In her previous life, Mu Zhaoran was punished by the Twelve Spirit-Devouring Seals of Tiandao Palace. Her spiritual channels were all blocked, her spiritual power drained, her Golden Core shattered—she became completely useless and could never cultivate again.
She had lived a pampered life, never enduring hardship. Even though she had extraordinary talent and the coveted spiritual bones, she disliked cultivation. While others worked hard to improve their abilities, she only went through the motions and cared about nothing.
All her energy had gone into trying to win Yun Xiaoyang’s attention and heart, scheming against Ye Lizhi, and competing for attention.
It was only after her cultivation was destroyed, when she fell from the clouds into the mud and anyone could step on her, that Mu Zhaoran finally realized the importance of cultivation.
By then, it was far too late.
After Nanrong was stabilized, Mu Zhaoran became Yanluo’s “canary.” She tried to flatter him, hoping he could find a way to help her recover her powers. Even if her cultivation couldn’t be restored, she just wanted to repair her spiritual channels so she could start over.
But the punishments of Tiandao Palace were absolute—they cut off a person’s root. Even Yanluo couldn’t help.
He didn’t bother comforting her with kind words. Perhaps he didn’t even think she, a canary at his mercy, deserved it. Even in intimate moments, he was ruthless.
He shattered her hopes, telling her the Spirit-Devouring Seal embedded in her spiritual channels was unbreakable. Every bit of spiritual energy she tried to absorb would be consumed and dissipated. Her body was like a leaky cup—she would never be able to cultivate again.
Mu Zhaoran’s hot blood cooled instantly. She buried her face in the blanket and cried, tears streaking her face.
After a while, a hand pulled back the covers. He leaned close, his thin silver mask warm against her ear, and patiently licked away the tears falling there.“If Your Highness doesn’t mind, I can teach you some forbidden magic.”
Even though Mu Zhaoran had been expelled from Tiandao Palace and labeled a “lost one” akin to evil practitioners, forced to mingle with the heads of dark sects, she still despised evil cultivation deep down. She didn’t want to practice evil magic or fall to demonic paths.
Yanluo noticed her thoughts. He brushed back the strands of hair clinging to her face, letting his fingers trail down to her lips. He rubbed them lightly, then sighed:“This won’t do, that won’t do—you’re really hard to please.”
Mu Zhaoran glanced down and saw a dark shadow crawling across the back of his hand. At first, it looked like a black tattoo shaped like a scorpion, but it was alive, able to move across his body.
It was the King Gu, a parasitic scorpion-like creature bonded to him.
She had seen it grow once—its black scorpion body spread across his back, rising from his shoulders, claws wrapping around his ribs to the front. The tail coiled along his strong waist down to his thighs, the shell almost bulging from under his skin.
Mu Zhaoran screamed and pushed him away, retching over the edge of the bed. She convulsed, completely drained, unable to recover.
From then on, the image haunted her like a nightmare. Whenever she saw it, she couldn’t help but question whether the person she had been intimate with was human or insect, and she would feel sick.
She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but she couldn’t control it.
Yanluo covered her mouth, muffling her gagging. The scorpion shadow crawled down his wrist and vanished.
When Mu Zhaoran recovered, tearful and dazed, he let go and rubbed the tips of his fingers wet with her saliva. He put on his clothes, got out of bed, and said mockingly:“I’d better leave before I make Your Highness retch again.”
Mu Zhaoran wiped her tears haphazardly, hugged his waist, and endured the nausea. She sweetly coaxed him:“I’m only afraid of the insect, but I can endure it for you. Don’t go—I want you to stay with me, please?”
Yanluo’s straight back softened under her teasing. He sat back on the edge of the bed, and Mu Zhaoran took the opportunity to straddle his lap, cupping his face. She kissed his thin silver mask and said:“I’ll learn, I’ll learn, okay?”
She had come so low—there was no room left for pride.
Even if she wanted to, Mu Zhaoran couldn’t use her body to feed the insects. She felt sick just watching them swarm and devour each other. Letting them into her body to fight, then merging with the survivor? Impossible.
Yanluo knew she hated insects, so he didn’t teach her how to refine them. He only taught her talisman magic—a kind of spell forbidden by Tiandao Palace that didn’t require spiritual power.
Voices outside pulled her back from memories.
Ye Lingyan had sent her father away but wasn’t willing to let her “good friend” be taken by Ye Lizhi. She wanted, as before, to talk through the night and remove the distance between them.
Mu Zhaoran ignored her. She lingered outside for half an hour before the Sacred Palace’s spirit envoy stationed there finally sent her away.
Late at night, the lanterns in the inn were taken down, leaving only a few to dimly light the night.
When everyone was asleep, Mu Zhaoran sat up and took a small clay doll from her pouch. She pricked her finger and dropped a bit of blood into it.
The doll glowed with spiritual light and transformed into her likeness, sitting obediently on the bed.
She had made this doll during her carefree days, often using it to escape the Sacred Palace elders’ lessons.
In her previous life, after being expelled from Tiandao Palace, this doll had carried her on the long escape from Central State back to Nanrong. They thought they’d be safe at home—but Nanrong was already engulfed in war.
Her father and mother were killed, and the doll was captured by Ye Rong, allowing Mu Zhaoran to escape the palace.
She only heard that the doll was later destroyed in the market.
Seeing it again, her eyes grew warm. She held back tears, tidied the doll’s hair, and said:“You stay here for me. Sleep well and wait for my return.”
The doll nodded and mimicked her actions. She pulled its hand back and said, “Alright, now lie down properly.”
The doll obeyed, covered itself with the blanket, and continued watching her.
To be safe, Mu Zhaoran calculated the time and instructed:“If I don’t return before departure tomorrow, you go find Shuang Xu and tell her to bring only the Sacred Palace spirit envoy to find me.”
Shuang Xu was the lead spirit envoy accompanying her on this trip. The doll nodded obediently.
Mu Zhaoran then took out the talismans given to her by the Sacred Palace elders. They were small, delicate, shaped like accessories—rings, earrings, necklaces. She had barely opened her spiritual channels and had no foundation, so she armed herself with these defensive tools. They were so strong that not even a mosquito could get through.
Finally, she inserted a hairpin that concealed her presence, opened a small window, and quietly leapt out the back door of the inn.
Having skipped Sacred Palace classes many times before, she was skilled in stealth and escape, leaving no trace.
The inn was on the city outskirts, and beyond it were wild mountains. Mu Zhaoran paused to sense the area, then sprinted in a chosen direction.
The thick tree canopy blocked the starlight, and her skirt glowed faintly with a flowing spiritual mist, lifting her lightly as she soared over the forest.
The farther from the city, the darker and deeper the forest. Without her past-life escape experience, she wouldn’t dare move so boldly at night.
Her heart raced, breathing heavy, ears alert to sounds in the dark.
“Caw—”
A sudden crow’s cry rang out, followed by flapping wings. Mu Zhaoran froze, eyes narrowing.
At the forest’s end lay an open area, full of jagged stones and dead branches. Tattered flags fluttered on the branches, and ghostly green flames flickered among the rocks.
It was a mass grave.
No wonder the place was so full of yin energy.
It was the middle of the night. Alone here, she couldn’t help feeling fear. Though there was no wind, she felt cold yin energy crawling from the soil, making her hair stand on end.
Her soul mark was still quiet—this system clearly only protected the “female lead” it cared about.
Mu Zhaoran checked her jingling talismans for courage, took a deep breath, and stepped into the graveyard.
She found a flat spot, cleared away rotten leaves, and picked up a handy dead branch to start drawing a talisman.
This type of talisman, taught by Yanluo, was called a “Filth Talisman.” It didn’t need spiritual power; it worked with the caster’s intent. The talisman itself contained power. Using strong dirty thoughts—greed, lust, love, hate, desire—as “ink,” she could draw the talisman and summon corresponding corrupt spiritual energy to serve her.
But if the caster’s mind was weak or unsteady, the summoned energy could overwhelm them, driving them insane.
In her past life, she had been obsessed with love, and her desire for Yun Xiaoyang was so strong it attracted corrupt energy, allowing her to create a “Filth Love Talisman.”
When she made it, the talisman’s influence drove her desire to extremes—like a traveler in a desert craving water. She went mad trying to find Yun Xiaoyang, wanting him to completely submit to her.
But she wasn’t free yet. Before she could reach him, Yanluo caught her, seized the talisman, and demanded to know whom she truly wanted.
Mu Zhaoran bit her lip and said nothing.
He burned the talisman at the candle by the window, mixing the ashes with water, and drank it in front of her.
The intense love and lust in the talisman burned in his eyes. He grabbed her chin, licked the talisman water from his lips, and asked:“Your Highness, who was this talisman for? This much desire—who did you intend it for?”
Mu Zhaoran burned inside, her suppressed feelings exploding. Through tears, she repeated:“It’s you. It’s you. The one I want is you. The one I love is you.”
Yanluo chained her in the palace for a month, exhausting the talisman’s energy. She almost died on the bed, powerless.
For a long time after, she had nightmares of a sealed palace, heavy curtains, dim candlelight, thick incense, the smell of blood and sweat, and two people entwined like beasts inside the bed curtains.
She cried and begged for death. Yanluo leaned in, kissed her repeatedly, softly but cruelly:“Fine, then I’ll die with you. We’ll continue this in the underworld.”
She hated and feared him, but she survived, not letting him have his way.
A sudden night wind dispersed the clouds, but the shadow in her heart remained. A hesitation broke her talisman, scattering the energy she had gathered.
She closed her eyes, forced herself to focus, and recalled how Ye Rong led troops to trap the palace, kill her parents, and how the elders sacrificed themselves to give her a chance to escape.
Her eyes burned red with hatred. She vowed such a scene would never happen again and decided to strike first, by any means necessary.
The killing intent flowed from her branch into the ground. The talisman she drew began to glow darkly. The last stroke completed, and the talisman rose from the ground, floating in midair.
Unlike normal talismans that glow gold, this one was dark and sinister. Its lines twisted like snakes, radiating a chilling evil energy.
The wind howled, clouds torn apart, the full moon high but unable to penetrate the darkness. The mass grave seemed cut off from the world.
Something invisible surged toward the floating talisman, forming a vortex. Stones and sand swirled, exposing countless white bones below.
Mu Zhaoran, at the vortex center, struggled to stay standing. She fell, clinging to a jagged rock for balance.
She watched frost creep up the rock, cold penetrating to her bones. Shivering, almost giving up, the talisman suddenly stopped moving.
She hesitated, carefully observing every talisman line. Even though she had made it, she didn’t know what it would attract.
As she gathered courage to step forward, the talisman tore open, and a skeletal ghost face shot out, crashing violently into her—her defensive talismans couldn’t stop the talisman she had created. Mu Zhaoran felt a sudden, icy-cold energy shoot straight into her forehead. Her vision went completely black, her eyes rolled back, and she fell on her back.