reclined languidly on a cushioned seat, surrounded by attendants.

She beckoned to him. “Come closer…”

The other figures echoed her invitation. “Come join us…”

The scholar, his mind enthralled, forgetting all his scholarly pursuits and tales of demons and ghosts, stepped forward, then suddenly felt a chill on his scalp.

A force pushed him back, his eyelids fluttering open. The scene before him shifted, and he gagged, the sweet scent turning acrid.

This wasn’t a celestial gathering, but a demonic feast.

The forest was now a dark, dank cave, the fragrant blossoms replaced by hanging corpses, the clear stream a river of blood, littered with body parts. The delicate jade plates held not fruits and pastries, but human hearts and entrails.

The sweet fragrance mingled with the stench of blood, making him nauseous.

The beautiful figures, their beauty now grotesque in the gruesome setting, huddled behind their leader.

The leader, adjusting her slipping robe, asked, “What do you want?”

A figure in white, descending from the sky, replied coldly, “Revenge.”

The leader: “Revenge for whom?”

Cen Dianshuang: “For myself.”

The leader, who had assumed it was revenge for the City Lord: …Her. She recognized the cold, sharp aura from the previous night.

Cen Dianshuang, drawing her sword, approached slowly. “Are you ready to die?”

The Meiyan leader, wearing Hu Feng’er’s skin, sneered. “You intend to face us all alone?”

Cen Dianshuang: “What’s so difficult about that?”

The terrified scholar turned to see another figure, a young woman in green, a sword hanging at her waist.

Tao Ning tossed him a bottle. “Take this and go back the way you came. You’ll be sick for half a month. Find a safe place to rest.”

The scholar, catching the bottle: “…” Realization dawned on him, and he fled, screaming.

Tao Ning placed a spiritual mark on him. He was an innocent bystander. Since Cen Dianshuang intended to save the city, she would also ensure his safety.

He was deeply traumatized, his illness likely accompanied by nightmares.

The clash of two Nascent Soul cultivators was earth-shattering. Cen Dianshuang intercepted the leader’s attacks, her sword a blur of motion, the cave filled with flying debris. The lesser demons, unable to escape, were caught in the crossfire, their bodies disintegrating under the sheer force of the spiritual energy.

The two Golden Core demons, initially intending to capture Tao Ning, seeing their leader struggling, joined the fight.

A sword cultivator’s power was formidable. After a brief exchange, one of the Meiyan, wearing the skin of a young man, perished, its soul scattered.

The other, sensing defeat, unleashed a cloud of pink mist, hoping to escape. A futile gesture. Death came swiftly.

The leader, her attempt at a sneak attack thwarted, retreated to recover, then began to sing.

Using music to manipulate a Music Cultivator was foolish. Cen Dianshuang, accustomed to multitasking, continued her assault with Xuan Ying, simultaneously playing a counter-melody on Yaoguang, dispelling the Meiyan’s sonic attack.

The leader, her own attack turned against her, clutched her head, the music like a blade twisting in her brain.

Tao Ning, facing the lesser demons, had an easier time, Cen Dianshuang having intercepted the main threat.

Cen Dianshuang’s strategy was simple: relentless offense was the best defense. The lesser demons were no match for her.

Tao Ning’s sword flashed, each strike precise and deadly, eliminating the remaining demons one by one.

One, wearing the skin of a child attendant from a Guanyin temple, its dying words a defiant, “…You’re not… Founda…”

Before it could finish, Tao Ning’s sword pierced its dantian, then, with a swift, fluid motion, she dispatched another attacker, dodging a third, their frustrated shrieks echoing through the cave.

They were heartless creatures, masquerading as humans, preying on the city’s inhabitants, treating them like livestock.

Tao Ning, having eliminated the remaining demons, cleaned her sword, then, following her memory, walked towards a sealed passage deep within the cave.

It hadn’t been opened yet, its entrance still hidden. She almost wished the protagonist would emerge from it, but timing was everything.

She turned away, heading deeper into the cave.

Cen Dianshuang, her fury unleashed, was intent on collapsing the entire cave.

Another wave of sword intent erupted, and the leader, impaled on Xuan Ying, was pinned against the wall, coughing up blood. Her fingers suddenly elongated, lashing out at Cen Dianshuang.

Cen Dianshuang dodged, withdrawing her sword.

The leader, her attack a feint, lunged at the remaining Golden Core Meiyan, ripping open its dantian with her claws.

Meiyan were resilient creatures, capable of surviving even without their Golden Cores, often sacrificing them like a lizard shedding its tail, reverting to their true forms to escape.

Holding the still-pulsating core, the leader declared, “You forced my hand.”

Tao Ning instantly recognized her intention. “Master! She’s using the Golden Core to activate the illusion formation!”

The leader laughed, her voice filled with triumph. “Too late!”

She slammed the Golden Core into the mouth of a nearby beast-shaped ornament, the focal point of the formation.

Once activated, the formation was inescapable. Both Tao Ning and Cen Dianshuang were engulfed in a swirling vortex of light.

Tao Ning’s vision went black. When she opened her eyes again, she was surrounded by a crowd of familiar faces.

Seeing her dazed expression, Jin Jiamu nudged her playfully, a wide smile on her face. “Why are you just standing there? Are you so overjoyed about finally marrying Elder Cen that you’ve lost your mind?”

Tao Ning: “Marrying?”

She touched her chin, tilting her head in confusion. “Me?”

Jin Jiamu, dressed in wedding attire, looked even more puzzled. “Who else? Did you think you were dreaming? You’ve been talking about pre-wedding jitters for days… No more jitters now.”

She gestured towards Tao Ning. “Look at you! So beautiful!”

Tao Ning looked down at herself. She was indeed wearing a wedding robe, its long sleeves and flowing design exquisitely crafted.

Surrounded by red, she felt her heart pounding, a youthful dream fulfilled, united with the master she admired.

Echoing Jin Jiamu’s words, she murmured, “I’m getting married. I’m marrying Master.”

The others laughed, teasing her about being so happy she had lost her mind.

Sect Leader Lizhu, a smile in her eyes, added, “Are you drunk?”

As if on cue, Tao Ning smelled the strong aroma of wine, her head spinning, her steps unsteady as she was led towards the bridal chamber.

Someone pushed her gently from behind, and she stumbled through the red-silk-draped doorway.

A figure in full wedding attire sat within, her face covered by a veil. Hearing the commotion, she lifted a corner of the veil, revealing shimmering eyes.

It was Cen Dianshuang, her lips curved into a soft smile.

Chapter 59: Disciple and Wife

They maintained this delicate balance of closeness and distance, one fulfilling her duties as a disciple, the other as a master, their interactions indistinguishable from any other master-disciple pair.

It wasn’t typical for a master and disciple to share a room, or to casually touch sleeves while walking. Having grown accustomed to the unusual, 520 had forgotten what a normal dynamic looked like.

It couldn’t decipher its host’s intentions, but it felt… uneasy.

Tonight, for instance, they arrived in another city, having collected more materials for the sword. They planned to stay at an inn.

The sun had just set, the first stars appearing in the twilight sky. The bustling city had quieted down, the streets deserted, only the inn’s lights still flickering.

The innkeeper stood behind the counter, his abacus clicking rhythmically. Two waiters busily wiped tables and swept the floor.

Hearing the door open, he called out without looking up, “How many rooms?”

Cen Dianshuang placed some silver coins on the counter, then added a smaller piece. “Two. Premium rooms.”

Tao Ning, standing behind her, her eyes downcast, seemed oblivious, her expression unchanged.

Cen Dianshuang glanced at her, then back at the innkeeper, who had stopped his calculations, his gaze shifting between the two women, lingering on the swords on their backs.

To avoid unnecessary trouble, they carried their weapons openly. It had been an effective deterrent so far.

In his fifty years, the innkeeper had learned that ordinary swords didn’t glow. So these were…

He asked cautiously, “Are you… Immortal Masters?”

Cen Dianshuang: “We are cultivators, traveling the world. We require lodging for the night.”

The innkeeper understood. This was confirmation. His eyes widened slightly in excitement as he retrieved two keys, personally leading them upstairs.

“Our premium rooms are cleaned daily, with fresh linens. Guaranteed comfort… Do… do Immortal Masters require sleep?”

Cen Dianshuang, walking ahead, replied calmly, “Cultivators circulate spiritual energy. Meditation is sufficient.”

The innkeeper nodded, impressed. “So you don’t sleep. Cultivation is truly wonderful.”

He turned to Tao Ning, who had remained unusually quiet. She looked young, barely more than a girl. “And this one is also…?”

Tao Ning interrupted, feigning curiosity. “Innkeeper, I heard Butterfly City is famous for its fragrances. Isn’t the Fragrance Competition happening soon? I came specifically for that. Why are the streets so deserted?”

The innkeeper’s face fell slightly. “The… the competition… it’s… postponed. The City Lord’s son passed away recently. He’s… grieving. The competition has been canceled.”

Tao Ning gasped, her face a mask of disappointment. “What a pity! I heard Butterfly City had the finest fragrances in the world, the competition attracting swarms of butterflies, a truly breathtaking sight. I came all this way for nothing.”

The innkeeper, his own disappointment resurfacing, sighed. “Yes, it was always such a lively event, with fragrant carriages parading through the streets, merchants flocking to the city… But…”

Tao Ning: “But what?”

The innkeeper stammered, his face reddening. “The City Lord’s son… he… died. So it’s canceled.”

Tao Ning blinked. “I see.”

He led them to their rooms, handing them the keys before hurrying downstairs.

Two waiters, who had been eavesdropping, approached him, but he silenced them with a glare. “Back to work.”

They quickly dispersed, not daring to look upstairs, busying themselves with securing the inn for the night.

The innkeeper, returning to his counter, patted his chest, then smacked his lips, shaking his head as he resumed his calculations.

Once he was gone, Tao Ning turned to Cen Dianshuang. “He’s hiding something.”

Cen Dianshuang, having already noticed this, extended her spiritual sense, her voice low. “There’s a demonic aura in this city. Very faint.”

Only a cultivator of Cen Dianshuang’s level could detect it.

Tao Ning: “A demon?”

Cen Dianshuang hesitated, then said, “Be careful tonight. Call me if anything happens.”

She entered her room, and Tao Ning entered hers.

Just as the innkeeper had claimed, the room was clean and… odorless. Surprisingly so.

The lack of scent was what made it suspicious. The innkeeper had clearly been proud of the city’s Fragrance Competition. Why wouldn’t he use incense in his own establishment?

Tao Ning examined the room, but found nothing unusual. She had sensed the demonic aura before entering the city.

However, the strongest aura wasn’t within the city, but outside, in the opposite direction from which they had come.

Sitting on the bed, she considered her options: feigning vulnerability to seek her master’s protection, or drawing out the demon herself.

She decided against the former.

Cen Dianshuang wasn’t known for her patience with rebellious disciples. If she suspected Tao Ning of harboring malicious intent, especially towards the three realms, she would eliminate the threat without hesitation.

Tao Ning doubted she would be killed, but she might be… distanced.

Cen Dianshuang was a cultivator raised in the Radiant Realm, her values different from Tao Ning’s. She had been taught to respect and obey her master. A romantic relationship between master and disciple was considered taboo.

In the Radiant Realm, such relationships were condemned. The original host had once sheltered a master-disciple pair fleeing persecution.

Unable to endure the judgment and their sect’s attempts to suppress them, they had fled to the Demonic Realm, becoming loyal generals under Demon Lord Qingji.

Tao Ning valued Cen Dianshuang’s happiness more than a fleeting romance. She wouldn’t burden her with such a difficult choice.

Lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, she sighed. “Master and disciple it is. If I can’t be her wife, I’ll be her disciple forever. I’ll stay by her side.”

Her voice, though soft, echoed through the quiet room, the words suggesting acceptance, but the tone betraying a lingering wistfulness.

【Wife?! You want to be the protagonist’s wife?!】 520 finally understood what felt off. The widow was seeking a second spring.

Tao Ning, lying motionless on the bed, her hands folded over her stomach, resembled her earlier self at the bottom of the crater.

“Is there a problem with that?”

520, seeing her like this, couldn’t bring itself to be harsh. After ten years of widowhood, finding love again was perfectly normal.

But remembering Cen Dianshuang’s familiar smile, it felt a twinge of unease. She wouldn’t be… replacing her deceased wife, would she?

How do I steer my host back on track? It’s not against the rules, but it feels… ethically questionable.

520, its core buzzing with anxiety, carefully formulated its words.

This was its most competent host. Its performance evaluation depended on her success. And while Tao Ning might be drowning in debt, 520 wasn’t.

520: 【Don’t you think this is… problematic?】 Please reconsider, Host.

Tao Ning: “How so?”

520: 【It feels… morally wrong. Even though she doesn’t know she resembles your… deceased wife, what if she finds out? It won’t end well.】

Tao Ning almost laughed at 520’s anxious tone, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her amusement. “What will happen if she finds out?” She wasn’t ready to reveal that the two protagonists were the same person, but 520’s reaction was too tempting.

520, recalling Cen Dianshuang’s ruthless efficiency in purging her sect, replied cautiously, 【You’ll be hunted down by the protagonist? Forget completing the mission, you might not even make it back to the main world if you’re killed by someone with the world’s favor.】

Tao Ning: “Then you’ll have to find another host, 520. You’re a good system. Someone else will appreciate you.”

520: 【!!!】

Don’t give up on me! I didn’t realize you were so… hopelessly romantic!

She’s usually so cunning and ruthless!

But there was no rule against cunning and ruthless people falling in love. And her willingness to pursue love despite her crippling debt should have been a warning sign. Everyone had their weaknesses.

520 was on the verge of tears. 【Please don’t give up on me, Host!】

Tao Ning, ignoring its pleas, sat up and began meditating, her expression resolute.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and extinguished the candle.

The room plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the dying embers.

520, silenced: …I feel like a dog being abandoned by its dying owner.

It opened its search engine, typing with a trembling hand: Is there a cure for being hopelessly romantic?

The powerful search engine returned the following results:

How to Help a Hopelessly Romantic Friend

I Cured My Hopeless Romanticism with Traditional Medicine (Recipe Included)

I Can’t Take It Anymore! My Hopelessly Romantic Friend Got Back Together with Her Ex!

Please Include Hopeless Romanticism in Healthcare Coverage! I’m Willing to Pay a Fortune for My Friend’s Treatment!

…

Thousands of words condensed into a single, despairing comment: There’s no hope. Give up.

520 let out another silent sob.

As the night deepened, the watchman’s clapper echoed through the deserted streets, marking the passing hours.

A sliver of a moon hung in the starless sky, its light unable to penetrate the darkness. Without a lantern, one couldn’t see their own hand in front of their face.

Every window was dark, the city asleep. No one noticed the wisp of pink smoke drifting through the night sky, like a fleeting dream, silently slipping through an open window.

The smoke, a creature of dreams and desires, sought a new host, its victims lured into a world of illusion, their minds enthralled by visions of their deepest desires.

A sweet, intoxicating fragrance filled the room.

It had found a beautiful woman, her exquisite appearance a welcome addition to its collection. It circled her, preparing to enter her dreams.

Slipping into her consciousness, it suddenly stopped, unable to penetrate further.

Turning, like a startled snake, it saw its tail grasped in a slender, pale hand, the same hand it had just admired.

Then, it heard a voice, devoid of any allure.

Tao Ning, holding the seemingly intangible smoke like a snake by its tail, said, “A Meiyan?”

The Meiyan, a creature of nightmares, preyed on desires, its victims dying in their sleep.

After their death, it would carefully peel their skin from their backs, preserving it as a trophy.

A hybrid of demon and beast, it had no fixed gender, capable of reproducing with any species. Its true form was small and deceptively cute, with a long body, short legs, two small horns, pink eyes, and soft, pink fur.

Its human form, however, was grotesque, a fleshy, amorphous blob, said to be cursed by the heavens.

A creature of extremes, both beautiful and repulsive.

This explained its obsession with beauty, its constant pursuit of new and more exquisite forms, discarding its previous “skins” in favor of newer, more desirable ones, regardless of gender.

Aren’t they supposed to stay in the Demonic Beast Realm?

Just as she was about to crush the Meiyan’s wisp of consciousness, a sharp voice echoed from the next room. “Don’t you dare!”

Followed by the clang of a sword, the door burst open.

Tao Ning, distracted, loosened her grip, allowing the smoke to slip into her mind.

Before it could delve into her memories, manipulate her desires, it was shattered by the sheer force of her spiritual consciousness.

Within a cave outside the city, the Meiyan’s true form coughed up blood. ??? How…? Its consciousness, so easily destroyed?

A more agonizing scream echoed from a nearby cave. It recognized the sound – the Cave Master. Ignoring its leader’s plight, it quickly began meditating, trying to heal its injuries.

It had assumed its target was an easy prey, a Foundation Establishment cultivator. It hadn’t anticipated such resistance.

It didn’t know that while Tao Ning’s cultivation was at Foundation Establishment, her spiritual consciousness was at Mahayana, far beyond the capabilities of a late Golden Core Meiyan’s wisp of consciousness.

Cen Dianshuang stormed out of her room.

With a resounding crash, Tao Ning’s door splintered. Cen Dianshuang, her face slightly flushed, stood in the doorway, sword in hand, having witnessed the Meiyan’s intrusion.

Before Tao Ning could speak, a bitter pill was forced into her mouth, its taste making her wince.

Then, a sweet, milky candy followed.

Cen Dianshuang’s voice was as sharp as her movements, laced with anger. “Circulate your spiritual energy. Activate the pill’s effects. Focus your mind. Clear your thoughts.”

She placed two fingers on Tao Ning’s neck, channeling her own spiritual energy to help her disciple process the pill’s effects.

Tao Ning obeyed, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Cen Dianshuang was gone.

A large screen now blocked the view of the door. Cen Dianshuang sat on a soft couch by the window, Xuan Ying resting in her lap, her gaze fixed on the street outside.

Hearing Tao Ning stir, she turned, her eyes clear and alert. “Are you alright?”

The flushed face Tao Ning had glimpsed earlier seemed like a hallucination.

Tao Ning shook her head. “I’m fine, Master. What was that thing?”

Cen Dianshuang’s face contorted in disgust, her hand instinctively brushing her knee, as if dispelling something unclean. Her voice remained cold. “A Meiyan. It escaped from the Demonic Beast Realm.”

Tao Ning got out of bed, walking towards her, placing her hand over the spot Cen Dianshuang had just touched. “From the Demonic Beast Realm? What’s it doing in the Radiant Realm? Do you think it has something to do with the City Lord’s son’s death, Master?”

Cen Dianshuang’s gaze lingered on Tao Ning’s hand, a strange restlessness within her subsiding. She felt calmer.

“They prey on desires, entering their victims’ dreams. High-level Meiyan can even absorb their host’s cultivation. They’re despised even in the Demonic Beast Realm.”

Tao Ning: “I see.” Why does she seem so familiar with the Demonic Beast Realm?

After this incident, Cen Dianshuang’s demeanor towards Tao Ning softened, a subtle shift towards greater intimacy. No one knew what thoughts had crossed her mind during those tense moments.

Tao Ning, instead of commenting on her master’s sudden shift in attitude, frowned, changing the subject. “We made quite a commotion. Why didn’t anyone from the inn come to check?”

Cen Dianshuang extended her spiritual sense. “They’re all awake, hiding in their rooms. A wise decision.”

Mortals were no match for demonic creatures. Self-preservation was paramount.

Her fingers brushed against Xuan Ying. “But since it’s here, Xuan Ying shouldn’t return without drawing blood.”

She intended to eliminate this threat. Tao Ning wasn’t surprised. This was typical Cen Dianshuang.

Unlike other cultivators, she rarely ignored injustice, using her travels in the mortal realm to refine her heart, never tolerating evil in her presence.

Before Tao Ning could even suggest it, a visitor arrived at their door just as dawn was breaking.

A dignified woman in a dark cloak, her face etched with worry, introduced herself. “I am Cheng Shuangyi, City Lord of Butterfly City. I beseech you, Immortal Masters, to rid our city of the Skin-Peeling Demon.”