Wen An stuffed a spiritual fruit into Liu Junzhuo’s hand and spoke earnestly, “If you’re going to spar with Xue Ying, don’t try any of those graceful, evasive techniques—using softness to overcome hardness. If you make her chase you around without landing a hit, she’ll do this…”
Under the tree, Xue Ying swept her sword, and several blades flew out from the sword case on her back. One became two, two became three, three became countless—in the blink of an eye, dozens of flying swords shot toward Yuhengzi. His expression changed, and his figure vanished into the swirling snow.
Before anyone could locate Yuhengzi, Xue Ying had already smeared blood on her sword. Instantly, sword energy shook the heavens. The already dim Ning Shen Peak was now shrouded in leaden clouds, with thunder rumbling ominously. A few streaks of white light flashed through the clouds, striking fear into everyone’s hearts.
Wen An took a bite of his fruit and continued, “Switch to spells and summon heavenly lightning to kill her.”
Liu Junzhuo took a bite as well, his eyes slightly dazed.
Senior Sister Xue Ying… was truly terrifying.
With a soft exhale from Xue Ying, a bolt of lightning descended. In the flash of light, a white figure darted from behind her, aiming straight for her neck. Without hesitation, Xue Ying twisted her wrist and thrust Bai Lu backward.
“Senior Sister, watch out!”
Yuhengzi hadn’t expected Xue Ying to trade her life for this. Instinctively, he dodged, and the sharp gust of wind from his palm missed by inches, grazing Xue Ying’s cheek.
Two pieces of gauze slipped from Xue Ying’s face. Yuhengzi’s breath hitched as he found himself holding a slender figure, her dark hair framing a pale, breathtakingly beautiful face. She was like a red lotus blooming in the snow—the stark contrast of red and white seizing all attention, so vivid it made one yearn to touch and cherish her.
Unconsciously, Yuhengzi tightened his grip around Xue Ying’s waist. Meeting her furious, dazzling eyes, he instinctively opened his mouth to explain—only to feel a sharp pain in his side.
Bai Lu’s blade dripped with blood, staining the snow with crimson blossoms.
Neither had anticipated this outcome. Yuhengzi clutched his wound and reassessed his disciple. “Disciple, you…”
Without the gauze, Xue Ying’s expression was eerily calm, as if awaiting death.
The elders’ faces darkened. “Everyone, step back!”
But it was too late. A voice, sweet yet sorrowful, whispered in the air, as if narrating a tale:
*[She remembered the day she became her master’s disciple. The wind on Ning Shen Peak had been just as wild, the snow just as heavy. Her master had smiled at her, calling her name in a deep, gentle voice.]*
“Leave now, or I’ll deduct your performance bonuses!”
*[Her cheeks flushed pink, her heart raced like a startled deer. Shyly, she lowered her head, lost in thought: If Master ever took a wife, would he treat her just as kindly?]*
Social death.
An elder roared, “Year-end bonuses revoked!”
This finally had an effect. Reluctantly, the disciples dispersed, though their gazes lingered on Xue Ying, unwilling to leave.
“If I could see Senior Sister Xue Ying’s face every day, I wouldn’t mind having all my dark secrets exposed by the Voice of Di Ting.”
“…That might be excessive.”
Under the tree, Xue Ying and Yuhengzi stood awkwardly. The elders quickly surrounded Yuhengzi, one explaining, “Senior Brother, you’ve just returned and don’t know what happened. On the day Xue Ying came of age…”
Xue Ying bowed calmly to the elders, but none dared meet her gaze. They all wished she would leave quickly. She exhaled slowly, picked up the fallen gauze, and walked away.
It wasn’t their fault. Most of the Tai Xuan Sect avoided Xue Ying’s true appearance—not because she was unpleasant, but because of *that voice*.
Before coming of age, Xue Ying had been free of this affliction. She had happily trained and sparred with her peers. But on her birthday, she heard a *ding*, and the gates to a new world swung open.
The elders called it the “Voice of Di Ting.” To Xue Ying, it was just an intrusive narrator, airing all her dirty laundry in public. It tailored its commentary based on the listener—if a lowly servant spoke to her, it would mock them mercilessly, leaving them humiliated.
*”An NPC should act like an NPC. What do you think you are? Wake up, extras don’t get backstories.”*
No one could endure it.
After much research, they discovered two rules: First, if Xue Ying exhausted her spiritual energy, the voice would stop.
But a cultivator without spiritual energy was a lamb to the slaughter. Worse, depleting her energy permanently reduced her reserves—a slow suicide for any cultivator.
Neither Xue Ying nor the elders were willing to accept this.
So they resorted to the second method: ignoring Xue Ying.
If no one spoke to her, the voice wouldn’t trigger. But with her looks, ignoring her was impossible.
Finally, the Tai Chu Sect’s sword-forging elder devised a solution—a magical artifact that obscured Xue Ying from sight and spiritual senses, preventing her “passive skill” from activating.
Everyone knew this. During sparring, they avoided her face. Only Yuhengzi, newly returned, was unaware.
Now that the artifact was destroyed and she had no spare, Xue Ying winced at the loss. Returning to her cave, she wrote to Wen An, asking him to visit the Tai Chu Sect and commission a new “Guan Huo” for her.
Wen An replied swiftly, attaching a detailed bill:
*Round-trip travel expenses, lodging, materials, labor, emotional distress compensation.* He also mentioned the sword marks on Zi Wei Road, which needed repairs by the Tai Chu Sect. The final number was enough to make a grown man weep.
Xue Ying: *She was so poor.*
This was the unspoken hardship of every sword cultivator—low starting point, no resources; battle-hardened, always taking hits; treasuring their sword above all else, yet owning only one.
And the Tai Xuan Sect’s sword cultivators were essentially kept by the Tai Chu Sect.
Xue Ying wasn’t entirely clear on the history, but she’d heard the two sects were once one. Their ancestor believed spell cultivators should be raised in luxury, while sword cultivators should endure hardship to grow stronger. So he split the sword cultivators off, letting them forge their own path.
Later, the Tai Xuan Sect grew powerful—and poor.
Now, the two sects were worlds apart—one growing richer, the other poorer. If not for their shared foundational techniques, the Tai Chu Sect would have long abandoned Tai Xuan like a discarded wife.
Fortunately, the ever-resourceful Wen An had a terrible idea: “Junior Sister, you’re one of Tai Xuan’s Twin Jewels. If you personally visit the Tai Chu Sect, someone will surely sponsor you.”
Tai Xuan’s admirers risked performance penalties just to glimpse her face. Would the Tai Chu Sect’s simps fear the Voice of Di Ting?
The answer: Obsessed fans feared nothing.
Xue Ying: *That made sense. She’d go all out.*
She penned a reply to Wen An, grabbed Bai Lu, and set off for the Tai Chu Sect.
Being “family,” the distance wasn’t far. By midday, she’d reached Tai Chu territory. Their rules were clear: *Dogs and sword cultivators flying on swords are forbidden entry.*
Xue Ying: *Profession-based discrimination. Reported.*
But this was their turf. She obediently sheathed Bai Lu and began the climb.
Tai Chu’s entrance trial—the Path of Inquiry—was notoriously harsh. All seekers of immortality had to pass it; even a dragon prince would be turned away if they failed.
New disciples trembled at its name, and for good reason. The initial ascent seemed easy, but halfway up, exhaustion set in. The final steps required crawling on hands and knees.
Yet Xue Ying’s breathing remained steady throughout. She moved past struggling climbers with effortless grace, snow dusting her brows like premature white hair. Her pale skin and jade-like composure made her seem carved from ice.
Those who saw her gasped—first in awe, then in infatuation.
Xue Ying ignored them. Pausing at the plaza, her dark jade eyes scanned the scene, then furrowed slightly in confusion.
It seemed… Tai Chu’s disciple recruitment coincided with Tai Xuan’s.
Compared to Tai Xuan’s quiet event, Tai Chu’s was a bustling spectacle. Countless hopefuls had gathered, their talents varied. Some struggled on the Path, while others breezed ahead.
Among the frontrunners was Yan Gou—top of the line, literally. The Yan family’s heir, one of the Four Great Clans, specialized in water techniques. Born into luxury, he also had insider knowledge on major sects.
Tai Chu was a top-tier sect, with legends like Han Su Zhenren ascending to immortality. Naturally, it drew countless aspirants.
His family had arranged his enrollment, and Yan Gou had agreed—Tai Chu wasn’t just wealthy; it had beauty.
Specifically, Lin Jiu Jiu.
Rumors swirled about this elusive fairy. Those who glimpsed her reportedly pined away, lovesick.
Yan Gou scoffed. *How beautiful could one person be?* Then he saw Xue Ying and fell instantly, willing to grovel at her feet for a single touch.
*Such a beauty. How intoxicating would she look in passion?*
Carrying a sword case and conquering the Path effortlessly, she had to be a master. Her looks and bearing matched the tales of Tai Chu’s Lin Jiu Jiu perfectly.
“Greetings, Fairy.”
Yan Gou stepped forward, exuding noble elegance. A fan woven from mermaid silk unfurled before Xue Ying, its golden powder shimmering as he murmured, “Is the Fairy seeking someone from Tai Chu?”
Before Xue Ying could reply, the voice chimed in:
*[Yan Gou preened as he flirted with Xue Ying. Thrilled to have spoken to ‘Fairy Lin’ on his first day, he envisioned bragging rights—unaware he’d mistaken her identity.]*
Yan Gou paled. “Who—who said that?!”
Xue Ying recalled Tai Chu did have a famous beauty: Lin Jiu Jiu.
Also known as the *villainess*.
She tried to leave, but Yan Gou blocked her, eyes dazed. “May I ask the Fairy’s name?”
Xue Ying sighed. “Tai Xuan Sect, Xue Ying. Please step aside. I’m here to find someone.”
Murmurs erupted:
“Tai Xuan? That sect full of sword maniacs?”
“Since when did they have beauties?”
Yan Gou, undeterred, smirked at the bumpkins. “So the Fairy is one of Tai Xuan’s Twin Jewels! My apologies for not recognizing you sooner.”
*[Yan Gou, lusting after Xue Ying, would later clash with Liu Junzhuo. His end? Drained to death in bed. The Yan heir, dying of overexertion—what a joke!]*
The plaza fell silent. Everyone had heard it—especially the graphic description of Yan Gou’s demise. Eyes darted to his lower half, judging.
Furious, Yan Gou snapped his fan. A water dragon erupted from the ground, roaring. “Whoever’s mocking me—show yourself!”
Xue Ying frowned. With a thought, Bai Lu shot from her case, slicing the dragon apart.
“Today is Tai Chu’s recruitment. Please don’t cause trouble.”
Humiliated, Yan Gou clenched his fists. “I meant no offense, but that voice—”
*[Yan Gou knew his dignity was ruined. No amount of sweet talk could salvage his image. Rather than face daily ridicule, he’d leave Tai Chu, shave his head, and join Lu Ye Temple—proving his ‘pure’ intentions.]*
“Bullshit!”
Become a monk? Never! He’d find whoever was behind this. But first—
“Fairy, I’m not renouncing the world!”
*[If not, will you stay and endure humiliation? Tarnish the Yan name? If I were you, I’d just jump off a cliff.]*
“SHUT THE HELL UP!”
Only after shouting did Yan Gou realize his blunder. Xue Ying’s pitying look made his soul shrivel.
She took a step back. *Please stop talking to me.*
Heartbroken, Yan Gou whispered, “Fairy, I…”
Finally, Tai Chu’s disciples arrived. Their leader demanded, “Who’s causing a disturbance?”
Xue Ying turned. It was Tai Chu’s head disciple, Du Yizhou.
Dressed formally for the occasion, he wore brocade robes under a crane-feather cloak, cloud patterns embroidered at the hem. A jade belt cinched his waist, silver threads glinting at his sleeves. His high ponytail framed a stern, icy face—regal and intimidating.
His glare at Xue Ying conveyed one message: *Get lost.*
But after this fiasco, leaving wasn’t an option. Xue Ying took a tentative step forward. Du Yizhou’s expression frosted over.
Their silent standoff ended with Du Yizhou reluctantly gesturing her inside.
As Xue Ying moved to leave, Yan Gou called out, “Fairy!”
Du Yizhou’s murderous gaze shifted to him. “You wish to join Tai Chu?”
Sensing his authority, Yan Gou hurriedly name-dropped. “I’m the Yan heir. Your sect leader expects me.”
Du Yizhou remained unmoved. “Number?”
“Pardon?”
“Our sect leader is busy. Outsiders need appointments. What’s your queue number?”
Yan Gou shrank. “…486.”
A disciple flipped through a jade ledger, confirming after several pages. Du Yizhou asked coldly, “Will you take the VIP route or enroll today?”
“Uh… what’s the difference?”
“VIP waits three years. Enrollment starts now.”
“…I’ll enroll.”
“I’m Du Yizhou, Tai Chu’s head disciple.”
“Senior Brother Du!”
With one troublemaker handled, the plaza quieted. Applicants lined up meekly for inspection. Du Yizhou stood aside, already dreading the chaos Xue Ying would incite inside.
*Damn sword cultivators.*
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