Chapter 30:

A perfect opportunity, a heaven-sent chance.

Xue Ying somehow managed to turn it into a family drama.

Shocking! A rebellious, unfilial disciple plots to murder her master. What has the world come to?

In a typical story, Xue Ying should have stepped forward to defend Yuhengzi’s innocence. After a series of misunderstandings, she would accidentally become his bride. The two would confess their feelings in the illusion, engage in some intimate contact, and their relationship would heat up rapidly.

Isn’t that how everyone else plays it out?

But you—you’re just absurd!

Cen Wuwang ignored Xue Ying. The eighteen-year-old Cen Wuwang wasn’t as cold and detached as he would later become. His face was still the same—fair-skinned and beautiful—but with a touch of youthful vigor. His striking eyes fixed on Xue Ying, his tone carrying the arrogance of his future self.

“Let go.”

It was Yuhengzi, yet it wasn’t.

Xue Ying met his gaze for a moment before asking, “Do you think I’m meddling in your affairs?”

Cen Wuwang didn’t say it outright, but his demeanor made it clear—he did think she was meddling.

Xue Ying’s hand was still on Cen Wuwang’s face. As she spoke, she absentmindedly stroked his chin—smooth and warm, but nothing compared to the snow marten she’d returned.

Though she regretted losing the marten, she stuck to the matter at hand. “I see.”

She grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him back to the Tai Xuan Sect. Seeing the two groups still there, she called out, “Wait!”

The Tai Xuan disciples, who had just been beaten by Xue Ying, drew their swords in unison, while the Cen family cowered in fear. It was as if a notorious demoness had arrived, ready to wreak havoc.

Seizing the moment, Xue Ying held up Cen Wuwang with a sincere expression. “Do you still want him?”

“Fresh, untouched, still intact.”

[…]

Damn, how much time had passed? Was she insulting herself for being desperate or mocking Yuhengzi for being quick?

The scene fell into an awkward silence until the blue-robed youth Xue Ying had beaten earlier spoke up. “Who are you?”

The man before her was so different from the grouchy old man she remembered that it took Xue Ying a while to recognize him as Yuxuzi, the sect leader. Considering that bullying the leader wouldn’t get her anywhere, she adopted a polite tone. “I’m your niece.”

The “niece” of a disciple, the “female” of the female gender.

Yuxuzi immediately denied it. “Impossible. My younger brother died when he was ten.”

Xue Ying: “I’m his posthumous child.”

Yuxuzi: “…”

As a Tai Xuan disciple—one who loved her sect dearly—even in an illusion, she would remain a child of Tai Xuan.

Yuxuzi was so furious he wanted to draw his sword, but an elder stopped him. “She does use our sect’s sword techniques. However…”

Xue Ying: “Greetings, Elder.”

The white-bearded elder had never encountered someone so shameless. His face still ached from Xue Ying’s earlier blows. His expression twisted. “Shameless.”

Xue Ying rubbed her head and unsheathed Bailu, her sword. “Then let’s settle this with our blades.”

She was following Tai Xuan’s rules—strength was supreme. Those who lost and still ran their mouths would be sent straight to the Yellow Springs without explanation.

The Tai Xuan disciples fell silent again.

While some were disheartened, others saw an opportunity. Seizing the moment, Lady Cen wailed again, “My son! This Taoist is ruthless. Why must you involve yourself in this mess?”

Cen Wuwang turned slightly, his long lashes hiding his thoughts.

[Struggling between familial bonds and his path to enlightenment, Cen Wuwang was tormented by his mother’s cries. He was trapped, torn between duty and desire, like a beast in a cage, unable to break free.]

Xue Ying watched Cen Wuwang, who stared back as the Narrator’s voice dramatically recited the script.

[Clenching his fists, his eyes red with emotion, he had had enough of the hypocrisy. Beneath the elegant robes were walking corpses. The so-called Cen family were nothing but slaves to power—unworthy of being called human. Meeting his mother’s gaze, his heart ached. Unable to hold back, he lashed out, his voice breaking, “In your heart, is this so-called position of family head more important than your son’s happiness?”]

After a moment of silence, Cen Wuwang turned to Lady Cen and delivered his line. “In your heart, is this so-called position of family head more important than your son’s happiness?”

His expression remained unchanged throughout. Xue Ying offered some constructive criticism.

“With all due respect, your acting skills are lacking.”

Happiness, sorrow, anger—all the same expression.

Xue Ying suddenly recalled that Yuhengzi had always been expressionless. She used to think it was because he liked putting on airs, but now, even the eighteen-year-old Cen Wuwang was the same.

She understood. “Facial paralysis.”

They said cultivation could cure all ailments, but apparently, Yuhengzi’s condition was incurable. Thinking of the healers at Taisu Valley, Xue Ying realized—facial paralysis, like baldness, wasn’t covered by their treatments.

Why didn’t the four realms open a beauty parlor? Cultivators were all about health and longevity, yet vanity ran rampant.

Broke and desperate, Xue Ying considered discussing the idea with Cangwu later. He could provide the funds and venue, while she’d contribute her skills. Her only demand? Enough dividends to order takeout every day.

As for Cen Wuwang, she comforted him, “Facial paralysis isn’t a big deal. You still have your looks—you can rely on them.”

After twice mocking his acting, Cen Wuwang turned to her. “Stick your head out.”

Xue Ying: “Why?”

Cen Wuwang: “Your respect for teachers and elders is lacking. You need remedial lessons.”

The surroundings dissolved like receding tides. Cen Wuwang stood before Xue Ying, a few lonely graves behind him. Paper money fluttered past as their eyes met. After a pause, they fought.

This time, Cen Wuwang held back. Once it was over, he sheathed his sword and returned to the graves. With nowhere else to sit in the wilderness, Xue Ying joined him. Side by side, master and disciple faced the tombstones.

Watching Cen Wuwang scatter coins, Xue Ying followed suit, burning paper money. Cen Wuwang paused. “What are you doing?”

Xue Ying: “I’m thanking Sister Cen’s entire family for not beating me to death.”

Cen Wuwang was calm. “No need. The Cen family has already reincarnated.”

Xue Ying was stunned. She’d heard of group meals, but group reincarnation? How was a son supposed to surpass his ancestors and become a father? Where was the suspense?

As if reading her thoughts, Cen Wuwang smoothed out the paper money. “The last emperor was tyrannical. The people rebelled, and the Cen family gambled on the wrong side. They were executed.”

Betting wrong was their own fault, but Xue Ying was surprised Cen Wuwang remained indifferent to his family’s demise. Truly, the heartless Sword Immortal.

“At the time, I offered to save them, to ensure their safety. They refused.” Cen Wuwang continued folding, the shape taking form. “The family head didn’t care about the Cen lineage.”

Xue Ying, hooked on the gossip, asked, “What did he want?”

“He wanted revenge on the new emperor.”

A classic power struggle—you destroy my family, I ruin your dynasty.

Cen Wuwang stared at the tombstone, lost in memory. “Back then, I abandoned my status as the Cen heir to pursue the Dao. The family suffered turmoil, and I felt guilty. So when the head made his request, I agreed.”

“I made him the new emperor’s son, crowned prince at birth, living in luxury.”

“That’s not bad,” Xue Ying said. She didn’t think Cen Wuwang was heartless. Reborn as a prince after being a family head—though he had to call his enemy “father”—it must have cost Cen Wuwang dearly in cultivation.

Cen Wuwang struggled to describe the feud. “But the emperor lived too long. After thirty years as crown prince, the head couldn’t take it anymore. He rebelled and was killed.”

One line from their final confrontation stuck with him:

“Since ancient times, has there ever been a crown prince who waited thirty years?”

See? Everyone expected emperors to die young. What was the point of being emperor when you could be a sect leader for three centuries without complaint?

Xue Ying consoled him, “That’s not your fault. He brought it on himself. Besides, he’s reincarnated three times now. Past lives don’t count.”

She remembered the Narrator mentioning the illusion was formed by mountain qi to trigger Cen Wuwang’s inner demons. But it seemed unnecessary—he’d already let go. Did they really need three lifetimes of drama?

Pleased by her rare kindness, Cen Wuwang elaborated. “It’s not guilt.”

“Compared to sea mirages, mountain illusions are rarer. Mountain qi takes millennia to form. All things have spirits. To destroy innocent lives for one’s whims goes against my Dao.”

Xue Ying was impressed. “So you deliberately entered the illusion to spare the mountain qi?”

Cen Wuwang said mysteriously, “Illusions temper the heart. Repeated trials reveal life’s truths. Nothing is inherently good or bad—it depends on the wielder.”

He wasn’t about to pass up a chance to relive the melodrama of his youth.

Xue Ying cut to the chase. “So you get cuckolded often?”

Cen Wuwang: “…”

After beating her again, he placed a folded paper turtle in her hands and stood. “Who was writing that script in the illusion?”

Xue Ying stared at the turtle. Was this a curse or an insult? She explained the Narrator’s origins but left out its embarrassing performance in front of the fake master—the real Demon Lord Shen Jin.

Turning a man into a woman and spouting nonsense? Too cruel.

One thing puzzled her, though. She was wearing Guanhuo, so how had the Narrator still narrated?

Before she could figure it out, Cen Wuwang clapped in admiration. “Quite talented. Ask if they’d write another play.”

Xue Ying: ???

Before she could react, Cen Wuwang gathered a ball of light. The mountain qi dissolved into fireflies, illuminating his dreamlike eyes as the surroundings shifted again—turning gray, like an unfinished model.

Cen Wuwang strode ahead as the Narrator scolded Xue Ying.

[You’re terrible at playing a romance heroine! Even the BL protagonist next door is sweeter than you!]

Xue Ying shot back, “I don’t even have the equipment to be sweet.”

[No vulgarity from girls!]

After a pause, Xue Ying asked, “Did you upgrade, or is Guanhuo broken?”

The Narrator huffed. [You keep blocking me! Didn’t you notice the system update?] It added smugly, [New version includes dungeon guides—step-by-step walkthroughs.]

Xue Ying rarely entered dungeons, usually wandering blindly. A cheat guide sounded useful. Once she dealt with Mingong, she’d test it out.

“Oh, Cen Wuwang praised your writing. He wants another script.” Realization dawned—he wanted a rerun. Clearly, he wasn’t affected by inner demons.

Some “Narrator”—couldn’t even spot an actor.

By then, Cen Wuwang had returned. The Narrator was eager.

[Yes! How about a runaway bride plot?]

[A grand wedding, the talk of the capital—beneath the splendor lay a conspiracy. The most beautiful woman in the city was to marry a Taoist. Taunted by her stepmother, mocked by her half-sister, ignored by her father, she finally snapped. The night before the wedding, she made her choice…]

The story was romantic, the Narrator’s voice soft and alluring.

[Perfect! A sweet love story—marriage first, love later. The bickering fits their master-disciple dynamic. One run through the illusion, and their bond will deepen!]

It was the ultimate romance narrator.

Xue Ying studied the script. “Lots of roles. Can Wen An and the others join?”

The Narrator had a bad feeling.

When Xue Ying eagerly dragged Wen An and the others in, the Narrator despaired. A two-person romance dungeon had become a five-person grind fest.

This was for love, not for sword cultivators to farm EXP!

Xue Ying enthusiastically explained, “This illusion is woven from mountain qi, shaped by the heart. Cen Wuwang said it tempers the mind, so I thought I’d share.”

Du Yizhou understood. “Like the Mortal Dust Technique—experiencing mortal life to achieve enlightenment.”

Lin Jiujiu was intrigued. Mortal form? Could she cultivate this way? “Senior Brother, any requirements?”

Du Yizhou: “None. But few cultivators practice it.”

Lin Jiujiu: “Why?”

Du Yizhou scoffed. “Why live as a mortal when you can be immortal?”

Climbing up was called ambition. Falling down was called stupidity. Wasn’t being a celestial being better?

If you’re really bored, just turn right out the door to Taisu Valley—save lives and earn a fine reputation.

Duyizhou couldn’t care less about this cultivation method. Wen An comforted Lin Jiujiu, “Not exactly. It’s just that few ever break through the Red Dust Technique. If one fails to attain enlightenment after ten lifetimes of reincarnation…”

Wen An’s smile grew even brighter. “No big deal. You just won’t be human for the next ten lifetimes.”

This is what they call “Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on you”—time to toughen up at the grassroots level.

Fellow cultivator, though you died tragically, the pork sure smells delicious.

Lin Jiujiu wisely refrained from further questions and followed Xue Ying to pick roles. After skimming the script, she immediately spotted the supporting role of the illegitimate daughter—a perfect match for her setup.

The villainess.

She wasn’t too keen on playing the illegitimate daughter.

Before Lin Jiujiu could voice her thoughts, Xue Ying cheerfully declared, “The concubine has seniority. I want to be the concubine!”

The voice of Diting nearly fainted. If the female lead was “Snow Sister” or “Snow Fairy,” then the concubine would be “Auntie Snow”!

Lin Jiujiu quietly sighed in relief, intrigued by the storyline. She’d heard that when immortals descended to the mortal realm for trials, even after regaining their celestial forms, they’d still yearn for their mortal lovers. If she could play husband and wife with Senior Brother Du, even if it was just a fleeting illusion, she’d be willing.

And then…

Cen Wuwang: “Female lead.”

Lin Jiujiu, who’d just lost the female lead role, realized she’d not only have to play the villainous illegitimate daughter but also call Xue Ying “Mother.”

Lin Jiujiu couldn’t help but say, “I see you also cultivate the Path of Emotionlessness. If you’re emotionless, why bother with love and hate? It’s just unnecessary trouble.”

Cen Wuwang, utterly shameless, retorted, “None of your business.”

Xue Ying quickly pulled Lin Jiujiu aside and whispered, “Little Sister Lin, this is ‘Dad.’ Arguing with him is pointless.”

Lin Jiujiu didn’t quite grasp what Xue Ying meant by “Dad,” but judging by the trio’s expressions, she vaguely understood this was someone not to be trifled with. She obediently shut her mouth.

Fortunately, the gentle and considerate Wen An soon resolved Lin Jiujiu’s worries.

Wen An took on the role of the villainous illegitimate daughter, reasoning that since they were already here, it’d be a shame not to challenge themselves. Whether Wen An meant this challenge in terms of gender or personality remained unclear.

Duyizhou, ever prideful, declared, “In the mortal realm, the position of prime minister is second only to the emperor. Might as well give it a try.”

In truth, both knew that with Cen Wuwang as the female lead, they didn’t dare play the male lead. As for Lin Jiujiu…

Wasn’t there a saying: “Better the fellow cultivator die than the poor Daoist”?

Sorry, Junior Sister Lin.

Suddenly handed the male lead script, Lin Jiujiu was at a loss. Paired with “Dad,” the pressure was immense. She tentatively suggested to Duyizhou, “Senior Brother, how can I play a man?”

Duyizhou glanced at Lin Jiujiu’s chest and saw no issue. “Why not?”

“This Taoist grew up in a wealthy family, much like yours. You can just play yourself.”

“Exactly!” Xue Ying enthusiastically coached Lin Jiujiu. “You can do a wall slam, then say to Sister Cen, ‘Woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention.’”

Xue Ying demonstrated, perfectly embodying the domineering CEO trope.

Worried Lin Jiujiu might not grasp the essence, she added, “Little Sister Lin, you could also coldly pull out a sack of spirit stones and throw it at Sister Cen’s face. Say, ‘Be my lover, and five million is yours.’”

Lin Jiujiu: “…”

Xue Ying had done her research. “Senior Brother Du, is five million enough to ‘sponsor’ a cultivator?”

Duyizhou crossed his arms. “Depends on what you want. Third-rate cultivators are a dime a dozen—pretty but untalented. Second-rate ones are both pretty and talented, requiring careful selection. First-rate ones? They won’t give you the time of day no matter what.”

Listening to Xue Ying and Duyizhou haggle, Lin Jiujiu was forced to open the door to a new world.

Huh. Junzhuo isn’t that expensive after all.

…

With roles assigned, the group began their performance. Diting’s voice served as the perfect narrator, providing both dialogue and background music for Cen Wuwang.

A mournful erhu melody played as Diting’s magnetic voice intoned:

*”Long, long ago, a prime minister married a wife. The wife fell gravely ill and, on her deathbed, called her daughter to her side. She told her, ‘One day, your destined one will come for you on a white horse.’”*

The scene shifted to Duyizhou, playing the prime minister, standing before Cen Wuwang. “Your father and mother shared a deep bond, but you are still young. Without a mother’s guidance, arranging your marriage in the future would be difficult. I have two plans: first, send you to your maternal grandmother’s house—a wealthy family with cousins to keep you company. Second, I’ll remarry and find a kind woman to teach you the ways of the household.”

Cen Wuwang lifted his emotionless eyes, ignoring the script’s instruction to “tearfully” respond, and said flatly, “Daughter will obey Father’s decision.”

The peaceful qin music transitioned into festive suona as Diting narrated:

*”The prime minister married a beautiful new wife. She seemed so refined, perhaps she could bring vitality to this household. The new wife brought her daughter into the family. Though lovely in appearance, their hearts were hideously ugly.”*

Wen An made a grand entrance, fan in hand, and sneered at Cen Wuwang: “A sword immortal, yet dressed so garishly. Disgraceful.”

*”Seizing the chance, she stripped the sword immortal of his privileges and banished him to the training grounds, forcing him to scrub floors daily. Once a proud son of heaven, he now wallowed in hell, forced to duel with weaklings. How cruel.”*

Enter the cannon-fodder Yu Xuzi, glaring at Cen Wuwang: “A sword immortal who doesn’t nurture fish to become a sea king, but instead blows up fish ponds every day. What use are you?”

Listening to the lines and narration, Lin Jiujiu felt something was off.

*”The poor girl scrubbed floors all day. Returning home, she still had to make their beds, utterly exhausted.”*

Now on top, Xue Ying gloated as she watched Cen Wuwang make her bed. “Today’s your eighteenth birthday. Your dad is so happy, he’s decided to give you—”

Before she could finish, an ancient sword whizzed past her face, embedding itself in the wall. Xue Ying was forced into a corner as Cen Wuwang loomed, murderous. “Say that again. Who’s ‘Dad’?”

Diting, thrilled by the tension, blared *The Wedding March*, practically willing them to kiss.

*”Kiss! Kiss!”*

Instead, the “mother and daughter” brawled, ending with Xue Ying pinned to the ground, eating dirt—her so-called “victory as the legitimate daughter.”

Diting: *”Die, you scumbag!!!”*

…

The delightful weekend ended. Wen An kept his promise, and Lin Jiujiu reluctantly took over his duties, following Duyizhou and the others to the Tai Xuan Sect to “acknowledge the thief as father.”

Ahem—to impersonate Yan’er Mei.

When Wen An presented Lin Jiujiu to the elders, claiming she was Yan’er Mei, they marveled.

“Truly, the younger generation surpasses the old.”

“A beautiful female painter—what a sensational headline!”

“Elder Lin, your daughter’s been hiding her talents!”

Lin Shen’s expression stiffened. He wanted to confront Lin Jiujiu, but she avoided his gaze. Amidst the murmurs, Lin Shen felt humiliated and opposed the book-signing event: “Preposterous! If the Ming Duke learns my child is a Tai Chu Sect disciple, he’ll never come.”

Duyizhou said, “Simple. Today, I’ll expel Junior Sister Lin. Once she succeeds, she can explain her hardships to the world. Then she’ll be hailed as a hero.”

The exact same trick Lin Shen had used to expel Xue Ying.

Lin Shen was cornered, desperately protesting, “Expelling a disciple is no trivial matter!”

Wen An wouldn’t let Lin Jiujiu slip away and joined forces with Duyizhou.

“Elder Lin, the demon’s already hooked. Will you let all our efforts go to waste? Watch as he escapes to wreak havoc in Yunmengze, leaving devastation in his wake?”

This heavy accusation left Lin Shen no room to resist. He made a last stand: “The event hasn’t started yet. We can still replace her.”

Wen An sighed, lavishing praise on Lin Jiujiu. “As a Tai Chu Sect disciple, Junior Sister Lin understands duty. If she’s willing to step forward for world peace, who are we to stop her?”

Wen An bowed to Lin Jiujiu. “Junior Sister, accept my respects.”

The crowd’s gazes shifted. Someone sighed, “Only sixteen, yet so principled and discerning. We pale in comparison.”

Lin Jiujiu’s cheeks burned. She wasn’t that noble—she just wanted a date with Senior Brother Du.

Alas, she didn’t land the guy but gained a “client daddy” instead.

*Junior Sister, why haven’t you copied the sect rules yet?*

After the crowd dispersed, a nervous Lin Jiujiu approached Lin Shen to explain.

“Father, I—”

Alone now, likely anticipating a scolding, the elders had left quickly. Before departing, Qi Xia—senior emotional consultant and parenting expert—advised Lin Shen, “Don’t stifle your child’s nature. Every child is unique.”

Lin Shen scowled. Father and daughter left the Hall of Justice, with disciples giving the imposing elder a wide berth.

“These days, elders from both sects keep meeting. Is something big happening?”

“I asked the senior brother. He said they’re planning a joint event but can’t decide. Anyway, that Tai Chu Sect junior sister earlier—so pretty.”

“Of course! She’s their number one beauty, on par with our Senior Sister Xue Ying.”

“Ah, if only Senior Sister Xue Ying…”

Liu Junzhuo didn’t linger. After asking about Lin Jiujiu’s whereabouts, he sought her out with ulterior motives.

*Senior Sister Lin…*

Under a flower trellis near the Hall of Justice, Lin Shen berated Lin Jiujiu: “I spoiled you too much, letting you make such a mistake!”

Tearfully, Lin Jiujiu tugged his sleeve. “Father, let me explain.”

Lin Shen wouldn’t listen. “No explanations! You’ve shamed the Lin family!”

“Painting is one thing, but *those* kinds of paintings?!”

Lin Jiujiu had planned to invite Lin Shen for a family meal after the meeting, even setting up a memorial tablet for her late mother to play the sympathy card.

But the moment “Yan’er Mei” was mentioned in the Hall of Justice, Lin Shen exploded. Lin Jiujiu blurted, “Father, how do you know Yan’er Mei is a master of human figure art?”

Lin Shen’s face darkened. As Lin Jiujiu cried, he doubled down on his cold act.

He instinctively channeled his cultivation to shake her off—only for Lin Jiujiu to lose her grip and fall.

Both froze. Before Lin Shen could react, Liu Junzhuo arrived to see Lin Jiujiu on the ground, tears brimming with unspoken grievance. The stern-looking elder beside her left no doubt about what had happened.

He drew his sword and pointed it at Lin Shen. “Who are you to bully Senior Sister Lin?”

Lin Shen was livid. As a Tai Chu Sect elder, this was the first time a Tai Xuan Sect disciple had dared point a sword at him.

*Does he not care about face?!*

Liu Junzhuo, righteous and bold, was about to defend Lin Jiujiu when she shouted:

“What are you doing?”

Puffing his chest, Liu Junzhuo said, “I saw him bully you—”

“He’s my father,” Lin Jiujiu snapped, scrambling up to fuss over Lin Shen. “Father, are you okay?”

Realizing this elder was Lin Jiujiu’s father, Liu Junzhuo panicked, sheathing his sword and bowing. “Greetings, Uncle.”

Lin Shen had never met Liu Junzhuo but knew of Yu Hengzi’s naturally gifted sword disciple. After hearing of Lin Jiujiu’s past life, he’d considered forcing a match but dropped it at her urging.

Now, Lin Shen eyed Liu Junzhuo and scoffed before storming off.

Humiliated before his future father-in-law, Liu Junzhuo stammered, “Senior Sister, I—”

Lin Jiujiu didn’t even glance at him. A second-rate cultivator who could be bought for a few coins was nothing compared to her lifeline. She lifted her skirts and chased after Lin Shen. “Father, wait! I’ll go with you!”

As the luxurious artifact passed Liu Junzhuo, he saw Lin Jiujiu clinging to Lin Shen’s sleeve, weeping prettily.

*Senior Sister Lin… would rather cry on an artifact than accept his comfort?*

…

Despite Lin Shen’s threats, Lin Jiujiu’s role was finalized—and the Tai Chu Sect planned a grand spectacle.

Also known as *hype*.

A “genius beauty painter” wasn’t sensational enough. Where was the buzz? Solution?

*Manufacture it.*

**Shocking! Tai Chu Sect’s #1 Beauty Expelled—Because of Yan’er Mei!**

Now they had both heat and buzz. After reading, fans would discover that Lin Jiujiu was Yan’er Mei—expelled and suffering—perfect for playing the sympathy card with fans.

Loyal fans? Check. Sales? Check.

To be fair, mere “artistic” paintings weren’t enough to expel Lin Jiujiu. Duyizhou consulted the elders to fabricate charges: “What pretext should we use?”

Too light, and the sect would seem petty. Too heavy, and Lin Jiujiu’s return would be awkward.

Suggestions flew: “Stealing sect techniques?”

“Nonsense! Junior Sister Lin may not cultivate, but she’s still part of the sect. Family reading techniques isn’t theft!”

“What about maliciously slandering other disciples?”

Lin Shen jumped up in agitation. “How can throwing money at people be considered slandering? It’s the temptation of wealth, the corruption of capital, a world that mocks poverty but not immorality. It’s the world’s fault! My daughter has money—she did nothing wrong!”

Thus, this suggestion was also dismissed—not because of Lin Shen’s efforts, but because everyone felt it was too trivial, making the Taichu Sect seem petty if brought up.

As the center of the discussion, Lin Jiujiu listened with her heart pounding. Each accusation matched her past life perfectly.

While others argued, Lin Jiujiu’s emotions swung like a rollercoaster—soaring when praised, crashing when criticized.

Repeatedly tossed between highs and lows, the delicate Lin Jiujiu couldn’t take it anymore.

Better a short pain than a long one. Lin Jiujiu raised her hand and said, “Esteemed elders, I’ve heard that stealing the sect’s forbidden treasure is a grave crime.”

She spoke with some intention of atoning for her past life. But the room fell silent, and soon, someone burst into laughter.

“How naive.”

“Can’t blame her, though.”

Lin Jiujiu was baffled. In her past life, stealing the forbidden treasure had enraged the entire sect, branding her as ungrateful. It had haunted her since rebirth. Why was it different now?

Still, her proposal was approved. After all, outsiders wouldn’t know the truth, and it sounded serious at first glance.

After the crowd dispersed, Lin Jiujiu followed Lin Shen, recalling fragments of the discussion and connecting them to her past life. Summoning her courage, she asked, “Father, why did the elders laugh when I mentioned the forbidden treasure?”

Though annoyed, Lin Shen explained.

“That treasure was left by our founder—a so-called ‘magic amplifier.’ Legend says wearing it brings power close to that of a true immortal. Our ancestors deemed it harmful to cultivation and sealed it away. It can’t be unsealed unless for major events, and the keys are held by the Taichu and Taixuan leaders.”

Lin Shen left out one detail: the sect leader had been absent for years, and Du Yizhou’s recent remarks suggested the leader had entrusted the key to him long ago.

How old was Du Yizhou when the leader left? Did the leader trust a child more than them?

Lin Shen concluded, “Since my daughter can’t cultivate, the treasure is useless to her.”

That’s why the elders laughed—Lin Jiujiu holding the treasure was pointless. She’d be better off leveraging her status as Lin Shen’s daughter to bully others.

Lin Jiujiu couldn’t quite describe her feelings. After parting with Lin Shen, she returned alone to Bihua Peak. Along the way, several Taichu disciples greeted her warmly.

“Junior Sister Lin.”

“If you’re free, come visit us. The cosmetics shop downhill just got new stock.”

It dawned on her—without Jun Zhuo and the others, she was still the admired daughter of Elder Lin Shen, basking in the spotlight.

If she couldn’t cultivate in this life, she could in the next. With her father’s wealth, what couldn’t she achieve?

Why bother with Jun Zhuo and the others? Especially Liu Junzhuo—second-rate cultivators weren’t rare.

She could buy one and discard them like toys.

This realization lifted a weight off her heart. Her steps lightened, and she brimmed with hope for the future.

—

The Seeking Immortal Platform was a famed site in the Taichu Sect, perpetually shrouded in mist and brimming with spiritual energy. The jade platform beneath their feet was carved from a single piece of white jade—a true work of art. Visiting occasionally was charming, but frequent visits risked blindness.

Over time, few disciples came. The higher-ups, unwilling to waste the space, repurposed it as the “Hall of Righteous Judgment.”

Or, more colloquially, the courthouse.

According to Du Yizhou’s plan, Lin Jiujiu would be brought to the platform. Du Yizhou, playing the unyielding villain, would accuse her of various crimes.

Xue Ying and others would plead for leniency, only to be rejected. Finally, Lin Jiujiu would be expelled from the Taichu Sect.

The script was flawless—only the execution remained. To avoid mishaps during the real performance, a rehearsal was held in the disciplinary hall. Lin Jiujiu knelt at the center while Xue Ying and others sparred verbally with Du Yizhou. Elders watched below, sipping tea and snacking, barely resisting cheers.

Lin Shen was dragged in by friends to watch.

His feelings were conflicted—pride in his daughter’s acting prowess warred with shame over her participation in such a farce.

“My daughter, a Lin, should not debase herself as an entertainer, selling smiles for a living.”

His words, though ostensibly criticizing his daughter, were clearly aimed at the others.

Elder Qixia interjected, “Elder Lin misunderstands. Your disciple holds the heroine’s role—unyielding, sacrificing for art. Falsely accused, she stands firm against tyranny. Such greatness! In her, I see the pride of a mage and the dignity of the Taichu Sect.”

The flattery was masterful—praising Lin Jiujiu while subtly complimenting Lin Shen and the sect elders. Thus, the elders joined in persuading Lin Shen.

“Brother, don’t fuss. Your disciple is contributing to the sect.”

“Exactly. Look—she never smiles in the play. How is that selling smiles?”

Unable to refute the praise, Lin Shen reluctantly conceded, grumbling, “But must they rehearse daily?”

Yuxuzi stroked his white beard. “Of course! Even we old bones would stumble if asked to lie on the spot. And youngsters are shy—what if they forget their lines mid-performance?”

He decreed, “Practice more. Offer suggestions. Attend often to avoid laughing during the real show.”

After the rehearsal, someone actually offered feedback—a Taichu elder who objected to Du Yizhou’s villain role.

“Junior Lin will need redemption later. If she’s cleared, your reputation as the sect heir will suffer. How will you command respect then?”

Before anyone could react, the elder pointed at Cen Wuwang. “Let Yuheng take the role. He’ll return to his original body eventually—this shell is perfect for misdeeds.”

Before Du Yizhou could protest, Cen Wuwang snatched the script from his hands.

Deprived of his role, Du Yizhou could only watch as they rehearsed anew. Strangely, Yuheng seemed… pleased.

Specifically, when Xue Ying called him “shameless for his age,” Cen Wuwang didn’t strike her.

Not to be outdone, Du Yizhou insisted his acting talent shouldn’t go to waste. He requested to join as Cen Wuwang’s lackey—with just two lines:

“Outrageous! The Taichu Sect has its rules!”

A rigid, unreasonable senior disciple.

Veteran actor Cen Wuwang disliked Du Yizhou’s stellar performance. Both wore icy expressions, but Du Yizhou’s eyes brimmed with emotion. If this continued, Cen Wuwang would be overshadowed. He turned and scolded Du Yizhou:

“Outrageous! The Taichu Sect has its rules!”

After berating Du Yizhou, Cen Wuwang sought Yuxuzi’s approval. “Senior Brother, how were my lines?”

Yuxuzi eyed Du Yizhou, pale and trembling under Cen Wuwang’s sword intent, and forced a compliment.

He feared saying otherwise would earn Du Yizhou a beating.

With Cen Wuwang in the lead role, they performed again.

Learning of Cen Wuwang’s true identity, Lin Jiujiu was terrified of being targeted. Drawing on her past life’s acting skills, she played the perfect innocent victim—so well that Cen Wuwang was upstaged.

The elders fell silent. Lin Jiujiu cried and coughed blood on cue, while Yuheng’s acting was… abysmal.

One expression throughout—wide-eyed and tight-lipped.

Relying on youthful looks to skate by? Unacceptable!

Mid-performance, an elder stood and demanded a recast.

Cen Wuwang turned, ancient sword in hand, voice dripping with menace. “Say that again.”

“Your acting is peerless, like your swordsmanship. I yield, Senior Brother! QAQ”

—

Given the event’s sensitivity, Wen An anonymously tipped off the *Three Too Times* about the upcoming trial.

The *Three Too Times*, originally a forum for cultivation discussions, had evolved under its second editor into a gossip, fashion, and lifestyle staple—beloved by all disciples.

Now, its reporter crouched in the bushes, awaiting a scoop from a masked informant.

When a dog-headed Wen An arrived, the reporter sighed.

“Senior Brother, everyone knows it’s you. You hand out homework, haunt our exam nightmares—why the dog mask? Admitting you’re a dog?”

“Don’t ask my name. I’m just a righteous passerby, opposing injustice. Minor grievances can be drowned in wine; major ones require the sword.”

Wen An’s impassioned speech left the reporter awed. So the senior brother was like this!

“In three days, the Seeking Immortal Platform will host a trial—where light is eclipsed by darkness, and justice is denied.”

The reporter knew the platform—the Hall of Judgment. But a trial? He probed for more. “Senior Brother, any details on the victim?”

After a pause, the reporter added, “I didn’t mean to. Everyone says you’re like a parent to the juniors. How could I forget my parent’s voice?”

Wen An said darkly, “Know why I hide my face?”

The reporter nodded eagerly. “Anonymous. Don’t worry—I’ll hint it’s you with ‘dog.'”

Wen An: “…”

“The dog head, then?”

Regardless, the news spread. Elders reviewed the paper, confirmed the disciples knew, and prepared for action.

Before starting, someone asked, “Who leaked it anonymously, using ‘dog’ for themselves? Harsh.”

“Nothing’s too harsh for a man.”

“Or a woman’s vengeance.”

Wen An: *Just wait, brat.*

On trial day, Lin Jiujiu applied subtle makeup and a natural lip color. Seeing Du Yizhou, her girlish heart fluttered. “Senior Brother, how’s my makeup today?”

Du Yizhou glanced over. “You’re wearing makeup? I don’t see lipstick. By the way, finished copying the sect rules?”

Lin Jiujiu: “…No.”

Du Yizhou frowned. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t cultivate, can’t swordfight, even copying rules is slower than others. Shameless!”

Before the trial began, a sparse crowd gathered below the platform, murmuring.

“Brother, here for the *Three Too Times* too?”

“Of course. Might as well watch.”

Amid the chatter, one question lingered—was this real? If so, why was it in the gossip rag? If fake, why were elders and seniors present?

Confused but obedient under the elders’ gaze, they settled in. Soon, Xue Ying escorted Lin Jiujiu onstage. The two beauties’ entrance sparked excitement, drawing more spectators.

Liu Junzhuo arrived mid-performance. Cen Wuwang wore a crimson dress—a gift from Xue Ying, who said it suited his “rightful authority.”

Indeed, Cen Wuwang commanded the stage, flanked by elders. Below, Lin Jiujiu knelt in pink, delicate and pitiful—like a scene from a melodrama.

Cen Wuwang demanded, “Do you admit your guilt?”

Lin Jiujiu knelt, hair cascading, skirts pooling around her. She tilted her face up, radiant yet sorrowful. “I am not guilty.”

Wen An interjected, “Junior Lin may have erred, but not gravely. Reconsider, Elder.”

Xue Ying and others echoed, “Reconsider, Elder.”

Liu Junzhuo, lost, asked a nearby disciple, “What’s happening?”

The Taixuan disciple recognized him and set down his snacks. “Rumor says Junior Lin stole the forbidden treasure and was caught. Elders are expelling her.”

He leaned in. “But some say it’s because her pen name leaked, and the elders are embarrassed.”

“Her pen name?”

The disciple eyed him oddly. “You don’t read *Three Too Times*? ‘Eyeful of Charm.'”

Liu Junzhuo didn’t catch the hint. “What about it?”

His tone drew odd looks. The disciple scoffed. “We’re all men here. No need to play innocent. That’s Eyeful of Charm—Teacher Mei!”

While they were speaking, the situation on the stage changed again. Lin Shen stepped forward to defend Lin Jiujiu, the old father pounding his chest and stamping his feet, “My son has never been interested in sect affairs and rarely set foot in forbidden areas. How could he be accused of theft?”

Several disciples couldn’t bear to watch and stepped forward to plead for Lin Jiujiu.

Cen Wuwang maintained his icy expression, reciting his lines mechanically, “The evidence is irrefutable. What more is there to say? Lin Shen, if you dare speak another word, I’ll hold you accountable as well.”

Compared to Cen Wuwang, Lin Shen’s acting was far more expressive. His eyes flashed with anger, grievance, and paternal love for his daughter. Though a father’s love is as steadfast as a mountain, authority is like gunpowder—it can blast mountains apart. Lin Shen was forced to retreat, and in that moment, he seemed to age ten years.

Lin Jiujiu called out tearfully, “Father, please say no more. Justice resides in the hearts of the people.”

She raised her head to look at Cen Wuwang, her expression resolute. “If I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it. Even if you expel me from the sect, I won’t admit to it.”

Just as Cen Wuwang was about to deliver his next line, Liu Junzhuo suddenly shouted from the crowd, “Wait!”

Under the gaze of the onlookers, he stepped onto the Xunxian Platform and walked to Lin Jiujiu’s side. Without hesitation, he declared, “If Senior Sister truly committed a crime, with all the evidence present, why would she refuse to admit it? Since she insists on denying it even at the cost of her life, there must be a misunderstanding. I believe Senior Sister Lin is innocent.”

For a moment, silence fell over the stage—no one knew how to respond. The Tai Chu Sect members were thinking, *How dare the Tai Xuan Sect add lines without permission? Cen Wuwang stole Du Yizhou’s role, and we couldn’t do anything about it, but who does this Liu Junzhuo think he is? The venue is ours, the costumes and props are ours. How dare they insert someone like this?*

This was too much!

The lead actor, Cen Wuwang, was direct. “Who are you?”

Liu Junzhuo stood tall, holding Jingzhe, his expression righteous and unyielding. “Liu Junzhuo, disciple of Yu Hengzi.”

Liu Junzhuo had his own plans. He had been obscure in the Tai Xuan Sect for too long. As a late bloomer, he was always half a step behind in learning anything. Top students like Xue Ying wouldn’t associate with him, and Wen An was too busy making money for the sect—their relationship was merely cordial, nothing special.

Thus, as the disciple of the Sword Immortal, Liu Junzhuo could only mingle with nameless senior brothers and sisters—collectively referred to as “extras.” It’s said that one takes on the color of their company, and Liu Junzhuo refused to be assimilated into mediocrity. While his swordsmanship couldn’t improve overnight, his reputation could.

The moment he announced himself as the Sword Immortal’s disciple, Yu Xuzi sensed the shift in atmosphere and hurriedly explained, “Junior Sister, you may not know this, but during the recent disciple recruitment, Liu Junzhuo was found to possess innate sword bones. Yu Heng took a liking to him and accepted him as a disciple.”

That meant Shen Jin had taken him in.

Cen Wuwang looked at Liu Junzhuo again. Since he had entered legitimately, his talent must be decent. As for his character—”Why do you wield the sword?”

Xue Ying had been asked the same question. Back then, she had cursed Yu Hengzi, saying he was inhuman and that she would one day take his place.

It perfectly fit Cen Wuwang’s definition of a rival.

Now, with Liu Junzhuo here, Cen Wuwang didn’t mind nurturing a backup.

When asked about his deepest motivations, Liu Junzhuo instinctively glanced at Lin Jiujiu on the ground. She was frantically signaling him—*Get lost!*

But in Liu Junzhuo’s eyes, her glare was one of silent suffering. He tightened his grip on his sword. “There is someone I wish to protect.”

Senior Sister Xue Ying was admirable, but she was unattainable. Living together wouldn’t be suitable—occasional cooperation was fine. He was an ordinary man, drawn to Senior Sister Lin’s warmth and care. He longed to see her smile, to have her waiting for him at home, calling him “Junzhuo” when he returned.

With this realization, Liu Junzhuo’s gaze grew firmer. He was determined to stand up for Lin Jiujiu. At the same time, he stole a glance at Lin Shen, thinking that if he could protect Senior Sister Lin in front of her father, he would surely earn his respect.

Filled with righteous fervor, Liu Junzhuo met Cen Wuwang’s gaze and declared boldly, “Might I ask, fair lady, how should I address you?”

His words were straightforward, without pretense, exuding the boldness of a fledgling eagle spreading its wings. Compared to Liu Junzhuo’s fearless advance, Xue Ying’s side fell into dead silence.

Out of a sliver of camaraderie, Xue Ying tried to persuade him gently, “If you apologize to Elder Cen now, there’s still room for reconciliation. Otherwise, don’t blame me for not warning you.”

Liu Junzhuo, brimming with righteousness, saw no fault in himself. Instead, he rebuked Xue Ying, “Senior Sister, are you also bowing to authority, allowing Junior Sister Lin to suffer an unjust accusation?”

Xue Ying knelt without hesitation. “If you can’t beat them, join them. There’s no right or wrong here. Hurry up and kowtow in apology.”

Liu Junzhuo was deeply disappointed. “I thought Senior Sister was as pure and untouchable as snow on a mountain peak. I never imagined you’d be so mundane.”

*You dare act smug after I tried to warn you?* Xue Ying drew her sword, ready to teach him a lesson.

Cen Wuwang, who had been silent until now, spoke. “If you wield the sword for a woman, one day you’ll abandon it for a woman.”

He fixed Liu Junzhuo with a cold stare. “Utterly useless.”

This verdict was a death sentence. The crowd’s gaze shifted from *Is this guy an idiot?* to *This idiot is so pitiful.*

Rejected by the Sword Immortal of the era—and criticized by his own master, no less. How could he ever recover?

Having dismissed Liu Junzhuo from his list of potential successors, Cen Wuwang dutifully continued his script. “Lin Jiujiu, do you admit your guilt?”

Lin Jiujiu had given up struggling. She smoothly followed the script. “I admit my guilt.”

Liu Junzhuo, still oblivious to the deeper meaning behind Cen Wuwang’s words, was stunned when Lin Jiujiu suddenly confessed. Coupled with Cen Wuwang’s rejection, he grew indignant. “Senior Sister, why force a false confession? If they look down on you, I treasure you. There are countless sects in the world—what’s so great about the Tai Chu Sect?”

Lin Jiujiu’s face turned ashen. *What do you mean, ‘what’s so great about the Tai Chu Sect’?* Sorry, but as the foremost sect in the Daoist world, the Tai Chu Sect *is* that great.

She desperately wanted to sever all ties with Liu Junzhuo on the spot. Without waiting for formalities, she pleaded, “Esteemed elders, Junior Brother Liu and I are merely acquaintances. There is no relationship between us. I beg you to see the truth.”

*If you want to die, don’t drag me down with you. In my past life, I was a ghost of the Tai Chu Sect. In this life, I refuse to be its trash.*

With that, Lin Jiujiu pressed her hands to the ground and kowtowed three times, then handed over her jade token. Just as she was about to swiftly conclude the script, Liu Junzhuo protested on her behalf. “You’re bullying the weak with your power. What so-called righteous sect? You’re no different from demonic cults!”

He glared at Cen Wuwang, the leader of this farce. He couldn’t believe such a beautiful woman could be so cruel. She must be jealous of Senior Sister Lin’s beauty, deliberately kicking her while she was down.

“As an elder, can’t you show some compassion? Give Senior Sister Lin a chance to uncover the truth!”

Cen Wuwang replied flatly, “No.”

Lin Jiujiu, this junior, was a better actor than him, and Cen Wuwang had long been dissatisfied.

*Next time we do an illusion, she’s not invited.*

Liu Junzhuo took a deep breath. “You’re utterly heartless, devoid of any humanity. If this sect is so hopeless, then I have no reason to stay.”

He untied the jade token at his waist and took Lin Jiujiu’s hand, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll leave with you, Senior Sister.”

Lin Jiujiu tried to pull away but failed.

*In my past life, I died by his hand. Why must he torment me in this life too?*

Holding his beloved’s hand, Liu Junzhuo was as happy as a fool, feeling liberated from the constraints of authority and certain of his bright future.

“The world is vast. There’s always a place for us.”

Lin Jiujiu was despondent. “I don’t—”

“Let them go.”

Everyone turned to Cen Wuwang, who repeated, “Let them go.”

Realizing that the script’s ending required Lin Jiujiu’s expulsion, the crowd played their roles as villains, jeering, “Once you leave, don’t even think about coming back!”

Yu Xuzi elbowed Lin Shen, signaling him to hurry up.

Lin Shen was in a foul mood. The way he looked at Liu Junzhuo was like staring at his father’s murderer—intense and filled with untold stories.

Liu Junzhuo stopped and bowed to Lin Shen. “Uncle, rest assured. I will take good care of Senior Sister.”

Lin Shen: *Take care of her, my foot! My daughter spends 200 spirit stones on a single meal. Can a broke swordsman like you afford that?!*

“Get lost!”

Liu Junzhuo assumed Lin Shen was suppressing his emotions, imagining a future where father and son-in-law would bond over heartfelt talks. For now, he could only say, “Please take care of your health, Uncle. I bid you farewell.”

Hand in hand with Lin Jiujiu, he strode forward courageously. The grand, ornate platform was like an exquisite birdcage, imprisoning the hearts and minds of the young. Now, the shackles were broken. Liu Junzhuo felt even the air was freer. The crowd parted like flowing water—they were mere puppets, controlled by the so-called elders, devoid of their own souls.

The world was gray, except for him and Senior Sister Lin, who were in full color.

Not long after leaving the mountain gate, Xue Ying caught up. “Wait!”

Liu Junzhuo seemed to have expected this. He didn’t stop until Xue Ying sent a few sword energies his way. His eyes burned with passion. “Senior Sister, my mind is made up. There’s no need to persuade me.”

Xue Ying was baffled. “What? I’m not here to persuade you. The sect leader wants you to return Jingzhe. Also, please settle your lodging and meal fees.”

Caught off guard, Liu Junzhuo reluctantly handed over Jingzhe, his voice heavy. “I never imagined the Tai Xuan Sect would stoop so low.”

Xue Ying handed him the bill without looking up. “Yep, the Tai Xuan Sect is dirt poor. We’re all struggling here, so please understand. Any unpaid fees must be settled by the sixth of next month. We accept installments.”

After squeezing the last spirit stone out of Liu Junzhuo, Xue Ying brought up the events on the Xunxian Platform. “Junior Brother, do you even understand what happened?”

Wen An had said that to spread the news, he’d been called a beast. How could Liu Junzhuo barge in and defect alongside Lin Jiujiu?

Lin Jiujiu was an actress, meant to hype up the upcoming signing event. Liu Junzhuo, however, was an actor who had managed to infuriate Cen Wuwang.

Liu Junzhuo smiled and shook his head. He turned to Lin Jiujiu. “Senior Sister, do you regret it?”

He expected her to smile through tears, shyly bury herself in his arms, and whisper that as long as she was with him, everything would be sweet.

Even though he had left the Tai Xuan Sect, he had won Uncle Lin’s approval and Senior Sister Lin’s heart.

It was all worth it.

A sharp slap landed on Liu Junzhuo’s face. Lin Jiujiu snapped, “If you wanted to leave, fine! Why drag me into it? You lunatic!”

After hitting him, Lin Jiujiu tearfully clung to Xue Ying. “Senior Sister, I really have nothing to do with him.”

Xue Ying comforted Lin Jiujiu, then glanced at Liu Junzhuo, who was still clutching his face in shock. She kindly revealed the truth. “The one standing on the Xunxian Platform today was your master, Yu Hengzi. He had a cultivation mishap and ended up like this.”

Liu Junzhuo’s jaw dropped mechanically. “Then I—”

Xue Ying drove the nail home. “Yep. You flirted with Yu Hengzi, called him heartless and lacking compassion. Master was so moved he decided to make it real—by kicking you out of the Tai Xuan Sect.”

Liu Junzhuo panicked. “Senior Sister, I didn’t mean it! If I’d known that ‘Lady Cen’ was Master, I would never have been so disrespectful!”

Xue Ying shrugged innocently. “I warned you not to interfere. And now, even if you go back, it’s useless. The old man thinks you’re too attached to women to be a proper swordsman. Once he decides something, even the sect leader can’t change his mind.”

“I know you meant well for Junior Sister Lin, but why wouldn’t you listen to us? Sure, leaving the Tai Xuan Sect today will make you famous—your name will spread across the Daoist world. But you’ve lost your master. Was it worth it?”

With that, Xue Ying walked off arm-in-arm with the wealthy Lin Jiujiu, who murmured sweetly, “Senior Sister, I want to ride Bailu—the paid version.”

“Deal!”