Chapter 110
Upon hearing Xiao Xiao’s introduction, Ji Wuqi, his polite facade cracking, his true nature resurfacing, roared, “What?! You dare impersonate our Great Master Ancestor?! How audacious!”
Xiao Xiao stared at him, bewildered.
Jiang Nanmu, her voice low, reprimanded him. “Senior Brother, have you forgotten Master’s teachings? We don’t accept those who are loud and disrespectful! If he saw you like this, he would expel you!”
Ji Wuqi, remembering his master’s strictness, lowered his voice, adopting a high-pitched, almost feminine tone. “Young lady, why are you pretending to be our Great Master Ancestor? Is there something troubling you? Tell us. Perhaps we can help.”
His demeanor now resembled Tang Youshu’s. It seemed her master, heeding Wei Jie’s advice, had put in the effort to refine his disciple’s character.
But Xiao Xiao was too stunned to compliment him on his improved manners.
“Your Great Master Ancestor… her name is also Cui Xiao Xiao?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Where… where is she? And your master… where is he?”
Ji Wuqi frowned, confused. “Everyone knows our Great Master Ancestor, Cui Xiao Xiao, passed away two hundred years ago. And our master… he recently achieved Nirvana. Why do you ask?”
“That’s nonsense!” Wei Jie snarled, his eyes narrowed.
Jiang Nanmu, as if remembering something, stared at Xiao Xiao, then rushed away.
She returned with a thick book, Tang Youshu’s legacy, passed down to his disciples. But it seemed thicker now, its contents expanded.
She flipped through the pages, then stopped at the last one. “Senior Brother, remember Master’s final instructions? He said if someone claiming to be our Great Master Ancestor appeared in the Feng Shui mirror, we should show them this page!”
She tore the page out, holding it before the mirror. “Here… look at this…”
Xiao Xiao and Wei Jie stared at the page, their expressions grim.
Tang Youshu, recognizing his own handwriting, gasped.
He had written those words, but he had no memory of it!
Outside the hall, the familiar sound of refugees crying, their voices filled with despair… it seemed the Great Qi dynasty’s fate remained unchanged…
As Xiao Xiao, her mouth opening to speak, was about to ask a question, the moon, hidden behind a cloud, disappeared, and the mirror’s surface flickered, the connection severed, the image fading.
Silence fell upon them.
Xiao Xiao, raising her hand, felt a strange sensation, a tingling, as if her arm was becoming transparent, as if… she might vanish…
Wei Jie had also seen the inscription on that page. If those words were true… then whoever was targeting Xiao Xiao… they were ruthless!
This eradication was inescapable!
Tang Youshu, recovering first, said, his voice low, “The Buddhist scriptures speak of countless worlds, parallel realms, existing simultaneously. I never imagined that a simple mirror could connect two timelines, separated by two hundred years… If that inscription is true… Xiao Xiao you might… cease to exist.”
The inscription, written by his future self, was a warning – someone was targeting Cui Xiao Xiao’s ancestors, planning an “accident” to alter their fate, to erase her from existence.
If, in this timeline, her ancestors died, then she, two hundred years later, would never be born… which meant… the Xiao Xiao standing before them would disappear!
Wei Jie stared at her, his fists clenching, his heart pounding.
Such a cruel method was beyond comprehension!
No wonder the Book of Life and Death had vanished.
Someone was manipulating fate, changing destinies!
But they weren’t alone. The old monk’s gift, the mirror was a lifeline, a way to cheat fate.
Wei Jie, refusing to analyze its authenticity, decided to treat it as real. He couldn’t risk losing her.
The inscription contained details about her ancestors, their location, the date of the “accident”… He pulled Tang Youshu close, his embrace a gesture of gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of his future self’s efforts.
If Xiao Xiao vanished because of this… he would lose control, his demonic nature consuming him, his rage unleashed upon the heavens.
And Tang Youshu, like he had done after his master’s death in their past life, would find a way to fix it, to save her. He had spent years, sacrificing everything, to uncover the truth.
Wei Jie’s embrace, a culmination of two lifetimes of gratitude…
Tang Youshu had never experienced such affection from his master. He understood its sincerity, but before tears could well in his eyes, he was released.
It seemed his master was still uncomfortable with such displays of emotion. He patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I owe you a debt,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll repay you… someday…”
He turned to Xiao Xiao. “Tang Youshu, stay here. Guard the city. We’re leaving. We need to save your ancestors.”
Xiao Xiao’s ancestors, two hundred years ago, were humble tofu makers, their small shop located in a village on the outskirts of a nearby town.
Their tofu was renowned for its quality, its smoothness, thanks to the water they used – spring water from Sweet Water Mountain, located behind the town.
Every morning, after selling their tofu, the owner would take his donkey and his cart to the mountain to collect water.
It was their routine, their livelihood.
And so, that day, he set off, his donkey laden with empty buckets, his heart light.
The mountain path, although steep, was manageable. After all, there was no easy path to prosperity.
He had been a bachelor for forty years, finally saving enough to marry.
He was a newlywed, eager to return home to his wife, to hold her close. Perhaps next month, she would be pregnant with their first child!
He hummed a tune as he climbed the steps, his buckets swaying.
He wasn’t the only one collecting water that day. Someone else had been there before him, their steps unsteady, water spilled across the steps.
He paid it no mind, filling his buckets, then turning back, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the water.
The sun was high, the air still, as he descended, but his foot slipped on a wet step, his body flying through the air.
The water on the steps had frozen in the midday sun.
He was falling, his head about to hit the stone steps.
It would be a fatal blow.
But a figure, tall and strong, appeared, catching him, gently placing him on the ground.
He looked up, his heart pounding, and saw a young woman, her movements graceful, like a swallow in flight, approaching the spring he had just used, a pool of clear, cold water.
She tossed a flaming talisman into the water, and the pool bubbled, as if boiling.
A shriek, a splash, and a large, red carp, nearly three feet long, leaped from the water, thrashing on the ground, then… silence. It was dead.
But its body, once large and imposing, had shrunk, resembling an ordinary carp.
The old man, terrified, stared at the frozen steps, his voice caught in his throat.
The young woman, carrying the dead fish, approached him. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle.
He didn’t understand what had happened, but these two young people, their ability to fly… they were clearly not ordinary mortals. And if they hadn’t intervened… he would have been seriously injured. He bowed deeply. “Thank you for saving me,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “May I ask your names?”
Xiao Xiao, looking at him, a strange feeling washing over her, said, “My surname is Cui…”
The old man clapped his hands. “What a coincidence! Mine too! Cui!”
Xiao Xiao smiled wryly, thinking, “Of course it’s a coincidence. I’m your great-great-great-granddaughter.”
She had seen it clearly. The fish, possessed by something, had frozen the water on the steps.
But that entity, cunning, had escaped before she could seal the fish’s energy channels.
She knew they couldn’t leave. Not yet. If they didn’t find the culprit, this… accident… it would only be the beginning.
They had to protect her ancestor, to ensure her own existence.
And so, claiming to have lost their way, they accepted the old man’s invitation to stay at his house.
The Cui family’s home, although modest, was clean and welcoming.
His wife, Madam Hu, a widow, twenty-one years old, remarried, cherishing this second chance at happiness, was grateful for their intervention, preparing a delicious meal for them.
But Xiao Xiao, usually a hearty eater, had no appetite. She examined the house, inside and out, her gaze sharp, her senses alert. She created numerous paper figures, like the one she had given to Princess Yongning, scattering them, ensuring she would be alerted to any unusual activity.
But their presence, it seemed, had deterred their enemy. The attacks stopped.
Wei Jie knew they couldn’t disrupt the old man’s routine, his life, his fate. It could affect his descendants, their entire lineage.
Although the Buddhist scriptures spoke of countless worlds, countless versions of Cui Xiao Xiao… he only cared about this one, the one he had shared his life with, his heart with.
She was his Xiao Xiao. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her.
That night, instead of meditating, Xiao Xiao helped her ancestor sort soybeans.
After all, it wasn’t every day one had the opportunity to serve their own ancestors.
Wei Jie brought her sliced melon, fanning her with a palm leaf fan, keeping the mosquitoes away.
Her hands aching, she summoned a few paper figures, instructing them to help her.
They hopped around, their tiny hands picking out the shriveled beans, tossing them aside.
Xiao Xiao, biting into a juicy peach, sighed. “If we can’t achieve immortality,” she said, “perhaps… a simple life like this… it wouldn’t be so bad…”
She had watched her ancestor helping his wife tend to the fire, their teamwork, their affection… it was heartwarming.
The smell of smoke, the warmth of the hearth… it evoked a sense of longing within her.
Wei Jie knew she had been sold as a child, deprived of a normal life, of a loving family.
He wiped a smudge of peach juice from her lip with his thumb. “It’s not difficult,” he said, his voice soft. “Once this is over… I’ll open a tofu shop for you. You can make all the tofu you want.”
She chuckled, pinching his nose. “With your looks, we wouldn’t even need good water. Our tofu would sell out every day!”
“It has to sell out,” he said, his expression serious. “You’ll have to bear me many children, as many as those paper figures. I’ll need to earn enough to feed them all.”
She laughed, shoving him playfully. “Go find a sow! Let her bear your piglets!”
But their playful banter was a fantasy.
Wei Jie, in his past life, had been a deity, destined to return to the heavens. And in this life, if not for the Dongyuan Emperor’s interference, he would eventually reclaim his rightful place, his divine power restored.
But she was a demon Saint. No matter how much she cultivated, she couldn’t ascend.
They were separated by two hundred years, their future uncertain.
She remembered the old monk’s words, his claim that Wei Jie could achieve greatness… if he could overcome love…
Wei Jie, sensing her distraction, picked up a paper figure, placing it on her nose. “Look at your mother,” he teased. “Lost in thought again!”
She sneezed, sending the figure flying out the window.
But it stopped mid-air, hovering a foot above the ground, as if stuck.
And then, other figures, scattered around the room, moved towards it, attaching themselves, forming a chain.
They both saw it, but they continued chatting, their expressions casual, their voices light.
Deception… it was the Lingshan Talisman Sect’s specialty. And Wei Jie, having spent so much time with Xiao Xiao, had become a master of it.
The hidden figure, unaware of the paper figure clinging to them, continued following the couple as they left the tofu shop.
After a few steps, Wei Jie turned, his movements swift and precise, immobilizing the figure with a Soul-Binding Talisman.
Caught off guard, the figure struggled, but it was no use.
Xiao Xiao, removing the invisibility talisman, saw the person’s white hair, their wrinkled face – a Demonic Ghost Sect disciple.
“Spare me!” the disciple pleaded. “I was sent by Prince Can! To deliver a message!”
They produced a letter.
Wei Jie, knowing Prince Can’s penchant for poison, didn’t touch it. “He dares to send us a message?” he asked, his voice cold. “If it’s just a message, why all the secrecy?”
The disciple, anticipating his question, said, “He… he has returned. To Qin Lingxiao’s body. Prince Can knows… he’s watching you. He told me to be discreet. I’m just a messenger. Killing me won’t solve anything. Read the letter then decide my fate.”
Wei Jie, however, incinerated the letter without even glancing at it.
Xiao Xiao, seeing this, said, her voice laced with amusement, “I’ve dealt with your master before. I know his tricks. An alliance? No, thank you.”
The disciple, realizing they wouldn’t read the letter, gasped, their eyes rolling back, blood spraying from their mouth. Their body convulsed, then… silence. They were dead.
Prince Can, as always, was cautious, eliminating loose ends.
The message delivered, the poison within them activated, ending their life.
Wei Jie, not wanting to burden her ancestor with a murder investigation, incinerated the body, the flames consuming the flesh, leaving behind ashes.
He turned and saw Xiao Xiao squatting on the ground, her head tilted, examining the ashes.
He chuckled. “What is it? Are you curious about Prince Can’s message?”
Xiao Xiao, her curiosity rivaling Yu Ling’er’s, now that they were alone, said, her voice filled with mock annoyance, “You were too quick! I couldn’t stop you! You should have at least tried to read it!”
The flames had purified the paper, eliminating any lingering poison. But the messenger was dead, and she was dying to know what Prince Can was planning.
Wei Jie, looking at the ashes, decided to indulge her.
He took out a piece of paper, placing it over the ashes, then produced a small vial, containing the Broken Soul Snake venom he had collected when he first met Xiao Xiao.
The venom, aged, was thick and viscous, its unique property – it attracted ink. As he spread it evenly over the ashes, the faint traces of ink transferred onto the new paper.
But before the ink fully materialized, they decided to play a guessing game.
Xiao Xiao, her eyes gleaming, said, “I think he wants us to join him. To fight against… him.”
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