Yan Zhichun rose at dawn and looked at the two women before her.
The previous evening, when Yan Zhichun had been resting in this building, the two women had entered one after the other. Neither spoke a word, retreating into corners and silently waiting for the night to pass—typical “participants” of this so-called “Land of the End.”
Now, the two strange women had also risen and were quietly tending to themselves, seemingly unacquainted with each other.
All three in the room had been cautious, keeping to their corners without exchanging a word the entire night.
After a while, one of the girls broke the silence, tentatively suggesting, “Um… this place looks dangerous. Should the three of us team up?”
Yan Zhichun turned her head slightly to observe the speaker—a girl with a serene face and fair skin. Though not strikingly beautiful, she had a comforting presence. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and she wore a plain T-shirt with black trousers, looking like an ordinary girl from daily life.
Yan Zhichun couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen this woman somewhere before, but she couldn’t recall where.
“Sorry, I prefer solitude,” Yan Zhichun replied. “You two can team up. Don’t include me.”
The ponytailed girl shrugged helplessly and turned to the other woman. “How about you? This place clearly calls for allies. Want to stick together?”
The other woman chuckled softly before shaking her head. “Sorry, I already have teammates. I’m about to go find them now.”
The ponytailed girl sighed and nodded, accepting their decisions.
Yan Zhichun, certain she’d never met either of them, turned to leave—until four words froze her in place.
“Long live the Jidao.”
Her brows twitched as she spun back to face the other woman.
The ponytailed girl also shot a puzzled look. “Long live the… Jidao? What’s that?”
The woman stood slowly, locking eyes with Yan Zhichun, and repeated, “Long live the Jidao.”
“Long live the Jidao,” Yan Zhichun echoed.
A bright smile spread across the woman’s face. “So you *are* one of us. I’m Lin Qin.”
Yan Zhichun nodded. “Yan Zhichun.”
Strangely, despite exchanging names, neither recognized the other.
After a pause, Yan Zhichun narrowed her eyes. “You’re really with the Jidao?”
“Absolutely,” Lin Qin replied. “Why?”
“Did you just join?”
“No. At least seven years now.”
“Seven…?”
Yan Zhichun’s gaze hardened, hostility flickering in her eyes.
Lin Qin pretended not to notice, smiling. “What about you? Been in long?”
“The Jidao has only existed for a few years,” Yan Zhichun said coldly. “Are you mocking me?”
Lin Qin blinked. “How so?”
“Your timeline is impossible. Unless you’re saying you’re one of the founders?”
“Of course not. I just joined early.” Lin Qin tilted her head. “Wait… *Are* you a founder?”
A sense of unease coiled in Yan Zhichun’s chest.
If this woman wasn’t Jidao, how did she know the passphrase?
But if she *was* Jidao—someone who’d allegedly been in for *seven years*—how had Yan Zhichun, who *founded* the Jidao seven years ago, never heard of her?
“Let me ask plainly,” Yan Zhichun said. “Who *are* you? Why impersonate a Jidao?”
“*Impersonate*?” Lin Qin frowned. “Since when is the Jidao some all-powerful faction? What would I gain from faking it?”
“How amusing,” Yan Zhichun sneered. “Your lies are full of holes. I thought you recognized me when you said the passphrase, but you just threw it out randomly? How did you even know I’d respond?”
“Because you said you prefer solitude,” Lin Qin countered. “Jidao members are *always* solitary. Is that wrong?”
Watching them argue like they were deciphering coded messages, the ponytailed girl grew uncomfortable.
“Hey, maybe stop fighting?” she interjected. “You just met, right? Why go at each other like this?”
“Stay out of this,” Yan Zhichun snapped. “I don’t need understanding, but I *hate* Jidao imposters.”
“Explain yourself,” Lin Qin shot back. “You have no proof I’m *not* Jidao. What gives you the right to accuse me?”
“I don’t know your motives or who sent you,” Yan Zhichun said icily, “but the Jidao is my *faith*. I won’t tolerate defilement. For it, I’d do *anything*. If you’re here to investigate or dismantle us, abandon that delusion now—or I’ll kill you.”
“Ridiculous.” Lin Qin stood, anger flashing. “You talk as if you’re the *only* true Jidao. Do you think you’re the only one who’s sacrificed for this?”
“Then tell me,” Yan Zhichun challenged. “What *is* the Jidao’s stance?”
“There’s an outsider here,” Lin Qin said pointedly. “You *really* want me to answer?”
“Yes,” Yan Zhichun said. “I’ve been absent too long. It seems imposters have multiplied in my absence. Disappointing.”
“Fine. The Jidao exists to *protect* the ‘Peach Blossom Spring,’ to *stop* anyone from gathering enough ‘Dao’ to escape this place.” Lin Qin crossed her arms. “Satisfied?”
Before Yan Zhichun could respond, the ponytailed girl’s expression darkened.
“*What*?” she whispered, stunned. “What kind of insane—?”
Both women turned, studying her closely. There was something… familiar about her.
“You… *prevent* people from collecting Dao?” The girl’s voice dripped with hostility. “That’s your *faith*? Some kind of cult?”
Lin Qin’s eyes lingered on the girl’s T-shirt, a flicker of recognition dawning—then widening into shock.
“Wait… what’s your name?” Lin Qin demanded.
“Me? I’m Wen Qiaoyun.”
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