"Master? What about her?"
Who? What about who?
"Should we kill her?"
Kill who? Me? No! I still want to become an immortal, wuwuwu...
"She can awaken Long Yi, and she carries Long Er's aura. Keep her. She's useful."
Yes, yes—I'm useful, extremely useful! Spare my life, please! Wait... what's this about Long Yi and Long Er?
Amidst splitting headaches that felt like axes cleaving through her skull, Bai Shuo struggled to pry open her heavy eyelids. Against harsh backlight stood a blurry figure, edges bleeding into shadow. She reached desperately toward the light, and the person slowly turned. Before her vision could focus enough to discern features, darkness swallowed her whole once more, dragging her back into unconsciousness.
In a modest inn within Wei City, Fu Ling's eyes gradually opened as a voice sounded near her ear.
"You're awake?"
Fu Ling's gaze transformed instantly—soft confusion hardening into lethal ice. A flower stamen materialized in her palm with practiced ease, shooting a razor-sharp thorn directly toward the forehead of whoever dared sit beside her bed. Chong Zhao's pupils reflected the sinister crimson stamen, frozen mere inches from piercing his skull.
Then Fu Ling caught sight of Chong Zhao's face, and memory flashed—firelight from last night, gentle hands lifting her broken body. She abruptly withdrew the deadly stamen, but the backlash of suddenly halted demonic power slammed through her like a hammer. Blood erupted from her lips in a violent spray.
"You... you..." Chong Zhao's face drained to the color of winter ash as his trembling finger pointed at Fu Ling in abject terror. "Demon... monster... hel—"
Before he could complete his panicked shout for help, Fu Ling immobilized him with a flash of crimson demonic light. His body locked rigid, only his eyes still capable of movement—wide, terrified, utterly helpless.
Noticing the carefully bandaged wound on her shoulder—clean wrappings, gentle care—Fu Ling's icy expression thawed by the barest fraction.
"Just a mere mortal," she murmured, almost to herself. "Since you saved this lord's life, I'll spare yours in return."
The flower stamen in Fu Ling's palm floated gracefully toward Chong Zhao's frozen face, exhaling a red mist before his horrified eyes. His gaze gradually grew dazed, consciousness clouding like ink spreading through water. Fu Ling retrieved the stamen with a flick of her wrist, then doubled over coughing violently by the bedside as more blood trickled from her lips.
When Chong Zhao's eyes cleared moments later, all memory of demonic revelation had been cleanly excised. Seeing Fu Ling awake, he hurried over with genuine concern. "Miss, you've regained consciousness!"
Clearly, he remembered absolutely nothing of what had just transpired.
Fu Ling gave a faint nod and moved to rise from the bed. "Thank you for saving me. I'll take my leave now."
"Wait, miss!" Chong Zhao hastily pressed her back with careful hands, then stepped away respectfully. "Please don't rush yourself. The innkeeper's wife dressed your wounds last night—I never presumed to lay hands upon you inappropriately. The physician examined you and said your injuries are severe, requiring substantial rest. I managed to procure some century-old ginseng to aid your recovery."
As he spoke with endearing earnestness, Chong Zhao retrieved steaming ginseng soup from the table, offering it to Fu Ling with both hands. Though his words tumbled out in a nervous rush, his eyes held nothing but simple, genuine concern.
Having endured scorn and disdain in the Immortal Realm since childhood, Fu Ling had devoted herself solely to ruthless cultivation in Cold Spring Palace. She'd grown aloof as winter frost, her heart a fortress that knew nothing of care or kindness. Though this mortal youth's verbose nature irritated her, he kindled an unfamiliar warmth somewhere deep inside—stirring rare compassion in a heart that had long forgotten such weakness.
Fu Ling lowered her eyes, accepting the bowl. After taking a small sip, she said quietly, "My thanks." Then lifting her gaze, ice returning to those eyes, she demanded coldly, "What do you want from me? Speak plainly."
Chong Zhao blinked in confusion, then laughed with genuine mirth. "You overthink matters, miss. Saving a life surpasses building a seven-tiered pagoda, as the saying goes. Our meeting last night was simply fate—"
"Speak. Plainly." Fu Ling cut through his rambling like a blade through silk, glaring with visible displeasure.
Chong Zhao, ever earnest and seemingly immune to demonic intimidation, remained entirely unfazed and quickly said, "I've already spoken with the innkeeper. You may stay here until your wounds have properly healed."
"Unnecessary. I depart tomorrow. Leave me."
"But miss—" Chong Zhao hesitated, studying her increasingly impatient expression with concern.
"Out with it," Fu Ling snapped, each word sharp as broken glass.
"Miss, might you have encountered my younger sister on that path last night?" Chong Zhao spoke in a hurried rush as he pulled out a portrait from his sleeve—a small, lovingly detailed likeness of Bai Shuo. "My sister prefers men's attire, so she would have been dressed as a youth... Have you by chance seen anyone matching—"
"No." Fu Ling glanced at the portrait with calculated impatience and coldly severed his hope.
Chong Zhao's expression crumbled, disappointment washing over his features like rain. Yet he pressed on with dogged determination. "Then why were you so gravely injured by the roadside last night? What happened?"
Fu Ling's eyes turned glacial, a glint of murderous light flashing within their depths. But then Chong Zhao added innocently, "Did you encounter bandits? I've heard rumors of occasional mountain bandits near Mu Xiao Mountain."
Fu Ling's expression softened by a barely perceptible degree, and she nodded once. "I have no wish to speak of last night's events."
Chong Zhao wanted desperately to inquire further—every fiber of his being screamed to know more—but seeing Fu Ling's weary demeanor and recognizing she was likely still shaken from her ordeal, he swallowed his questions. "Then rest well, miss. I'll check on you later."
His thoughts lingering heavily on Bai Shuo like an anchor dragging at his heart, Chong Zhao turned and departed, worry etched into every line of his face.
Once the room stood empty and silent, Fu Ling assumed a meditation posture, sitting cross-legged as she focused inward on healing her wounds. Crimson Yao energy enveloped her body like living flame, pulsing with each breath. After what felt like hours, the red glow gradually dissipated. A faint flush of color returned to her deathly pallid face as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Come out," Fu Ling commanded coldly. "I know you're there."
A masked figure in elegant purple robes materialized before the bed like smoke given form, dropping gracefully to one knee. "Greetings, Second Palace Master."
"Have you found any trace of the Lord of Haoyue Palace?"
The purple-clad figure trembled slightly—a tell of failure. "We've searched every inch around Mu Xiao Mountain but discovered no sign of him."
Fu Ling's brow furrowed, her gaze turning frigid enough to freeze blood.
The Yao Realm had once existed in delicate balance, divided between Lengquan Palace and the ancient fox clan of Jingyou Mountain. Seven years ago, that equilibrium shattered. The legendary Yao Beast Taotie—sealed for millennia in the northernmost icy wastes—broke free from its prison and wreaked catastrophic havoc. Then a mysterious Yao Lord emerged from nowhere, battling Taotie for three days and nights in those frozen lands, ultimately annihilating the beast's entire bloodline. The clash had shaken all Three Realms.
That man was Fan Yue.
None knew his origins. Few had glimpsed his true face. Whispers spoke only of his nature—cold as ancient ice and unyielding steel, his Yao power utterly unparalleled. In merely seven years, he'd established Haoyue Palace in the northern wastes, leveraging the brutal natural defenses of that icy terrain to gather formidable Yao Lords under his banner. In recent years, Haoyue Palace had begun eclipsing both Lengquan Palace and Jingyou Mountain in influence and power.
Three years from now would mark the contest for the Yao Emperor's throne, as decreed by Hong Yi himself. Any Yao being who achieved semi-divine rank or higher could participate. If Fan Yue attained semi-divine status within those three years, he would become Zhen Yu and Chang Mei's most dangerous rival. The fox clan had long maintained their reclusive ways, dwelling peacefully in Jingyou Mountain's misty valleys, which left Zhen Yu viewing Fan Yue as a poisoned thorn lodged deep in his side.
Yet Fan Yue never ventured beyond the frozen wastes, and other Yao beings found their powers mysteriously suppressed within that icy realm. Lengquan Palace had no opportunity to strike at Haoyue Palace directly.
Since joining Lengquan Palace, Fu Ling had refined her Yao bones with Zhen Yu's personal guidance, distinguishing herself in countless battles. She'd risen swiftly to become Second Palace Master, earning Zhen Yu's deepest trust. Three months ago, Zhen Yu entered strict seclusion for crucial cultivation, leaving Fu Ling in complete command of Lengquan Palace's operations.
Three days prior, she'd received intelligence that Fan Yue had finally left the northern wastes and entered the mortal realm. Leading Lengquan Palace's elite forces in secret pursuit, she'd orchestrated a carefully planned ambush—only to discover that even wounded and outnumbered, a single Yao Lord like Fan Yue could escape essentially unscathed.
If Fan Yue lived, he would inevitably become Lengquan Palace's greatest existential threat.
"What about within Mu Xiao Mountain itself?" Fu Ling's voice cut like winter wind. "He sustained grievous wounds—he couldn't have traveled far." The lethal strike she'd delivered before losing consciousness should have left Fan Yue severely crippled. He couldn't simply vanish without leaving traces.
"That's precisely what troubles me, Second Palace Master. There's something deeply strange about that mountain," the masked figure in purple said with unusual gravity.
"Strange? Elaborate."
"There exists a potent spiritual force within that mountain, which has manifested as a misty barrier enveloping the entire peak. No matter what methods we employ—physical, magical, or otherwise—we can only circle the periphery endlessly without ever penetrating to the true Mu Xiao Mountain."
"You're claiming the mountain has generated its own spiritual power?" Genuine surprise flickered across Fu Ling's face. "No, that's impossible. If the mountain itself had developed autonomous spiritual qi, I would have sensed it last night during the battle. Unless..."
"Unless what, Second Palace Master?"
"Unless what contains and concentrates the spiritual qi within that mountain is a natural treasure nurtured over millennia by Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi—not the mountain itself generating power." Understanding blazed in Fu Ling's eyes like kindled flame. "So the master of Haoyue Palace ventured into the mortal realm with deliberate purpose after all. For him to come personally despite the risks, that treasure must be extraordinarily valuable. He might already be concealed within Mu Xiao Mountain's boundaries—we absolutely cannot allow him to obtain it."
The purple-robed subordinate looked deeply troubled. "But Second Palace Master, we cannot break through that barrier. Even if we strongly suspect the Haoyue Palace master is hiding inside..."
Fu Ling's lips curved into a mysteriously cold smile. "We cannot break it. But something else can."
"Second Palace Master, you mean...?"
"Blood. Human blood." Fu Ling's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Natural treasures overflow with pure Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi—immortal and demon powers cannot penetrate such concentrated essence. But human blood represents the most potent yang substance in the entire mortal realm. If we scatter the pure yang blood of five hundred men across Mu Xiao Mountain in a precise Eight Trigrams formation, the treasure's protective spiritual qi will weaken dramatically. The barrier will naturally disperse like morning mist."
The purple-robed subordinate's frown deepened with concern. "The mortal realm has always fallen under the Immortal Realm's official jurisdiction. If we cause such a massive disturbance—five hundred deaths—we risk alerting the Heavenly Palace before we even breach Mu Xiao Mountain's defenses."
"The Yao Race directly slaughtering humans would indeed prove unacceptable and draw immediate divine retaliation," Fu Ling agreed with calculating coldness. "But if humans kill each other through their own conflicts and wars, even the Heavenly Palace cannot interfere in purely mortal affairs. Such are the ancient laws." Her smile sharpened like a blade. "Investigate that Chong Zhao's background thoroughly. Family connections, political influence, military resources—everything."
"Yes, Second Palace Master. It shall be done immediately."
The masked purple-robed figure vanished from the room as silently as smoke dissipating.
Fu Ling lowered her gaze to the bowl of long-cooled ginseng soup resting beside her bed, her lips curling with dark amusement.
"Foolish mortal. Since you saved this lord's life, I'll graciously grant you one magnificent opportunity. If this scheme succeeds, my Lengquan Palace will surely bless your family with worldly riches and power beyond mortal measure."
"Ahhhh! I'm useful, I'm useful—don't eat me!" Bai Shuo's eyes flew open as she flailed her arms wildly in panic.
Blinding sunlight pierced through her closed eyelids. Bai Shuo touched her face tentatively, then pinched her cheek hard enough to leave marks.
"Ouch! It hurts! I'm alive!" Overwhelming joy flooded through her. Finally looking around properly, she registered her surroundings. Dawn had broken, painting everything in soft gold. She lay in a cave—not large, but dry and sheltered—and someone had treated her arm wound with cooling herbal paste that smelled of mountain plants.
Where is this place? Bai Shuo frowned in confusion when a pleasant voice interrupted her thoughts.
"You're awake?" The clear, melodious voice of a youth rang through the cave. Bai Shuo turned her head to see the shirtless boy from last night entering the cave entrance, wild fruits wrapped carefully in fresh lotus leaves, his smile bright as summer sunrise.
Bai Shuo stared at him in blank astonishment, temporarily struck dumb.
The youth offered her the fruits with a gentle, guileless smile. "You must be hungry after last night's ordeal. Here, please have some wild fruits. They're quite sweet."
Bai Shuo numbly accepted them, mind still catching up. "You...? How did we end up here?"
"I was about to ask you the exact same question." The boy settled nearby with easy grace. "I was captured by bandits and taken to their mountain stronghold, but when I regained consciousness, we were both lying outside this cave. I have no memory of how we escaped."
"I saved you!" Reality crashed back and Bai Shuo snapped to full attention. "Just like you, I was robbed by those bandits and dragged to their hideout. Last night, I seized an opportunity when they were distracted by their drinking and carried your unconscious self away to safety."
"I see." The boy's eyes filled with profound gratitude and warmth. "Then I owe you my life, little brother. Mu Fan is eternally in your debt."
"Don't mention it." Bai Shuo waved her hand dismissively. "Meeting by chance is fate itself, so I..."
Something flew out from her sleeve mid-gesture, rolling across the cave floor before coming to rest. The young man looked down, staring at the object with obvious recognition.
It was the wooden pig token—the glowing treasure.
"I... I..." Bai Shuo gaped at the adorably crafted pig token, meeting the boy's puzzled gaze. Her mind raced desperately for explanation before words tumbled out. "You were unconscious last night, and this thing was weighing you down considerably! I was afraid it would tire you out during our escape, so I kept it safe for you. Yes, that's exactly what happened."
"Oh." The boy's eyes curved into a smile, clear and utterly guileless, accepting her transparent lie without question. "So that's what happened. This was just a trinket I picked up at some market stall. Mu Fan doesn't have much to his name, so please, I'd like to give it to you as thanks—"
He picked up the pig token and extended it toward Bai Shuo. "By the way, what should I call you, little brother?"
"My name is Bai... Bai..." Bai Shuo paused mid-word, swallowing the rest hard enough to hurt her throat.
She was the eldest Young Miss of the High General—anyone with half a mind to investigate could easily uncover her true identity within days. Not to mention she was now technically a runaway bride from the Prime Minister's prestigious household. Using her real name would be catastrophically stupid.
"Bai Bai?" The boy blinked with innocent confusion, his smile remaining warm and kind. "What an unusual name. Then I'll call you Little Bai from now on, if that's acceptable?"
Bai Shuo opened her mouth to correct him, then closed it. Little Bai. Simple, anonymous, safe.
"Little Bai it is," she agreed, accepting both the nickname and the glowing pig token that would bind their fates together.
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