The candle on the dressing table had burned all night. Melted wax slowly ran down the holder and hardened into a dark puddle on the table. A faint burnt smell filled the air. No one had trimmed the wick, and the flame had grown very weak.
Thankfully, the sky outside was growing brighter. Morning light broke through the thin mist and filtered in through the window, making up for the dim candlelight.
Within the glow of the candle sat a slender woman. She wore a heavy palace robe with wide sleeves, and her hair bun had come loose halfway, strands falling over her shoulder.
In the silver mirror on the dressing table, her pale and delicate face was reflected. Her thin brows were tightly knit. In her dark eyes, the candle flame flickered, showing deep anxiety. Even the thick pearl powder on her face could not hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
The candle had burned for as long as Mu Zhaoran had been sitting there.
She was waiting for news—news that would decide her future freedom, or even her life.
As the sky grew brighter, the anxiety in her heart deepened. Without thinking, she raised her hand to touch the loose hair on her shoulder. When her fingers brushed a neatly cut strand near her ear, she paused. Her gaze became complicated and hard to read. After a long moment, she hid the cut strand behind her ear, tucking it into the rest of her hair.
“Bang!”
With a loud crash, the doors of the sleeping hall were forced open from outside. A strong wind rushed in and completely blew out the struggling candle flames.
The daylight outside was dazzling. A figure in purple rushed in against the light and ran toward her. A hurried voice reached her ears with the wind:“Your Highness, cultivators from the Heavenly Dao Palace have broken in!”
Outside the wide-open doors, several streaks of light could indeed be seen flying rapidly toward the palace. Just before reaching it, several dark shadows suddenly rose from beneath the palace walls and clashed with them.
Flashes of spell light filled the air, briefly holding the attackers back.
In just that short moment, the purple-clad figure had already reached Mu Zhaoran. In the morning light coming through the window, she saw clearly for the first time what this shadow-like person by her side actually looked like.
—She was a petite young woman with a round face and even a sweet, innocent appearance.
Yet this harmless-looking woman was one of the Twelve Qinghuo under the Gu King, a group infamous for their cruelty. Few would believe it if told.
Mu Zhaoran stood up and walked toward her, a faint smile on her lips.“Mingling, you finally decided to show yourself.”
The situation was urgent. Mingling had no time to think about the meaning behind her words. She grabbed Mu Zhaoran’s wrist and said quickly,“The State Preceptor hasn’t returned yet. The Shadow Guards left in the palace can’t stop them. Your Highness, come with me through the secret passage. I’ll take you to the State Preceptor—”
She stopped mid-sentence and looked down at her chest.
Mu Zhaoran’s wide sleeve moved slightly. A soft, pale hand reached out from the sleeve, holding a yellow talisman, which was pressed firmly against Mingling’s chest.
The moment the talisman touched her body, the red markings on it lit up. Scarlet chains burst out like wild poisonous snakes, wrapping tightly around her and trapping her in place.
The bright talisman light stabbed into Mingling’s eyes. Her pupils shrank as she looked up in shock.
Mu Zhaoran shook off Mingling’s grip on her wrist and met her stunned gaze directly, her voice cold and firm.“I’m not going.”
Before the words had fully fallen, a sharp sword cry rang out from outside. A streak of light tore through the air, pierced straight through the hall doors, and stabbed fiercely into Mingling’s heart.
The strike was too fast—so fast there was no time to react. Blood sprayed from the sword tip and splashed onto Mu Zhaoran’s face. Amid the lingering echoes of the sword’s hum, Mu Zhaoran stared blankly at Mingling’s chest, then stumbled back two steps and collapsed onto the couch, her chest heaving violently.
With a sword through her heart, her meridians completely shattered by sword energy, Mingling still stared at Mu Zhaoran. Blood flowed from the corner of her mouth as she gasped,“Go… go to the State Preceptor. You can only stay by his side… only he… will protect you…”
Go to his side. Only to his side.
Mu Zhaoran had heard these words far too many times. Mingling was a shadow placed beside her by Yanluo, hiding in the dark, watching her at all times, constantly reminding her how little freedom she had.
Mu Zhaoran clenched her fingers, her nails digging into her palm as she forced down her fear. She curved her lips into a mocking smile, raised her sleeve to wipe the blood from her face, stood up from the couch, lifted her chin, and said,“Who says I can only go to his side?”
As if responding to her words, messy footsteps poured into the hall. Someone reached from behind Mingling and pulled out the long sword that was still dripping with blood.
The sword energy broke the talisman restraining her, and Mingling collapsed weakly onto the floor. When she saw the Heavenly Dao Palace cultivators entering together with the King of Nanrong, realization finally dawned on her. With great effort, she looked up at Mu Zhaoran and said in hatred,“You actually betrayed… betrayed the State Preceptor…”
Before Mu Zhaoran could speak, someone else laughed coldly in her place.
“Betrayal?” Mu Yinyi shook the blood from his sword and handed the spirit sword back to the cultivator beside him. The gentle look he usually wore cracked, revealing years of humiliation and resentment beneath. He shouted angrily,“A mere evil cultivator who toys with poisonous insects—what right does he have to talk about ‘betrayal’! My Nanrong has endured ten years of oppression under you demonic outsiders. Today, we have finally regained the recognition of the Heavenly Dao and returned to the righteous path.”
“I am the true king of Nanrong, the only ruler worthy of loyalty. My elder sister should naturally stand with me, and with the people of Nanrong.” He turned to Mu Zhaoran, excitement flashing in his eyes, and asked gently, “Sister, am I right?”
Mu Zhaoran looked away, avoiding Mingling’s lifeless, fading eyes. She pressed her lips together and did not answer him. Instead, she asked,“Is he dead?”
She did not ask who won the battle between Yanluo and Yun Xiaoyang. The fact that the Heavenly Dao Palace cultivators had stormed the Nanrong palace so openly already showed the outcome.
She only cared about one thing—whether that man was truly dead.
Mu Yinyi did not spare a glance for the dead body on the ground and stepped around the spreading bloodstains.
When he reached Mu Zhaoran, the cruelty in his eyes was completely hidden again, replaced by the familiar closeness he always showed her.
He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder, gently stroking it as he replied,“With your help, how could he survive? It’s just a pity that his cultivation was too deep. Even after Sword Venerable Xiaoyang destroyed his core Gu with one strike, he still had a breath left. He’s not completely dead.”
After waiting all night, Mu Zhaoran finally received the answer she had been waiting for.
The heavy weight in her heart fell away, stirring countless emotions. Yet among them, there was little joy—only a tangled mix of feelings she could not name.
Mu Yinyi lowered his head and studied her expression carefully, testing her.“Sister, are you feeling sad for him?”
“Of course not.” Mu Zhaoran shook her head immediately and explained,“I’m just worried that if he doesn’t die, and if he ever gets the chance to recover, he will take revenge a hundred or a thousand times over.”
“Yes, if he doesn’t die, then your brother will surely die instead,” Mu Yinyi said calmly. “But I think he wouldn’t bear to see you die.”
He looked at her closely. His sister was truly beautiful—delicate brows and bright eyes, breathtaking enough that even that demon who played with Gu insects had fallen for her.
But beauty has always brought disaster, and his sister was no exception.
Suddenly, the fingers holding her hair tightened, pulling painfully at her scalp. She winced and complained,“A-Yin, you’re hurting me.”
Mu Yinyi did not let go. Pulling her closer by the hair, he seemed to smile, but his voice was cold.“Those marked by the Heavenly Dao Palace’s Devouring Spirit Seal have their golden core destroyed and their spiritual power drained. Their life force keeps leaking away, and within three years, they will wither and die. Sister, do you know why you are the only exception?”
Mu Zhaoran slapped his hand hard, now truly annoyed.“It was Yanluo. He gathered many rare spiritual medicines to nourish me. What—are you only now trying to remind me how ungrateful I am?”
Mu Yinyi shook his head.“The punishment of the Heavenly Dao Palace is not something that can be fixed so easily. The reason you’re still alive is because Yanluo planted a Heart-Link Gu inside you. He has been feeding that Gu with himself—using his own life to prolong yours.”
At first, Mu Zhaoran’s scalp tingled at the thought of the Gu insect inside her, and she nervously raised her sleeve to check her meridians. But when she heard the second half of his words, she froze. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head firmly, refusing to believe it.“Impossible! He wouldn’t…”
Someone like Yanluo—how could he possibly risk himself for her?
Her lips spoke the words, but her heart wavered slightly. After all, every time Yanluo had come close to her, her body genuinely felt better. She had always thought it was the result of the spiritual medicines he brought her.
She had assumed that their monthly dual cultivation was the price she had to pay to receive his elixirs.
Mu Yinyi looked at her expression and couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for that demon. His sister had always been this way—used to taking for granted the efforts others made on her behalf.
“He nurtured the insect inside your body too well. Now it’s holding on to his last breath instead,” Mu Yinyi sighed. “Sister, you married Yanluo ten years ago. You swore a life-and-death vow, and your fates as King and Queen of the Gu were sealed. There’s almost no way your destinies can be separated now.”
Mu Zhaoran detected the subtle ominous undertone in his words. She slowly lifted her eyes, her voice trembling slightly:“What are you trying to say?”
Mu Yinyi released her hair and straightened, towering over her by more than half a head. Backlit by the light streaming through the hall, his figure loomed over her with a crushing presence. His features, partially hidden in shadow, were sharp and cold, sending a chill through her heart.
It was only then that Mu Zhaoran realized—this was no longer the boy who had once followed her around in admiration. He had grown into a man.
A man who now felt completely unfamiliar to her.
Mu Yinyi lowered his gaze. Once the pretense of intimacy disappeared, all that remained on his face was a ruthless, principle-driven severity. He spoke deliberately, word by word:“Sister, you entered the Heavenly Dao Palace as the Holy Maiden of Nanrong, but because of your immoral conduct, your corruption, and the harm you caused your peers, you were listed as a ‘Wayward’ by the palace. Later, you conspired with the poisonous Gu master Yanluo and committed countless heinous acts. Your crimes are numerous. Even if you helped in the extermination of Yanluo this time, it cannot atone for your past.”
“Sister, the cultivators of the Heavenly Dao Palace and the people of Nanrong demand that I hand you over, to be executed alongside Yanluo. Public outrage cannot be defied, and your brother cannot protect you.”
Mu Zhaoran’s mind buzzed. She looked in a daze at the Heavenly Dao Palace cultivators standing beside him.
They wore holy ice-blue robes, with blue ribbons tied to their hairpieces. Their expressions were stern and merciless, hating evil, and their gaze regarded her as a demon or heretic.
The Heavenly Dao Palace was supreme and untouchable, the foremost sect of the world, the only one authorized to issue the “Heaven’s Edict.”
No kingdom, sect, or noble family could claim legitimacy without its recognition. Only those granted the “Mandate of Heaven” were considered righteous; all others were regarded as crooked or evil.
Nanrong, founded eight hundred years ago, had once received the Mandate, recognized by the heavens and the world.
In Nanrong, the king ruled, the Holy Maiden upheld the Mandate, communicating with spirits and carrying out the Heavenly Dao’s will to support the king and stabilize the people.
Mu Zhaoran was born into the royal family and raised in the holy temple to become the next Holy Maiden of Nanrong. After coming of age, she was sent to the Heavenly Dao Palace to study, in hopes of securing a new Mandate to ensure the nation’s prosperity for another century.
But, as Mu Yinyi had just said, she abandoned her duties for petty personal desires, became jealous and immoral, and ultimately fell into corruption, losing the palace’s recognition.
She failed to obtain the Mandate and was listed as a Wayward, despised by all. Nanrong suffered as a result, nearly collapsing.
Her cultivation was stripped, she was expelled from the Heavenly Dao Palace, betrayed by those around her, and faced the threat of her kingdom’s destruction. Desperate, she had no choice but to submit to Yanluo, the foul, poison-using Gu King, pleading for him to save her falling nation.
Yanluo crushed internal rebellions with bloodshed, repelled outside enemies, supported her brother to inherit the throne, and became Nanrong’s State Preceptor himself.
But Yanluo was an enemy of the Heavenly Dao Palace, surrounded by heretics and demons. During his ten years as State Preceptor, Nanrong had completely become a den of evil, despised by the world.
Mu Zhaoran was at the very center of this den, forced to interact with Yanluo every day, speaking words she did not mean, flattering him like a moth trapped in a web.
So when Yun Xiaoyang appeared before her again, old feelings flared uncontrollably.
So when her brother pleaded, she almost instinctively joined them to kill Yanluo, to destroy the web of corruption that bound Nanrong—and her—without reprieve.
But she had not expected them to want to destroy her along with it.
“No… it can’t be like this…” Mu Zhaoran shook her head in disbelief. Her gaze swept past the icy faces of the Heavenly Dao cultivators and fell back on the one family member connected to her by blood. Her eyes red, she demanded,“Mu Yinyi, do you know what you’re saying? I am your elder sister! I saved you! I sacrificed myself to secure the throne for you! Without me, you would be dead already!”
Mu Yinyi chuckled.“From the moment I was born, I was the heir of Nanrong, the rightful successor. Without you, Nanrong would not have borne a stain on its name, would not have lost the Heavenly Dao’s protection, and would never have fallen to ruin, forced to seek aid from demons.”
Every word struck straight at her heart.
Mu Zhaoran’s face went pale. Her lips trembled. She wanted to argue but found herself powerless.
After a long moment, she let out a quiet laugh, then suddenly pushed Mu Yinyi away. Struggling to support her faltering pride, she lifted her chin and said,“Where is Yun Xiaoyang? He is the Sword Venerable of the Heavenly Dao Palace. He promised he would clear my name and bring me back to the palace. Who among you dares touch me?!”
Seeing her stubborn defiance, Mu Yinyi felt the last trace of pity he held for her vanish. His sister was no longer the person he remembered. She had changed—now both hateful and pitiable.
Even now, she was lost in Yun Xiaoyang’s empty promises and illusions.
Mu Yinyi sighed and pierced through her last delusion.“Sister, you’re still so naive and stubborn. The moment Yun Xiaoyang is involved, you lose all sense. You do whatever he tells you. Do you really believe that, once his beloved is gone, he would just forget the past and turn to you?”
“Yun Xiaoyang… should be the person who hates you most in this world.”