As the first beam of dawn cascaded down from the starlit canopy of Yúnchuān, Yú Nántáng opened her eyes.
Circulating her qi through a minor cycle, she found the true qi in her body flowing smoothly just as Xià Huái had described—weak, yet entirely unobstructed. Her dantian remained as tranquil as ever; the meager spiritual energy gathered within had neither grown nor diminished, settled like still water, exactly as it had been before her journey to the Northern Border.
Then what on earth had she absorbed from the dirt yesterday? And where had those absorbed energies gone?
Lost in thought, Yú Nántáng lifted her robe, exposing her lower abdomen.
Her milky-white stomach was flat, showing supple, toned lines built from years of physical cultivation without needing to draw breath. The emblem from yesterday had vanished like a fleeting epiphyllum bloom, as though it were nothing more than an illusion.
Yet she knew it was no illusion.
Still without a clue, Nántáng felt a twinge of vexation. Lowering her head, she found herself locking eyes once again with those bead-like eyes. The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit was curled into a small fur ball atop her cross-legged feet, its long ears drooping lazily. It seemed to have slept for quite a while, awakened by her movement, shifting its gaze from her abdomen up to her face.
Yú Nántáng smiled gently; this little creature was clever enough to find the coziest spot to nestle.
"I've heard Spiritual-Ear Rabbits are naturally vigilant and timid around mortals and cultivators alike. Why aren't you afraid of me?" She tidied her robes and picked up the rabbit, cradling it in her arms.
A Spiritual-Ear Rabbit so affectionate was rare indeed.
An unawakened beast naturally couldn't answer her, and Nántáng was merely voicing a passing thought. Yet the rabbit's gaze was extraordinarily serene, devoid of a wild beast's naive curiosity or wary fear—unusually lucid for a rabbit.
Was this little thing actually a surprisingly composed and worldly rabbit?
"If only I hadn't developed a heart demon, I could have kept you. What a pity..." Yú Nántáng adored all affectionate small creatures, and this rabbit was no exception. Yet, at the thought of her erratic heart demon—which might trigger a violent frenzy without warning—the urge to adopt it fizzled away.
"Once your injuries heal, I'll return you to the mountain woods, alright?" Though expecting no reply, she stroked the rabbit under its chin as she spoke.
The rabbit seemed to enjoy it, squinting its eyes slightly.
"Let me check your wound." Remembering the injury on its hind leg, she parted its fur to examine it.
A murky black discharge bled through the neatly wrapped white bandage, causing Nántáng's brows to furrow. She had used top-quality sect ointment for its trauma; by all logic, the wound should have stopped bleeding, so why was fluid still seeping through?
"What is going on?" Startled, she reached to unwrap the bandage, but the rabbit refused to cooperate. With a quick kick of its legs, it squirmed out of her arms and leaped behind her in a couple of bounds.
Just as Nántáng prepared to catch the rabbit, a clear, crisp female voice echoed from outside the hall.
"Senior Sister, Yíngxuě requests an audience."
Her Sixth Junior Sister had arrived.
A rare guest indeed.
Ever since she and Jiāng Zhǐ had bound themselves as Daoist companions and moved into Yúnchuān, her Sixth Junior Sister had never set foot here.
Rumors abounded within the sect that Yíngxuě and Jiāng Zhǐ were mutually enamored, only to be forcibly severed by her. Yet Nántáng had truly never sensed any secret romance between the two. Perhaps Jiāng Zhǐ did hold Yíngxuě in unique regard, but as for Yíngxuě...
Sixth Junior Sister was an absolute enigma.
Nántáng could never read her.
The hall doors opened silently with the wind, revealing a white-robed female cultivator of peerless beauty stepping into the light: barefoot, with a strand of golden bells fastened around her right ankle, silent and motionless.
This was Yíngxuě, the last to enter the sect—the final disciple taken by their Master a decade before he left the realm. Upon her arrival, the title of "peerless genius" changed hands, shifting from Jiāng Zhǐ to her.
Yíngxuě was breathtakingly beautiful—in a realm of cultivation where beauties were as common as clouds, for someone to still strike awe was proof enough of her radiant grace.
She was, moreover, a cultivator blessed with extraordinary talent. While spiritual roots naturally aligned with the Five Elements, more was rarely better; overly chaotic spiritual roots made cultivation notoriously difficult, universally deemed useless. Yíngxuě, however, was the sole exception. She chose a path defying the heavens, reaching the perfection of the Golden Core realm in a mere forty years—a jaw-dropping speed unrivaled by anyone in the entire sect save for Jiāng Zhǐ.
Though trained under the same master, the chasm between them spanned mountains, seas, and the entire expanse of Yúnchuān.
Nántáng was left lagging far behind by her fellow disciples.
"Fifth Senior Sister," Yíngxuě offered a formal greeting of fellow disciples upon entering.
A blood-red butterfly flitted beside her, drifting gracefully into the hall in line with her gaze.
Nántáng stood in the center of the hall, having already straightened her attire. There was always a subtle, inexplicable competitiveness between women; even though she knew Yíngxuě's beauty was matched by few, she had no wish to look disheveled in her presence. Yet compared to Nántáng's meticulous appearance, Yíngxuě seemed remarkably casual. A plain teal sect gown and a high ponytail—an utterly modest attire that did nothing to diminish her stunning beauty.
"Is Junior Sister feeling better from your injuries? I heard a few days ago that you were severely injured while hunting Chìyōu, and I was just planning to visit you," Nántáng offered insincere pleasantries, her eyes briefly scanning the blood butterfly.
The blood butterfly hovered lazily through the hall.
"Thank you for your concern, Senior Sister. My injuries were minor; Senior Brothers simply made a fuss over nothing, and I am fine now," Yíngxuě said. "Rather, it was quite wrong of me to use Senior Sister's Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot without prior notice. I came today specifically to offer my apologies."
Nántáng found no joy in these words. Compared to her own plight, it almost sounded like bragging, yet Yíngxuě's expression showed no such malice. Nántáng could only maintain polite courtesy: "Junior Sister speaks too heavily. We are fellow sect members; helping one another in times of need is only natural." Pausing, she added, "Would Junior Sister care for tea? How about Qīngshuāng?"
A guest was a guest, after all; hospitality was required.
Yíngxuě's gaze had been sweeping across the hall, withdrawing only when she heard "Qīngshuāng." Staring at the teacup emitting frosty vapor on the table, she said, "Senior Sister still remembers that I enjoy Qīngshuāng tea?"
A hint of genuine delight colored her tone, but the moment she noticed Nántáng's slight surprise, that warmth dissolved instantly.
It was not that Nántáng held her preferences in mind, but rather that Nántáng loved the tea herself and kept it stocked in the hall. Only at Yíngxuě's mention did she recall that Yíngxuě, too, shared a fondness for Qīngshuāng.
She could scarcely remember how many years ago it had been. When Yíngxuě first joined the sect, among the six senior and junior disciples, only she and Yíngxuě were female. Thus, their Master had entrusted Yíngxuě to her care, and they had shared food, quarters, and life for nearly three years.
Looking back now, Nántáng still found those memories surreal.
There was a time when she and Yíngxuě were so close they seemed practically inseparable.
When Yíngxuě first arrived at Chóngxū Palace, she was critically injured. Their Master never mentioned her background or misfortunes, saying only that she was a pity-worthy child. Under Nántáng's devoted care for half a year, her condition gradually improved, and she slowly lowered her guard to bond with the rest of the sect. Back then, Yíngxuě was immensely attached to her, following her wherever she went and sharing every good thing she acquired. They were intimate without reservation.
Nántáng had truly believed she had gained a confidante in a junior sister. So when others warned her that Yíngxuě presented two completely different faces to others versus to her, she paid it no mind—until one day, she overheard Yíngxuě speaking behind her back to her Senior Brothers.
She had said, "Third Senior Brother, Fourth Senior Brother, I dislike it when you play with Senior Sister. Don't go looking for her so often."
Back then, the disciples shared warm bonds. Third Senior Brother Sòng Yì and Fourth Senior Brother Chéng Jiāyuè had entered the sect around the same time as Nántáng; during their playful childhoods, they had often taken her along to run wild across the mountain peaks.
Nántáng never understood why Yíngxuě said those words, only that from that day on, Sòng Yì and Chéng Jiāyuè indeed stopped coming around as much, choosing only to play with Yíngxuě. Later still, every close companion around Nántáng seemed to be drawn away by Yíngxuě. Even Jiāng Zhǐ, who had always been impartial, drifted toward her. Thus, Nántáng gradually distanced herself.
By the time she and Jiāng Zhǐ bound their cultivation together, not a shred of affection remained between her and Yíngxuě.
Yíngxuě seemed to wear countless masks, swapping them seamlessly: beside Jiāng Zhǐ, she was a resolute female cultivator capable of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him; before Sòng Yì and Chéng Jiāyuè, she was an endearing and charming junior sister; in front of the sect elders, she was an obedient, brilliant pillar of the sect; and in the eyes of others, a flawlessly stunning yet accessible peer...
Without a doubt, Yíngxuě commanded the adoration of the entire sect, and this favor brought her boundless advantages. It was not out of jealousy, but rather Nántáng's observation over the years: Yíngxuě's astonishing cultivation progress was driven not only by her innate talent, but also inextricably linked to the endless benefits showered upon her from all sides.
Readily accessible pills, talismans, and magic treasures had vastly accelerated her growth.
Only in front of Nántáng did Yíngxuě revert to her true self—somewhat aloof, rarely smiling.
This cup of Qīngshuāng tea was a habit Yíngxuě had developed while following her all those years ago.
Nántáng had brewed Qīngshuāng tea for her for three straight years.
"The Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot was Senior Sister's key item for breaking through to the Golden Core realm. Now that I have used it, a replacement must be found."
Yíngxuě took a sip of tea, steering the topic back to the bamboo shoot.
"Eldest Senior Brother has already agreed to help me win the Tàiqīng Lotus at the Wǔlián Ruins Martial Assembly. Its effects surpass even those of the Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot, so Junior Sister need not worry," Nántáng said.
Yíngxuě's expression remained unchanged, completely unruffled by Jiāng Zhǐ's promise to win the Tàiqīng Lotus for Nántáng. She simply remarked, "If you can acquire the Tàiqīng Lotus, it is indeed far superior to the Qīngsuǐ Bamboo Shoot. Senior Sister may rest easy."
Between them, topics were sparse. After a brief exchange, conversation dried up. Unwilling to force empty small talk, Nántáng raised her cup and sipped silently.
"Thank you for the tea, Senior Sister. I shall not disturb your recuperation any longer. Farewell." Yíngxuě rose to take her leave.
"Take care as well, Junior Sister. Forgive me for not seeing you out." Nántáng returned the gesture and watched her depart, a seed of doubt sprouting in her heart.
Yíngxuě had not set foot in Yúnchuān for thirty years. Had she come today merely to offer an apology?
She didn't buy it.
Amid her suspicions, a flash of vivid crimson caught the corner of her eye. The blood butterfly Yíngxuě brought had landed silently upon her shoulder at an unknown moment.
Nántáng's heart skipped a beat—could the apology have been a mere pretense, with this blood butterfly being Yíngxuě's true objective?
She seemed to be searching for something, and that something had to be paramount—otherwise, she would never have stepped into Yúnchuān after thirty long years.
Nántáng flicked her sleeve to shoo the butterfly away. It fluttered up lightly, drifting toward the Ice Mulberry tree, when a shadow suddenly bounded out from under the tree, crushing the butterfly into the ground with lightning speed.
It was none other than the Spiritual-Ear Rabbit hiding beneath the Mulberry tree.
The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit pulled back its front paw; the blood butterfly had already dissolved into a pool of foul red liquid. Disgusted, the rabbit glanced at its blood-stained paw, grabbing a fallen Ice Mulberry leaf to scrub its feet. But before it could wipe the blood clean, a hand pinched its long ears and hauled it into the air.
Nántáng moved with equal swiftness. With a flick of her hand and a flash of green light, she severed the bandage bound around the rabbit's hind leg.
A festering, maggot-ridden wound was instantly exposed to her eyes.
A pungent stench burst forth.
This was no living creature.
Struck with horror, Nántáng hurled the rabbit away.
The Spiritual-Ear Rabbit landed gracefully on the floor, its white fur now tinted pale yellow as though dusted with some sort of powder.
"Jìngxī—the incense I regularly burn in the hall to mask scents," Nántáng said, glancing toward the censer in the corner. Sure enough, the lid had been displaced; before the blood butterfly flew inside, the rabbit had already jumped in and rolled around to coat itself.
Nántáng narrowed her eyes, as if facing a formidable enemy, and shouted, "The person Yíngxuě is searching for is you, isn't it? Possessing this Spiritual-Ear Rabbit—what on earth are you?!"
The rabbit licked the blood from its paw and suddenly opened its mouth.
Its normally adorable three-lobed mouth stretched to an eerie, grotesque size. A stream of black qi surged out of its maw, and the rabbit collapsed lifeless onto the ground, while the black qi gathered above into a shifting, shadowy mist.
A translucent, ash-gray misty silhouette.
Nántáng backed away several paces, her left hand clutching a Wood-Thorn Talisman while her right grasped a signaling spiritual artifact meant for alerting the sect.
If you can't win, run—and scream for help while running!
Yet right at that critical moment, a voice sounded once again from outside the hall.
"Senior Sister, I realized there is still one matter I forgot to ask."
Yíngxuě had returned.
Translator's Anecdote: Nántáng's personal safety rule: "If a sketchy smoke-monster pops out of a zombie rabbit, scream and run." Yíngxuě turning around right as the ash-gray spirit leaves its vessel is the ultimate Xianxia cliffhanger! Will Yíngxuě catch her "lost brother" red-handed, or is Nántáng about to be stuck in the middle of a major ancient grudge? 🐰💨💥
>
Comments