Her whole body trembled; the shock in her heart could not be put into words.
She bent down, fished out the last few spirit stones from her shoes, rented a room at an inn, boiled water, and washed up.
Nervously smoothing the stray hairs at her temples, she set off toward the sword mountain.
Cultivators came and went around her. Though she had made herself neat and proper, she still felt embarrassed and guilty, tugging at her sleeves—they felt too short.
Her entire being seemed out of place, incongruous.
Still, a few male cultivators saw her beauty and came to ask her name.
Her face flushed red, but she refused to show weakness or let them look down on her.
Clearing her throat, imitating the demeanor of a noble lady from the dramas, she said proudly only that her surname was Liu, refusing to reveal her sect or background.
And him? Thinking of soon seeing Mu Daoying, she tugged at her hair again, unable to suppress her inner joy and sweetness.
Would he think she was pretty? Liu Qiao’e could not help wondering.
Would he be very surprised? That dark, scrawny village girl from before had completely transformed!
The youth’s eyes would surely widen in shock.
‘Is it you? How did you—come here?’
She would say happily and generously that she had also become a cultivator.
The others would look at them in surprise.
The youth would say this was not the place to catch up; allow the two of them to go ahead.
He would say, ‘Follow me.’
Thus, they naturally walked side by side leisurely along the mountain path, reminiscing.
He should remember her—cultivators had good memories, after all.
Moreover, that day when she brought water, he had been extremely shocked, face red, clearly having a deep impression of her.
She climbed step by step with effort and finally arrived before the ‘Yaoguang Gate.’ At first glance, she saw that youth, upright and refined as clear wind and orchids!
His black hair flowed like water, brows and eyes bright as day. The youth was speaking mildly to the person beside him, his words gentle as spring breeze.
The youth’s perceptiveness was extremely sharp. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed her.
He stopped speaking and asked in a polite, businesslike tone, ‘Fellow Daoist, your Spring Scroll.’
She suddenly froze. She had been too immersed and only now realized she actually had no Spring Scroll invitation.
Along the way, she had only thought of seeing him, of joining the righteous path.
The righteous path would surely welcome her—dramas loved stories of villains reformed, laying down the butcher’s knife.
People welcomed such returnees to the righteous path; she was not even truly bad, having never killed.
They would surely admire her aspiration for the righteous path. She was too nervous; her lips moved, her mind racing to brew words, going over and over how to introduce herself.
Her lips moved, but no reply came for a long time. The youth looked puzzled, ‘Fellow Daoist?’
Her lips seemed glued shut, her heart thumping wildly. The more anxious she grew, the more her mouth felt like it held a ball of fire, stumbling over words, unable to speak. ‘I… Liu Family Village…’
The youth felt slightly surprised and patiently asked again.
After asking several times with no response.
He looked at her carefully for several moments and gradually noticed something amiss. His brows furrowed as well.
A few strands of demonic qi leaked from the girl’s body. It was very faint, and ordinary disciples might not have detected it, but his spiritual sense was extremely sharp.
He restrained the gentleness at the corners of his lips and grew slightly more solemn.
The disciples around him asked in confusion, “What’s wrong with Ning Xia?”
He shook his head, about to part his lips, but hesitated for a moment.
He wondered whether he should tell the truth.
This girl appeared bashful and shy, not like a demonic cultivator.
However, a few days prior, they had received word that the Demonic Sect intended to disrupt this Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry.
Demonic cultivators were cunning. In the past, they had disguised themselves as the elderly, women, and children, or as frail and innocent victims to gain the trust of cultivators, only to ultimately slaughter an entire minor sect.
Since he was in charge of inspecting the Spring Scroll invitations today, it was his duty to handle matters impartially.
How could he let a moment of softness lead to a grave mistake?
The youth shook his head and finally said softly, “She is a demon.”
The others were all shocked and drew their swords one after another, their expressions turning solemn.
“Wait,” the youth stopped them. After thinking it over, he still felt uneasy and added, “Don’t kill her. Just drive her away.”
She had not yet recovered her senses when an icy sword blade pressed against her neck.
Two or three disciples approached. One held his sword to her neck, another to her back.
“Don’t move,” the disciple shook his thin blade to threaten her. “Cunning demon, still trying to sneak into our Wandering Sword Pavilion? Swords have no eyes. If you dare move, don’t blame us for cutting off your head!”
She froze completely, her palms turning ice-cold, at a complete loss.
Why was this happening?
Why was it so different from what she had imagined?
At this point, she could not care about anything else. Anxiously, she craned her neck and tiptoed, shouting loudly at him, “We’ve met before! Do you remember me? I’m from Liu Family Village—”
But the youth had already brushed past her and lowered his head to inspect the others’ invitations.
Before she could finish speaking, the disciple sternly rebuked her, “Shut your mouth and stop spouting nonsense! Otherwise, we’ll cut out your tongue!”
Her words were dismissed as the lies of a demonic cultivator.
Her attempts to explain only proved the demonic cultivator’s cunning.
“Joyous Union Palace? That old man from your family is on intimate terms with the Demonic Sect, flirting back and forth. You just denied being a demon, and now you’re exposing your own background?”
“A heart set toward the Dao? Why not come early or late, but choose exactly this moment? Your intentions are punishable by death!”
Her vision went black, her ears buzzed, and the world spun around her.
How could this be? Did he not remember her at all?
Mu Ningxia, Mu Daoying, the man of her heart…
Tears burst from her eyes in an instant.
She finally realized that it had all been her fantasy. In her agony, she could only get by each day by fantasizing about that moon in the sky, until she went mad with longing.
She had been overly affectionate, overly self-assured, convinced that she was the heroine who would replace Shen Chengyin, Zhao Yange, and the others to stand by his side.
In truth, he did not know her at all!
What spring blossoms in flight, sword in hand and dashing through the winds.
She felt dazed, as if waking from a dream, breaking out in a cold sweat from the shock.
Life tore away its hypocritical facade in an instant, exposing the bloody reality.
Her parents and family lying in pools of blood, herself beneath Song Qian, the humiliations from the Joyous Union Palace crowd…
This was her true life.
Why? Why did the damned heavens treat her this way!
She awoke as if from a dream, filled with resentment, injustice, and curses.
The disciples’ threats right by her ears only stirred the wild rebellion deep in her bones.
She hated the heavens, hated her fate, hated this world, hated all of them!
Her defiance clearly enraged them.
They handed her over to other guard disciples.
Among them were those whose families had died at the hands of demonic cultivators. Rage burned away their reason. In her daze, someone told her to shut up, but she refused.
He swung his palm to slap her. Shut up.
She still refused.
There was no need to be polite to a demonic cultivator, especially one trying to infiltrate the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry with malicious intent and showing no remorse.
Her face swelled from the slaps, her bones broke, and finally, she collapsed into a pool of blood, barely breathing. They tossed her off the bottomless cliff of Sword Mountain.
It hurt so much, so much. Even as she was thrown off the cliff, she still wanted to live. She exerted all her strength to guide her true qi throughout her body, adjusting her falling posture to lessen the impact.
She thought she would pass out on the spot, but perhaps the soaring resentment in her heart preserved her last shred of consciousness.
She remained awake, as if every bone in her body had shattered.
Tears kept flowing from the corners of her eyes, soaking her temples matted with dried blood.
She thought of her parents, her little brother and sister.
It had been the same that day.
The demon arrived, and her mother died first to protect them.
Then immortals came—several of them. They fought the demon, claiming to slay demons and eliminate evil, yet they spared not even a glance for mortals like them.
They only focused on fighting, shaking the earth and mountains. Rocks fell, houses collapsed, killing many more people.
Her father and little brother died too, leaving only her little sister alive.
Her little sister had only one breath left, lying in a pool of blood. She held her, but her consciousness was already fading, crying out for mother, mother, father!
She said, “Sister is here.”
Her little sister wailed, “Sis! Sis! It hurts! It hurts so much!”
She held her in her arms and listened to her whimper for nearly half a shichen before she stopped breathing.
Now, she was the same.
So this was how her little sister felt before dying. It hurt this much.
Mother, father. She closed her eyes, her lips trembling, wanting to call out but unable to.
Your daughter did nothing wrong. Why, of all things, did this world make her suffer every bitterness?