She slowly lowered her hand, only then noticing the plain gauze covering the other’s eyes. When the mountain breeze swept by, the light veil lifted slightly with the wind, faintly revealing tightly shut eyes beneath.
“Se—Senior…” Shen Ci’s throat felt dry, her words stumbling. As if suddenly remembering something, she waved her hand in front of the person’s eyes.
The person suddenly spoke, their voice carrying a hint of teasing, “This venerable one may be blind in the eyes, but not in the heart.”
So it really was a blind cultivator.
Just as Shen Ci was about to express her gratitude, a lazy voice sounded from behind, “Mo Cheng, just when the fight was getting exciting, you had to stop to save this little girl.”
As the voice faded, a crimson streak shot through the air. A red-clad youth arrived stepping on a sword, his toes lightly touching the ground as the gleaming long sword instantly transformed into a jade bone folding fan.
When Shen Ci turned around, she saw a handsome face both dashing and sharp. The youth’s brows and eyes were sharp as blades, currently spinning the fan leisurely with an air of noble elegance.
Shen Ci stared at the folding fan that had nearly sliced off her ear, unexpectedly meeting his teasing phoenix eyes: “Keep looking, and I’ll gouge your eyes out to go with my wine.”
As he spoke, the corners of his eyes lifted. Though his words were threatening, they carried a somewhat cynical smile.
Shen Ci shuddered and quickly hid behind Mo Cheng, only peeking out with her head.
“Jun Quxiye, you broke the rules.” Mo Cheng suddenly sidestepped as a fist wind barely grazed past his temple. Only then did Shen Ci notice a wolf-eared youth standing not far away, a full two heads taller than ordinary people, his dark beast-like pupils fixed intently on her.
He twitched his nose tip, sniffing vigorously until he walked right up to Shen Ci, almost drooling, “So fragrant, smells delicious.”
Shen Ci: “…”
From behind came an irritable voice, “You bunch of bastards!”
The man had his jet-black hair tied high, with a few strands falling between his sharp brows. He irritably tossed aside his bangs, glanced at Shen Ci, and snorted lightly, “Xiao Lie, this little girl is as thin as a bean sprout—wouldn’t even be enough to stick between your teeth!”
“And you lot, we agreed to spar tonight, but no one shows up on time. Fine, planning to stand me up again, huh? I’m telling you, no one’s getting away today.”
His blade-sharp gaze swept over everyone: “Mo Cheng, stop pretending to be deaf! Jun Quxiye, I’ve had enough of you! And that enchantress Ling Yimian…”
…
The three present all covered their ears in unison, clearly accustomed to this.
Shen Ci stared at him blankly for a long time, watching his mouth open and close.
The person beside her chuckled lightly, “What’s wrong, little girl? Scared stiff?”
Shen Ci said dazedly, “No, I just think this senior’s mouth looks like a boiling kettle.”
“Pfft—”
Mo Cheng covered his mouth with a light laugh. Shen Ci looked up at him, watching as the youth’s hanging strands of hair swayed gently in the wind, his brows and eyes slightly curved, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“So beautiful…”
She unconsciously spoke aloud.
Suddenly, a cloyingly sweet floral scent drifted past her nose. Falling petals of kerria scattered down amid the clear, crisp sound of silver bells, as a lazy, enchanting female voice spoke: “Little sister, haven’t you heard?”
Shen Ci looked toward the source of the voice. A purple-clad woman arrived stepping lightly on petals, silver bells at her waist tinkling, “The more beautiful the person, the more dangerous they are.”
Shen Ci’s pupils slightly dilated. Having lived two lives, she had never seen such a soul-stirring beauty. The snow-white skin faintly visible beneath the sheer purple robes, the bare feet that seemed to tread upon petals with every step, and the silver bells jingling with each turn of the ankles—all made her appear like a seductive spirit stepping out of an ancient painting.
The irritable youth slammed his blade tip into the ground. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ling Yimian, you won’t even spare Little Bean Sprout?”
Ling Yimian cast him a sidelong glance. “Jiang Yan, do you have a death wish?”
Shen Ci looked at him in confusion. What did he mean by not sparing a young girl like her?
“Huh?”
Xiao Lie tilted his head, his ear twitching slightly, then grinned foolishly. “Little Bean Sprout wasn’t affected, huh.”
At these words, the others also looked at Shen Ci in surprise. Even Ling Yimian herself seemed somewhat incredulous before lazily remarking, “How interesting. Little sister actually managed to resist my techniques.”
Shen Ci felt her brain straining. What did these seniors mean?
Also, why would there be such a formidable-looking group of people in the Sect’s Back Mountain?
Just as her thoughts were in turmoil, a faint “crack” sounded from the treetops above.
Shen Ci instinctively looked up, meeting a pair of blood-red eyes.
The man wore blue robes, lounging lazily among the branches with disheveled hair. His pale, slender fingers held a snow-white spiritual bird. After giving her a casual glance, he suddenly tightened his palm!
“Squish!”
Blood dripped through his fingers, staining his sleeve crimson. He then licked the blood splattered near his lips and flashed her a sinister smile.
Shen Ci felt her legs go weak.
That gaze, that smile… they were exactly like the demonic cultivators she had seen in the Demon Abyss Cliff Cave in her previous life!
Her throat tightened as she swallowed hard, subtly shifting her feet backward.
One step, two steps… After putting some distance between them, she abruptly turned and sprinted away.
“Senior brothers and sisters, save me!!!”
Behind her came waves of unrestrained laughter. Shen Ci didn’t dare look back, her legs pumping furiously as if she could fly directly back to the Sect gates.
She ran and ran, not knowing how long she had been running until she finally stopped, hands on knees, bending over and gasping for breath. She glanced back—no one was following.
Shen Ci let out a long sigh of relief. She finally understood why her senior brothers and sisters didn’t gather the abundant Spiritual Qi in the Back Mountain—they simply didn’t dare.
She looked around, her gaze settling on a waterfall. With a subtle movement of her fingers, she formed a hand seal and collected several strands of waterfall water.
Retracing her path back to the Sect, she poured the strands of water into a small stream and muttered, “I’ll have to use this to fool everyone.”
Looking at the empty Sect and the barren fields, Shen Ci flopped backward, sprawling limply by the stream. “Where am I supposed to dig up spiritual plants now?”
The bald hen seemed to sense her mood and wobbled toward her. Shen Ci gently stroked its featherless head. “What should we do, Da Hua? A-Ci is so poor, I don’t even have money to buy rice for you.”
But after just a moment of wallowing, Shen Ci sprang up like a carp leaping from water and began rummaging through her pockets. After a while, she finally pulled out a storage bag, her eyes lighting up. “I almost forgot—I snatched Shen Qingyao’s storage bag.”
Disciples of major Sects, especially inner sect disciples, received high monthly allowances. Of course, Shen Ci didn’t know exactly how high—she had never received one herself.
Thinking of how she had toiled like a beast of burden for years in the great Sect without even getting a glimpse of her monthly salary, Shen Ci angrily turned her storage bag upside down, pouring out a pile of items with a clatter:
Spirit Stones, so many Spirit Stones!