Nántáng took the two simple sketches she had drawn and went to find her Second Senior Brother, Xià Huái.
The vanishing of the five bloody wounds and the strange anomalies in her body had all begun when she encountered that mysterious beast in the Northern Border. She had a strong hunch that there had to be a connection between them.
Beyond being an exceptionally skilled medical alchemist, Second Senior Brother Xià Huái was a man of vast knowledge and erudition. If she let him take a look, he might just figure out what was happening to her.
Xià Huái’s alchemy chamber was built halfway up Qīngxiāo Peak, where a spiritual stream flowed past, nourishing a stretch of fertile land nearby. Xià Huái had cleared the area into a field of medicinal herbs, and his cave dwelling and alchemy workshop were built right beside it, an enclave known as Bànyuè Bay (Half-Moon Bay).
The moment her feet landed beside the herb fields, Nántáng caught a whiff of a refreshing botanical fragrance that invigorated her spirit.
A gentle mist hovered over the spiritual stream under soft light. Xià Huái stood by the water's edge, retrieving a bundle of medicinal herbs from the mouth of a Silver-Horned Snow Deer. Though he was not as striking as Jiāng Zhǐ, he was indisputably handsome—especially those narrow, elongated eyes that seemed to pool with tender affection. He favoured white robes and wore his long hair half-bound, radiating an ethereal, transcendent aura even more divine than Jiāng Zhǐ’s.
Yet despite his gentle and passionate appearance, Xià Huái cultivated the Path of Unfeeling (Wúqíng Xīn), treating everyone with strict impartiality and acting entirely without conventional rules. Consequently, among the four senior brothers, he was the only one who still spoke to Nántáng nowadays. Third Senior Brother Sòng Yì and Fourth Senior Brother Chéng Jiāyuè revolved constantly around Sixth Junior Sister Yíngxuě, having grown distant from Nántáng long ago.
"Why has Fifth Junior Sister come?" Without even raising his head, Xià Huái knew who had arrived.
"Senior Brother Xià," Nántáng walked carefully to his side, suppressing the strange urge to step directly into the herb fields.
What on earth was going on? This field of soil seemed even more alluring than the potted dirt earlier, tempting her with the bizarre impulse to bury herself right into the earth.
After exchanging greetings, the two sat opposite each other at a stone table by the stream. Without a word of prelude, Nántáng extended her wrist toward him. "I must trouble Senior Brother Xià to guide your spirit into my pulse."
Guiding Spirit through the Pulse was an original technique created by Xià Huái, channeling spiritual energy into one's meridians to diagnose their physical condition.
Xià Huái's narrow eyes betrayed a hint of doubt, yet his fingertips naturally rested on her wrist. A point of silver light sank smoothly into her pulse.
"Out of nowhere, why ask for a pulse reading? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?" he asked while channeling his spiritual energy.
"Nothing feels wrong," Nántáng replied. "It's just... I feel uneasy. I sustained some injuries in the Northern Border earlier, and I fear there might be lingering side effects."
After a moment's thought, she chose not to reveal the truth directly.
Xià Huái raised his gaze and offered a faint smile. "Fifth Junior Sister remains as afraid of death as ever."
"That is called cherishing one's life," Nántáng bantered, while allowing Xià Huái's cool spiritual energy to travel unobstructed through her limbs and bones. "I am not like you all, blessed with extraordinary talent and free from worry about longevity through effortless cultivation. With a frail body like mine that refuses to advance, I only have a decade or so left to live—how could I not cherish it?"
Teasing as her words sounded, they were her genuine feelings. Possessing mediocre natural talent, she had realized early on that her cultivation would hardly progress and that death was inevitable. Others had vast stretches of time to spare, but she had very little left to squander, making her exceptionally protective of her own life.
"Are you blaming me for using your Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot to refine medicine for Yíngxuě?" Xià Huái asked, his gaze deepening.
"No," Nántáng said. "Treating illness and saving lives naturally prioritizes critical emergencies. Besides, it was the Sect Leader Senior Brother's order—what does it have to do with you? I simply think that if I truly do not have long to live, I should spend the time doing things I enjoy."
Ever since entering Chóngxū Palace at ten years old, she had suffered through relentless cultivation, remaining secluded in the mountains for decades. Her rare excursions were merely group trials with her fellow disciples. If she were to die now, she would leave this world without ever having truly experienced its grandeur. Thus, she had long decided that if her attempt to form a Golden Core proved fruitless this time, she would leave Chóngxū Palace, spend her remaining dozen years traveling the world, and eventually retire to a mortal village to age in peace. Should she die of natural causes, her Life-and-Death Pact with Jiāng Zhǐ would dissolve automatically, granting him back his freedom.
"Nonsense." Xià Huái withdrew his hand, flicking a spark of silver light from his fingertip.
The silver light struck between Nántáng’s brows, dissolving into a fine mist of ice.
Nántáng felt her mind instantly clear.
"You won't be dying anytime soon," Xià Huái said calmly. "Your body is completely unspotted. Your meridians are clear, and your true qi is steady and calm. You could not be in better health."
Nántáng rubbed her forehead. "Senior Brother, did you really not find any odd or strange entity inside me?"
"What entity?" Xià Huái countered.
Nántáng was at a loss for words. Apart from that damnable Gu insect, her body now housed something even she couldn't identify.
"Forget it." She didn't press further, pulling out her two sketches instead and spreading them out before Xià Huái. "Does Senior Brother recognize these two?"
Xià Huái looked down to see a beast and a geometric pattern drawn on the paper.
Because she had been fleeing for her life at the time, Nántáng had only caught a brief, hurried glimpse of the Northern Border beast. The drawing was merely a crude outline, showing little more than a pair of bull horns atop its head.
"Your drawing is far too simple; I cannot identify this beast," Xià Huái said.
In the cultivation realm, spiritual beasts and demonic creatures with bull horns were countless; he could list dozens off the top of his head without thinking.
"However, the pattern on this second sheet..." Xià Huái pointed at the intricate markings. "It resembles the Spring Sowing Diagram of Jùmáng enshrined at the Spring Awakening Workshop."
Cultivators originated from the mortal world, and mortal legends inevitably exerted some influence over them. Myths regarding ancient deities were plentiful in the cultivation realm, though they served primarily as spiritual beliefs—much like Jùmáng, the God of Wood who governed agriculture, worshipped by the Spring Awakening Workshop.
Nántáng subconsciously pressed her palm against her lower abdomen. She had always assumed such gods were nothing more than ancient tales.
"Why do you ask out of the blue?" Xià Huái asked, somewhat perplexed. Seeing Nántáng dazed, he called out, "Fifth Junior Sister?"
Nántáng snapped back to reality. "It's nothing. I just happened to see it while in the Northern Border and grew curious."
If even Xià Huái couldn't detect the anomaly inside her, what on earth was that thing? Could it be yet another Gu insect?
When two Gu fight, one must surely perish.
A wild thought crossed her mind. "Senior Brother, do you think it's possible that the Gu insect inside me has already died?"
Xià Huái was raising a teacup to his lips; at her words, he nearly choked on his sip of tea, coughing twice. "What are you rambling about? If the Love-Locking Gu died so easily, I wouldn't need to fret over you, nor would you need to enter a cultivation partnership with Eldest Senior Brother."
"If the Love-Locking Gu is dead, will my heart demon vanish along with it?" Nántáng pressed, unwilling to give up hope.
"Though your heart demon had external triggers, its root cause remains the work of the Gu insect. Should the Gu disappear, the heart demon will naturally fade."
"Then how can I know for sure if the Gu insect is dead or alive?"
Xià Huái pinched the bridge of his nose—the conversation had looped right back to where it started.
"Simple. Go break the pact figurine that links your life and death to Eldest Senior Brother. If the pact breaks and you don't die, it proves the Gu is dead."
"..." Nántáng was thoroughly silenced by his words.
If the Gu insect turned out to still be alive and kicking, she would be the one dropping dead on the spot.
She wasn't so foolish as to stake her life on proving whether a Gu insect was dead or alive.
"What goes on in that head of yours all day?" Xià Huái shook his head and tossed a porcelain bottle into her lap. "Take this—freshly refined Mind-Calming Pills. Take one whenever your heart demon flares up to temporarily suppress it."
"Thank you, Senior Brother Xià," Nántáng expressed her gratitude as she tucked the porcelain bottle away.
Although she hadn't gained any definite answers from Xià Huái, Nántáng had found a new clue to pursue. Since waking up gravely injured from the Northern Border, apart from her miraculous, unmedicated recovery, another strange thing had occurred.
Her heart demon hadn't appeared in a very long time.
In fact, not only the heart demon, but even her past attachments, jealousies, and obsessions seemed to have dulled significantly.
When Jiāng Zhǐ unilaterally took her Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot, she had been furious, but reflecting on it now, her anger felt fundamentally different from before. In the past, learning that Jiāng Zhǐ had given her life-saving medicine to Yíngxuě would have driven her heart demon out of control, submerging her in waves of resentment, hatred, and rage. Yet the moment she faced Jiāng Zhǐ, everything was different.
Being angry because Jiāng Zhǐ took her medicine to save Yíngxuě versus being angry simply because she lost the Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot—these two reasons might seem identical to an outsider, but to her, they were worlds apart.
One was because of Jiāng Zhǐ; the other was because of the Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot itself. The two could not be compared.
For thirty years, the resentment and obsessive love stoked by the Gu insect had accumulated, causing her constant agony while suffocating Jiāng Zhǐ. Such a tragic outcome was likely the exact revenge intended by the demon cultivator who planted the Gu—loving without receiving, receiving without loving, bound together against their will.
Yet today, her agony seemed to have dissolved into thin air. In thirty years of shared cultivation, she had rarely experienced such a moment of crystal-clear tranquility, as if she had returned to her former self.
When Jiāng Zhǐ seized her bamboo shoot to heal Yíngxuě, she felt no jealousy. When Jiāng Zhǐ stepped into Yúnchuān, she felt no delight. When Jiāng Zhǐ left Yúnchuān, she felt no resentment.
Even when witnessing Jiāng Zhǐ tend to Yíngxuě's wounds, all that arose in her heart was a fleeting trace of wistfulness.
This was wrong—completely and utterly wrong.
As dusk settled, the surrounding mountain peaks dimmed early, yet Yúnchuān alone remained bathed in bright sunlight.
The two potted Ice Mulberry plants inside the hall had not been moved; one had completely withered, while the other remained vibrant and full of life. When Nántáng pushed the doors open, her mind heavy with doubts, she saw the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit lying flat on its back atop the healthy soil, belly exposed, one leg crossed over the other. Its long ears were tucked beneath its body like a cushion—its posture so utterly lazy that it lacked only a long tobacco pipe in hand to complete the picture.
Hearing her arrival, the rabbit sprang up in a flash, instantly flipping from lying on its back to crouching on all fours, its tiny bead-like eyes locking onto Nántáng's gaze.
"Still here, little fellow?" Nántáng stepped over to it, leaning down to poke its head. "Are you hungry?"
As she spoke, she retrieved a spiritual fruit to feed it. The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit extended its front paws to take the fruit, but rather than eating it, it merely pawed and rolled it around.
Nántáng simply assumed the rabbit was cautious and unwilling to eat food offered by a stranger. Smiling faintly, she walked over to the lotus bed, sat down cross-legged, and entered meditation to circulate her qi.
At Báiméi Peak (White Eyebrow Peak), outside the Qúlíng Cave, tiny specks of firefly-like light floated over the desolate marsh, like a tilted river of stars.
A few soft clicking sounds echoed as someone trod across the marsh's water surface, coming to a halt before a cliff face behind the marsh. Beyond the cliff face, the night sky held a crescent moon curved like a hook; occasionally, one or two beasts fluttered past, their wings spread wide like bats.
Eerie, unsettling cries sounded—resembling the wails of an infant, striking chill into the heart.
Yet the person standing before the cliff face remained unperturbed. She glanced around as if searching for something, then stepped up to a pile of gravel beneath the cliff. Squatting down, she picked up a pinch of blackened sand and held it to her nose.
A moment later, she stood up, whispering under her breath, "My elder brother... where on earth have you fled?"
As her words fell, she used the sharp tip of her thumb nail to slice her middle finger. A drop of blood welled out, hovering into midair and transforming into a blood-red butterfly. The blood butterfly circled her once before suddenly darting off in a specific direction.
She stared in that direction, murmuring once more: "Yúnchuān? Fifth Senior Sister?"
Under the moonlight, her face was eerily pale.
She was an extraordinarily, strikingly beautiful female cultivator.
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