His tone, as always, was distant yet courteous.
Shen Xiyin lowered her gaze to the peaches in her arms and softly murmured, “Thank you.”
Pei Su said nothing more.
Sensing his deliberate detachment, Shen Xiyin did not linger. With tact, she turned and left. Passing through the tangled forest, she glanced back at the solemn figure in the twilight. Suddenly, she recalled the recent scholarly gathering—how he had not spared her a single glance, merely walking past her without pause. At that gathering, every cultivator of the Xuan Sect had shown him respect. His lineage and character commanded admiration, but it was his cultivation—already at its peak—that inspired awe and fear. That figure was always upright, his robes fastened with meticulous precision, as though nothing in the world could bend his integrity.
Shen Xiyin lowered her eyes and walked away without looking back. Yet she could not help but wonder: how could a man like him have entered the Enchantment Maze?
Meanwhile, outside the Enchantment Maze—
Pei Jun and Pei Ling, together with Xie Yusheng, had set out from Imperial City Mountain toward Luoyang. The three hurried northward, and in less than two days Pei Jun had already rolled his eyes at Xie Yusheng dozens of times. Now, upon learning that in the ranking of female cultivators’ most desired Dao partners, the one in first place was not his uncle but Xie Yusheng, his indignation grew all the stronger.
Pei Ling urged him to be more reasonable and stop picking pointless quarrels.
If one judged by family background, appearance, conduct, and cultivation, indeed no one in the Xuan Sect could surpass the clan head. But compared with Xie Yusheng—whose wit and humor could make beauties laugh with just a few words—the clan head was undeniably stern and dull. At family banquets, not only the younger generation but even the elders rarely dared to speak much in his presence.
True affection means hoping the other will hold you at the very center of their heart, treating you as the most unique existence. Yet the clan head treated everyone the same—fair, impartial, never showing favoritism even toward those closest to him. Such integrity was admirable in matters of principle, but in romance it was hardly an advantage.
Pei Ling, for his part, could not imagine the clan head lowering himself to coax someone, or tossing sleeplessly for the sake of a woman he could not win. The very thought made his hair stand on end.
After this brief exchange, the three continued their journey. By nightfall, they reached a valley.
Mountains encircled the place, low-lying and marshy, shrouded in mist year-round. At night the miasma grew thick, making sight difficult and sword-flight impossible.
The valley’s fengshui was notoriously poor; suicides were common here, and so it came to be called the Man-Eating Valley. Ghosts are born of human obsessions, and those who sought release by hanging themselves often carried deep resentment, turning into malevolent spirits after death. Thus, once night fell, the valley was thick with ghostly presence.
Xie Yusheng lazily waved his fan, striking down a few specters, then complained of weariness: “There’s still a long road ahead. If we keep fighting like this, who knows how long it will drag on. I say we rest here, and continue once daylight scatters the ghostly vapors.”
Pei Ling agreed readily: “That sounds best.”
The three drew a protective boundary on the ground and lit a campfire.
Xie Yusheng found a comfortable spot, lay down, and promptly fell asleep—looking for all the world as though nothing could disturb his devotion to health and leisure.
Pei Jun sat nearby and cast a sidelong glance at Xie Yusheng, sprawled out like a corpse. Over the past few days, he had come to understand: though Xie Yusheng’s reputation sounded impressive, in truth he was only half‑baked—leaning heavily on family background and connections to get by. Pei Jun had a name for such people: “Xuan Sect loafers.”
Too lazy to look at him further, Pei Jun was about to close his eyes for a nap when he noticed Pei Ling seated earnestly by the fire, leafing through a booklet. Curious, he walked over and asked, “What are you reading?”
Pei Ling replied, “Genealogical Records of the Xuan Sect Clans, Volume Seven.”
At the words, Pei Jun’s face paled. That sort of household classic was always among the texts he was punished to copy; he loathed it, gagging at the sight. He scoffed, “Why on earth would you bring that along? Haven’t you copied enough of it already? Even if you want to study, this isn’t the time.”
Pei Ling shot him a glance. “I’m not studying. I’m looking something up.”
“What are you looking for?” Pei Jun asked.
Pei Ling explained, “The two extermination cases in Xunyang. This *Genealogical Records*, Volume Seven, notes the origins and connections of the major clans there. I was flipping through it idly.”
Pei Jun knew Pei Ling’s fondness for digging into strange tales, and recalled that his uncle had seemed to take interest in the matter as well. So he asked casually, “Did you find anything?”
Pei Ling answered, “Nothing unusual. Both families wiped out were ordinary clans of the Xuan Sect, with clean lineage.”
“The Jiang clan—the one that perished when their entire family went boating and was attacked by a horde of water ghosts, all drowned—was actually well‑regarded locally, known for charity. According to the records, they settled in Xunyang a century ago, descended from temple founders.”
“As for the Zhu clan, burned to death by vengeful ghosts, though they were not easy to get along with and not well‑liked among the local sects, they had never oppressed the common folk or committed great evils. Why they suffered ghostly vengeance is unclear.”
Here Pei Ling paused. “But there is one thing rather strange…”
Pei Jun followed up, asking, “What is it?”
Pei Ling pointed to the genealogical record in his hands. “This volume doesn’t mention what their ancestors did to make their start.”
That was not unusual. Some Xuan Sect families had less-than-honorable origins, and once they rose to prominence, their descendants would go to great lengths to erase that detail.
The two young men of the Pei clan were still puzzling over what shameful trade those ancestors might have practiced when, from behind them, a voice drifted through the darkness— “Butchers.”
The sudden word, slipping into the night like a ghostly whisper, made both Pei Jun and Pei Ling shudder. Stiff‑necked, they turned toward the sound, only to see that it came from Xie Yusheng, who had been lying there moments ago, supposedly asleep.
Pei Jun’s mouth twitched. “Weren’t you asleep?”
Xie Yusheng lifted his weary eyelids and muttered, “You two have been chattering nonstop—how am I supposed to get any sleep?”
Pei Ling quickly apologized, “Terribly sorry for disturbing your rest. But how did you know this family’s ancestors were butchers?”
Xie Yusheng thought back. “Years ago, when I traveled through Xunyang, I heard the locals mention it. You know how it is—the more someone wants to keep something quiet, the more people spread it around. The Zhu clan’s master wasn’t well liked, so those who despised him whispered that his family was pig-slaughterers.”
“Pig-slaughtering Zhu—that’s easy enough to remember. So I kept it in mind, ha ha…” He gave a few awkward chuckles.
Pei Jun’s face remained expressionless. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
Xie Yusheng blinked. “Isn’t it?”
Pei Ling shook his head. “No.”
A heavy silence fell. After a while, Xie Yusheng yawned. “All right, enough bickering. Let’s get some sleep—we’ve got a long road ahead tomorrow.”
Pei Jun and Pei Ling answered together, “Yes.”
The three each found a spot to lie down.
Pei Ling lay with his eyes closed, turning the matter over in his mind but finding no clear connection. No matter how he looked at it, the two wiped-out families seemed unrelated. To be destroyed within the same month—perhaps it was nothing more than cruel coincidence. He remembered that the clan head had once paid attention to these tragedies too. What did he make of them?
With that lingering doubt, Pei Ling drifted into sleep. At dawn, he saw Pei Jun wake with the same dark shadows under his eyes. Concerned, he asked, “Did you not sleep well?”
Pei Jun would never admit that it was all because of last night’s talk of pig-slaughtering. In his dreams, he had grown a pig’s head and was chased to the slaughter. Even dreaming of being the butcher’s knife would have been better than that. Best not to mention it.
When daylight broke, the sun burned away the valley’s mists. The three continued on their way. Beyond the gorge stretched open plains —a world entirely different: bright sunshine, lush greenery, full of life. Not far along the road, they came upon a bustling little town. As soon as the three entered, they saw many fellow cultivators of the Dao.
Pei Jun, holding his sword, swept his gaze over the crowd. “Quite a few familiar faces here.”
Xie Yusheng, fanning himself with his jade-bone fan, smiled. “No doubt they’re all heading to pay respects at our late master’s memorial.”
Pei Ling added, “The wandering immortal Yun Xu was renowned for his virtue and wisdom, admired across the land. Many cultivators benefited from his guidance. Now that he has passed, it’s only natural that countless disciples journey to Luoyang for the memorial. This town lies on the way, so meeting old acquaintances here is hardly surprising.”
Xie Yusheng tapped the two Peis on the shoulder with his fan. “Speaking of which, your clan head was Master Yun Xu’s most trusted student.”
Pei Jun replied, “Wherever Uncle goes, he’s the one people rely on most.”
Pei Ling followed, “And our clan head regarded Yun Xu as the elder he respected above all.”
Yet none of them knew what had happened to cause their clan head to miss such an important memorial. As they walked down the town’s main street, Pei Jun suddenly shivered, a chill creeping across his back.
In the shadow of a street corner stood Xu Yanxing, watching the three ahead. The clan elders had entrusted him to attend Yun Xu’s memorial in Luoyang, and here he had unexpectedly run into Pei Jun and his companions. Each time he saw that figure, the scenes before the Enchantment Maze returned like a nightmare: the mysterious man trapped inside, the strange incantations woven into the array, and the fact that someone else besides him knew of its existence.
The thought nearly drove Xu Yanxing mad. Everything was slipping out of control. This was not what he had wanted, yet now he could no longer stop events from unfolding, nor see how they might end.
Meanwhile, within Shen Xiyin’s body, the fertility elixir had already taken effect. No matter how unwilling she was, how much she resisted, how could mere mortal flesh withstand the urging of such a secret Daoist medicine? At this moment, her very bones seemed aflame, her body consumed by a passion she could not suppress. Her body longed to claim what it desired—and that which she craved lay within the Enchantment Maze. She would bear that man’s child.