In the end, Shen Jin was defeated by this master-disciple duo. As they emerged, Yuxuzi couldn’t help but sigh, “If master and disciple join forces, how could the demon realm stand a chance?”
Elder Qixia interjected, “Headmaster, snap out of it.”
Glancing at Shen Jin inside—one physically battered, the other mentally crushed—she added, “If these two really took to the battlefield, what would become of the Tai Xuan Sect’s reputation?”
Returning to the main topic, after witnessing Shen Jin’s true nature, Wen An began pondering how this Demon Lord carried himself in front of his subordinates.
Everyone chimed in with their opinions:
“Judging by his words, he’s inherently arrogant—his speech should be more domineering.”
“Right, it should exude an air of supremacy, as if he alone reigns over heaven and earth.”
“He’d behead someone at the slightest disagreement.”
Elder Qixia emphasized, “When mentioning Disciple Xue Ying, he must gnash his teeth, as if he could devour her flesh.”
Xue Ying protested, “Is it really that serious? I was even considering dating him.”
Wen An nodded firmly, “Yes.”
Xue Ying sighed in disappointment, “I’ve only heard of people cutting their wrists after breakups, but he wants to kill before even dating. Forget it, I won’t seek him out. By the way, Senior Brother…”
Before she could finish, Wen An and Du Yizhou simultaneously took a step back.
Xue Ying, puzzled, asked, “…What are you doing?”
Ignoring her, Wen An turned to Elder Qixia for analysis. “According to Uncle Yuheng, the Demon Lord’s strategist must be one of the Three Dukes—the Duke of the Underworld—who enjoys the Demon Lord’s deep trust. If we can extract the demon realm’s plans from him, it would make our future efforts twice as effective.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Cen Wuwang raised no objections. The plan was set: Wen An would accompany Elder Qixia to disguise themselves.
After donning a wig → (＞▽＜)
Wearing colored contacts → (≧▽≦)
Applying foundation → o(≧▽≦)o
Painting demonic markings → o(≧▽≦)o~
A demon-version of the Sword Immortal was freshly minted!
When Wen An stepped outside, everyone marveled. Cen Wuwang turned to him, and after a brief stare-down, Cen Wuwang mused, “Still not as good as me.”
Wen An suppressed a laugh and bowed. “This disciple’s swordsmanship naturally pales in comparison to Uncle’s.”
Cen Wuwang, slightly puzzled, quickly clarified, “No, I meant in terms of beauty.”
Wen An, speechless: “…”
The crowd dispersed temporarily. After teaching Wen An how to use the Crimson Flame Feather, Cen Wuwang also stepped back to join the spectators. Two blurry figures materialized mid-air—the Marquise and the Duke of the Underworld. Wen An took a seat, his expression grave as he silently observed them.
The Marquise was the first to speak, her voice dripping with affection, “My Lord.”
The recently reinstated Duke of the Underworld elbowed her aside and fussed over Wen An. “How fares my Lord? Upon hearing you were imprisoned in the Demon-Sealing Tower, this subordinate was beside himself with worry.”
Wen An, armed with prepared lines, feigned weakness and coughed. “The Demon-Sealing Tower is unlike other places. We must act swiftly and strategize. As for you, Marquise…”
He lifted his gaze, his crimson eyes making the Marquise tremble. She meekly whispered, “My Lord.”
Wen An remained sternly silent. The Duke immediately seized the chance to berate her. “As the demon realm’s top assassin, you’re more of a liability than an asset. Tasked with assassinating the Sword Immortal’s disciple, you instead harmed our Lord. Calling him ‘Lord’ won’t save you—not even calling him ‘Daddy’ would help.”
To everyone’s shock, the Marquise actually whimpered, “Daddy.” Clutching her massive axe, she could only lamely explain, “This subordinate didn’t anticipate the Phoenix of Evil being immune to all poisons.”
Yet she was the one who ended up defeated.
However, one thing excited her. “My Lord, the Phoenix of Evil left behind Five-Colored Divine Feathers in Yunmeng Marsh, said to purify tainted energies. This subordinate wishes to atone by retrieving them to break the seal and lead our armies to welcome you back.”
With the feathers in hand, she could reclaim her status as the demon realm’s top assassin and Shen Jin’s right-hand woman.
Wen An didn’t respond immediately, instead turning to the Duke. He meant to ask for his opinion but was distracted by the book in the Duke’s hands.
The garishly colored cover bore a title that piqued Wen An’s curiosity:
“*Pure-Hearted Female Disciple and Her Dashing Master*?”
Overjoyed that his Lord was finally showing interest in literature, the Duke eagerly promoted it. “This is a monumental masterpiece! Set against the backdrop of the Daoist world’s rise and fall, it follows an ordinary female disciple’s love-hate relationship with her master. Though framed as romance, it’s actually a chronicle of the Daoist world’s decline, exposing the hypocrisy of so-called righteous sects and proving, historically, that the Daoist world is doomed!”
Wen An was dumbfounded. “M-monumental?”
The Duke waxed poetic. “This is what true scholars do—their pens become the sharpest blades, slicing through reality to reveal the truths hidden beneath superficial prosperity. My Lord, this subordinate has a suggestion, though I hesitate to voice it.”
Despite being a demon, Wen An was flattered by the praise and softened his gaze.
Who knew the demon realm had such discerning fans? Though the praise was a bit much.
Wen An spoke gently, “Speak freely.”
The Duke seized the moment. “In this subordinate’s opinion, the author, Yan Ermei, is a genius who sees through the Daoist world’s flaws. They must know the major sects inside out. As they say, ‘A nation’s misfortune is a poet’s fortune.’ Given Yan Ermei’s brilliance, they must be impoverished and ostracized by the sects. Why not take advantage of their plight, approach them, and persuade them to join our cause?”
Wen An’s heart turned cold. “Yan Ermei…”
The gaudy, low-quality cover said it all. The Duke was just another leech—a pirate who’d deprived the Tai Xuan Sect of rightful profits!
Unaware he was face-to-face with his idol, the Duke waved the bootleg book excitedly. “With Yan Ermei’s knowledge, conquering the Daoist world would be child’s play. My Lord, this opportunity can’t be missed!”
As a fan, his dream was to meet the author. The Duke fantasized about discussing literature, philosophy, and even sharing a bed with Yan Ermei.
Work by day, laughter by night—he’d die happy!
Oh, and he’d kick the Marquise out of the picture.
The Marquise objected vehemently. “My Lord, absolutely not! We know nothing about Yan Ermei. What if they’re just a bored rich woman? How would we afford to keep them in the demon realm?”
The Duke wouldn’t tolerate slander against his idol. “Nonsense! Such literary brilliance, such grand scenes—no woman could write this!”
The Marquise fired back. “Only women write love stories. *Pure-Hearted Female Disciple and Her Dashing Master* is just a trashy romance. How dare it compare to real classics? Even if Yan Ermei is a man, he’s a sissy—unfit to stand by our Lord!”
The Duke retorted, “You know nothing about classics! Your handwriting’s like chicken scratch. You botched the assassination and got our Lord imprisoned. If I were you, I’d have killed myself in shame!”
The Marquise shot back, “And you? Always buried in books, filling our Lord’s head with nonsense about ‘obsessed masters’ and ‘deranged love for disciples,’ ruining his dignity and reducing his standing in the Tai Xuan Sect. If not for you, our Lord would still be the exalted Sword Immortal!”
Their argument devolved into mutual blame for Shen Jin’s downfall. The onlookers shook their heads in amazement. Yuxuzi sighed, “Thank goodness Disciple Xue Ying is righteous and wasn’t fooled by the demon.”
Elder Qixia was curious. Given Yuhengzi’s striking looks, how had Xue Ying remained unmoved? When posed the question, Xue Ying answered pragmatically.
“Simple. Back then, my master looked like he was dying. The thought of inheriting the Sword Immortal title thrilled me. Why bother with romance? As his disciple, his legacy is rightfully mine.”
Xue Ying couldn’t suppress a smirk. Cen Wuwang shot her a murderous glare.
To prevent a master-disciple bloodbath, Yuxuzi hastily interjected, “From their words, it seems they plan to steal the Five-Colored Divine Feathers. Do any of you know about them?”
Xue Ying recalled, “They’re artifacts left by Qiuqiu in Yunmeng Marsh, said to restore the land’s vitality.”
Cen Wuwang was more direct. “A treasure of the world.”
Du Yizhou asked, “Not as valuable as the sect’s forbidden artifacts?”
“Not as valuable.”
The group grew solemn. If even the Tai Chu Sect’s forbidden artifacts paled in comparison, they couldn’t let the demons get their hands on them.
Meanwhile, Wen An continued his act with the Duke. “So you really like Yan Ermei?”
The Duke blushed. “Just a little. I only bought out the entire bookstore.”
Note: It’s “Yan Ermei,” not “Yan Ermei.”
The thought of this guy lining pirates’ pockets instead of his own made Wen An regard the Duke even more tenderly. He sighed, “What a shame.”
The Duke blinked innocently.
Wen An continued, “Yan Ermei has a book signing in Yunmeng Marsh next month. From what you’ve said, you’d love to meet them. Sadly, I’m trapped here. Marquise…”
“My Lord!”
The Duke couldn’t bear it. This was his chance to meet his idol—he couldn’t let the Marquise steal it! He pleaded, “Let this subordinate go!”
Wen An feigned impartiality. “No. With me and the Marquise absent, the demon realm can’t afford to lose you too. Marquise…”
“My Lord!” The Duke wailed, pouring his heart out. “This subordinate grew up illiterate, yearning to learn from the greats. Meeting Yan Ermei would mean more to me than any rank or riches. Please, let me go!”
Wen An pretended to hesitate. “But the demon realm…”
The Duke cut in, “I’ll return swiftly! The Nine Ministers can handle affairs.”
After the call ended, the Duke daydreamed about shaking hands with his idol and recruiting them to the demon cause. Together, they’d make history!
Meanwhile, Wen An cut the connection and smirked.
*Yan Ermei? Just wait till you’re in my clutches. I’ll show you why flowers bloom so red!*
When Wen An returned, Elder Qixia praised him. “Well done! Luring the enemy into a trap was brilliant. By the way, from your words, you seem familiar with Yan Ermei. Do you know them?”
Curious eyes turned to Wen An, who snapped back to reality.
Every man had bedtime reading material. But if the elders learned *he* was Yan Ermei, his reputation—and future as sect leader—would be ruined.
Wen An shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
Elder Qixia was baffled. If he didn’t know Yan Ermei, how did he know about the signing? The others exchanged knowing looks, deepening her confusion. “Do *you* know Yan Ermei? Who are they? Why haven’t I heard of them?”
Yuxuzi coughed and told Cen Wuwang, “First consult Sage Cangwu. We’ll decide after his approval.”
He dismissed the group but winked at Wen An. “Wen An, come to my room for a chat.”
Wen An: “…”
The plan was set. By the time Du Yizhou left, dawn had broken. Xue Ying calculated the time and decided to rest outside the Demon-Sealing Tower for half an hour before training. Seeing Cen Wuwang about to leave, she called out, “Sister Cen.”
Meeting his glare, she stood her ground. “Calling you ‘Master’ feels weird. ‘Sister’ is more intimate.”
Cen Wuwang drew his sword and thrashed her.
“Call me ‘Daddy.'”
Bruised and battered, Xue Ying climbed to her feet defiantly. “No! You’re only better because of experience. Once I’ve trained more, I’ll surpass you.”
Wiping her nosebleed, she headed to the training grounds, skipping sleep. Elder Qixia sighed beside Cen Wuwang. “Why push her so hard? We all know the Sword Immortal’s burdens. Many predecessors retired early. Since Xue Ying is willing to take the mantle, why not step down and focus on your own cultivation?”
Cen Wuwang turned. “I’m her master.”
Shielding her from storms was his duty.
—
The demon realm’s plot to steal the Five-Colored Divine Feathers alarmed Cangwu. His warning was blunt: “Unless you want to be Qiuqiu’s kebabs, stop the demons.”
To spare the demon realm from Qiuqiu’s wrath, the Tai Xuan Sect chose to beat them first. Flawless logic.
The next day, Wen An sought Xue Ying. Gone was his usual smile—he looked haggard. Disciples whispered as they passed. Wen An called mournfully, “Junior Sister.”
Still sore from Cen Wuwang’s beating, Xue Ying ignored him and beckoned a sparring partner. “What are you staring at? Hit me, or I’ll hit you.”
After her match, Wen An tried again. “Junior Sister.”
Finally acknowledging him, Xue Ying listened as Wen An bared his soul. “We’ve grown up together. In your eyes, what kind of person am I?”
Xue Ying paused, glancing at the disciples around her who were ostensibly practicing swordsmanship but were actually gossiping. With a clear conscience, she answered, “A sparring dummy—the kind that can take a beating.”
Xue Ying added, “Oh, by the way, Senior Brother, let me tell you, that jerk Liu Junzhuo came looking for me again earlier. I beat him up so badly his face was swollen. Hahaha.”
Wen An, “…Hmph.”
A textbook example of a heartless swordsman.
Left with no choice, Wen An had to leave for the time being. That night, he visited Xue Ying again, confident that the late hour would ensure no one would disturb their conversation.
But then…
Cen Wuwang, “Your swordplay is too slow, and your movements are flashy but meaningless. Wen An, you come here too.”
And so, he ended up practicing swordsmanship all night.
By dawn, Wen An, exhausted, came to a realization: Xue Ying wasn’t just a junior sister—she was a full-fledged swordsman through and through. Relying on her was hopeless.
Sitting in Runyu Valley, Wen An pondered for a long time. The memory of that night when Yuxuzi had demanded his manuscript was still vivid. For the sake of his position as sect leader and the future of the Tai Xuan Sect, he couldn’t afford to reveal his true identity. But if he didn’t, the plan to lure out the Nether Lord would stall. Not only would his earlier boasts become a joke, but he’d also lose all credibility in front of the sect leader.
He needed a scapegoat.
Xue Ying was out of the question. The vast world of mortals? No, that was the editor’s domain. Du Yizhou was beyond redemption. Wen An mentally reviewed everyone he knew, crossing them off one by one, until a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Don’t blame him for being ruthless. Junior Sister Lin, forgive me.
…
Lin Jiujiu’s two maids waited outside as she silently sipped her tea. She wasn’t very familiar with this senior disciple of the Tai Xuan Sect and had no idea why he’d come. Her only impression of him was from her past life, when he’d led the charge to hunt down Xue Ying. As for this life?
A famous author, rival to the senior brother in the writing world.
Lin Jiujiu couldn’t fathom why Wen An would seek her out. The two stared at each other in silence until Wen An finished the pot of spiritual tea. Just as Lin Jiujiu was about to call for a refill, Wen An stopped her.
“I’ve come today to ask for a favor,” he said bluntly.
“Do you like Liu Junzhuo?”
Lin Jiujiu was so startled she dropped her teacup. The maids rushed in at the sound, but she harshly dismissed them. Once they were gone, she looked at Wen An nervously. “Senior Brother Wen, what do you mean?”
Wen An stood to help her pick up the shattered pieces. A fine jade bowl, broken just like that—Lin Jiujiu was truly spoiled. As the saying goes, comfort breeds desire. Lin Jiujiu lacked nothing in life except one thing:
Sweet, sweet romance.
Wen An smiled. “I’d only heard rumors that you and Junior Brother Liu were close, so I teased you. If I’ve offended you, I apologize.”
Lin Jiujiu shook her head softly. “Junior Brother Liu and I are merely fellow disciples. There’s nothing more.”
In her heart, she added, *Yes, the past is just a fleeting cloud. I should’ve let go long ago. Now, all my loved ones and friends are here. What more is there to regret?*
Except for immortality.
Lin Jiujiu’s relaxed hands clenched again. The Martial Arts Tournament was over, and the Buddhist monk had left the Daoist realm. Why should she keep chasing after it?
Wen An observed her carefully. Liu Junzhuo was just a new disciple of the Tai Xuan Sect, mediocre in both cultivation and swordsmanship. Though he had a natural talent for the sword, since Yuhuangzi’s return, he hadn’t shown any particular interest in Liu Junzhuo. At this point, Liu Junzhuo was a nobody—hardly bait worth using. Wen An tried again, “What about Du Yizhou?”
This time, he hit the mark. Lin Jiujiu’s expression flickered with longing. She lowered her head, the very picture of a lovestruck maiden. “Senior Brother Du is, of course, impressive.”
Wen An scoffed inwardly. *What’s so impressive about that idiot Du Yizhou? He’s not even cut out to be a swordsman, yet he insists on dual cultivation. And as the next leader of the Tai Chu Sect, he’s practically begging to be compared to the founder. Let’s see if he can measure up—or if he’ll just end up as a cautionary tale.*
“Let’s make a deal,” Wen An said with a smile. “I’ll arrange a duel between you and Du Yizhou. If you win, you can ask him for one favor. If you lose, it’s no skin off your back.”
Lin Jiujiu knew there was no such thing as a free lunch. She eyed Wen An warily. “What do you want from me?”
Wen An leaned in, studying her closely. “I want you to take my place at a book signing.”
Seeing the slight dilation of her pupils, he sat back. “I know this is a lot to ask, so I’m giving you the choice. If you refuse, we’ll pretend this never happened.”
He poured the last of the tea, drank it leisurely, then set down the cup and stood to leave. Just as he reached the door, Lin Jiujiu’s voice called out, “Wait.”
Her cheeks flushed as she forced herself to ask, “C-Can I ask Du Yizhou to go on a spring outing with me?”
Ah, the romantic whims of a young girl’s heart. In the adult world, they’d have skipped straight to third base.
Lin Jiujiu wasn’t much of a sugar momma.
Of course, Wen An didn’t point that out. He smiled. “As you wish.”
He immediately sent someone to challenge Du Yizhou to a duel—under the noble pretext of “for honor and love.”
The showdown between the two senior disciples sent shockwaves through the Tai Chu Sect. The Taiyi Gazette rushed out a special edition overnight:
**”Breaking News: Tai Xuan Sect’s Top Disciple, Tormented by Love, Challenges Senior Brother Again in a Duel to the Death.”**
The gossip mill went into overdrive, speculating about the object of Wen An’s affections. When interviewed, Wen An sighed. “It’s not what I wanted, but someone’s as dense as a brick wall and needs a little push. I’m happy to play matchmaker.”
This was essentially a message for Lin Jiujiu. But thanks to the ambiguous phrasing, it was interpreted as…
**”Shocking: Swordsman Once Again Reduced to a Tool.”**
Subheading: *Ask Yourself—What Did Swordsmen Ever Do to Deserve This?*
Clearly, these people had way too much free time.
When Xue Ying heard the news, she was intrigued. “Senior Brother, why did you challenge Senior Brother Du?”
Wen An smiled. “Just felt like sparring. Had an itch to fight.”
*Because you, a swordsman, have no emotions.*
Xue Ying missed the subtext and simply got excited about the duel. “Senior Brother, I heard a ton of people know about your fight with Senior Brother Du. The Purple Micro Path is tiny—once the crowd shows up, there won’t be any space. Some won’t even get to see it, and others will fight for front-row seats. Why don’t we cash in? Sell tickets to the Tai Chu Sect.”
This was the Tai Xuan Sect’s one and only attraction.
After three seconds of consideration, Wen An agreed.
“One more thing.” To cover all his bases, Wen An motioned for Xue Ying to lean in and whispered a few instructions.
On the day of the duel, the Purple Micro Path was packed to the brim.
Xue Ying stood at the entrance with her disciples, shouting, “Tickets only, no pushing!”
When a Tai Chu Sect elder showed up, Xue Ying grinned and held out her hand. “Ticket.”
The elder, “…”
After extorting money from the seniors, Xue Ying was thoroughly satisfied.
Inside the Purple Micro Path, Wen An and Du Yizhou faced off. Wen An stood with his sword sheathed, while Du Yizhou radiated arrogance. “I will win this fight.”
Wen An drew his sword, smiling faintly as he wiped the blade. “We’ll see about that.”
For his royalties, he’d fight Du Yizhou to the death!
Xue Ying took a step back as the accumulated snow on the Purple Micro Path was swept away by the wind. Amid the flurries, two figures clashed.
The crowd gasped in awe. Xue Ying noticed a familiar figure in the crowd.
She leaped over to greet Lin Jiujiu. “Little Sister Lin, here to watch?”
Lin Jiujiu shrank back slightly, forcing a smile. “Senior Sister Xue Ying.”
She looked up at the other girl. Just like before, Xue Ying wore simple hair ornaments—a golden hairpin nestled in her dark tresses, her face mostly obscured by a veil of mist. With her features obscured, the sword case on her back stood out all the more.
Unlike the typical mage’s opulence, it exuded a faint aura of lethality. Lin Jiujiu clutched her handkerchief, recalling the expression on her father’s face when he returned from the Tai Xuan Sect. He’d had questions for her, but in the end, all he’d said was:
*Others seek immortality, but I only wish for my daughter’s happiness.*
Lin Jiujiu’s nose stung, tears nearly falling. She reminded herself—for her father’s sake and her own, she couldn’t make the same mistakes again.
Unaware of Lin Jiujiu’s turmoil, Xue Ying enthusiastically invited her, “It’s been a while since we last met, Little Sister Lin. Why don’t we sit and chat after the duel?”
*If she and Liu Junzhuo hit it off, the Tai Xuan Sect could finally escape poverty.*
The more she thought about it, the happier she became, gazing at Lin Jiujiu like an angel investor—almost calling her “big shot” outright.
Lin Jiujiu, however, was too preoccupied with Du Yizhou to leave. She nodded and stayed to watch the fight with Xue Ying.
The two combatants were among the best in their sects, fighting for pride. They paid little attention to bystanders. While the other disciples were fine, Lin Jiujiu struggled. Xue Ying summoned Bailu to shield her.
“Little Sister Lin is a delicate girl. She shouldn’t suffer,” Xue Ying said tenderly.
Caught off guard by the sudden kindness, Lin Jiujiu blushed and murmured a soft “thank you.”
On the Purple Micro Path, Wen An and Du Yizhou’s battle reached its climax. Wen An slipped up, and a slash from Dahan left a bloody gash on his face, a trail of blood dripping from the corner of his eye.
Du Yizhou pressed his advantage, forcing Wen An to the brink of defeat. Xue Ying shouted, “Senior Brother, think about what happens if you lose! You’ll have to deal with Senior Brother Du in your career, taking your money and bossing you around. Can you tolerate that?”
Spurred by her words, Wen An erupted with fury. The humiliation of his destroyed artwork still burned in his memory, and now Du Yizhou had the audacity to debut as an author too. If he lost here, he’d never live it down.
Guyu, resonating with Wen An’s emotions, glowed brilliantly as vines sprouted from its hilt. An elder in the crowd remarked, “Wen An has achieved enlightenment.”
*If a few words from her can make Senior Brother Wen improve this much, if he were in the Tai Chu Sect, he’d probably surpass the sect master.*
This wasn’t a swordsman—it was a berserker.
A few moves later, Dahan was knocked to the ground. Wen An pressed his sword to Du Yizhou’s neck, his expression calm. “A bet’s a bet. I won.”
Du Yizhou ignored him, picking up Dahan and sheathing it. Wen An continued, “As agreed, you owe me one favor.”
Du Yizhou wiped the snow from his blade. “Name it.”
From a distance, Xue Ying led Lin Jiujiu over. As Wen An spoke, Du Yizhou’s gaze shifted to Lin Jiujiu.
Noticing his scrutiny, Lin Jiujiu tensed. She reassured herself—her request wasn’t unreasonable.
After hearing Wen An out, Du Yizhou walked up to Lin Jiujiu. “You want me to go on a spring outing with you?”
Lin Jiujiu lowered her head shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve heard the towns at the foot of the mountain are lively. I’ve always wanted to visit.”
Du Yizhou was baffled. “What’s so great about them? Only poor people shop down there. If you need anything, just have it delivered. The Tai Chu Sect isn’t short on money.”
Lin Jiujiu, “…”
Du Yizhou added, “Also, I haven’t forgotten about you hijacking another disciple’s spot to attend my lecture last month.”
Lin Jiujiu fought back tears. “I just wanted to hear you teach. I meant no harm.”
Du Yizhou was even more confused. “You don’t even understand swordsmanship. What were you listening for?”
In his eyes, Lin Jiujiu should’ve been focusing on cultivation discussions, not swordplay.
Seeing the conversation derail, Wen An quickly intervened. “The towns down the mountain are quite fun. Junior Sister Xue Ying and I were planning to go too. Du Yizhou, care to join?”
Du Yizhou wasn’t keen—he had a mountain of sect affairs to handle. But under the combined stares of the trio (especially Wen An’s murderous glare), he relented.
“A bet’s a bet. Fine, I’ll go.”
And so it was settled. Lin Jiujiu, initially crestfallen, perked up again, already planning her outfit. She hoped to spend more time with Du Yizhou, but he’d already turned to Xue Ying.
“Let’s spar.”
The two headed back to the Purple Micro Path, leaving Lin Jiujiu’s unspoken “Senior Brother” hanging in the air. She watched them duel, her heart heavy.
*If I can’t cultivate, will I never be able to talk to Senior Brother?*
On the day of the outing, Du Yizhou came to fetch Lin Jiujiu. Dressed casually in a simple robe, he looked less imposing than usual. A maid fawned over Lin Jiujiu. “Young Lady and the Senior Brother look like a match made in heaven.”
Lin Jiujiu blushed furiously. “Enough out of you.”
She followed Du Yizhou out of Bifeng Peak. Unable to cultivate, Lin Jiujiu needed assistance to leave the Tai Chu Sect. Remembering how other disciples flew together on a single sword, she called out softly, “Senior Brother.”
When Du Yizhou turned, she asked shyly, “I can’t fly on a sword. Could you… take me with you?”
Du Yizhou, holding Dahan, didn’t get it. “If you can’t fly, how do you usually get around?”
Lin Jiujiu had no choice but to admit, “My father gave me a magical tool.”
“Then use that.”
With that, Du Yizhou took off on the wind, leaving Lin Jiujiu standing there, the cold breeze chilling her to the bone.
*Senior Brother, do you even understand?*
At the meeting spot, Xue Ying and Wen An were already waiting. Spotting them, Xue Ying waved enthusiastically. “Little Sister Lin!”
Still stung by Du Yizhou’s bluntness, Lin Jiujiu forced a smile. “Senior Brother Wen, Senior Sister Xue Ying.”
After a brief chat, the four headed toward the town. Du Yizhou and Wen An went ahead after exchanging a few words, leaving Xue Ying behind. Remembering Lin Jiujiu’s mobility issues, Xue Ying kindly offered, “Let me take you.”
The contrast was too much. Lin Jiujiu swallowed her pride. “No need.”
Unaware of the changes in the world while in the mountains, it was only upon descending that they realized it was the season of renewal. Though the weather was cold, people’s hearts were warm. Xue Ying and the others had arrived at just the right time—the streets were bustling with an endless stream of people, young men and women walking together in pairs, chatting and laughing.
Xue Ying, ever the perceptive one, stood beside Wen An, which eased Lin Jiujiu’s heart somewhat. She glanced at Duyi Zhou’s profile and whispered, “Senior Brother.”
Perhaps out of camaraderie, Duyi Zhou rarely spoke up, but this time he said, “Don’t get separated.”
That single sentence sent a wave of sweetness through Lin Jiujiu’s chest.
She could do this.
The four of them walked in pairs, following the usual routine—strolling through the streets, boating on the lake, and admiring the lanterns. Since it wasn’t yet dark, they wandered leisurely. Xue Ying noticed people carrying paper offerings and candles heading out of the city and asked curiously, “Is today Qingming? Should we go pay respects at the graves too?”
Wen An had to quash her idea. “We cultivators have no need for such rituals.”
Xue Ying argued fervently, “Why not? Unless we achieve immortality, death is inevitable for all of us. Honoring the dead helps us reflect on our own shortcomings. At the very least, we could pick out our tombstones in advance—save ourselves the trouble of crawling out of our coffins later to scold our descendants for being unfilial. Right, Sister Lin?”
Lin Jiujiu’s smile twisted slightly. She couldn’t agree, but neither could she disagree. True, under normal circumstances, she would die before Xue Ying and the others, but that didn’t mean she had to pick out her own grave!
She wasn’t even eighteen yet—was Xue Ying cursing her to die?
Xue Ying, now inspired, turned to an elderly woman selling paper effigies. “Granny, where’s the best feng shui around here? I’d like to pick out a prime burial spot for myself.”
The old woman, probably encountering a young person buying a grave for the first time, didn’t even question it after Xue Ying purchased a few paper effigies. Money talked. “Thirty li outside the city, there’s a mountain called Zhuoguang. It’s said to be a blessed land—an entire family is buried there. The Cen family, to be exact. But…”
Her voice turned hoarse, almost ghostly. “They say it’s haunted.”
The surname “Cen” sounded familiar to Xue Ying—her own master bore that name. Wen An knew even more. “I’ve investigated before and found nothing unusual. Probably just people mistaking shadows for ghosts at night, and the rumor spread from there.”
A nearby vendor chimed in, “Don’t listen to that old woman’s nonsense. Zhuoguang Mountain is beautiful—full of hills and streams, with plenty of magpies. If it weren’t so far, we’d go there every day.”
Whether it was haunted or not, Xue Ying was now determined to go. After getting the others’ agreement, the three of them headed for Zhuoguang Mountain. As the vendor had said, the mountain showed no signs of abnormality. Under the clear sky, the air was fresh, and from a high vantage point, Xue Ying saw lush trees and thriving vegetation—hardly the setting for ghosts.
Finding a grave spot could wait. Noticing it was nearly noon, Xue Ying figured even if she wasn’t hungry, Lin Jiujiu must be. They found a high spot for a picnic, and Xue Ying volunteered to gather firewood while Wen An went to scout the area for safety. Soon, only Lin Jiujiu and Duyi Zhou remained.
Lin Jiujiu’s heart raced like a startled deer. Knowing this opportunity wouldn’t come again, she mustered her courage to confess. “Senior Brother.”
Duyi Zhou saw right through them. “What did you promise Wen An?”
Lin Jiujiu, blissfully unaware, took it as concern. “Nothing major. Senior Brother Wen just wanted me to cover for him at a book signing.”
Seizing the moment, she pressed on, “Senior Brother, I lo—”
Duyi Zhou’s eyes frosted over. “Disciples of Tai Xuan serve Tai Chu disciples, not the other way around—especially for free labor. Copy the sect rules three hundred times when we return. If you don’t finish, bring them to the signing and keep copying.”
He added mercilessly, “I’d be ashamed if this got out.”
Lin Jiujiu, “…”
She was exhausted. Truly.
Meanwhile, after the rain, the damp vegetation made poor firewood. Xue Ying searched half the mountain before giving up, only to spot a figure in the distance—likely Wen An. “Senior Brother!”
In a single step, the surroundings transformed like quicksand, dissolving into familiar architecture and figures.
At the mountain gate stood several Tai Xuan disciples, facing a crowd of angry mortals. A dignified woman, supported by attendants, stepped forward, weeping at a kneeling young man in the center.
“Wang’er, must you really abandon your mother?”
Behind her, middle-aged men chimed in, “Immortal, we mortals and immortals have no quarrel. You walk your path, we walk ours. What do you mean by abducting the Cen family’s heir today?”
A blue-robed youth muttered, “Who abducted him? He came willingly. A noble young master, choosing to be a Taoist instead—who knows what grievances he suffered?”
“You!”
Then, the voice of the Earth Listening Deity echoed:
[Centuries ago, there was a great clan named the Cens. They dined with emperors but scorned the common folk. In their golden age, the Cens flourished. Eighteen years ago, the eighth-generation descendant Cen Wuwang was born. Gifted from childhood—composing poetry at three, essays at seven—he saw through the world’s fickleness early. Disinterested in politics or power, he indulged in eccentric behavior. At eighteen, he encountered Tai Xuan Sect, beginning a lifelong entanglement.]
“Crunch, crunch.”
After reciting the backstory, the Earth Listening Deity paused, trying to salvage the drama. [What are you doing?]
Xue Ying licked her lips. “Eating melon seeds and watching the show. It’s Cen Wuwang’s dark history—why miss it?”
[…Have you no sympathy at all?]
Xue Ying blinked innocently. “Why should I? If he gets lost in the illusion and goes mad, the title of Sword Immortal is mine. I’d laugh in my sleep.”
The Earth Listening Deity couldn’t take it. [He’s your master—the one who guided you into the sword path!]
“Oh.”
Deflated, the deity continued dryly: [After Cen Wuwang joined Tai Xuan, his mother fell ill and soon passed, leaving him with lifelong regret. Zhuoguang Mountain, steeped in spiritual energy, birthed a mountain spirit that preys on hearts. Buried with the Cens’ ancestors, it fixated on Cen Wuwang’s visits. What you’re in now is its illusion.]
Seizing the moment, the deity urged: [This is heaven-sent—a chance to reconcile with Cen Wuwang. Help him break his inner demon, and your bond will deepen.]
The response? More melon-seed crunching.
[…Sword Immortal’s disciple, do you even have a heart?!]
The distant argument escalated. The youth snapped, “Why yell at me? I didn’t force him! If you’re so bold, drag him back yourself!”
A middle-aged man fumed. “His heart’s already stolen—what use is bringing back his body?”
Xue Ying grasped the gist: Cen Wuwang was determined to join Tai Xuan, the Cens refused, and Tai Xuan couldn’t care less. At its core, it was Cen Wuwang’s personal struggle.
The Earth Listening Deity urged eagerly: [Go on! Save the hero—Cen Wuwang will never forget you!]
Finishing her seeds, Xue Ying pulled out juice and slurped noisily.
[…]
Only after eating her fill did she move. Leaping between the two groups, she kicked Tai Xuan disciples and punched Cen family members before hauling Cen Wuwang away. Pausing, she noted—huh, he looked young.
Amused, she tilted his chin. “Call me ‘Daddy,’ and I’ll take you to Tai Xuan. Otherwise…”
She smirked. “I’ll send you back to the Cens as a breeding stud.”
The Earth Listening Deity, hoping for a romantic subplot, instantly went silent.
Damn it. Even with a script handed to you, you turned it into *this*? Go marry your sword for all I care!
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