It was another ordinary day.
Sikong Lan was currently teaching combat techniques.
“To kill, you must be ruthless. You don’t just stab the heart, the neck, or the brain. It’s best to pierce the right lung as well, and remember to give the throat a slash while you’re at it.”
Jiang Zuilan raised her hand. “Why emphasize the throat?”
Sikong Lan replied, “What if, during the kill, the enemy’s heart leaps into their throat? Slashing the throat ensures no mistakes. Always remember to deliver a finishing blow to be absolutely certain. So many tragedies stem from failing to finish the job.”
Everyone diligently took notes.
She then patted Song Yin on the shoulder, teaching her according to her specific talents. “The second one likes assassination, so I’ll teach you.
“To take him out from behind, make sure he can’t make a sound. If the lungs are pierced, he can’t yell. If the pain is sudden, the brain won’t react fast enough to scream.”
Song Yin’s eyes sparkled as she jotted down the knowledge.
After the class ended, Sikong Lan packed up her teaching aids, placing her daggers back into a spatial bag embroidered with dark green bamboo leaves.
“Has the fourth one not returned yet? Which family is he doing a ‘good deed’ for now?”
Zhan Zhaozhao’s hobbies included doing good deeds and, more than anything, chatting with people.
The son of Uncle Li at the east end of the village had broken his leg years ago. When Zhan Zhaozhao heard the man had trouble moving, he made it a point to carry him out to the courtyard every single day to bask in the sun. Auntie Chen at the west end of the village had a deaf-mute daughter who found it hard to communicate; fearing she would be bored, Zhan Zhaozhao actually learned sign language just to visit and chat with her every few days.
Zhan Zhaozhao was far too kind and upright; he couldn’t bring himself to deal a lethal blow. Consequently, Sikong Lan simply exempted him from the assassination and ambush class. Instead, she sent him down the mountain to pack some sugar cakes, sweet water, and candied haws for his senior sisters—and perhaps some spicy incense pot and teppanyaki as well.
At the foot of Tianyun Mountain lay West Lotus Town. Because Sikong Lan deeply craved modern snacks and was skilled in industrial design, she had crafted various tools for the food-selling villagers: teppanyaki molds, hanging ovens for Peking duck, wavy knives for “wolf-tooth” potatoes, and even nine-grid and mandarin duck pots for hotpot.
She had also imparted her culinary philosophy. While she couldn’t perfectly mix the dipping sauces herself, the world’s cuisines share common ground. A clever chef could grasp her meaning, and under her descriptions, the kind villagers had managed to replicate the snacks reasonably well.
Now, West Lotus Town had successfully recreated half of the snack street from the university town she had lived in during her doctoral studies. Business was booming, many families had opened branch shops, and many outsiders came from far and wide just to eat there.
Song Yin used a transmission talisman to ask Zhan Zhaozhao what he was doing. She reported back to Master: “He’s still arguing.”
“Arguing about what?”
“Arguing with the people at the hotpot restaurant about whether duck blood counts as a vegetarian dish or a meat dish.”
Sikong Lan rubbed her temples, too exhausted to deal with it.
If she didn’t go looking for the foolish child, the foolish child would naturally come looking for her.
In the afternoon, while Sikong Lan was still in a cold war with Ling Yi, she lay on a rocking chair in the courtyard. Sunlight filtered through the dappled, dense bamboo leaves, falling over her as she rested with her eyes closed.
Ling Yi was holding the cat. The cat’s tail was dipped in ink, and it was “painting” on a massive sheet of rice paper spread across the floor.
“Master!” Zhan Zhaozhao burst into the courtyard, his face pale with panic.
“Second Senior Sister said… that I am actually your child!”
He grew more agitated as he spoke, his hands clenched into fists. “I’ve always wondered—since everyone else is a demon, why am I the only human? The truth must be this: I am your child! Second Senior Sister wouldn’t lie to me!
“I don’t want to be a human anymore! I’m giving up my humanity!”
Ling Yi: “…”
Sikong Lan: “…”
A look of pure disgust crossed Sikong Lan’s face. Ling Yi, fearing she would hurt the boy’s feelings, quickly stepped forward to block her expression from view.
“Why would you suddenly say that?” Ling Yi asked gently. “Did you offend your senior sister somehow?”
He pulled out a coin purse. “I’ll lend you some money. Go buy some beef buns, braised beef, and roasted beef skewers to go coax your Second Senior Sister.”
Zhan Zhaozhao said seriously, “Second Senior Sister said that the reason you two are having a conflict is because I am a failure. She also said, ‘A disagreement between parents over a child’s education leading to family breakdown is a major cause of divorce.'”
The smile remained on Ling Yi’s face, polite as a template—seemingly gentle, but in reality, he was at his wit’s end.
The cat let out a yawn, arching its tail to rub against the hem of Sikong Lan’s skirt.
Sikong Lan picked up the cat and shot a cold glance toward the boy.
“Only your Big Senior Brother is my flesh and blood.”
“But it cost him his balls. Do you want that too?”
Zhan Zhaozhao wavered, hesitating but still refusing to leave.
Sikong Lan walked the two steps to stand in front of Zhan Zhaozhao. Without even turning her head, she reached back and precisely pinched Ling Yi’s chin.
“Look for yourself. Look! What does Ling Yi look like, and what do you look like?”
“Could a child of mine look like you? Could a child I had with a top-tier fox spirit look like you? If you had looked like that in the cradle, I would have suspected you weren’t mine and thrown you far away! And you have the nerve to come here and question me now?!”
Zhan Zhaozhao’s mindset was truly resilient. He blinked and actually looked at the Master’s Husband, carefully searching for any resemblance between himself and Ling Yi.
He was like a dog with a “copper head, iron tail, and tofu waist.” Sikong Lan’s words were like hitting a dog on the head with a metal basin—dong, dong, dong. Although the noise sounded terrifying, it didn’t cause the dog any actual harm.
Besides, he was used to hearing it.
After a thorough inspection, Zhan Zhaozhao realized that he and Ling Yi didn’t just lack a resemblance; they were polar opposites.
Zhan Zhaozhao wasn’t ugly—anyone Sikong Lan accepted as a disciple was generally quite good-looking. He was indeed a sunny, handsome young man with a baby face. However, anyone would pale in comparison to a peerless fox spirit.
“I might not be as good-looking as the Master’s Husband, but there are girls who praise my looks.”
He was indeed very confident; Sikong Lan’s words had failed to leave a single dent in his smooth brain.
Sikong Lan sneered. “You mean Miss Zhao, the one who sells roasted chestnuts at the foot of the mountain? You miscalculate the bill every time and overpay her by several copper coins; of course she looks at you like you’re a treasure.”
Zhan Zhaozhao argued, “But I have a beautiful soul. Master, don’t the books say that a beautiful soul is very important?”
Sikong Lan stopped talking.
As someone who could pick a black-hearted fox spirit as a partner, she was not the type to value a beautiful soul over physical beauty. However, the books weren’t wrong about valuing a beautiful soul; it was a fine sentiment to trick a foolish child with.
She didn’t argue with idiots.
The cat jumped back into Ling Yi’s arms. Ling Yi picked it up and cleared his throat, finding his rhythm for disciplining the child.
“Xiao Si, let’s set looks aside. In our cultivation world, what parents pass down to their children is mostly talent.”
He struck precisely at Zhan Zhaozhao’s sore spot: “You don’t have a single talent that follows either me or your Master.”
Zhan Zhaozhao, who failed every single subject, felt a critical hit to his soul.
Tears instantly welled up, and the rims of his eyes turned red.
Ling Yi stroked the cat’s back and pointed to the street scene of “Apricot Blossoms and Night Rain” that was halfway finished on the floor. “Look. Even with your Big Senior Brother’s help, you couldn’t even draw the outline of this painting. How can you say you inherited anything from me? Therefore, the conclusion that you were born of us is simply not true.”
Zhan Zhaozhao covered his face, running away while weeping tears that streamed down like noodles.
He didn’t even have an artistic talent! He really wasn’t their child!
Ling Yi watched the disciple’s retreating back for a moment before turning to ask, “Are we still making dinner for him tonight?”
Sikong Lan gritted her teeth. “Make it. Not only should you make it, but bring out the finest mountain and sea delicacies and let him eat his fill.”
Ling Yi pondered the meaning behind Sikong Lan’s words. He figured that trying to supplement Zhan Zhaozhao’s brain at this point was probably too late. Did she mean to kick him out after one last meal?
Sure enough, Sikong Lan’s next words were a curse:
“Let him eat a few more meals now. With a brain like his, he won’t be able to afford food in the future. He’s destined to starve to death!”
She crossed her arms, not yet rushing back to her rocking chair. Instead, she stood under the eaves, looking at the painting on the ground.
Apricot blossoms in the night rain, under the flying eaves of a house. A young man and woman, eloping from afar, held an umbrella and walked with hurried steps.
The movement of the characters was captured perfectly; the colors of light and shadow intertwined. Though the street scene was dark, the light in the boy’s eyes was filled with the hope of the moonlight, and the apricot blossoms on the branch were vibrant.
Every detail was exquisite and sophisticated, as if experienced firsthand. It was something Zhan Zhaozhao would never be able to paint in his lifetime.
She stood there and smiled. “Indeed. Who would have thought a fox spirit could paint?”
The Royal Ancestral Hall. High towers, deep halls, and gilded divine statues.
A young princess, slender and elegant like a tender stalk of bamboo, dressed in a green and pale-gold gauze skirt, knelt in prayer before a divine statue.
This was a younger Sikong Lan. She held her hands together, but her closed eyes secretly squinted through a tiny slit. She pricked up her ears to listen for any movement outside the hall. Seeing no one, she immediately resumed her fearless and cold expression.
At that moment, she was holding a chain in her hand, swaying it left and right, swinging it very lightly and carefully.
It was an invisible magical tool. Only the three-inch-long handle of the long chain was visible, looking like a short piece of purple jade. However, as she swung it, the air indeed vibrated.
A soft tinkling of bells could be heard. The youth kneeling beside her uncomfortably tugged at his neck with one hand.
Though the chain was invisible, the confining collar-shaped artifact was prominent. Around his neck was a black collar adorned with three golden bells.
He tried in vain to tug it loose, but it only caused the bells to jingle again.
Sikong Lan couldn’t finish her schoolwork. She owed three paintings and couldn’t face the Grand Tutor.
She had called this fox spirit here, exploiting him to help her paint.
The fox spirit remained silent, kneeling with a cold face not far from her beneath the shadow of the divine statue, grinding ink in the darkness cast by the gilded figure.
She pulled the chain tight, trying to shorten the distance and make him come closer.
He moved his knees toward her reluctantly. While he appeared to be moving closer, he was actually just changing his kneeling posture, remaining just as far away.
Sikong Lan’s own paintings were terrible. To her, drawing bamboo was just a curved wooden stick; drawing a cat was two circles and five lines.
Who knew this fox spirit actually knew how to paint? She told him to paint the “Peach Blossom Map” for her homework. With one stroke, the peach branches became vigorous and winding; with another, the blossoms bloomed brilliantly.
“That’s not how you do it.” She gave the fox spirit a kick, her embroidered shoe thumping against his waist. It wasn’t a heavy kick.
The fox spirit endured it, saying nothing.
“I’ll teach you.” The little princess pointed to a real flowering branch nearby as a reference, guiding him on how to make it look like her own work. “You should draw a wavy straight line, then dab a few ink spots of varying shades.”
“Why should I help you with your schoolwork?” Beneath the shadow of the divine statue, the youth’s voice was muffled and dissatisfied, carrying a faint rasp from an unhealed injury.
The little princess picked up the peach blossom branch and leisurely plucked a pink petal. “You ruined my cultivation, so you have to compensate me.”
The thin youth finally raised his head.
His demon magic was still unrefined, so he couldn’t hide his fox ears. At either end of his lusterless hair were two fluffy ears—triangular, orange-yellow, with one tip drooping slightly and stained with a bit of blood.
There were several scratches on his face—tiny cuts with blood scabs that hadn’t yet healed, the red marks still visible.
The youth’s face was delicate and youthful, but his posture was aloof and cold. “When did I ever ruin your cultivation?”
The princess tilted her head back, narrowed her eyes, and pinched his chin, sounding completely justified.
“By appearing before me, you have ruined my cultivation.”