chapter 51

Her face flushed red.

Zhan Shujing retracted the spirit crane he had sent out for information. Glancing down, he saw that the Soul-Guiding Bell at his waist remained utterly still.

He lifted his gaze to scan the people around him—Senior Brother was in the corner bandaging his wounds, Ming Xiu shrank behind the chief disciple of the Medical Valley, her face pale, while Pei Yujing was wiping his sword.

His refined features reflected in the divine blade.

In truth, the sword did not require such frequent maintenance, yet Zhan Shujing knew Pei Yujing was unsettled.

Zhan Shujing curved his lips slightly, harboring a trace of schadenfreude.

As the person who had known Zhan Yunwei the longest, he understood that, despite her gentle exterior, she had her own strict principles.

When he was young, he had been arrogant and reckless. Orphaned early, he was taken to Changya Mountain, where the elders treated him with kindness. At first, Zhan Yunwei had been no exception.

She took him to pick the freshest spiritual fruits on the mountain, lent him her pet spirit bird for companionship, and, upon learning that he was training in swordsmanship, spent all her savings to buy him a new spiritual sword.

But at the time, Zhan Shujing, full of resentment, did not appreciate it. He was convinced that the Mountain Lord and his daughter acted out of guilt. What use was their kindness—could it bring his parents back?

The defiant boy fed the fruits to the wild dogs, plucked the bird's feathers, and roasted it over a fire. He even threw the spirit sword into the Abyss of Broken Blades.

Then, with the roasted bird still between his teeth, he fought Zhan Yunwei for the first time.

Naturally, Zhan Shujing did not lose.

He was four years older than her and had started cultivating early, while she was merely a frail spirit tamer. She was beaten black and blue, yet Zhan Shujing did not come out unscathed—she had left a deep bite mark on his neck.

Years later, Zhan Shujing realized that she was nothing like the cultivators of the immortal sects who preached forgiveness.

In the mountain school, their teacher lectured on benevolence and the virtue of repaying enmity with kindness. Zhan Shujing, sitting in the back, watched her listen attentively.

Yet later that day, passing by her room, he overheard her saying to Zhan Xueyin, "If we repay enmity with kindness, how should we repay kindness?"

Zhan Xueyin, her mouth stuffed with pastries, mumbled, "Are you saying the teacher is wrong?"

With an ink-stained face, Zhan Yunwei bit the end of her brush, practicing calligraphy as she replied, "Not wrong, exactly. The sages have broad hearts. I just don't like it—it's unfair to those who treat me well."

That day, Zhan Shujing sat on a cliff for an entire afternoon, gloomily watching ants move their colony, until he finally accepted a truth—

For the rest of her life, Zhan Yunwei would despise him.

But he didn't care.

Until the Qixi Festival of Zhan Yunwei's eighteenth year.

She embroidered her first scented sachet alongside the other girls of the academy.

Zhan Shujing was meant to enter seclusion in the Sword Pavilion, yet he inexplicably took a day off, watching her with an unreadable gaze.

Not long after, he saw that very sachet hanging from another young man's waist.

That man, just past twenty, was a sword immortal clad in azure robes, carrying a massive blade. With his striking features and gentle demeanor, he was the dream of countless academy girls.

Unlike the childish affections Zhan Shujing had harbored in his youth, this man responded to Zhan Yunwei's budding feelings with wholehearted warmth.

Zhan Shujing watched in silence.

He knew Pei Yujing must have invested years of effort to earn even this faint affection.

But no matter what, from that day forward, Pei Yujing became the person Zhan Shujing loathed most.

He nitpicked Pei Yujing's flaws in his mind, but deep down, he knew—Pei Yujing was nearly perfect.

Born into a noble lineage, he trained relentlessly, came from the wealthy Penglai Sect, and possessed the once-in-millennium talent of the Innate Sword Physique.

His only flaw was that he carried too heavy a burden—there were too many things he refused to let go.

In times of peace, this flaw would have been insignificant. He would have become a revered master of an immortal mountain.

But after the sect's decline, that very flaw became lethal.

Take, for instance, what had happened just days ago.

After escaping from the earth spirit's domain, the demon's core shattered into fragments. One such fragment landed near Ming Xiu.

Everyone knew that the core could be refined into the antidote for Zhan Yunwei's binding poison.

Yet after making it out alive, Ming Xiu crushed the fragment in her hand.

Pei Yujing's expression in that moment was terrifying.

Zhan Shujing, covered in wounds, simply watched in silence.

Losing Zhan Yunwei again, he nearly gave up entirely.

Then he saw Yue Zhiheng save Zhan Yunwei.

There was nothing left to question—he understood everything.

That two-faced bastard had ulterior motives all along.

Zhan Shujing only wanted to see Pei Yujing kill Ming Xiu for entertainment. But he knew it wouldn't happen. Ming Xiu's crime was arrogance and selfishness—immortal law had no decree for punishing such people.

As the sect's young master, Pei Yujing could not take a life unjustly.

That was what made Zhan Shujing lose interest.

Yet that night, they encountered demon serpents.

Countless snakes slithered from the forest, and one coiled around Ming Xiu, dragging her away as she screamed for help.

Pei Yujing sat atop a massive boulder, overlooking the scene.

His divine sword remained sheathed.

Penglai's senior disciple, barely clinging to life, struggled to sit up, his face deathly pale. "Junior Brother, aren't you going to save her?"

Pei Yujing said, "I'm too injured to move."

At that moment, Zhan Shujing finally understood—

Pei Yujing was no lofty, untouchable sword immortal.

If he had been truly pure-hearted, he never would have won over the young Zhan Yunwei all those years ago, coaxing her into an engagement.

And Pei Yujing must have known—when he abandoned Zhan Yunwei during the earth spirit's collapse, he lost his chance forever.

These past few days, he had been unexpectedly quiet.

Senior Brother, feeling guilty, dared not speak further and simply limped away in pursuit.

The final outcome of this matter was rather absurd. The previously missing disciples of the immortal sect reappeared just in time, protecting their senior brother and Mingxiu while engaging in a fierce battle against the monstrous creatures.

Under the bright moonlight, Pei Yujing clutched his sword. Watching his childhood companions about to be devoured by a demonic serpent, he ultimately unleashed his divine blade.

The spiritual cultivators were rescued, and the monster's lair was destroyed. The immortal sect reaped great rewards, and everyone was filled with joy. However, Pei Yujing merely lowered his gaze, wiping his sword in silence, unwilling to utter a single word.

Zhan Shujing understood—Pei Yujing was a good man, but not necessarily the right one.

Penglai had raised him, and there were things he could no longer let go of. But how could the world allow such fortune—to seize all the benefits without consequence?

Recalling Zhan Yunwei's words from their childhood, Zhan Shujing couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude.

Knowing her as he did, Zhan Yunwei would never fall for Pei Yujing again.

As for that imperial hound—things were even simpler.

Zhan Yunwei would never be with someone as rotten to the core as Yue Zhiheng. As long as his blade was turned against the common people of the spiritual realm, she would fight him to the death.

The only connection between them was that damned entanglement of fate.

Zhan Shujing took something from his sleeve and let out a scoff.

Who hadn't picked up a fragment or two?

Once he returned, he would undo it for her. As for Yue Zhiheng? That wretched dog could wait for his demise.

A suffocating sense of drowning overtook Zhan Yunwei again—she found herself trapped in that dream once more.

But this time, she was no longer an infant in swaddling clothes. She walked through a corridor adorned with jade bells and saw the silhouette of a woman in white.

Seated on the highest chair, the woman's features were blurred, yet an innate dignity and warmth radiated from her presence.

Below, people sobbed quietly.

"This matter is uncertain. If you seal it with your life, your soul will be scattered, never to return."

The woman smiled. "Thousands of years have passed, and only our clan still carries a trace of divine blood. Since ancient times, we have guarded the Three Realms' peace. Now, demons run rampant, plagues spread, and the people starve to the point of devouring their own young. If my death can secure a millennium of peace and rid the world of this evil, even if there's only a sliver of hope, why should I fear death?"

"The young mistress has just been born," the high priest wiped away tears. "What will become of her?"

The woman closed her eyes briefly.

"She no longer possesses divine blood. I will entrust her to the people below the mountain. Though our clan will perish, may the golden age endure. I only wish for her to grow up like any other child in the Three Realms—free from hunger and suffering, safe and sound."

The woman opened her eyes—pale gold pupils shimmering like a bridge through time, meeting Zhan Yunwei's gaze.

Within them lay tenderness and love, yet also expectations. In the end, they dissolved into countless hopes, scattering among the stars.

—Yangyang, wake up. Live well.

Zhan Yunwei's heart trembled. She instinctively ran toward the woman, but the scene before her dissolved into darkness.

She abruptly opened her eyes, only to find herself trapped inside a stone coffin.

Golden light enveloped her, yet black mist spread through the coffin's interior. A piercing pain throbbed in her mind, making her clutch her head, momentarily unable to recall why she was there.

But she knew exactly what was happening—someone was trying to seize her body.

Who knew how many years this stone coffin had existed? Once an artifact of divine spirit, over the years, it had become tainted with obsession and demonic energy.

Countless once-kind ancient souls, trapped at the bottom of the cold abyss, had twisted into malevolent entities, fixated on resurrection.

Once possession began, few ever escaped—let alone when those spirits were thousands of years older than her.

A stabbing sensation pierced her consciousness, and even her spiritual core clamored for a new master.

Zhan Yunwei pressed her lips together tightly, forming a hand seal. She did not hesitate to channel a soul-binding technique into her own body, battling them for control of her own mind.

Time blurred.

Pure white spiritual energy coursed through her, while the wailing of vanquished souls echoed. They had sought to devour her, yet none escaped; instead, they dissipated into her consciousness, merging with her.

Even her spiritual core seemed altered, glimmering faintly with specks of gold.

She had no time to inspect it. Completely exhausted, her dantian nearly depleted of energy, she could do nothing but gasp for breath.

Though she had eradicated the ancient souls, she lacked the strength to pry open the coffin. As the air thinned and suffocation loomed, she braced herself against the lid—just as it was suddenly lifted away by an unseen force.

As fresh air rushed in, her memories cleared. She finally remembered—she had been dragged down from above the cold abyss.

Sitting up from the stone coffin, she was met with a pair of dark, eerily glowing eyes.

That man coldly raised a hand and seized her throat.

Startled, she snapped back to awareness—it was Yue Zhiheng.

Just as she had barely recovered her breath, he nearly sent her to the afterlife once more. "Lord Yue, release me."

Something was off about him.

The underground palace behind him lay in ruins, as though ravaged repeatedly. The spirits haunting this place were far more than the mere dozens that had tried to possess her.

Yet, somehow, Yue Zhiheng had destroyed them all.

However, these spirits carried traces of demonic energy. Even though Yue Zhiheng was resistant to corruption, the nature of demonic energy made it far harder to dispel. It was clear that he would not recover anytime soon.

He held her throat for a long moment, unmoving. She dared not struggle, fearing that any sudden movement would cause him to tighten his grip.

The spirit bound to his blade emerged from the wreckage, unharmed. It tilted its head in confusion, seeing its master strangling the girl inside the coffin.

"..." Zhan Yunwei swallowed hard, gazing at the man before her. She spoke softly, "Lord Yue, do you still recognize me?"

Only then did the spirit realize something was amiss—its master had slain too many remnants, tainting himself with demonic energy.

If Zhan Yunwei had any remaining strength, she could have helped purify him.

But she had barely survived herself—lifting even a single finger was an ordeal.

She wanted the weapon spirit to help her, but the weapon spirit was brainless and clueless to begin with.

It wasn't worried at all. Even if the master temporarily succumbed to the demonic energy, it wouldn't dare make a move. The Compassionate Lotus Pattern was there to protect her—it wouldn't hurt her.

When demonic energy enters the body, it behaves like this, fixated on what it loves most, almost wanting to play with it.

It was only pinching her neck, but the weapon spirit saw it and didn't even apply any force.

Yue Zhi Heng had cleaned up the underground palace, and what remained were all treasures. The weapon spirit was going wild, looking at everything with delight.

Zhan Yun Wei was about to go crazy. Although she knew that Lord Yue had come to rescue her, she not only couldn't get out of the coffin, but Yue Zhi Heng, with the demonic energy in his body, was acting strangely.

He was being influenced by the ancient remnant soul, and his eyes were filled with malevolence. He forcefully turned her face towards him, expressionless, and pinched her cheek.

It seemed like he was trying to figure out what kind of thing she was.

"..."

She looked at the weapon spirit, which had already flown out of the secret chamber. Was there anyone reliable left?

Her face was red from being pinched. He let go of her and began to rub her lips, trying to pry her mouth open with his finger. Zhan Yun Wei couldn't take it anymore, so she bit down hard.

Maybe the pain would wake him up.

But what she didn't expect was that her cultivator's body was tough, and even after biting down, her teeth ached, yet Yue Zhi Heng didn't seem to react.

Soon, Zhan Yun Wei realized that he wasn't unresponsive—Yue Zhi Heng paused, stared at her coldly, and then pushed a finger into her mouth.

He gently brushed against her tongue, and his meaning was clear as day.

He liked it very much—more, please.

Her face turned crimson. How did she not notice before that at his core, he could be so... perverted?