Chapter 60:

Xue Ying was genuinely puzzled. She turned to Cen Wuwang behind her and asked, “Why does everyone keep asking if we’ve slept together?”

Cen Wuwang remained as aloof as ever, his demeanor icy like the moon in winter, barely sparing her a glance. His reply was terse, “No.”

Xue Ying sensed something deeper. “Cen Wuwang, are you feeling apprehensive now that we’re back?”

Cen Wuwang, “No.”

Xue Ying, “Then why are you acting so guilty?”

Meanwhile, Wen An whispered to Du Yizhou, “Look at her, pushing her luck. She’s not even calling him ‘Master’ anymore.”

Du Yizhou remained calm. “Haven’t you noticed the Voice of Truth is gone?”

Wen An, “Should I be happy for her then?”

To be fair, while the Voice of Truth had caused Xue Ying plenty of trouble, spectators like Wen An rather enjoyed it—after all, the more drama, the better. Besides, though Wen An carried himself with the dignity of a gentleman, he was shameless at heart. Even when the Voice of Truth called him out a few times, he remained unruffled, proving just how thick-skinned and steady-nerved he was—truly worthy of being the senior disciple.

Du Yizhou shot Wen An a look before stepping forward to bow to Cen Wuwang. “Greetings, Martial Uncle.”

Cen Wuwang’s soul being stolen was a private matter, and Du Yizhou couldn’t very well say in front of everyone, “Welcome back, Martial Uncle.” Rumors weren’t the issue—what was terrifying was the boundless imagination of the crowd. If any of their wild speculations turned out to be true, the awkwardness would be unbearable.

Cen Wuwang wasn’t one for idle chatter either. He dealt with Du Yizhou formally, requesting manpower to retrieve Cangwu halfway up the mountain. Left behind, Xue Ying and Wen An led a group of junior disciples and recounted the events of the past few days.

After the Dragon Prince of the East Sea was “righteously judged” by someone, he regrouped from his sickbed, determined that if he couldn’t have something, no one else would. Qiuqiu would never fall into the hands of the Phoenix Clan.

When he rallied his forces to attack the demon realm, Feng Yuemian sent a letter proposing a “harmonious union of dragon and phoenix.” After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Since Qiuqiu was in Cangwu’s possession, why not start with a medical dispute, ruin Cangwu’s reputation, secure custody of the child, and fight over the rest later?

It sounded plausible, and with the dragon clan’s assault on the demon realm faltering, the ambitious Ao Fugu agreed.

Then he clashed with Yan Zhi. Yan Zhi argued that the phoenixes were utterly untrustworthy, using them as cannon fodder, and that the prince should never agree.

In short, their disagreement escalated until Yan Zhi resigned in anger and returned home. There was no scandal—just a fallout between ruler and minister. As for why Yan Zhi’s gender was exposed, it was because her mother felt that a girl of her age should marry soon. Seeing Yan Zhi return without success, she decided it was time to arrange a marriage.

The two incidents were unrelated, but as the saying goes, “Three people spreading a rumor makes it a fact.” The juicier the gossip, the better. What started as a simple disagreement morphed into Ao Fugu discovering Yan Zhi’s true gender, costing her the position of prime minister, and eventually into Ao Fugu forcing her to be his concubine. It was quite the scandal.

“Nonsense! Just because your sect leader is a woman doesn’t mean our East Sea’s prime minister can’t be well-endowed!”

Xue Ying said, “Prince Ao, Sister Yan is flat-chested.”

Birds of a feather flock together—she knew all too well.

Ao Fugu angrily slapped his dragon tail. “That doesn’t disqualify my teacher from being prime minister! You adults, always filling your heads with nonsense, portraying a seven-year-old as some monstrous villain—where is justice? Where is righteousness?”

“And now I’ve lost my wife!”

This was what angered Ao Fugu the most. When the rumors reached the Marquise, she paid him a visit. As women, she understood Yan Zhi’s bitterness—her hard-earned career ruined by Ao Fugu’s whims. The Marquise expressed nothing but contempt and disgust for him.

“It’s all your fault!”

Ao Fugu’s nose twitched as he spoke. Wen An’s eyelids twitched instinctively—this prince had been crying in Taichu Sect for days, nearly flooding the place. Even the tortoise at the foot of Taiji Peak could swim now.

And that tortoise was, after all, a land-dwelling creature, unsuited for aquatic life.

“Not our fault,” Xue Ying said, exasperated. “While I sympathize with your plight, what happens in the East Sea is beyond our influence.”

Ao Fugu’s retort? “You cultivators are all scoundrels!”

Gossip spread fastest among cultivators—utterly despicable.

Xue Ying wasn’t cruel enough to bully a child. She turned to Wen An. “Senior Brother, maybe we should just send him away.”

Keeping him in Taichu Sect was a waste of resources. The sect already struggled to support its swordsmen—no need to add a dragon to the mix.

Wen An pointed at the gate, then at Ao Fugu. The message was clear: they weren’t keeping him, but the dragon was throwing a tantrum.

“According to him, Prime Minister Yan has always treated him as her own. Now that he’s trapped here, suffering our ‘abuse,’ she won’t stand idly by.”

As Wen An spoke, Ao Fugu’s expression turned odd, and he stayed silent.

Rescuing the child? Xue Ying was speechless. “So, you attacked Taichu Sect just to make Sister Yan love you again?”

Ao Fugu’s mood darkened again. “That damned bird Feng Yuemian! The moment I tore down Taisu Valley, he redirected me to the Daoist realm, claiming Taichu Sect would aid Taisu Valley and that I should strike first.”

In hindsight, Feng Yuemian had indeed used the dragon clan as cannon fodder.

Ao Fugu would likely return to wage war against the phoenixes. As an upright swordswoman, Xue Ying was more than happy to rub salt in the wound. “Qiuqiu has entered the demon realm, and the phoenixes are at war with the demons. You could ally with Demon Lord Shen Jin.”

Ao Fugu eyed her suspiciously. “What, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice?”

Alliances? None of them could be trusted.

Ao Fugu remained stubborn, leaving Xue Ying at a loss. They eventually reached an agreement: Ao Fugu could wait for Yan Zhi at Taichu Sect, but he had to stop crying.

Any more tears, and the tortoise would drown.

After the discussion, Xue Ying followed Wen An to his temporary residence in Taichu Sect—a scenic spot resembling Runyu Valley. “Senior Brother, you’re staying here?”

Wen An flipped through Taichu Sect’s guest records. Cangwu, a senior among seniors, would arrive soon and couldn’t be slighted.

“Du Yizhou was too proud to call for reinforcements when the dragons attacked. He held out alone and injured his internal organs. For now, I’m overseeing Taichu Sect.”

Xue Ying knew Du Yizhou’s temperament well—this outcome wasn’t surprising. “Did you retaliate, Senior Brother?”

Wen An smiled gently. “I stripped half his dragon scales.”

No wonder Ao Fugu avoided Wen An earlier. Beaten so badly he couldn’t even maintain human form, it was no surprise Ao Fugu kept his distance.

“The Star Formation affects the entire sect. Right now, Taichu Sect prefers to avoid trouble.” Wen An said no more. “With you and Martial Uncle back, we’re more secure.”

Xue Ying agreed enthusiastically, even demanding to stay in Taichu Sect. Wen An gave her a sidelong glance. “Weren’t you threatening to leave the sect before? Now you’re back and even calling him by his name.”

Without her veil, Xue Ying’s emotions were plain to see—her eyes sparkled with joy, radiant and lively. “I misunderstood him before. He’s actually a good master, a worthy opponent.”

“That’s it?”

“Bailu is back too. I forgive him.”

Wen An listened, resting his chin on his hand, then sighed after a long pause. “Children grow up and leave the nest. Well, at least the water stays in the family—not a total loss.”

Xue Ying caught his meaning. She wasn’t stupid. Touching the red mark on her forehead, she said, “I separate personal and professional matters. At the time, I just wanted to get it done. If it’s a problem, I’ll wear a headband from now on.”

Wen An chuckled. “You might not know, but he does. If he truly cared, he’d have reminded you to hide the mark. The fact that he didn’t mention it at all shows his guilt.”

“And since Bailu is back, why are you still carrying Yaoguang? Don’t tell me you grabbed the wrong sword—a swordsman knows their blade too well to mistake it.”

“Junior Sister, you’ve fallen for him.”

The room fell silent. Outside, the wind rustled through pines, and the moonlight bathed the courtyard. A swordsman’s footsteps halted there as Xue Ying’s voice rang clear:

“So what if I have? He’s the finest swordsman in the four realms. What title I hold while walking beside him doesn’t matter. What I want has never changed.”

“And if he finds someone else later?” Wen An asked, immediately regretting it when he saw not disappointment but excitement in Xue Ying’s eyes.

“Then heartbreak will drive me further on the path of the sword.”

Wen An, “…”

Outside, Cangwu poked Cen Wuwang’s back with his pipe. “Hurry up and cuckold your disciple.”

Cangwu turned around. “Why can’t she cuckold me instead?”

Thus, sometimes, human emotions are anything but mutual.

**

Days later, Yan Zhi came to collect the problem child Ao Fugu, bringing with her a peace treaty between the East Sea and Taichu Sect—essentially an apology: “We were wrong, please forgive us, Father.”

On the day Ao Fugu left, the Marquise and Duke Ming departed as well. Whatever Yan Zhi said to Ao Fugu, he behaved properly around the Marquise.

“I’ll listen to my teacher and study hard. Can you give me a chance in the future?”

A half-grown boy, still brash but with eyes as bright as the sun, warmed the Marquise’s heart. After a pause, she laughed softly, her gaze softening.

“If you come to the demon realm…”

Dragon and demon locked eyes, while a crowd of Taoists stood awkwardly in the background, unwittingly fed a bowl of dog food.

Some seven-year-olds had epic romances, while others spent their seventeenth year practicing swords and spells. Such was life.

With the outsiders gone, the two sects closed their doors for private discussions. Upon learning of the sect leader’s reincarnation, Du Yizhou dove into early childhood education, determined to compensate for the leader’s past hardships.

Cangwu left half a month later, giving birth to a healthy boy overnight before vanishing without a word, returning to deal with Feng Yuemian. He left the child with Cen Wuwang as a “gift”—no thanks needed, just keep the kid from returning to steal his nutrients.

Since Cen Wuwang had planted him in the ground, the child was entrusted to Elder Qixia.

Potted.

Proving once again that immortal trees were remarkably low-maintenance.

Months later, news came from the Realm of Consciousness: Youtan reported improvement, though the demon realm below was noisy with constant crowing. Youtan asked Xue Ying for sleep aids—monks needed their rest.

Xue Ying wrote back: “The Demon Lord probably hates that rooster too. Talk to him—maybe you can team up to kill it. Solve the problem once and for all.”

A junior disciple called from outside, “Senior Sister, it’s time to go.”

Xue Ying set down her brush, the ink on the letter half-dried. She picked up Yaoguang, checked her reflection, and joined her junior sister outside.

Peach blossoms bloomed anew, the passage of time long forgotten. Riding the wind, Xue Ying walked the path lined with disciples, leading to the Twofold Hall where Wen An and others awaited.

Today was the day she officially became the Sword Immortal.

The sect leader beamed. “Youth excels! You’ve lived up to our expectations, Disciple.”

In formal settings, Xue Ying was the picture of propriety, standing obediently as the leader spoke—his words profound, insightful, and utterly lengthy.

“In my youth, I once witnessed a swordsman whose bearing left an indelible mark. Today, I see that same shadow in Disciple Xue Ying.”

…He talked a lot.

After an eternity of rambling, he finally reached the point, leading the applause. “Let us congratulate Disciple Xue Ying!”

Before the clapping could gain momentum, Cen Wuwang stepped forward from the elders’ seats. The leader asked eagerly, “Would you like to say a few words, Junior Brother?”

“No.”

Cen Wuwang approached Xue Ying, Bai Lu pointed at her. “I challenge you.”

Xue Ying remembered, years ago when she first became his disciple, she had arrogantly taunted him.

And then? He’d beaten her mercilessly.

Now, Xue Ying remained unfazed, Yaoguang unsheathed, confidence gleaming in her eyes. “One condition.”

“If I win, you call me ‘Dad.’”