“Ning Xia! You know the Immaculate Old Mother toward you—she might like you!”
“Daoist should go once, to relax a bit—that’s a good idea too.”
“Perhaps, it’s because our Cloud Mountain Song Clan all owed her.”
After leaving Little Thatch Ridge, Mu Daoying hurried onward.
Zhao Yange, Cheng Xun, Song Miaoling—their three voices constantly intertwined in his ears, like a sharp knife stabbing into his skull, stirring unbearable pain. He dared not stop or rest.
He did not rest the entire way and arrived at Cloud Mountain after two days, presenting his calling card.
Song Miaoling came out personally to see him.
The young man was travel-worn and haggard, as if he had not slept for several nights, with faint stubble on his chin.
The moment he saw her, he bowed deeply to the ground. “Elder Song, this junior wishes to inquire about an old matter. What exactly was the entanglement between the Immaculate Old Mother and your esteemed sect?”
Song Miaoling’s expression was somewhat complicated. “I didn’t expect you would really come.”
She instructed someone to pour two cups of hot tea and told him to sit.
From her gaze, Mu Daoying already had a premonition that what Song Miaoling would say next might be even more cruel than what he had learned at Little Thatch Ridge.
…
When he walked out of Cloud Mountain, the sun still hung high in the sky.
Yet Mu Daoying felt as if he had aged a lifetime. He was drenched in sweat, soaking his wide Daoist robes.
The sun seemed like a tiny black spot at the edge of the sky. His vision blackened repeatedly. Though the sun blazed tomorrow, it felt as if the sun and moon had lost their light, and waves of chill swept over his body.
Fortunately, his steps remained fairly steady. He found a bamboo staff and slowly descended the mountain.
He walked very slowly, very steadily.
His vision was still dizzying, so he had to force his eyes wide open to avoid stumbling and rolling down to the bottom.
He politely declined Cloud Mountain’s invitation to stay for a meal and went down the mountain on his own.
The layers of green mountains resembled a massive cage. Lost at the foot of the mountain, his mind empty and blank, he momentarily did not know where to go.
A noodle shop’s sign caught his eye. At that moment, he needed to do something—anything. Dazed and disoriented, he entered the shop and ordered a bowl of plain noodles.
He had just picked up his chopsticks for a bite when he felt the urge to vomit.
His stomach twisted in pain, and his chest burned like fire. Mu Daoying set down his chopsticks, his hand trembling slightly.
A drop of water suddenly fell into the bowl. He wiped it, only to realize his temple was wet—it was his tears.
The second time Great Thatch Liu Village suffered a demon calamity, the previous head of the Cloud Mountain Song Clan, Song Qian, happened to pass through.
He casually eliminated the demon and brought back a furnace cauldron.
Song Qian had more than just Liu Qiao’e as his furnace cauldron. Handsome and amorous by nature, he had countless beautiful wives and concubines.
Later, one day, he died somehow, seemingly killed by Liu Qiao’e.
After that, when Liu Qiao’e appeared in public again, she had transformed into the Immaculate Old Mother.
That was all Song Miaoling knew.
After all, time had passed long ago, and she could not know much about the previous head’s harem affairs.
But this did not stop Mu Daoying from imagining how much suffering that helpless girl must have endured.
She had first submitted to Song Qian, then to the elderly palace lord at the time.
In those long years of pain and humiliation, she could only repeatedly savor the memory of that icy, snow-like youth—the undying flower, the unfalling snow.
Perhaps the day she left with Song Qian, she thought she would welcome the light of her ideals and achieve immortality.
Mu Daoying had become an obsession for her, a symbol.
He was the moon hanging in the sky—pure, bright, and coldly aloof.
After becoming palace lord, she inquired about everything concerning him, clumsily imitating his diet, clothing, incense, and daily habits.
She drank Yangxian snow buds like him, burned white sandalwood, practiced his calligraphy.
Her long-buried wish to study and read books led her to copy his entire study.
Thus, everything made sense.
Why she was so capricious toward him, love and hate intertwined.
Why there seemed to be entanglements from past lives between them.
It turned out that, in the corner he knew nothing about, she had long planted the roots of love deeply and loved him through those long years.
…
Mu Daoying did not touch the bowl of noodles again. He took a deep breath, suppressed his surging emotions, and did not let the tears fall from his eyes.
He left an ingot of silver and slowly walked out of the inn.
…This was not the whole truth.
From Little Thatch Ridge to Cloud Mountain, then to Joyous Union Palace.
There was a blank space in between.
How did she kill Song Qian? Where did she go after? How did she go from being Song Qian’s furnace cauldron to Joyous Union Palace’s leader?
He had to uncover this blank.
–
The moon rose early over the mountains, its clear light illuminating the woods.
Now calmed, Mu Daoying walked slowly through the mountain forest, pondering his next moves.
Two months later was the new Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry.
The event would be held at Wandering Sword Pavilion.
Mu Daoying knew Liu Qiao’e would definitely go.
She killed Ling Yuan and seized the Soul-Returning Lamp precisely to exchange with the Immortal Alliance for a legitimate chance to lead Joyous Union Palace in attending the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry.
To uncover this truth, he had resolved that within this limited time, he must repair his shattered foundation and stand once more on the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry arena.
He could not help thinking of Ling Yuan again.
Master.
Thinking of Ling Yuan, Mu Daoying’s heart and lungs ached with fine, dense pain, his expression dimming.
Master, forgive this unfilial disciple. Where there is grievance, there is a source; where there is debt, there is a debtor. If Qingxu truly harmed you, your disciple will avenge you.
But Liu Qiao’e…
He seemed… to lack the courage to draw his sword against her again.
At this thought, Mu Daoying paused. Dusk had fallen unnoticed; the sun had set, and the moon had risen.
He stared blankly at the bright moon atop the treetops. From the old man’s words, Liu Qiao’e saw him as the moon, but now, in his eyes, was she not the bright moon too?
E, originally meant the bright moon.
He closed his eyes, a deep, shallow sadness welling in his heart.
She was the bright moon fallen into the mud.
Master was his enmity, Liu Qiao’e his debt.
Since the enmity must be avenged, the debt must also be repaid.
He hated that he could not appear before her in her most desperate, lonely, bullied moments.
Hated that he could not see that thin, small girl with his own eyes and tell her personally that she would become the most remarkable figure, while he was merely a subject at her skirts, yearning for a ray of her glory.
He hated that he could not hold her tightly, kiss her deeply, stroke her scars, and repeatedly confess his love to her.
Mu Daoying’s eyes fluttered shut, then opened clear and serene, like the rolling river under the moon—gentle yet resolute.
He no longer indulged in melancholy thoughts. With robes fluttering in the wind, he strode out of the small woods and headed west.
Fogveil Mountain lay in the north, while Wandering Sword Pavilion was in western Shu. Cultivators traveling between often chose flying boats.
Tickets usually fluctuated around four hundred spirit stones.
After being driven away by Liu Qiao’e, Mu Daoying was penniless. To gather the fare, he took several demon-exorcism tasks over two days. For other travel expenses, he was frugal by nature and could make do with exposure to wind and dew.
Another two days on the road.
Upon reaching Seeking Immortals Town under Wandering Sword Pavilion, Mu Daoying used all his remaining wealth to rent an inn room long-term. He shut himself in and began prolonged day-and-night meditation cultivation.
Two months was too short to fully repair his shattered foundation.
Mu Daoying had to resort to an extreme method.
Disciples of Jade Clarity Temple excelled in pills and formations. Though he specialized in the sword, he had delved somewhat into formations.
He bought cinnabar and ink, sealed himself in the inn room, and spent a full ten days drawing a complex, taboo grand formation.
This formation was called “Sword Forging”.
Its uniqueness lay in being tailored almost perfectly for those born with sword bone.
The grand formation drew in ambient spirit energy. Once complete, it became a “cauldron”, with spirit energy as the burning fuel.
The caster at the formation’s core became the “sword” melted and refined in this cauldron, battered by spirit energy, their sword bone repeatedly tempered by the cauldron fire until achieving “bone as sword, body as sheath”—cultivating oneself into a sword.
The Sword Forging process was long and perilous.
The entrant first felt their bones burning like fire.
As time passed, it felt like being squeezed in a mold, with bones and organs crushed into paste.
Finally, spirit energy ground it like a knife scraping bone, polishing the formed blank until man and sword were forged.
Throughout, the entrant endured unimaginable agony, could not interrupt, and needed unwavering mind. Any break or falter invited spirit backlash, often destroying the formation and killing the caster.
Thus, though the rewards were immense, few dared attempt it through history.
After all, those with innate sword bone were heaven’s favorites. Their cultivation yielded twice the results with half the effort, far surpassing others. No need for Sword Forging; they progressed smoothly. Why suffer?
Even the resolute and ambitious usually had great powers guarding them.
Mu Daoying lacked these. Without enough spirit energy to power it, he nested a sub-formation inside, borrowing spirit from the heavens at the cost of his lifespan—“borrowing spirit to offset life”.
Preparations complete, he silently pictured Liu Qiao’e’s features and past, then calmly stepped into the formation eye, ready to endure the agony of spirit-tempered sword bone.
–
Meanwhile.
After returning to Joyous Union Palace, Liu Qiao’e had little time for melancholy.
After a brief rest and handling the accumulated palace affairs that even Chen Yuro could not decide, she personally visited the Immortal Alliance’s Jade Capital.
She met the current alliance leader, Qin Xiandu.
On the way back from Jade Capital, staying at a nearby village inn one night, she encountered an uninvited guest blocking her path again.
Mountain village inn, rooster crowing under remnant moon, candle flames flickering.
Seeing this black-clad man climbing through the window.
Liu Qiao’e finally lost patience and asked, “The renowned Evil Karma Sect leader acts so shady—does Demon Domain know?”
Luo Naji laughed heartily, utterly shameless. “I’ve heard kicking a widow’s door or digging an orphan’s grave are top-tier depraved acts among the folk.
“Demon Domain’s reputation is already poor. This Seat is Evil Karma Sect’s leader, a top-tier villain. Doing top-tier depraved acts—what’s wrong? Or do you not count as his leftover little widow?”
Liu Qiao’e held back, then rolled her eyes hard.
Seeing her speechless, Luo Naji actually “puchi” laughed out loud.
After laughing, he leisurely poured himself tea and sipped. “This trip to Jade Capital—did Qin Xiandu notice anything off?”
Liu Qiao’e: “After getting the Soul-Returning Lamp, I swapped it promptly. Qin Xiandu noticed nothing.”
Luo Naji nodded. “Worth summoning Demon Domain’s top artisans to rush it day and night for three years.”
“Two months from now is the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry.” Luo Naji rubbed the teacup rim with his thumb, phoenix eyes narrowing. “Have you thought it through?”
Liu Qiao’e expressionless: “I know.”
Luo Naji looked at her.
Liu Qiao’e met his gaze coldly, unflinching, eyes sharp as blades.
His phoenix eyes were deep as abysses.
After a moment, Luo Naji’s lips curved into a brilliant smile. “That’s best.”
Liu Qiao’e frowned slightly.
Luo Naji was too suspicious.
She had no doubt: if she showed disloyalty, he’d sweetly call her E-niang to her face, then stab her heart in secret.
“At that time, Qingxu will cooperate with you.” Luo Naji set down his teacup and casually tossed out this bombshell news that was enough to shake the entire cultivation world.
Liu Qiao’e said, “That old man was unlucky to run into you.”
Luo Naji neither confirmed nor denied it. He lightly raised an eyebrow. “The wheel of fate turns, and the Demonic Sect shall rise. Even the sect master of the leading great sect among the three great sects believed the prophecy. He prepared in advance and threw his lot in with the Demon Domain early on.”
“But thinking of betting on both sides? Hmph, it’s not that easy.”
This was tantamount to admitting that he had a hand in the Fogveil Mountain incident.
Liu Qiao’e’s brows furrowed even tighter.
The matter in Fogveil City was a trap. She had known that from the moment she entered the city.
That Qingxu had defected to the Demonic Sect was something she had also known early on. In fact, she had even met privately with the old man several times.
From the very beginning, she had pretended to side with the righteous path and maneuvered to get them to let her participate in this investigation.
During the process, she managed to obtain the soul-returning lamp and swap it out. Then, cooperating with both Qingxu’s and the Immortal Alliance’s intentions, she killed Ling Yuan.
Ling Yuan had to die. From the day he stumbled upon Qingxu’s collusion with the Demonic Sect, his fate had been sealed.
As the Jade Clarity Temple’s guardian elder for many years, he had grasped who knew how many of the Immortal Alliance’s dirty secrets. The powerful cultivators who had defected to the Demonic Sect in secret were far more than just Qingxu. With him gone, one could imagine how many people would lose sleep over it, all hoping for his early death.
What he had said to Mu Daoying before defecting was unknown. But after that, Qingxu regarded the master and disciple as an eyesore and a thorn in his flesh. For this reason, he specially sought out Luo Naji and asked the Demon Domain to send men. He borrowed a knife to kill someone and eliminated his major threat.
The Bone Devouring Sect assassins had come for this very purpose.
If everything up to then had still been within the plan, then the knockout drugs found on those assassins were somewhat intriguing.
Now that the knockout drugs had been found to be connected to the Jade Clarity Temple, the spearhead pointed straight at Qingxu.
Liu Qiao’e could not help but suspect that this was a trap Luo Naji had set for Qingxu. Once Ling Yuan fled, Qingxu panicked on his own and stuck his neck right into the noose, saving Luo Naji the trouble of making a move.
Now the old man was covered in scandal. It would be hard for him to bet on both sides anymore; he could only bind himself tightly to Luo Naji and the Demon Domain.
From beginning to end, in the Fogveil City incident, Liu Qiao’e had known half and guessed half.
Only after meeting Luo Naji today did she finally piece together the truth.
This darkened her expression. Although she had long known Luo Naji’s style of doing things was like this, the feeling of being kept in the dark still made her extremely displeased.
Luo Naji seemed to know that he had not acted properly in this matter. He actually showed mercy and comforted her with a few words.
“Lady E, don’t be angry.” A smile played at the corners of his lips as he slowly toyed with the teacup in his hand. “I did this for your own good.”
“That old man Qingxu is too cunning. If we don’t tie him down tightly, how would he be willing to risk ruining his reputation and body to help you at the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry?”
He spoke earnestly. “Now, you have the soul-returning lamp in hand. Two months from now, that old man will help you seize the Mountains and Rivers Sword.”
“At that time, with both treasures in your grasp, who in the entire cultivation world, or even the entire Demon Domain, would be your opponent?”
“Probably only Qin Xiandu coming personally could take you down!”
“Aren’t you seeking revenge?”
He drained the last sip of clear tea, then smiled leisurely and lightly knocked the teacup in his palm back onto the table. His clear and smooth voice slowly echoed in the crude village inn’s guest room. “Go on.”
The wind blew in from the window, making the candle flames flicker and cast ghostly shadows.
The man’s voice was soft and ambiguous.
As if the devil’s whisper tempting a soul.
“Those who once bullied you, humiliated you, looked down on you with eyes above the dust and saw no one beneath them—while the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry is happening this time, kill them all to the last one.”