Slanted morning sunlight poured down as the mist slowly dispersed. A large crowd had already gathered on the vast martial practice grounds.
The Earth Scroll was one of the Heavenly Dao Palace’s supreme treasures. Each time it was opened, the ceremony was grand. Even disciples from previous years—who had already entered once and were no longer eligible—came in great numbers just to watch.
At the center of the grounds stood a tall platform built of white stone. Upon it rose a pavilion with upturned eaves, facing east and backed to the west. When the morning sun slanted across it, the entire structure was bathed in a golden glow. For this reason, it was known as the Rising Gold Platform. Nine steps led up to its summit.
At this moment, the instructors of the Five Palaces were already seated atop the Rising Gold Platform, while disciples crowded densely below.
When the appointed time arrived, one instructor from each of the Five Palaces stepped forward. Together, they channeled their spiritual power, forming seals that linked into a grand formation. As the formation took shape, beams of light shot forth from the floating islands in all directions and from the towering mountain beneath their feet. Five streams of colored light converged at the center of the array, surged upward into the sky, and revealed an enormous scroll—so tall it rivaled a stone pillar.
Before everyone’s eyes, the scroll slowly unfurled, revealing landscapes painted in flowing ink: magnificent mountains and rivers, fertile farmlands, humble homes, and bustling cities.
Time within the Earth Scroll was unlike that of the outside world. Past, present, and future coexisted within a single painting—mysterious beyond words.
From the outside, one could see the sun and moon hanging in the sky at the same time. On the left side of the scroll, a blazing golden sun crow soared high; on the right, night had already fallen, a waning crescent moon suspended in the darkness. Where day and night met, crimson twilight spread across the horizon.
Wisps of cloud and mist drifted through the painting, veiling the scenery so that it seemed both real and illusory, as though it were an entirely separate world.
Though Mu Zhaoran had seen the Earth Scroll once in her previous life, she was still deeply shaken as she lifted her head to gaze at the enormous scroll blotting out the sky.
Instructor Cen stepped forward and called out clearly, “Where are the new disciples?”
The crowd below parted to make way. Mu Zhaoran walked forward and stopped at the foot of the steps. One by one, others came to stand beside her.
Instructor Cen said, “The Earth Scroll embraces all things and contains countless wonders. The destinies of this world may all be traced within it, though only in part. Each of you has only one chance to enter. I hope you will cherish it.”
Hearing this, Mu Zhaoran suddenly felt uneasy. She had already entered the Earth Scroll once in her previous life. Now that her soul had returned to the past, could she enter again? The Earth Scroll was spoken of in the same breath as the Heavenly Book—so miraculous, so powerful. Would it detect that something was wrong with her soul?
She questioned the system in her mind, but when it came to matters unrelated to the female lead, the system might as well have been dead—there was no response at all.
While she hesitated, the others had already clasped their hands and answered in unison. Mu Zhaoran could only follow suit hastily and mutter a subdued, “Yes.”
Instructor Cen nodded in satisfaction. “If you are ready, then step onto the Rising Gold Platform and enter the formation. We will send you into the Earth Scroll.”
Mu Zhaoran glanced back at the others. Many eyes were already on her. Since she had to go up anyway, she couldn’t give up such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity over a bit of worry. She pressed the brocade pouch at her waist—Yize had divined her fortune for her that very morning, and the omen had shown that this journey into the Earth Scroll would turn danger into safety and fulfill her wishes. A sign of great fortune.
She steadied herself and stepped onto the stairs.
Rong Tingjue, Ye Lingyan, and the others followed closely behind her. Soon, everyone had ascended the platform and entered the formation together.
The instructors activated the array. The glowing lines beneath their feet flickered continuously. One by one, figures flashed and transformed into faint streaks of light that shot upward and disappeared into the Earth Scroll.
Mu Zhaoran stood within the formation, watching as those around her vanished into the painting—until, at last, she was the only one left standing firmly in place.
Everyone on and below the platform stared at her.
Mu Zhaoran: “……”
Her heart began to pound violently. She clenched her fingers tight, nerves taut. When good things didn’t happen, bad ones always did—could her earlier fears really be coming true? If she stepped out of the formation now and said she didn’t want to go anymore, would it still be possible?
Instructor Cen paced anxiously around the array, looking even more flustered than she was. He urged, “What’s going on? Have you old fellows not eaten breakfast? Put some effort into it! You’ve only sent a few people in and you’re already out of spiritual power? If you can’t manage, get someone else to take over!”
The instructor in charge of the formation blew out his beard and glared, too busy to argue back. At the same time, he flipped his hands to form new seals and poured more spiritual power into the array. The formation beneath their feet surged with energy, its glowing lines flaring so brightly they were almost blinding.
Mu Zhaoran’s vision was completely swallowed by white light. She couldn’t see anything at all, only faintly heard a familiar voice say, “Instructor Xiao has exhausted himself lately repairing the sword manuals and hasn’t rested well. Let me take over.”
The formation beneath her feet stalled for a brief moment, then was flooded with an even stronger stream of spiritual power.
Pushed by that force, Mu Zhaoran felt her feet leave the ground. Her body turned weightless and unreal, as if she herself had become gunpowder packed into a cannon, violently blasted straight into the Earth Scroll.
The clouds and mist on the surface of the scroll churned violently, then—reluctantly—swallowed her whole.
The light of the formation dimmed. On the Rising Gold Platform, Instructor Xiao turned to look at the tall, slender young man beside him and muttered, “It’s never taken this much effort to send someone in before. Ningzhi, good thing you came—otherwise, if we delayed that precious seedling of the Earth Palace, Old Cen would nag me for the rest of my life.”
Ningzhi was You Guxue’s courtesy name.
Instructor Cen very much wanted to nag—but the moment he saw You Guxue, he lost all desire to speak. He flicked his sleeve and returned to his seat, gazing up at the scroll.
Inside the Earth Scroll, winds surged and clouds roiled as everyone was sent to their own destinations.
Mu Zhaoran had been shoved into the painting by sheer force. Even after entering the scroll, the momentum didn’t fade. She tried several times to activate the treasures on her body, but failed each time. In a thoroughly undignified state, she punched through layers of clouds and plummeted straight down from the sky.
Just as she was about to smash face-first into the ground, a massive, fluffy fox tail suddenly swept over and caught her.
Mu Zhaoran fell into the fiery red tail. Layer upon layer of soft fur finally absorbed the force. Though she didn’t crash, her mouth and nose were buried in fox fur, making her itch so badly that she couldn’t stop sneezing.
The fluffy tail quickly withdrew from around her, shrinking back beneath the hem of crimson robes.
Zhu Qinglan leaned in, smiling in his slanted fox eyes as he asked with concern, “Is Your Highness all right? Did you hurt yourself anywhere?”
Mu Zhaoran’s nose still itched. She sneezed repeatedly, covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, and shot him a glare. “I’m fine.”
The Holy Maiden truly was breathtakingly beautiful. Even this teary-eyed glare of hers wasn’t frightening at all—instead, it was enough to make hearts flutter.
Zhu Qinglan, thick-skinned and shameless, was completely unaffected by her cold expression. He eagerly flicked open his folding fan and fanned back and forth, brushing fox fur off her skirt as he said apologetically, “I’m just a wild fox spirit. Entering a great sect like the Heavenly Dao Palace is honestly pretty stressful. I’ve been shedding a lot lately—please forgive me, Your Highness.”
Mu Zhaoran grew dizzy from his fanning. The flying fox fur made her nose itch again. Irritated, she snapped, “That’s enough. Stop fanning.”
Zhu Qinglan immediately stopped, straightened up, and smiled. “All right. Whatever Your Highness says.”
This damned fox was two-faced—sweet to her face, vicious behind her back. Just the night before, he’d been slandering her without restraint, and now he was acting like an obedient lapdog. Even if what he’d said hadn’t been entirely wrong, Mu Zhaoran still held a grudge.
Too lazy to deal with him, she lifted her gaze and looked around. Then she froze, startled. “This is the Forging Platform?”
“It’s recorded in ancient texts,” Zhu Qinglan said, “that the Forging Platform lies between two sheer cliffs, towering tens of thousands of feet high. Divine weapons are embedded there in countless numbers. Those with fate who enter—so long as they can climb the Forging Platform—may obtain their own destined weapon.”
As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed toward the steep, pitch-black stone platform wedged between the two cliffs. It looked impossibly high, with only a narrow, rough stone stairway leading upward. Behind the platform, a thin strip of daylight shone down from above, like a road of azure clouds.
Along the towering rock walls flanking the path, countless blades, spears, swords, and halberds were embedded at slanted angles.
“This should be the place,” Zhu Qinglan continued. “It took me a long time to find it. I didn’t expect Your Highness to drop straight in from the sky—clearly, you’re fated with this place.”
Mu Zhaoran let out a flat snort. Fated? What nonsense.
In her previous life, everything she did was for Yun Xiaoyang. Determined to walk the path of the sword, she had heard that his Fengtian Sword also came from this Forging Platform. Once she entered the Earth Scroll, she devoted herself entirely to finding this place.
In the end, her efforts paid off. She did find it—and climbed the Forging Platform.
Enduring the hum of countless weapons and endless flashes of blade-light from the cliffs, she stubbornly climbed step by step. Her body was slashed open again and again; every step left behind a bloody print. By the end, she had nearly crawled up on hands and knees.
But after reaching the top and standing on the Forging Platform, not a single weapon was willing to fly to her.
She waited there for a long time—until the blood on her wounds dried into dark scabs. Unwilling to leave empty-handed, she forcibly pried a sword from the nearest cliff wall and took it with her.
She brought that sword into the Metal Palace to cultivate sword arts. Day after day, she swung it until frustration consumed her. While others developed brilliant sword light and clear, ringing sword cries, her sword remained a dull piece of mortal iron, stubbornly refusing to be sharpened.
But Mu Zhaoran didn’t really care. What she cared about was Yun-shixiong holding her wrist as he taught her to wield the sword—the light brush of his breath by her temple.
That was, until Ye Lizhi entered the Heavenly Dao Palace.
During one inner-disciples ranking assessment, she was paired against Ye Lizhi. Relying on her many magical treasures, Mu Zhaoran used some underhanded tricks to exploit the rules and brutally beat Ye Lizhi on the arena.
Just as she thought victory was certain, she deliberately humiliated her—lifting Ye Lizhi’s chin with her sword, intending to carve a scar across that delicate, pitiful face—
Blood dripped from the corner of Ye Lizhi’s mouth onto the sword tip. In the next instant, the sword suddenly broke free from Mu Zhaoran’s grip and flew into Ye Lizhi’s hand.
The broken, useless sword that had been so dull in her hands rang out with a phoenix-like cry in Ye Lizhi’s grasp. In an instant, it blazed with brilliance, its edge fully revealed, and sent Mu Zhaoran flying off the arena in utter disgrace.
Even now, recalling it, Mu Zhaoran could still feel the intense resentment and humiliation she’d felt then. The whispers around her stabbed into her heart like needles—memories she had never been able to forget.
“That sword actually formed a contract with Junior Sister Ye? Wasn’t that the Holy Maiden’s destined sword from the Earth Scroll? How could it bind to someone else?”
“Just look at how that sword was in her hands, and how it is in Junior Sister Ye’s. Mu Zhaoran’s cultivated the sword for years and is still stuck at Foundation Establishment—can’t even open a blade edge. And she still dreams of forming a contract? If I were that sword, I’d abandon her too.”
“Keep your voice down! You’re bold—aren’t you afraid she’ll order her lackeys to retaliate?”
“Someone who can’t even open a blade edge, yet hogs Senior Brother Yun’s time every day, making him personally teach her—she deserves it.”
“Heh. Having a Holy Maiden like that—what a disgrace. Sooner or later, the nation will fall…”
By then, Mu Zhaoran’s conduct in the Heavenly Dao Palace had already drawn widespread resentment. Her reputation had sunk to rock bottom—or rather, she’d never had any goodwill to begin with. Countless eyes were on her, almost all filled with mockery and schadenfreude.
Only one person hurriedly jumped down from the arena.
Those dark eyes were pure and innocent, without the slightest pride of victory. Holding the gleaming sword in both hands, she offered it to Mu Zhaoran and said apologetically, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to take Senior Sister Mu’s sword…”
By the end, she looked on the verge of tears—almost more distressed than Mu Zhaoran herself.
The arena buzzed with noise, most of it comforting Ye Lizhi.
“Junior Sister Ye did nothing wrong. On the arena, blades have no eyes. Besides, Mu Zhaoran cheated first. If the sword hadn’t turned on her at the last moment and struck her down, Junior Sister Ye would have been disfigured.”
“It must be that the divine sword from the Earth Scroll has a spirit of its own and couldn’t accept a vicious-hearted master—so it broke free and chose a better one.”
“All disciples of the Heavenly Dao Palace witnessed this. Junior Sister Ye, you did nothing wrong. There’s no need to apologize.”
Yes. Ye Lizhi was never wrong.
She always said she hadn’t meant to—hadn’t meant to take the sword. It was the sword that flew into her hand on its own, bursting with light. She hadn’t meant to take Yun Xiaoyang either—it was Yun Xiaoyang who chose her, who liked her.
She was always so pure and innocent.
It was Mu Zhaoran herself who, step by step, sank into the abyss of jealousy, beyond all hope of return.
“Your Highness… Your Highness…”
The voice in her ear jolted Mu Zhaoran back to reality. Before her was Zhu Qinglan’s enlarged, strikingly beautiful face, his eyes full of concern as he studied her expression. “Your Highness looked to be in great pain just now.”
Mu Zhaoran turned her head away and slapped him across the face impatiently. “Who gave you permission to get so close to me?”
Zhu Qinglan took the slap. A flash of violence flickered in his eyes, quickly hidden beneath a tender gaze. Holding his cheek, he said aggrievedly, “I’m sorry. I overstepped, Your Highness.”
Mu Zhaoran suppressed her turbulent emotions, steadied herself, glanced up at the Forging Platform above, then turned and walked away.
Zhu Qinglan exclaimed in surprise, “Your Highness is leaving? You’re already here—aren’t you going to take your destined weapon?”
“Not taking one,” Mu Zhaoran said coldly. Some so-called destined weapon—she had no intention of making a wedding gown for someone else.
A sharp ding sounded in her mind.
The system spoke:“Please cherish every chance for redemption. Obtain the Fuyun Sword for the female lead to atone for the sins of your previous life.”