Chapter 3: Mirage Tower

 

Zai Shuanggui truly could not understand why his disciple harbored such deep displeasure toward the puppet leader of the Painting City. Although Tianquzi normally avoided close friendships, he was still the head of the academy—his manner was unfailingly gentle and courteous.

But now, decorum had vanished entirely. With no excuse left to offer, Zai Shuanggui forced a smile.
“Xi Zhangyuan…” He caught himself—it was too difficult to explain. So, he simply offered nonsense: “If one feels unwell, irritability is inevitable. My words are inadequate. I hope the puppet leader will not take offense.”

Such perfunctory reassurance did nothing to quell Xu O’s fury. For the first time in her life, someone had mocked her for appearing old—and as a demon puppet, such an insult was a grievous humiliation. As a woman, it was nothing short of deep hatred.

She sneered. “I don’t dare to be offended!”
Then she turned sharply to her attendant. “Return to the Painting City.”

The attendant obeyed immediately. The group was preparing to leave when Zai Shuanggui shot urgent glances at Xi Yunjie. Xi Yunjie had been watching the escalating tension between Xu O and his master, too frightened to speak. But finally, he gathered the courage:

“It is rare for the puppet leader to visit the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect. Please stay for one night. Allow us to prepare a light banquet to wash away the dust.”

At his words, Xu O’s anger fell slightly. She owed Xi Yunjie some face. But forgiveness for that “old man Xi’’ was out of the question.

She said coldly, “Since Xi Zhangyuan is sick, I will not trouble myself to dine with him tonight.”

Her emphasis on your body is sick bordered on a curse.
Zai Shuanggui hurriedly replied, “Thank you for your understanding, puppet leader. Cloud Steps, please escort the puppet leader to the guest garden.”

---

Bitter Bamboo Forest

The wind moved through the bamboo grove in waves of green.

Tianquzi sat upon a pale stone in the center of the clearing. Before him lay a clear pool, its ripples brushing against clusters of calamus while silver herring darted below. Tonight, Zai Shuanggui would be hosting a banquet for the guests—but since no one had come to invite him, his absence was clearly expected.

Normally, he wouldn’t have cared. He despised empty flattery and the false warmth of wine tables.

But today… everything felt wrong. A restless wind churned inside him. Even the gentle rustling of the bamboo grated against his ears. There was no peace.

Until the third watch, he finally extended his consciousness through the mountain-protecting array of the Yin-Yang Courtyard. Every sect had its own defenses, and theirs was no exception.

The formation, called Lian Heng, had evolved over generations—refined, restored, and nourished by the spiritual vein beneath the mountain until true spiritual intelligence awakened.

As soon as Tianquzi moved his mind, Lian Heng adjusted its foundation and merged its senses with his, sweeping the entire courtyard.

There was nothing unusual; he had known that already. The head of the courtyard had no need to perform the patrol duties of junior disciples.

Still, his awareness drifted across Rongtian Mountain—until it finally came to rest on the guest garden.

Lian Heng paused, then said dutifully,
“Zhangyuan, the one residing in that garden at this time is a female guest.”

A businesslike reminder.

Tianquzi acknowledged it silently, and Lian Heng refrained from further interference as images flowed into Tianquzi’s mind.

It was late. Xu O’s guards had begun their rotation. Two guarded her door; three patrolled the courtyard.

A great formation like Lian Heng had long fused with the mountain—every leaf and twig was its skin. No guest could ever detect its presence.

It slipped its vision smoothly into Xu O’s room.

Xu O had not slept. The room was unlit. In the darkness, she wore only a thin inner garment, sitting on the step below the embroidered couch. Her long hair clung to her neck, soaked completely with sweat.

She was enduring immense agony—knees drawn to her chest, head lowered, shoulders trembling, yet she refused to utter a sound.

Only her hands moved fingers interlocked, nails digging so deeply that blood blurred between them.

What was this?

Tianquzi studied her closely. Finally, he spoke:
“Lian Heng.”

The formation intelligence had already examined her—heart rate, breath, pulse—before replying,
“Zhangyuan, the female guest appears unwell. Shall I summon a healer?”

Tianquzi shook his head. The Yin-Yang Courtyard was a house of mixed disciplines; he understood medicine sufficiently. A diagnostic record flashed before him. He scanned it briefly.

“Destroy it.”

Lian Heng hesitated but complied.

Then Tianquzi disabled the array nodes surrounding the guest garden. Now, if he entered or exited, Lian Heng would leave no trace.

Xu O truly was unwell. When she’d been imprisoned by the demon clan, Yingchi had ordered her subdued daily to force her submission. The “goddess crying and dew” poison had since made her dependent on dew, and every midnight, her bone marrow felt as though thousands of ants gnawed through it—an unbearable itch.

Combined with the venom of the lust snake, she had nearly lost her sanity. But she dared not make noise. The guards outside her door were trained to detect even the slightest disturbance.

Her teeth pressed hard against her lips, her body shaking like a newborn beast thrown into winter ice.

The surrounding formations trembled, but she could not lift her head. Her body no longer obeyed her. Her mind blurred. Her only strength was not to move.

Someone approached.

Yingchi?

A green light flared in her hand—spiritual power shockingly strong.

But the figure was Tianquzi. With one hand he subdued her attack; with the other he activated the garden’s protective circle, immediately sealing off all sound.

The green blade-light hacked against his barrier, slicing through layer after layer. The weapon was indeed formidable—but Xu O was far too weakened. Against someone like him, it was hopeless.

He suppressed the weapon and crouched before her.

She didn’t look up. Her breath burned hot, sweat rolling like water. Even without seeing, she was poised to fight to the death.

Tianquzi spoke softly:
“I carry moon marrow. As long as I draw near, it can ease the pain of the goddess crying and dew.”

At this distance, the fragrance around them thickened. His voice, low and strained, overlapped faintly with their first encounter outside the Dharma Hall. Xu O’s consciousness was nearly gone—she moved only by sheer instinct. Yet that voice… inexplicably soothed her.

“Cloud steps…”
Her lips trembled, the words almost soundless.

Tianquzi shed all protective layers and carefully lifted her. Heat surged through his arms—she felt like boiling water—his heart pounding painfully.

He wasn’t lying. Xu O quickly felt the moon marrow’s effect. The unbearable itch and pain slowly dissolved through contact with him.

Instinctively, she clung to him, as though drawing medicine from his body. Each breath she exhaled scorched his skin. His hands hovered, wanting to hold her—but if he did, he feared he would never let go.

Her soft, trembling body pressed into him, not nearly close enough—she wound around him like a water serpent, her drenched hair trailing across his neck.

Tianquzi asked quietly,
“Is it better?”
His voice had grown hoarse, scorched by heat and scent.

Relief washed over her, exhausted and languid. “It really works. Can this thing be exchanged? I’ll exchange the Breath of God and Demon for it.”

As she spoke, her head lifted. Her red lips brushed his Adam’s apple—igniting a flame he couldn’t extinguish.

Tianquzi exhaled sharply, words rough and strained:
“This thing lies in the heart. It cannot be taken out.”

He forced himself to stay still, refusing to push her away as she pressed closer. Beneath the thin layer of damp clothing, her skin was warm and smooth, and he couldn’t stop himself—just one breath of her, one moment of carelessness, and his heart had already slipped into that soft, dangerous mire. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank, with no escape at all.

Desire pulled at him, rising and insistent. He wanted to taste those flushed lips—yet he didn’t dare.

He shifted slightly, leaning back to sit on the steps with his spine against the bedframe. Xu O curled against him completely, her body soft and boneless as she sighed, “This feels good.”

After months of torment, even though she had escaped the inner temple of Yingchi, the goddess’s cry and the seductive venom of the snake-blood struck her every night without fail. She hadn’t slept in a long time.

Now, resting against “Xi Yunjie,” the cool moon-marrow aura wrapped around her like silk. All the turmoil in her body gradually calmed. She breathed in deeply, almost greedily. “Xi Yunjie” had never taken advantage of her, and that sense of safety made her relax even more. Her lashes lowered, voice soft and drifting: “Can I stay a little longer?”

A breath brushed her ear. “Yes.”

She burrowed further into him, tightening her hold until he could barely breathe. “You’re so good. Much better than that old man Tianquzi.”

The dream shattered instantly. The “old man” held his breath and protested softly, “Actually, I…”

She had a terrible impression of him—as Tianquzi. What would happen if she learned the truth now?

In the long, endless night, he only wanted to prolong this quiet closeness for a little while longer. So he said, “It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think? I came here hoping to make friends.” A strand of his loose hair brushed her chin; Xu O caught it with her fingers and idly twirled it around. “You said he’s over a thousand years old. Why is his temper so bad? Is he one of those lonely old men who get weird as they age?”

Lonely. Old. Strange. Man.

The words hit like a heavy punch. Tianquzi froze, unable to breathe, unable to speak. Fortunately, Xu O seemed to realize it wasn’t appropriate to insult a master in front of his own disciple, and she let the topic drop. Wrapped in warmth, her body felt like it was sinking into a hot spring, sleep pulling her under. She murmured, almost dreaming, “It feels so good beside you… I don’t want to go back to the Painting City.”

The goddess’s crying-venom was sharp when it attacked, but Yingchi’s intention was never mere torture. When the drug’s power faded, the pleasure left behind was dangerously intoxicating.

The shackles Yingchi carved into her flesh returned with a thousandfold hatred and revulsion. Yet toward someone who eased her pain—someone who soothed her, calmed her—she couldn’t help the faint, unconscious attachment that formed.

Tianquzi found her yielding and warm, like a spring breeze passing through frozen plains—melting even ten thousand layers of ice. He held her hand, guiding it gently to his cheek. “Xu O, I am not Yunjie.”

But the woman in his arms didn’t respond.

She had fallen asleep.

Tianquzi stayed with her until dawn. A little later, the four elders would begin their rounds, and they would quickly notice the protective array around the guest garden had been quietly shut.

She slept peacefully, lost in dreams. Carefully, Tianquzi eased himself away. Her soaked clothes had dried during the night, warmed by spiritual power, leaving no trace behind.

He didn’t lift her onto the bed—he didn’t trust himself. One wrong move, one touch too bold… it would be inappropriate. He gave her one last look, then slipped out, avoiding the demon-puppet patrols as he left the guest garden.

He restored the barrier before the elders’ patrol reached the mountain. Everything returned to normal.
Only he carried her faint fragrance with him.

---

Xu O slept better than she had in months.

By the time she woke, the sky was already bright. She opened the door and found attendants waiting to help her wash and dress. Because Tianquzi—under the guise of her “escort”—had neglected his duties, Xi Yunjie had been scolded harshly by Zai Shuanggui and now waited outside her door, stiff and careful.

Xu O saw him and her mood lifted instantly, her gaze warm and bright. “I overslept. Thank you for waiting for me, Yunjie.”

Xi Yunjie didn’t dare meet her eyes. He bowed. “Puppet Leader, forgive me. I arrived early and disturbed your rest.”

The two exchanged gentle courtesies as Xi Yunjie led her to Taishi Residence. The four elders were already waiting. Though they had long since abandoned mortal food, etiquette demanded a meal be offered to honored guests. It saved everyone from unnecessary awkwardness.

Last night, they had examined the young demon-puppet child Xu O had given to Xi Yunjie.

Her father was from the immortal sect; her mother was of the demon-puppet race. Zai Shuanggui personally tested her spiritual roots—far beyond ordinary.

It was a message, a powerful one:
Demon puppets could not only reproduce with demonkind, but also allow the immortal sects to continue their bloodlines.

Those who reached the elder’s position in the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect were all shrewd. They quickly guessed Xu O’s intention. The demon-puppet clan had fallen out with the demons; the Painting City must be seeking new allies.

But the matter was delicate. Whoever spoke first would expose their stance and endanger countless interests.

Handled poorly, another war with the demon race could break out overnight. In the last great conflict, the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect’s master had lost his physical body and his soul was trapped. Many elders had died.

The sect still hadn’t recovered.

Xu O sat at the table; the breeze drifting through Taishi Residence was cool and soothing. The four elders wore pleasant smiles, offering polite small talk while avoiding the true reason she had come.

Four old foxes, she thought.

She had come with intention—but not much hope.

The immortal sect and the demon race both wanted the same thing.
And that was precisely what she could never give.

Though the sect and the demon race were enemies, they would not fight unless heavily incentivized. And she had arrived at a disadvantage: the most influential of the Nine Veins—the Yin-Yang Courtyard—was headed by Tianquzi.

And Tianquzi clearly disliked the demon-puppet race.
He had no desire to help her.

Thus the elders would hesitate, watching their strongest vein for cues.

Tianquzi was someone who guarded his principles fiercely—no amount of persuasion could sway him.

The most she could do was warn them:
If the demon race consumed the demon-puppet clan, their strength would surge.
What happened afterward would depend on fate.

Accepting this, she spoke only of scenery and food throughout the meal.
Not a word of business was exchanged.

The four elders were anxious, but they understood better than she that they could not offer help first. They themselves would not be the ones to bleed for it.

Thus they remained patient—polite, courteous, and immovable.

Xu O saw there was no point dragging things out. When the meal ended, she rose to take her leave.

Zai Shuanggui and the other elders accompanied her group down the mountain, smiling and chatting with layers of hidden intent.

Just before parting, Xu O clearly wanted to speak privately with Xi Yunjie.
Zai Shuanggui signaled the others, and the four elders drifted forward to give them space.

Xu O walked beside Xi Yunjie. “These past two days have troubled you.”

Her eyes were clear and bright when she spoke. Xi Yunjie never understood why she treated him differently, but he obeyed Zai Shuanggui’s teachings well.

Before him stood a woman of breathtaking beauty—free-spirited yet refined. He liked her, but he also understood the divide between their worlds. His posture remained impeccable.

Hearing her words, he met her gaze—saw himself reflected clearly in her eyes—and blushed. “Puppet Leader overpraises me. Your visit is an honor to the Nine Abyss. To accompany you is Yunjie’s fortune. There is no hardship.”

Formal—too formal—but sincere.
Whether in private warmth or public restraint, everything about him was admirable.

Yet he didn’t speak further. Every word reaffirmed his loyalty to the sect. Personal affection could not outweigh duty.

Their fleeting closeness in the night was no more than a moment of illusion.
Demon and immortal were destined to remain divided.

She bid Xi Yunjie and the elders farewell, then boarded the flying vessel back to Painting City.

---

Bitter Bamboo Forest.

Tianquzi had only recently undergone bone-cleansing to purge demonic aura. His body was still weak. Having stayed awake the entire night, he was exhausted, but the wind unsettled him, preventing sleep.

Before long, the four elders arrived together. Tianquzi gestured for them to sit around the stone table and poured tea himself.

Zai Shuanggui said, “We tested the child Xu O sent. Demon puppets can indeed bear descendants for the immortal sect.”

Tianquzi finally began to understand her true purpose.

“She has left?” he asked.

Zai Shuanggui nodded. “Gone. She said nothing, even at the end. She only exchanged a few private words with Yunjie, but none of importance.”

Tea overflowed from Tianquzi’s cup. He flicked his sleeve to clear it, but his heart felt scraped hollow empty.

The Yin-Yang Courtyard’s second elder asked, “She came seeking help, but refused to say so. If the demons truly intend to devour the demon-puppet clan, we cannot sit idle. Does the Master have a plan?”

Tianquzi pushed aside his wandering thoughts. “The demon race occupies the Heavenly Demon Sanctuary. Painting City lies within it. You have all seen the Nine-Calamity Heaven-Net.”

At this, the elders fell silent.

The Nine-Calamity Heaven-Net was the demon race’s great defensive array. To assist the Painting City, they would need to enter the formation and confront the demons head-on.

Tianquzi continued calmly, “If the demon-puppets truly seek aid, they must abandon Painting City, leave the Sanctuary, discard their race-name, and let the Nine Abyss Immortal Sect relocate them. She would never accept that. Therefore, negotiation is pointless.”

Silence followed.
Zai Shuanggui said, “But if the demons devour them, won’t their power grow greatly?”

Tianquzi touched the amber bead hidden in his sleeve. After a long moment, he said, “That is precisely why she came. My meaning is—wait and watch.”

Later that afternoon, the Nine Vein Masters gathered again to build the sect’s mirage simulation.

Eight supported aiding Painting City.
The Yin-Yang Courtyard objected.
The sect remained undecided.

When the mirage dispersed and the elders returned to their peaks, Tianquzi stopped walking.

“Yunjie.”

Xi Yunjie, trailing closely, almost bumped into him. “Master?”

“Before parting… what did she say to you? Tell me the exact words.”

Thinking the master wished to gauge Xu O’s attitude, Xi Yunjie repeated the conversation faithfully.

Tianquzi listened without expression. Yunjie couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or displeased and grew increasingly nervous.

Her words were heavy, her compliments polite. She said coming to Rongtian Mountain was an honor. Traveling with him was a blessing.
Courteous—too courteous.
A thin veneer over the vague feelings of the previous night.

Tianquzi walked the entire way without speaking.

Bitterness filled his chest, sharp and unspeakable.

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