Chapter 82: Extra 8
Moonlight scattered across the long river, and shadows danced on the rippling water.
After the collapse of Kunlun Mountain, the new Heavenly Court was established in the Great Yin Palace.
The new ruler embodied both sun and moon, but the moon’s ascendance while the sun remained hidden became the norm in the Heavenly Court.
Many immortals had perished in the war. After a period of chaos, the new Heavenly Court gradually regained its former tranquility.
Discussions about the war continued on the Chaos Mirror, but most immortals were more concerned with the “assessment and selection” process that directly affected their own interests.
Wandering immortals were still allowed in the new Heavenly Court, but they were envious of the benefits offered to officials, as revealed by the Heavenly Prosperity Department.
These benefits were now attainable through effort, unlike in the past, where connections were paramount. If it had always been this way, would they have chosen to be wandering immortals?
The Celestial Feather Ministry was comparatively peaceful.
After all, the few vacancies had already been filled.
Que Chenyi had finally recovered from her anxiety-induced feather loss, but things weren’t so pleasant for Qing Xun.
Phoenix Mountain wanted her to be the next ruler of the feathered lineages, while those who had ascended from the Minor Realm, influenced by Feng Chiyue’s attitude, favored her as well. They each had their own training methods, and Qing Xun was caught in the middle.
As she sought refuge in the Celestial Feather Ministry, Que Chenyi, sipping her spiritual tea, said casually, “There’s more bad news. Although you’re the chosen one, you still need to pass an assessment to be officially recognized. It’s not an official position, but the leaders and elders of the various lineages will have to compete for their roles.”
“Since when?” Qing Xun asked, incredulous.
“A few days ago,” Que Chenyi replied.
“Who proposed this?”
Que Chenyi smiled at her. “Who do you think?”
Qing Xun: “…” She rubbed her forehead. “But they’re not supposed to interfere with the Celestial Feather Ministry anymore.” They were always appearing wherever officials were busiest, making everyone’s lives miserable.
Que Chenyi also couldn’t understand. After a long moment of silence, she said calmly, “Perhaps they’re in a bad mood.”
Feng Chiyue was unhappy, so other immortals suffered. Wasn’t that normal?
Feng Chiyue was indeed in a bad mood.
Once, after seeing Feng Shuo and Feng Mu’s true forms, Ming Jian Su had suddenly wanted to see hers.
She had refused.
She had given her a chance before. It was Ming Jian Su who had refused. How dare she be angry now?
The moon hung in the sky, casting a soft, hazy light on the rippling water.
Feng Chiyue cast her fishing rod, and a silver fish leaped from the stream. She swatted it and tossed it back in.
She repeated this process, tormenting all the fish in the stream.
Ming Jian Su sat beside her, glancing at the empty fish basket, not daring to speak.
She was afraid that, if she did, she would become the next target of Feng Chiyue’s wrath.
“Aren’t you angry?” Feng Chiyue asked, tossing aside the rod and turning to look at her, a mischievous smile on her face. “Why haven’t you run away?”
“I’m not angry,” Ming Jian Su said. She would swear on it.
She suspected that her junior sister’s true form was probably similar to Feng Shuo and the others’.
Back in the Cold Prison, she had been injured, her Dao body flawed, allowing turbid energy to seep in. Although she had been born from primordial energy, she had been raised by the feathered immortals of Danxue Mountain, learning their techniques and manifesting a pure, ethereal form. But after being tainted by turbid energy, although her Dao body remained unaffected, her true form, a reflection of her Dao, had changed, no longer conforming to the Immortal Realm’s standards of beauty.
Why hadn’t she realized it back in the Minor Realm? Why had she said those things? Her junior sister hadn’t mentioned it again, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten. She had already been reluctant to show her true form, and now she was even more so. When she had asked, she had wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was still the most beautiful phoenix, regardless of her appearance.
But her junior sister was angry. She hadn’t given her a chance to speak, simply sealing her senses with her magic power.
She really cared.
Hearing her denial, Feng Chiyue scoffed.
The fish in the stream, dazed and confused, had just poked their heads out of the water, but seeing this, they quickly retreated to the depths.
Ming Jian Su changed the subject. “Would you like some wine, Junior Sister?” she asked.
“Who gave it to you?”
“I made it myself,” she replied, smiling. She had visited her former abode, which had been left untended, now overgrown and desolate. It was a good location, filled with spiritual energy, but wandering immortals didn’t dare to approach, fearing the residual sword energy. She had calmly destroyed the remaining elixirs in the medicine cabinet, then dug up the jars of wine buried under the tree.
They were over a thousand years old.
Feng Chiyue looked at her, her eyes wary. “I know what you’re doing,” she said. “You want to get me drunk and make me reveal my true form. You tricked me into taking off my mask before.”
“I’m innocent,” Ming Jian Su said, her expression sincere. “Wasn’t your mask still on your face when you woke up?”
Feng Chiyue was skeptical. “Who knows if you took it off and put it back on? You weren’t surprised at all when you saw my true face. You must have seen it before, right?”
Ming Jian Su refused to take the blame. She shook her head and smiled. “You’re still you, no matter what you look like,” she said, then, afraid Feng Chiyue would bring up the past again, she asked, “So, would you like some wine?”
“Yes,” Feng Chiyue replied without hesitation.
The wind chimes hanging from the eaves tinkled softly.
The moon in the sky shimmered.
Feng Chiyue’s tolerance was low, and the thousand-year-old wine was strong. She wrapped her arms around Ming Jian Su’s neck, pulling her close.
“Carry me back, Elder Sister,” she mumbled.
“Okay,” Ming Jian Su agreed, but she couldn’t carry her on her back. She scooped Feng Chiyue into her arms and, under the flickering lantern light, walked towards their dwelling.
“I forgive you,” Feng Chiyue said.
Ming Jian Su looked down at her, smiling, seizing this opportunity to confess. “I like you no matter what you look like, Junior Sister,” she said softly.
It didn’t really matter if she never saw her true form.
They enjoyed a peaceful life in the mountains, the Heavenly Court tranquil.
Sometimes, Ming Jian Su would accompany Feng Chiyue on her leisurely strolls. Other times, she would stay in the Dharma Hall, cultivating.
One day, while Feng Chiyue was lounging under the peach tree, watching a play on the Chaos Mirror, Ming Jian Su took out her own mirror and contacted Tu Shan Liusu in the Demon Realm.
After the demons joined the Chaos Mirror network, arguments had become more frequent, and the Ethereal Spirit Realm had become much livelier. After all, intense emotions often needed to be released through a good fight. But regardless of the bloodshed in the Ethereal Spirit Realm, contacting Tu Shan Liusu was now much easier.
In the Demon Realm’s grand hall.
Tu Shan Liusu’s nine snow-white tails, like swirling clouds, filled the dimly lit space.
Ming Jian Su stared at them for a moment, then finally voiced a question that had been lingering in her mind. “Fellow Daoist Tu Shan, how have you managed to preserve your nine tails from the taint of turbid energy after switching from pure to turbid?” Logically, after abandoning the path of immortal cultivation and embracing the demonic path, her fur should have turned black.
Tu Shan Liusu had been feeling uneasy under her scrutiny, afraid she might be after her tails. Hearing the question, she sighed in relief. “Maintenance,” she replied casually. Qingqiu’s archives were vast, and she had taken many manuals on tail care when she left. She had later developed a technique to maintain their pristine appearance.
“How do you maintain them? How much time do you spend on it each month?”
“Month?” Tu Shan Liusu chuckled. “About four hours a day.”
Ming Jian Su: “…” Alright, that wasn’t an option. Would her junior sister be willing to spend four hours a day maintaining her true form?
“Fox fur and feathers are different, but the principles are the same,” Tu Shan Liusu continued. “Unfortunately, the Supreme Palace lacks skilled alchemists and artisans who can create such elixirs or ointments. Otherwise, it would save a lot of effort.”
Hearing this, Ming Jian Su briefly considered trying it herself, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Past “achievements” had taught her that some things couldn’t be forced. Spiritual herbs wouldn’t magically transform into elixirs just because she crushed them.
“Do you have any high-level demonic scriptures, Fellow Daoist?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tu Shan Liusu replied readily. “I can send you some if you need them.”
“Thank you, Fellow Daoist Tu Shan,” Ming Jian Su said, accepting her offer.
Tu Shan Liusu was efficient. A few days later, Ming Jian Su received the demonic scriptures.
She didn’t immediately start cultivating them but instead carefully examined each one, searching for the most suitable path. She wasn’t planning to abandon immortal cultivation and embrace the demonic path. She wanted to try dual cultivation, merging pure and turbid. She even visited the Great Yin Palace several times, seeking advice from the Great Yin Celestial Mother on cultivating a Taiji Dao body.
Changing her cultivation path would take time.
She couldn’t possibly leave Feng Chiyue and go into seclusion. She could only proceed slowly.
However, before she could even begin cultivating, Feng Chiyue caught her studying the scriptures.
After all, they were always together. It was impossible to completely hide it from her.
“Are you still striving for a higher level of Dao, Elder Sister?” Feng Chiyue asked, sitting beside her, her voice filled with confusion, but then she noticed something was wrong. She snatched the paper covered in dense Daoist script from Ming Jian Su’s hand, her brow furrowing. “This is a demonic technique, cultivating turbid energy,” she said.
“Yes,” Ming Jian Su confirmed, nodding.
Feng Chiyue stared at her, her lips pursed. “What are you trying to do?” she asked.
Ming Jian Su smiled. “I want to be like you,” she said.
Feng Chiyue: “…” She fell silent for a moment, then sighed. She touched the paper with her fingertip, and a flame ignited, reducing it to ashes. She took Ming Jian Su’s wrist, her thumb gently stroking her skin. She smiled faintly. “There’s no need,” she said softly.
“I want to,” Ming Jian Su insisted.
Feng Chiyue leaned against her, glancing at her sideways. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll find you ugly?” she asked.
Ming Jian Su pulled her onto her lap, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Would you, Junior Sister?” she asked, blinking.
Feng Chiyue thought for a moment, then said, teasingly, “Yes, I would.”
Ming Jian Su looked down at her, her eyes, clear and calm, reflecting only Feng Chiyue’s image, filled with a deep, unwavering affection.
Feng Chiyue immediately changed her answer. “No, I wouldn’t,” she said, then, hugging Ming Jian Su’s waist, added slowly, “But I don’t want to see you do that.”
Warm breath, like a feather, brushed against her cheek. Ming Jian Su’s eyelashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes.
Soft lips pressed against her eyelids, and she whispered, “Alright.” The kisses lingered, moving from her eyelids to her brow, then, as if accidentally, brushing against the corner of her mouth.
No matter how many times it happened, her heart still pounded.
But just as she was about to lean in, Feng Chiyue slipped out of her embrace.
“I’ll show you,” she said, smiling.
With Feng Chiyue’s disapproval, Ming Jian Su abandoned her study of the demonic scriptures.
Back in the lower realm, she had prioritized cultivation, but she hadn’t been truly passionate about it. Now that her burdens had been lifted, she reverted to her natural laziness.
Practice swordsmanship? That was the sword’s responsibility. What did it have to do with her, the sword master?
Their carefree life mirrored her past, the only difference being that she no longer bothered with alchemy.
She still had some of the wine she had buried a thousand years ago, and she brewed more, intending to bury them again, to be enjoyed centuries or even millennia later.
“Elder Sister,” Feng Chiyue called out to her.
She was preparing their dinner: boneless fish and plump crabs, gifts from the East Sea.
She looked up at Feng Chiyue, who was swinging her legs on a hammock, and smiled. “Yes?”
Feng Chiyue jumped down and, holding the Chaos Mirror, ran towards her, pointing at some text.
Lately, for some reason, the Chaos Mirror had been filled with verses praising the Phoenix Sovereign.
Ming Jian Su nodded, admitting, “It was me.” Her junior sister was so wonderful. It was only natural to dedicate songs and poems to her.
“Okay,” Feng Chiyue said, not asking how much effort or Cinnabar Jade she had spent. She put away the mirror, her hands clasped behind her back, and, circling Ming Jian Su, said solemnly, “Sing them to me.”
“Alright,” Ming Jian Su agreed readily.
Feng Chiyue looked at her, surprised. “But you were angry about ‘Understanding,’” she said.
“That’s different,” Ming Jian Su replied.
Feng Chiyue sat down on a stone bench, her chin resting on her hand. “What’s different?” she asked.
Ming Jian Su didn’t know how to explain. “People grow,” she said finally.
Feng Chiyue smiled at her.
Although she wasn’t skilled in alchemy, Ming Jian Su was a good cook, at least capable of satisfying Feng Chiyue’s discerning palate.
As they enjoyed their meal, Ming Jian Su carefully extracted the crab roe and meat, placing them in a small jade bowl for Feng Chiyue.
Raising her cup, she thought, “We’ve finally achieved a carefree life.”
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