Gone? Yu Sang‑sang’s eye twitched. She hadn’t realized before that everyone’s legs could move so fast. But truthfully, leaving the mausoleum might mean a better life for them. Her scummy father was always stingy toward the mausoleum, and with so many guards at the gates, coming and going was difficult. Now, though leaving looks like hardship, with Old Wang around—even if his cultivation isn’t high—he’s still a cultivator. Leading everyone to find a place to settle down would surely be more comfortable than staying trapped in the mausoleum.
Yet in Yu Sang‑sang’s memories, Old Wang had always been loyal to Dayu, forever mourning her grandfather. She had thought his diligence in the mausoleum, despite the miserable life there, was because he wanted to remain near the tomb of the former sovereign. But now he had left. And perhaps that was for the best.
Because whether it was Wei Li trying to kill her back then, or Yu Xiu now ignoring her disappearance, both saw her as Xianzhu’s greatest threat. Even though Xianzhu had stolen her identity, as long as Yu Sang‑sang lived, discovery was always possible.
By the same logic, Old Wang—who knew the truth of Yu Xian’er’s identity and had even helped them steal it—and the group in the mausoleum who knew the difference between the real and false princess were also dangerous liabilities to Yu Xiu. For the sake of his beloved daughter, silencing them to bury the secret was exactly the kind of vile thing her scummy father would do. Leaving Dayu before he acted meant they could at least preserve their lives.
Yu Sang‑sang pressed her lips together. Though she often grumbled about Old Wang since her identity had changed, she still hoped they were alive.
Alive and well.
“Leaving is good,” she whispered. “At least… I hope they stay safe and eat something decent.”
Yu Xiu was harsh, and their days in the imperial mausoleum had been bitter and austere. They were all just old men and women. At the very least, they should have had more meat to eat.
“Dao-friend, you haven’t found any trace of them?” she asked.
Hearing the girl mutter under her breath, Yin Mingjing smiled faintly, his gaze softening. He already understood most of this tale of substitution in Dayu, but he hadn’t expected the child to still care about how those people lived.
“They left in secrecy, likely cautious to avoid being discovered and silenced. At the very least, I haven’t found where they went.”
This world is vast—if one truly wishes to hide, it isn’t difficult.
Yu Sang‑sang coughed lightly and said, “I wonder if they even had enough for travel expenses.”
Still, Old Wang was clever enough to lead everyone away, not blindly loyal to the point of waiting for Yu Xiu to kill them. And it seemed he hadn’t revealed her whereabouts to Dayu either.
Heaven only knows.
When Qingyan carried her away, the old man had seen it with his own eyes and even bid her farewell. Yet the message that reached Dayu’s palace was that she had disappeared, perhaps even died—not that she had gone to Lingxiao Sect.
Thinking of this, Yu Sang‑sang stole a glance at the Sword Sovereign, who was now the subject of such speculation.
But Qingyan paid no mind to such trifles. Having cultivated for a thousand years, he was long accustomed to malicious slander. Rumors of villains coveting a young girl’s beauty meant nothing to him. Besides… A sword sovereign born with such dazzling allure hardly thought a pale, inexperienced little girl before him was worth coveting for her looks. In fact… some scoundrels were prettier than she was.
Yu Sang‑sang shut her eyes, silently reminding herself that her face was crafted from top‑tier data—super beautiful.
“I’ve already reported this matter to the sect master. The sect master said he is aware,” Yin Mingjing added, watching her lively little face, as if she were about to stage a whole drama on her own. Her expression practically read: *‘Between me and the Sword Sovereign, who is more beautiful… I concede defeat. I’ll investigate again and report back!’*
He couldn’t help but laugh, though he only relayed his master’s response with composure.
Hearing this, Qingyan gave a quiet “Mm.” Then, noticing the girl sneaking glances at him, determined to outshine him in beauty, he suddenly frowned slightly. After a pause, he looked at Yu Sang‑sang and said, “What plans do you have for the future?” He had kept her at the pavilion only to observe whether the baleful qi would cause any change in her. Yet now, after a full month, she was not only lively but had even managed to build her foundation. It seemed the baleful qi truly had no effect on her. Could it be that even baleful qi comes in counterfeit versions these days?
So many strange things had happened to Yu Sang‑sang’s body. But Qingyan showed no interest. There were countless prodigies in the world. If he were curious about each one, life would be far too troublesome.
“Plans?”
“A month has already passed. You should be fine now.”
“A whole month…” Yu Sang‑sang sighed, finally able to ease her mind about the future. She hesitated. Truthfully, this place of the Sword Sovereign was really quite good—not only quiet and serene, but almost like the imperial mausoleum… Ah, heavens, she glanced upward guiltily, hoping he hadn’t heard that thought. To compare the pavilion of a lofty immortal to a tomb was practically asking for a beating. Still, she found herself well suited to such silence.
Perhaps cultivators preferred lively gatherings and camaraderie. But having grown up for fourteen years in the mausoleum, she felt that beauty and amusement could be sought outside; at home, peace and quiet were enough. She also had a temperament of calm elegance. Yet even with such thoughts, she knew Qingyan stood far above her. She was only a low‑level cultivator—hardly someone who could cling shamelessly to him. He had already treated her kindly: noticing her problem, giving her time to be observed, even gifting her pills for cultivation. How could she take advantage and burden him further?
A faint sense of loss welled up. Shaking her head, she forced a bright smile. “I plan to settle at the foot of the mountain for now. When Lingxiao Sect opens its gates, I’ll apply. At least… at least since I’ve already built my foundation at this age, I should be able to make it into the inner sect, right?”
With her strength, she was confident she’d be chosen. Perhaps she might even be fought over by the sect’s Lords and fairies.
Yin Mingjing blinked, instinctively glancing at the Sword Sovereign.
The latter offered no attempt to keep her, only lowering his gaze and saying blandly, “As you wish.”
Yin Mingjing almost spoke, then held back.
Yu Sang‑sang bowed her head. “I’m grateful for Sword Sovereign’s shelter during this time and for Dao-friend’s support.” She didn’t imagine herself as some dazzling talent whom the Sword Sovereign would nurture with care. But his cold indifference in immediately agreeing to her departure left her strangely disappointed. Perhaps it was because, after leaving the mausoleum, he was the first person to truly look after her, aside from Old Wang and the others.
Drooping her little head, Yu Sang‑sang didn’t know how to respond. For all her chatter, she really wasn’t someone who could speak well.
“I’ll go say goodbye to everyone,” Yu Sang‑sang whispered.
“As you wish,” Qingyan replied even more coolly.
The young girl drew a deep breath, forcing a smile as she went to bid farewell to the puppets, even handing out a few parting gifts.
After all, the Sword Sovereign’s status was exalted. Even if she later entered Lingxiao Sect, in terms of rank, she would never again cross paths with such an immortal.
Yin Mingjing watched her small head droop as she walked out, her thin little back looking especially pitiful. He hesitated. Seeing his master unmoved, he still couldn’t hold back. The girl was clear‑hearted and sincere—and, he muttered inwardly, a bit silly. Show her a little kindness, and she wanted to bare her whole heart. In the cultivation world, wouldn’t that get her sold off in no time? Maddening!
“Master, Sang‑sang has some connection to the late Wei Li. I was thinking… perhaps in the future she might recall something related to him.”
Yin Mingjing spoke slowly to the man whose beauty was so dazzling it made himself seem prematurely aged in comparison. “The revival of the Heavenly Pillar is no small matter. Sang‑sang may yet be of help. Moreover…” Knowing his master disliked noise, he didn’t mention her likable nature, only lowered his voice: “She’s but seventeen, yet her foundation is already solid. Such talent—and she’s skilled at divining fate.”
At that, Yin Mingjing’s mouth twitched. Divining fate… He was really stretching to praise the girl to the heavens.
Qingyan listened coldly, but did not silence him.
That alone eased Yin Mingjing’s heart, and he pressed on: “With guidance from someone like Master, such talent would surely grow into greatness. Perhaps one day she will reach the immortal rank. And Sang‑sang’s temperament is gentle and sincere, not harsh—if she were to enter Master’s tutelage, she would never tarnish your reputation.”
Those words… In truth, the Sword Sovereign’s reputation in the cultivation world was anything but pristine. Blackened in every shade imaginable.
Still, Yin Mingjing felt Yu Sang‑sang’s concern for the mausoleum servants proved she was genuinely good. Of course, he hadn’t yet seen her in a fight.
Qingyan’s divine sense swept outward. Outside the hall, Yu Sang‑sang was huddled with a group of puppets, chatting away regardless of whether they understood her—looking for all the world like kindred spirits. He withdrew his sense, turning back to his disciple who was working so hard to speak on her behalf.
This disciple was of good character, broad‑minded, and widely praised throughout the realm. Yet he had never before spoken so highly of another in his master’s presence.
“One month.”
“Wh‑what?” Yin Mingjing had been racking his brain to shower Yu Sang‑sang with praise.
“She has cultivated for only one month,” Qingyan said calmly, having heard the princess’s tragic tale.
Yin Mingjing slowly digested the words. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he was stunned. “Master means… Sang‑sang has only entered the Dao for a single month?” Even with all the wonders he had seen in this world, Yin Mingjing was shaken. He had met prodigies who built their foundation at seventeen. But to begin cultivation at seventeen, practice for only a month, and already reach foundation stage—with her aura steady and firm… Could she be the reincarnation of some immortal?
His mouth twitched, then his eyes lit up as he hurried to say, “If Sang‑sang were Master’s disciple, she would never disgrace you.” He already had two junior brothers.
Though they were fine, who wouldn’t want a soft little junior sister to greet him with “Welcome home, Senior Brother!”—someone who could even help him use up his hidden stash of skirts and spirit pills?
Seeing his disciple’s eager gaze, Qingyan pressed his lips together, turned aside, and gave a cold snort. “She has not asked to become my disciple.”
If she wished it, why had she said nothing? He had asked her plans. Yet that sweet‑tongued child, who could even charm puppets, had simply said she would go down the mountain and leave. Not even a single, “May I stay?” And wasn’t she supposed to like him?