Sensing Mu Xuanling’s tension, Nan Xuyue smiled faintly and withdrew his hand.
“If you don’t wish anyone to know, I’ll keep your secret,” he said softly.
Mu Xuanling looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thank you…” she whispered.
“No need to thank me,” Nan Xuyue lowered his gaze, his voice tinged with quiet sorrow. “You once helped me… yet when you needed me most, I wasn’t there.”
He still remembered those dark years of his youth—when he had lost everything, when despair had swallowed the light from his eyes. And yet, amidst that darkness, a small figure leaned on his wheelchair, battered and wounded, her eyes bright with stubborn hope.
“Young Master Nan, you were born with everything,” she had said, smiling through the pain. “Now you’ve only lost a little, but you’re still luckier than most. Don’t be sad.”
He had answered bitterly, “My legs are broken. I’ll never walk like others again.”
Then she had lifted the hem of her patched trousers, revealing thin ankles bound with bell anklets so tight and dark red they seemed to have fused with her flesh.
“See? We’re the same,” she said softly. “Walking hurts me too. But I’ve gotten used to it.”
He told her he had lost all love.
She pouted and said, “Nobody loves me either. But that’s fine—I’ll keep all my affection for myself. Or…” she tilted her head, eyes sparkling mischievously, “…I can share a little with you. I can like you, just a little. Would you hate me for being half-demon?”
She had laughed then, bright and pure, like a chime in the snow.
“Young Master Nan, you smiled! You’re so handsome when you smile!”
For the first time, Nan Xuyue realized that even a little affection could warm the coldest soul.
Later, he had begged his father, “Father, can we take that demon slave with us?”
Nan Wujiu had brushed his hand away, brows furrowed. “Stop your nonsense.”
In the end, he couldn’t take her. And by the time he had the power to do so, she was already gone.
Now, looking at Mu Xuanling—different face, same eyes—he sighed quietly.
“I’m already happy that you remember me.”
But the little girl who once swore to keep all her affection for herself had given her love—and her life—to someone else.
He sat by the bed for hours, holding her hand, thinking. He realized that Xie Xuezhen had done what he could not. And he… he had only ever received her kindness when he was broken, never giving anything in return. What right did he have to ask for more?
So when he saw her lost expression, he told her the truth—it was Xie Xuezhen who had carried her back from the snow.
Sure enough, she brightened. Such a simple, tender heart.
“Young Master Nan, you’re so kind,” she said gratefully.
Nan Xuyue smiled faintly. “So, in the end, I only get a little bit of your affection?”
She smiled awkwardly. “But, Young Master Nan, you already have the affection of many others.”
But I only want yours.
He didn’t say it. He was too gentle to make things difficult for someone he cared for.
So he only murmured, “Thank you… for those words you once said to me.”
The next morning, Xie Xuezhen still hadn’t gone to see Mu Xuanling. He hadn’t slept all night. When Nan Xuyue told him she’d awakened but was still weak, Xie Xuezhen only nodded slightly.
“That’s good. I’ve summoned the members of the Immortal Alliance to the Hall of Righteousness for a council. You should come too.”
Nan Xuyue hesitated. “But I’m not a member of the Alliance.”
“Your understanding of formations surpasses most,” Xie Xuezhen said flatly. “Come.”
Before they reached the hall, the sound of angry voices could already be heard echoing through the cold air.
“Island Master He consorts with demons day and night—perhaps he has forgotten his place,” Su Ningzhen said icily. “Among us, he’s the most suspicious of all.”
He Xianwo sneered. “Sect Leader Su, are you here to reason or to slander? If you doubt me, then come—outside Yongxue City. We’ll settle it with our swords. Let’s see who still dares to stand with you afterward!”
“Do the rest of you agree with me?” Su Ningzhen demanded.
Fu Yuanting sighed. “Without proof, it’s unwise to fight among ourselves. It only weakens our unity.”
Su Ningzhen’s tone was sharp as frost. “Better to kill by mistake than let a traitor go. He Xianwo’s loyalty wavers. In a war against demons, such a man is more a curse than an ally.”
He Xianwo’s lips curved coldly. “Heh.”
At that moment, the doors opened, and a chill swept in like a blade. Xie Xuezhen entered, his presence instantly silencing the hall.
Everyone bowed. “Sect Leader Xie.”
Without a glance at them, he strode to the main seat, turned, and faced the assembly.
“What the demon clan desires most,” he said, voice like winter steel, “is discord among cultivators—hearts tainted by suspicion, turned against each other.”
His gaze swept over the room, cold and unwavering. “All of you have cultivated longer than I. Surely you don’t need me to explain this truth.”
Su Ningzhen frowned and bowed. “Thank you for your guidance, Sect Leader.”
Ignoring her, Xie Xuezhen continued, “The man Fu Lansheng captured yesterday has been examined. He’s an ordinary cultivator who’s lost all memory—clearly a vessel overtaken by a heart demon. When the binding spell was cast, the demon fled his body.”
Fu Yuanting said, “My son reported there was another accomplice who escaped. That means at least two demons have infiltrated Yongxue City.”
Xie Xuezhen nodded slightly. “Have any of you examined the site? Any unusual traces?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Then his gaze turned to Nan Xuyue. “I invited Manor Lord Nan today because of his expertise in formations. What do you see?”
Nan Xuyue stepped forward, speaking carefully.
“Formations require materials rich in spiritual energy, and the symbols are written in cinnabar at precise coordinates. But the one who set up this formation used ordinary stones and common cinnabar. Still…”
Xie Xuezhen gestured. “Speak.”
“The formation symbols have a consistent slant, as though written with the left hand. I believe the culprit used their left hand deliberately—to disguise their handwriting.”
Xie Xuezhen’s eyes glinted. “Which means… their normal handwriting is familiar to us.”
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Nan Xuyue took out a yellow talisman, the formation symbol drawn clearly in cinnabar.
“I’ll ask everyone to copy this formation symbol with both hands—left and right.”
They complied. For cultivators, ambidexterity was trivial, but handwriting—built over years—betrayed the truth.
After comparison, none of the right-hand samples matched.
Then Nan Xuyue’s hand stilled.
“This handwriting,” he said quietly, lifting a talisman, “matches exactly.”
The room tensed. “Whose is it?”
Nan Xuyue’s gaze landed on one man.
“Venerable Fajian.”
A wave of shock rippled across the hall.
Su Ningzhen’s eyes widened. “That day—it was Venerable Fajian who used the Enlightening Voice to expose a flaw in Sect Leader Xie’s spirit aperture!”
Venerable Yinian’s voice trembled. “Uncle Master… why?”
Venerable Fajian’s face was calm, unreadable. “I did not set up the formation.”
He Xianwo frowned. “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Su Ningzhen’s eyes flashed coldly. “How convenient, Island Master He—quick to defend the accused. Two demons infiltrated Yongxue City. If they’re here among us, who else would shield them but one of their own?”
He Xianwo’s expression darkened, fury simmering. “Sect Leader Su, you accuse without proof. Or perhaps you’re the guilty one, trying to deflect suspicion?”
Su Ningzhen snapped, “One of my disciples sensed demonic energy at the scene! Who else in Yongxue City carries such taint—if not you?”
He Xianwo laughed, the sound sharp and menacing.
“Hahaha… Su Ningzhen, you’re as blind and venomous as ever. If this is the Immortal Alliance—full of fools who can’t tell truth from lies—then I want no part of it!”
With that, he struck the table, the force propelling him toward the door. Seeing this, Su Ningzhen immediately threw out her World-Cleansing Dust, blocking He Xianwo’s path.
“Showing your true colors now, trying to escape?” Su Ningzhen’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. She unleashed the full force of her divine form, and the World-Cleansing Dust in her hand shimmered — transforming into a storm of silver needles that shot toward He Xianwo.
Xie Xuezhen’s brows furrowed as he watched the two clash. Their animosity had long festered — born from disciples’ deaths and years of suspicion. But never before had they lost control like this, their divine forms blazing as they struck with lethal intent.
Fu Yuanting and Duan Xiaorong exchanged a grave glance. With Venerable Fajian’s identity in question, he could not intervene, and even Venerable Yinian — another pillar of Xuantian Temple — could only stand in tense silence. The Sect Leader had yet to recover his spiritual power. That left only Bijiao Palace capable of stopping the fight.
Duan Xiaorong moved like lightning, stepping between them. Her divine aura flared, shielding her as she absorbed a blow from each side. “Fellow Daoists,” she said in a low, firm tone, “with a great enemy before us, must we destroy ourselves first?”
Su Ningzhen’s cold voice rang out, “It is because of that great enemy that we must settle internal treachery first!”
Ordinarily, both would have heeded Duan Xiaorong’s authority — but not today. The bitterness had run too deep.
Fu Yuanting’s unease grew. He turned to the silent figures at the edge of the hall — Venerable Fajian sat with closed eyes, unmoving, while Venerable Yinian’s face was shadowed with worry. With no other choice, Fu Yuanting called out, “Sect Leader Xie, please take control of the situation.”
Xie Xuezhen, who had been silently observing with hands clasped behind his back, finally spoke. His calm, cutting voice echoed through the hall:
“Heart Demon Formation.”
Fu Yuanting froze. “What?”
“The two demon cultivators who infiltrated Yongxue City,” Xie Xuezhen said coldly, “have already laid a Heart Demon Formation around us. Everyone in the Hall of Righteousness is trapped within it.”
Su Ningzhen and He Xianwo both halted mid-attack, their fury faltering.
As cultivators who had slain countless demons, they knew the name well. The Heart Demon Formation preyed upon the darkness in one’s heart — the doubts, the hatred, the regret. The stronger one’s obsessions, the deeper the demons could reach, until they possessed body and mind alike.
“We are Divine Form Venerables,” Su Ningzhen said sharply. “How could mere demons control us?”
“Because these are no mere demons,” Xie Xuezhen’s gaze was icy. “The one controlling this formation is likely none other than the physical form of the Demon of Obsession.”
The Hall of Righteousness fell deathly silent.
A chilling, laughter echoed — eerie, near and far at once.
“Sect Leader Xie,” a mocking voice purred, “you know me so well. I’m honored.”
Duan Xiaorong’s expression hardened. The voice seemed to come from her left — she turned sharply and slashed with her sword, only for Su Ningzhen to block it with her dust whip.
“Elder Duan, what is the meaning of this?” Su Ningzhen demanded.
“The voice came from you,” Duan Xiaorong said warily.
“The Demon of Obsession can leap between our heart demons,” Xie Xuezhen said. “He can’t easily possess a Divine Form cultivator, so he confuses us instead — turning allies into enemies.”
He Xianwo exhaled slowly, his anger cooling. “Obsession — clinging to what cannot be released. Fear, regret, envy, hatred — the moment we hold onto them, we become his prey.”
Fu Yuanting’s eyes widened. “Then Sect Leader Su’s suspicion of Island Master He… and Island Master He’s hatred of Sect Leader Su…”
“They’re the most vulnerable,” Xie Xuezhen confirmed. “From the very start, he sowed doubt among us.”
His gaze shifted toward Nan Xuyue. “Isn’t that right?”
Nan Xuyue smiled faintly, his eyes darkening like the depths of a well. “Sect Leader Xie, when did you notice?”
“Do I need to tell you?”
Nan Xuyue’s expression froze — then twisted into a sneer.
He Xianwo burst into laughter. “Demons are truly brainless. Did you think Xie Xuezhen would explain his strategy to you?”
The smile on “Nan Xuyue’s” face stiffened. Then, his voice turned cold: “Even if you’ve seen through it — it’s already too late.”
Xie Xuezhen’s face darkened. The Demon of Obsession was dangerous enough, but the one who had come with him might be worse — the Demon of War.
When Venerable Fajian’s eyes snapped open, they gleamed crimson. Power exploded from him, shattering the surrounding tables.
“The Demon of War…” Duan Xiaorong whispered in horror.
Within seconds, the hall was in chaos. Fajian’s eighty-one black beads whirled into a storm, slicing through the air with blinding speed. Protective barriers shattered like glass.
And then — a hand gripped Xie Xuezhen’s wrist, pulling him through a flash of golden light.
The scene changed.
Venerable Yinian stood beside him, blood trickling from his lips. “Sect Leader Xie, my Uncle Master has fallen. I could only use a teleportation formation to get you out.”
Xie Xuezhen’s tone remained level. “So you do know how to carve transmission arrays onto magical tools. But we haven’t gone far, have we?”
“We’re still in Yongxue City,” Yinian replied softly.
Xie Xuezhen’s eyes sharpened. “You brought me here — not to save me, but to isolate me.”
Yinian’s expression changed, turning cold. “Sect Leader Xie doesn’t seem surprised.”
“There were two from Xuantian Temple,” Xie Xuezhen said quietly. “I would have been a fool to suspect one and not the other.”
Yinian smiled faintly — and struck.
The blow sent Xie Xuezhen skidding backward, blood staining his lips.
Yinian clasped his hands together, his serene voice twisting into mockery. “Your spirit aperture truly hasn’t recovered. Since you already know… there’s no need to hide anymore.”
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