The system issued a warning in Mu Zhaoran’s mind: “System alert, host! Your soul bears the mark of sin. Do not let the Xing Tian Sword detect it. This is very likely a test from You Guxue.”
Mu Zhaoran replied impatiently in her mind, “I’ve only just entered the sect and opened my spiritual orifices as a Qi Refiner. Most of these attacks come from Golden Core cultivators, and the weakest are Foundation Establishment level or above. So what do you expect me to do? Just let Ye Lizhi die here?”
The system responded, “If the female lead dies, the reconstruction task fails. You will also meet the same end as in your previous life—devoured by countless insects. According to system analysis, the optimal choice for the host is to let You Guxue tear apart the cat spirit as soon as possible, rather than risk your own life.”
Mu Zhaoran rolled her eyes. She had known this system was up to no good.
Sensing a loophole in its logic, she challenged it: “Then why even give me the mission? Wouldn’t it be simpler to let You Guxue kill the cat spirit and rescue Ye Lizhi while I’m kept in the dark?”
The system fell silent.
Mu Zhaoran let out a bitter laugh. “You know I’m not strong enough to save Ye Lizhi on my own. You just want me here so I can watch the cat spirit die in front of me again.”
The system replied, “This is the punishment for your sins in your previous life. Successfully completing this task can offset the sin value on your soul and erase one mark of guilt. Host, think carefully before acting.”
Mu Zhaoran snorted inwardly. “I’m just a mindless, vicious female supporting character—what do I know about ‘thinking carefully’?”
She had already been trying to change, making choices different from her past life, hoping for a different outcome. If she abandoned the cat spirit now, who knew what she might be forced to give up next?
Just as the system assumed she would act recklessly, Mu Zhaoran refused to rely on You Guxue. She spoke to the red tether: “My cultivation isn’t strong right now, but fortunately my elders pamper me and have given me many magical treasures. I can handle this myself. No need for Senior Brother to intervene just yet.”
She lifted her hand, pulling the blue scarf from her arm, and from her waist, she took a mute little bell from among her many ornate accessories, fastening it to the scarf.
Ordinary items on their own, but combined, they became a high-level magical tool. The bell jingled, and the scarf floated as if caught in a windless breeze, lightly swirling around her. When another sword light streaked across the darkness, Mu Zhaoran didn’t dodge.
The scarf flicked through the air like a streak of blue light, meeting the sword beam head-on. The collision produced a sharp, urgent chime. Moments later, the sword light dissipated, the bell’s sound fell silent, and the scarf floated back gracefully, wrapping around her arm once more.
Immediately after, Mu Zhaoran took a pearl hairpin from her head. Twisting off the pearl, she revealed a fine brush hidden inside. She moistened the tip on her tongue, waved it through the air, and a water dragon emerged from the brush, diving into the darkness.
When the water dragon returned, it carried a flaming, now-extinguished arrow in its mouth. With a satisfying crunch, it shredded the arrow into segments of splintered wood, which turned to ash before her eyes.
Next, she took a pair of Pisces-shaped earrings, clicked them together, and they instantly transformed into a white jade compass. The needle twitched and swayed, accurately detecting spiritual fluctuations in the darkness, locking onto each erratic attack and assessing its strength.
Following the compass’s guidance, she pulled out more and more magical tools and talismans, tracking and dispersing the chaotic attacks.
Fortunately, there were no Nascent Soul cultivators present this time, and You Guxue had not truly intervened, so Mu Zhaoran’s collection of intricate treasures and talismans was more than enough.
Most of the erratic attacks in the darkness were neutralized. Wu Tuan’s anguished wails gradually subsided, and the stormy black shadow settled down.
Both the system and You Guxue fell silent.
The beads around Mu Zhaoran’s wrist glimmered, and from within came Shuang Xu’s voice, surprised: “Your Highness, I hear the sound of the flowing-silk bell. You’re inside Wu Tuan? Don’t move—I’ll come to you immediately.”
Mu Zhaoran said, “No, Shuang Xu. You focus on finding Ye Lizhi and protect the ordinary attendants swallowed by Wu Tuan. Make sure no one dies inside its body.”
Given the Tian Dao Palace’s uncompromising style of justice, even if these attacks came from outside, any deaths would make it impossible for Wu Tuan to be handled safely.
Shuang Xu understood. After being swallowed, she immediately worked to gather those trapped in darkness and set up protective barriers. Each caravan that had ascended the mountain also included cultivators, so chaos was minimal.
“However, when we returned to the general’s caravan, Miss Ye was no longer there. Her aura is weak, easily overlooked. Surrounded by darkness, we can only rely on Yi Ze’s divination to indicate a general direction, so we haven’t been able to locate her yet.”
Mu Zhaoran recalled that Ye Lizhi still carried half of a merfolk bloodline. Though sealed, merfolk are naturally adept at masking their presence, making her extremely difficult to locate in this pitch-black environment.
“Such a nuisance,” Mu Zhaoran muttered. She instructed Shuang Xu to continue searching for Ye Lizhi while she focused on locating Wu Tuan’s spiritual consciousness, hoping to release everyone before anything worse could happen.
Shuang Xu obeyed. “Your Highness, we brought two boxes of pure spirit fish. Wu Tuan was hiding in one of them. It ate through the entire box, and its spirit body expanded until the box could no longer contain it. That’s why it broke the restraints and tumbled out. Once you find Wu Tuan, you must make it release all the consumed spiritual energy before it can return to its normal size.”
“I understand,” Mu Zhaoran replied resignedly.
Now that she had dispersed all the attacks inside Wu Tuan, it had quieted down. Mu Zhaoran began calling to it as she had in childhood hide-and-seek games: “Wu Tuan, where’s my little kitty? If I can’t find you, I’ll cry—I really will, sob sob sob…”
Above the valley, the light of the Xing Tian Sword quietly illuminated the calm black lake below. You Guxue stroked the red tether around his wrist, hearing Mu Zhaoran’s familiar, feigned whimpering. His brow twitched sharply.
Mu Zhaoran—the trickster—had even faked her tears.
Yet somehow, someone always fell for it, like a foolish cat.
Suddenly, a cat mew echoed from the darkness. Mu Zhaoran’s surroundings brightened. She stepped into a familiar place: the Nanzong Shrine.
Though she didn’t know where to start in the darkness, being here allowed her to pinpoint Wu Tuan’s spiritual consciousness. With purpose, she navigated through multiple corridors, entered the rear hall, stepped into her own quarters, and opened the wardrobe.
Inside, rows of beautiful dresses hung neatly. She sifted through the layers and found a curled-up black shadow in the corner.
“Wu Tuan, I found you!” she exclaimed, reaching out. The black cat yowled in fear and swatted at her with raised claws, but upon recognizing her, it quickly withdrew, leapt from the dresses, and pouted into her arms.
The black lake that had filled the valley began to recede. Spiritual energy spilled outward, forming roaring winds that cleared the mountain mist and revealed the clear night sky above.
The Xing Tian Sword, suspended overhead, shrank in tandem with Wu Tuan until it returned to its normal size and was sheathed by You Guxue.
Those swallowed into the darkness were released. Seeing Tian Dao Palace cultivators descend with lanterns and step forward, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
Yi Ze and the others found Ye Lizhi on a steep slope away from the mountain path. She hung from a horizontally growing pine, three feet to the right a sheer cliff awaited. It was a miracle she hadn’t fallen.
Ye Lizhi was heavily injured, her clothes bloodstained, and she had lost so much blood she had fainted. Yi Ze carried her back as Shuang Xu helped Mu Zhaoran onto a carriage to tend her own injuries.
Seeing Ye Lizhi in such a state, Mu Zhaoran’s heart tightened. She withdrew her foot from the stirrup and said to Yi Ze, “Put her in my carriage. Liuyue, treat her wounds first.”
Liuyue objected reluctantly, “Your Highness, your injuries are severe too.”
Nan Lü, hurrying from behind Yi Ze, looked at the bloodstains on her clothes and exclaimed, “Your Highness, how did you get hurt so badly? Weren’t the talismans I prepared enough?”
Mu Zhaoran shook her head. “No, I haven’t even used all of them yet.”
The voices around her drew Ye Lizhi’s consciousness back slightly. Her bloodstained lashes twitched. Struggling, she lifted her eyes to see Mu Zhaoran’s tired face before drifting back into unconsciousness.
Mu Zhaoran had endured a lot of pain herself, losing some blood, but it was minor compared to Ye Lizhi. She had no time to explain, spreading her hands toward Liuyue and weakly saying, “Treat her first. Don’t let her die. Give me a painkiller.”
Unable to refuse, Liuyue handed her a hemostatic pain-relief pill and entered the carriage to treat Ye Lizhi.
When You Guxue arrived, he saw Yi Ze carrying Ye Lizhi onto the carriage. The bloodied right sleeve was slashed, and a matching red wound ran across her wrist—just like Mu Zhaoran’s.
His narrow eyes squinted. As he prepared to look closer, a massive black shadow leapt forward, blocking the entire carriage and hissing at him, teeth bared.
Wu Tuan had eaten too many spirit fish, causing its spiritual body to swell uncontrollably. Though most of it had been expelled, its size was still enormous—larger than the entire carriage.
Shuang Xu dodged from behind Wu Tuan and greeted the newcomer, “Xing Tian Sword Lord.”
Mu Zhaoran, having just taken the pill, felt slightly better. She hurried past Wu Tuan, grabbed its whiskers, forced its head down, and thanked You Guxue: “I thank you on Wu Tuan’s behalf, Senior Brother.”
You Guxue’s gaze landed on her bloodless lips. After a moment, he replied, “No thanks needed. Wu Tuan wasn’t on Nanzong’s entry list. Trespassing into Tian Dao Palace, injuring people, and destroying large spiritual fields—its actions warrant death. Forgiveness is possible, but punishment is unavoidable.”
He drew a spirit-binding pouch from his sleeve and tossed it into the air. The drawstrings loosened, and a blue light enveloped Wu Tuan.
Wu Tuan shrieked sharply, pressed low to the ground, claws digging in, but the blue light lifted it off anyway.
Mu Zhaoran lunged forward, grabbed one paw, and cried, “Senior Brother, Wu Tuan is just a clueless cat! It’s my fault for not disciplining it. If anyone is to be punished, punish me—but don’t take it!”
Shuang Xu and the others stood by, hesitant to intervene due to his status.
Seeing Mu Zhaoran’s wrist wound about to tear, You Guxue’s eyes narrowed. The blue light flared, compressing Wu Tuan into the pouch, which sealed automatically and fell into his palm.
Mu Zhaoran collapsed to the ground, panting and glaring at him.
Anger, resentment, hidden annoyance—this was a familiar look to him.
Facing her gaze, his frost-laden features softened, revealing a faint, ambiguous smile. “The palace has its rules. Once punished, register your spiritual pet’s name in the Internal Affairs Hall, and I will return it as it was.”
Hearing there was room for negotiation, Mu Zhaoran relaxed her fingers and lowered her lashes, muttering, “Fine.”
Her voice was weaker than before, reflecting her severe injuries.
She averted her gaze. You Guxue, seeing this, withdrew his eyes and prepared to leave, reminding her, “Injured persons cannot enter the marrow-washing pool. You must heal your wounds quickly.”
Mu Zhaoran nodded blankly as Shuang Xu helped her up. She noticed the red tether on her wrist and quickly called, “Senior Brother You, wait.”
You Guxue stopped and turned back.
Mu Zhaoran had a servant fetch a clean handkerchief, dampened it with tea, and handed it to him. “My blood… is still on your wrist.”
The red tether linking their wrists had faded and shortened but still remained.
You Guxue took the handkerchief, rolled up his sleeve, and revealed a sword cultivator’s wrist—naturally more flexible and strong than ordinary people’s. The dried streak of her blood ran across the inner side of his wrist, pressing against the blue veins beneath the skin, as if trying to seep through and entwine with the flesh itself.
Mu Zhaoran’s mind flickered in surprise. The handkerchief now covered the bloodstain as You Guxue, in front of her, carefully dispelled the wrist’s runes and meticulously wiped away every trace of blood from his skin.
“Thank you, Senior Brother,” Mu Zhaoran breathed out in relief, reaching for the handkerchief. But You Guxue’s wrist had already lowered, and he turned, gliding away through the air.
Her fingers only brushed the edge of his sleeve, catching the embroidered cloud pattern stitched in gold thread along the cuff.
Mu Zhaoran: “…” That was the first time anyone had dismissed her with a mere flick of the sleeve!
Sure enough, disciples from the same sect as Yun Xiaoyang weren’t exactly “good” people.
Mu Zhaoran’s vision darkened with irritation, almost causing her to faint. Shuang Xu quickly came forward to support her, helping her into the carriage while organizing the group to secure the carriage and continue ascending the mountain toward Tian Dao Palace.
Inside the carriage, Liuyue was straightening Ye Lizhi’s clothing. Mu Zhaoran leaned against the corner, supporting her temple, and asked, “How is she?”
Liuyue replied, “Fortunately, Miss Ye had a layer of protective sword energy, which prevented her injuries from worsening. I’ve given her a pill to replenish blood and vital energy, and treated her wounds. Your Highness, she’s stable now and out of danger.”
Sword energy? Yun Xiaoyang’s sword energy? If she still had sword protection, why had Ye Lizhi been injured so severely? Worthless—she had even dragged Mu Zhaoran into suffering alongside her.
Mu Zhaoran couldn’t comprehend how, in her previous life, she could have been so infatuated with someone like this, blindly to the point of recklessness.
Noticing Mu Zhaoran’s rapid breathing, Liuyue carefully soaked her hands in medicinal water, rinsed them with clean water, dried them, and sat beside her. “Your Highness, let me see your wounds. You enter the Marrow-Cleansing Pool tomorrow; your injuries cannot be neglected.”
“Mm,” Mu Zhaoran replied, eyelids growing heavy. She leaned into Liuyue’s embrace as Liuyue carefully untied her waist ties, stripping away her outer layers of clothing.
Liuyue cast a quick glance at her arms and chest wounds, her eyes widening in shock. “Your Highness… why are your injuries…”
Why were they exactly the same as Ye Lizhi’s?
Mu Zhaoran forced herself to stay alert, lifting a hand to cover Liuyue’s mouth. “Keep your voice down. There’s nothing to fuss about. Only you know—don’t tell anyone.”
Liuyue understood the need for secrecy, worried someone might exploit Ye Lizhi against the princess. She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
The carriage jostled as it resumed its climb up the mountain.
To ensure Mu Zhaoran could safely enter the Marrow-Cleansing Pool the next day, Liuyue administered strong medicinal doses, combined with healing techniques, to accelerate the recovery of her wounds.
Mu Zhaoran’s body burned with fever, a thin layer of sweat forming over her pale skin. Her consciousness grew drowsy, though she still felt the maddening, ant-like itch of healing wounds. She wanted to scratch but her wrist was held firmly. She heard Liuyue’s voice murmur, “Your Highness, no scratching… bear with it…”
Enduring this was almost unbearable—worse than the pain itself.
By the time her fever subsided and she was fully awake, she was back at the disciple residence on the southern peak of Jueshan, lying in the bed of the Zhuxi Pavilion. Her wounds had healed, though the new skin was delicate and still marked with red impressions.
Mu Zhaoran sat up, seeing the faint dawn light, and asked, “What time is it?”
Liuyue, still beside the bed, propped her up from behind and glanced at the water clock in the study, replying, “Just past Mao hour. Your Highness, would you like to sleep a little longer?”
Mu Zhaoran rubbed her temple wearily. “No, prepare hot water—I’m going to bathe.”
Liuyue left to instruct the attendants to ready the bath. Yi Ze came from the side courtyard, signaling to Nan Lü.
Nan Lü stepped out. “What is it?”
Yi Ze said, “Your Highness has Shuang Xu and Liuyue attending you. You don’t need to be here. Why not go check on Miss Ye?”
Nan Lü hung her head, guilt-ridden. “It’s my fault for preparing too few protective talismans, which let Your Highness get hurt.”
Yi Ze shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Didn’t you notice? None of the defensive artifacts on Your Highness were broken.”
Nan Lü blinked. “Then how did she get so injured?”
Yi Ze shrugged. “I don’t know. Your Highness’ attitude toward Miss Ye is… unusual. Better for you to help watch over her than dwell on this. I’m a man; I can’t enter the inner quarters, so I’ll guard outside.”
Nan Lü peeked inside and saw Mu Zhaoran surrounded by attendants. “Alright… I’ll check on her then.”
After Liuyue’s orders, the attendants quickly prepared the bathing supplies. Mu Zhaoran, wearing a thin inner garment that revealed the faint red marks of her healing wounds, was helped into a spacious tub.
Warm water caressed her skin. She exhaled in relief. “How is Ye Lizhi now?”
Liuyue replied, “Miss Ye still needs a few more days to heal completely. Last night Miss Ye came by, wanting to see Your Highness and take Miss Ye back, but since you weren’t awake, we turned her away.”
Mu Zhaoran closed her eyes, glancing at the karmic lotus imprint on her soul. A slender petal had disappeared from the edge of the heavy lotus.
Having saved Ye Lizhi, she had completed her task. The system’s punishment for sharing pain with her was over; she no longer had to suffer alongside her.
She stirred the water, watching the ripples scatter the lotus petals, and after a while, a faint smile curved her lips. “Once she heals enough, as long as she doesn’t die, she can go back.”
Liuyue frowned. “Your Highness, last night when Wu Tuan lost control, the general’s caravan was not far behind. Shuang Xu handled our side and quickly caught up. By then Miss Ye was gone—likely forced to the cliff before that.”
Liuyue nearly said outright that the general’s household endangered Ye Lizhi, but restrained herself. “Keeping her close might be safer.”
Mu Zhaoran murmured, “She can’t be too safe.”
If Ye Lizhi were entirely safe, how could Mu Zhaoran atone? Moreover, having to face Ye Lizhi daily, pretending affection—it would suffocate her.
As for the dispute between the Ye sisters, Mu Zhaoran didn’t care to investigate further. Blood is thicker than water; ultimately, Ye Lizhi would forgive.
She would forgive her father who ignored her, her stepmother’s strictness, even her bullying sister Ye Lingyan. When Yan Luo reclaimed the Nanzong territory and exterminated the Ye family, Ye Lizhi’s resentment would ultimately fall on Mu Zhaoran alone.
At the end of it all, the only person Ye Lizhi would hate was her.
…
By Chen hour, Mu Zhaoran arrived punctually at Liuyu Pavilion.
Among the twenty-four new disciples, twenty were present. She scanned the group briefly, noting the bald monk from the Zen sect was absent.
The others gathered around, concerned for her injuries.
Mu Zhaoran smiled in thanks. In her previous life, she never cared for those affected by her; now, she had Shuang Xu prepare gifts and healing supplies, which were sent to the various quarters before Chen hour as atonement.
When You Guxue arrived, the crowd dispersed around her.
The pavilion sat atop a towering, barren peak. Black rock jutted out sharply, unclimbable without a path. Someone like her, untrained in flight, could only arrive via celestial crane.
Because of Wu Tuan, the Holy Maiden’s generous resources had diminished. Feeding the “toll” spirit fish became stingy: one fish was split in half. She fed only the head, holding the tail, telling the crane, “Three days from now, remember to fetch me on time.”
The crane complained but ultimately yielded to her superior spiritual energy, nodding and settling on the pavilion roof.
While teasing the crane with the fish, You Guxue’s gaze swept over her faintly reddened wrist. He brushed his hand across the pavilion plaque; the characters on the pillar flickered and vanished. Immediately, a sharp metallic clang followed.
From the mist, a suspension bridge shot out from the pavilion, piercing the clouds. A “rumble” echoed as it anchored on the far side.
You Guxue stepped onto the bridge. “Let’s go.”
The others followed him along the narrow suspension bridge.
The Marrow-Cleansing Pool was on Juntian Island—the sky-bound island at Tian Dao Palace’s summit, home to the Juntian Hall, covered in perpetual frost. The pool sat at the very tip of the island.
Inside the peak, a grotto had been carved, housing a water pool—the Marrow-Cleansing Pool.
Its waters came from the island’s snowmelt, dripping from stalactites into pools of varying sizes. The water was crystal clear, a thick mist hovering over the surface, chilling to the bone.
Indeed, the pool was cold. Once inside, one had to expose all spiritual apertures, allowing the pool’s energy to circulate through the meridians, cleansing chaotic spiritual energy and strengthening bones. The sensation was piercingly cold.
You Guxue led the group inside, leaping to the central platform of the pool, sitting cross-legged. “Each of you pick a pool, soak for three days. I will protect you here.”
Mu Zhaoran moved to the right along the pool. The pools were staggered around the central platform, separated by rocks, concealing each from view—providing privacy.
But the central platform overlooked all the pools, allowing one to observe the condition of every disciple in the water.
“Then I’ll just jump in wherever!” Zhu Qinglan said, choosing the nearest pool. She slipped off her shoes and socks and plunged into the water, immediately letting out two shrill shivers of “ahh, ahh!” from the cold.
One by one, others entered the pools, and from time to time the hall echoed with gasps and shivers from those not used to the icy water. Only the aquatic people from the Three Immortal Islands, accustomed to the deep sea, sank into the water without a change in expression.
Mu Zhaoran walked behind You Guxue, paused, removed her shoes and socks, and stepped into the pool. She had mentally prepared herself, yet still shivered from the cold. After a long moment of mental fortification, she bent her knees and slowly sat down, crossing her legs into a meditative posture.
The mist from the water quickly enveloped her form.
The spiritual essence in the pool transformed into a misty aura, seeping into her body through all the spiritual apertures, cleansing the chaotic and impure energy from her meridians. The sensation was somewhat like the first time her spiritual apertures had been opened.
Mu Zhaoran’s apertures had been opened personally by Elder Yao of the Holy Palace. When spiritual energy first entered her meridians, she had felt a surge of enlightenment, a bliss that made her body and mind feel as if they could soar.
Every subsequent meditation and absorption of spiritual energy gradually expelled impurities from her mortal body, transforming it little by little into a cultivator’s spirit body. Now, the essence in the pool went further—clearing the meridians, purifying the spiritual apertures, forging the root bones, refining their spirit bodies until they were as clear and pristine as blank paper.
Once Mu Zhaoran adapted to the pool’s temperature, she began to feel a subtle comfort, and her consciousness gradually quieted.
Above the pool, the drip of water slowly diminished, fading until it could no longer be heard.
After an unknown length of time, Mu Zhaoran suddenly felt a sharp, tingling warmth enter her mouth, flow down her throat, and settle into her abdomen, producing a soothing, almost cozy sensation.
Wait—am I still in the Marrow-Cleansing Pool? Why do I feel warm?
This thought flashed through her mind. Suddenly, she became fully awake, staring in surprise at the white jade wine cup in her hands. The liquid inside swayed lightly, a soft peach blossom color, and a sweet, fragrant aroma wafted up.
Looking around, she recognized the familiar arrangement of tables and chairs and the heavy, hanging gauze drapes—it was the Yuzhao Palace of Nanzong, the residence of Princess Chang Wangji.
Outside, the full moon hung high in the night sky.
After her previous experience, Mu Zhaoran immediately realized—she was dreaming again.
Why does she keep having the same dream?