Old Bai’s brainwashing went on for a full seven days, the mountain gales raging just as long. Day and night blurred together, heaven and earth thrown into chaos, until finally the winds began to quiet.
It was Yun Jiao’s first time seeing such bizarre winds. The forest turned pitch black, like sudden nightfall. The only sound was the ceaseless swish swish of the gale, mixed with loud crashes as trees fell. Through the darkness, she could faintly see towering trunks snapping as if sliced clean through.
This wasn’t mere wind—it was knives.
Seven days of it left Yun Jiao with no illusions. Now she was certain: there was no place on Earth with weather like this. She truly had crossed into another world.
She couldn’t help thinking she must have owed that old lady a great debt in her previous life—for the curse to be this effective.
“Girl, how about today? Any interest in staying and joining my Qingyang Temple?” The old man smiled with his eyes nearly shut, his grin like that of a child-trafficker.
Yun Jiao glanced at him expressionlessly, then picked up a book and began reading.
She still didn’t know what was wrong with him. Since the day she dragged him back, she had only been able to use the most basic method—inducing vomiting—to rid him of the poison. She thought that with his age, even if he survived, his body would be gravely weakened, and it would take days to recover.
Yet after vomiting and purging for an entire day, he’d been sprawled out like a pile of mud, but the very next morning he sprang up vigorous, bouncing around as if he weren’t pushing sixty.
“Don’t be like that, girl.” When she ignored him, he started his usual pitch again. “Let me tell you, our Qingyang is no ordinary temple—it’s a true sect of cultivation, famous across the land, not like those fraudsters tricking people in the streets.”Yun Jiao glanced at him. “Oh.”
“I’m serious!” he insisted. “Our Qingyang Temple has stood here on Mount Kui for thousands of years. Without real skill, how could we have lasted so long? Haven’t you heard the saying—‘Orthodox sect of cultivation, Qingyang at its head’? That’s us. Back in my ancestor’s time, the whole cultivation world was led by Qingyang. Whether it was subduing evil spirits or slaying demons, none could surpass us.”
“Oh.”
“Really, really!” The old man snatched the book from her hands. “Girl, believe me, Qingyang has a bright future!”
“Oh.” Yun Jiao looked at him slowly. “A temple spanning thousands of square meters, with only you left in it—indeed, very bright future.”
The old man choked, his eyes flickering. He forced himself to keep going. “That… that’s because our sect… is strict in accepting disciples. Yes, strict! Not just anyone qualifies—we only take true talent.”
“Like you, a ‘talent’ without the Heavenly Eye?” Yun Jiao tilted her head.
“……”
Slash! He felt another invisible blade pierce his chest.
You didn’t have to stab him like that!
(;Д')
Wuwuwu… If only he hadn’t admitted he couldn’t open the Heavenly Eye!
So what if he couldn’t? He could still read fortunes and draw talismans! His fate just hadn’t arrived yet. One day, it would open.
“Girl, trust me. Join Qingyang—you won’t regret it.” He clutched his wounded heart, still refusing to give up. “Didn’t you say you have nowhere to go? Look how big our temple is. You can live wherever you want. And we have countless scriptures on the mystical arts. If you’re willing to stay, I absolutely—”
“Alright.”
“Really, our ancestral master himself—wait, what did you just say?!” Was he hearing things? “Girl, you… you agreed?”
Yun Jiao cast him a glance and was just about to nod when a loud knock echoed at the door, followed by a frantic voice.
“Daoist Bai! Great Immortal Bai, are you there? Please save my son! Daoist Bai… Great Immortal Bai!”
“Business has come knocking!” The old man’s eyes lit up. Tossing the book aside, he rushed toward the inner rooms, shouting over his shoulder, “Girl, you agreed—you can’t go back on it! Today I’ll show you what real cultivation is! Open the door for me, I’ll change into proper clothes!”
Without waiting for her reply, he vanished inside.
Yun Jiao frowned. She really wasn’t interested in mystical arts. All she wanted was to figure out what was wrong with her eyes.
Wasn’t there a saying? Once you’ve ruled out all reasonable possibilities, the one that remains—no matter how absurd—must be the truth.
Which meant it was truly possible that… she could see ghosts.
And the old man seemed well-versed in such matters. Perhaps staying here really could lead to a cure. Besides, since entering the temple, she hadn’t seen those eerie shadows again.
And honestly, she had nowhere else to go.
At the temple gate stood two figures—a man and a woman. The woman’s patched gray clothes hung off her thin, bent frame. She looked flushed from hurrying, her face full of anxiety. The sturdy man beside her supported her, looking like her son.
“You are…” Seeing Yun Jiao emerge, the woman froze. Her eyes swept Yun Jiao up and down with a strange expression, not like she was looking at a person, but at an object. She even took a step back, as if to avoid her, with an unmistakable hint of… disdain?
Yun Jiao’s mood soured at once. “Who are you looking for?”
“We’re here for Daoist Bai. Is he in? Move aside, I have urgent business!” The woman ignored her, craning her neck to peer into the temple, as if she might barge in.
Yun Jiao frowned and instinctively blocked her path. Just as she opened her mouth, a deep voice sounded from behind.
“Who dares make a racket before my temple?”
All three turned their heads.
“Great Immortal Bai!” The woman’s face lit up with joy, her eyes shining as she looked inside.
Yun Jiao, however, stiffened. Her lips twitched.
There he was—wearing a pristine white Taoist robe, walking slowly forward. The wind caught his wide sleeves and hem, making him look ready to ascend into immortality. A horsetail whisk in hand, his gaze lofty and aloof, his bearing that of a sage untouched by dust. He was nothing like the shameless old man who had pestered her to stay. He looked like a true celestial immortal. The only thing missing were the words “immortal grace” carved across his forehead.
Compared to the man she’d first seen in the forest—clutching his waistband in one hand and a belt in the other, preparing to hang himself—this was a complete transformation.
So that was why he’d gone inside—to change costumes?
(End of Chapter)