Chapter 12

The young man was striking, handsome, skin as pale as snow.
But his eyes were so cold and full of silence, he made you think of a frozen wasteland, lifeless, impenetrable.
Within the blue glow appeared a many-limbed, towering beast, far larger than a human.
The demonic cultivator on the rooftop stood, then leapt into the storm. Black robes snapped in the snow-laden wind as he extended a bandaged hand, and streams of blue-black iron, each traced with glowing runes, whipped through the air, spiraling around his pale arm, assembling themselves with flawless precision.
With unstoppable force, his iron-forged arm caught the massive beast and pinned it to the ground in one swift, brutal movement.
“Qianji,” he said quietly, his voice as cold and clear as a hidden spring, hypnotic, yet carrying the promise of a coming blizzard.
Behind him, high in the air, a tiny puppet shattered, then rapidly reformed, rising as a six-armed, three-eyed dark war god, terrifying and immense. From the treasure in its hands burst six rays of mystical light, hunting down the beast in pursuit.
A spray of crimson beast blood splashed across that cold, striking face.
Though now reduced to a translucent afterimage, every detail was so vivid, it felt real as life.
The class had never witnessed anything so brutally direct, a scene of killing, blood and danger in plain view. Most went pale, some quivering, eyes brimming with tears. But a few? Sparks lit in their wide eyes, awe and hunger for power overtaking the fear.
Mu Xue stared at the image as it froze on the last frame.
The bloodied, icy face started to blur in her mind, overlapping with that little boy she remembered raising.
So that child, he’d grown up this much since then.
Ding Huirou spoke from the front of the room, her voice carried by conviction: “Many people cling to old ideas, that women are fated to be lesser. Once, very few women practiced artifact refinement. But now? Just look at Master Mu, before you. And me, Ding Huirou, standing here as proof.”
“Some believe being an artifact refiner means you’re stuck in a backroom, sweating over cauldrons, working for someone else’s glory.” Her voice rose, sharp with passion. “But what you saw today is what a true artifact refiner can do in battle.
To walk the road of cultivation is to break chains, to not be boxed in by old prejudices.”
As she retrieved the Brightlight Sea Mirage Lamp that powered the illusion, she glanced at the fading image and sighed softly, “I wonder, what kind of master could raise such a breathtaking prodigy?”
She’d kept her voice low, but Mu Xue in the front row still heard every word.
She couldn’t help straightening her back, fierce pride flashing in her heart, That’s me. That’s my disciple!
Even in the dining hall that night, the grown-up Xiao Shan’s face refused to leave Mu Xue’s mind.
Back then, by her side, he was all shy smiles, a too-thin, awkward kid she’d spent years fattening up and cheering on. Now he’d gone and whittled himself down to nothing again.
Before crossing my own tribulation, I knew something would go wrong. I left him a mountain of wealth, just in case. And yet... look at the mess he’s made of himself.
Of all the skills I passed on, why did he choose to practice that cursed Six Reincarnation Demon Art, the hardest, messiest one of all?
Mu Xue slumped, mood tanking. What can I do now, oceans and mountains between us? I can't even yell at him anymore.
“Xiao Xue, over here!” Ding Lanlan waved, calling out to Mu Xue and Xia Tong.
A whole crowd had gathered around her, and even some older senior sisters had pulled up chairs to join them.
The dining hall buzzed tonight. Not just this year’s new initiates, disciples from previous years trickled back in too, gathering in noisy, hungry clusters.
Here and there, you could spot white-haired elders sitting with kids barely ten years old, all equals, all calling each other “senior brother” or “junior sister.”
Just goes to show, cultivation is not for the faint of heart. Cracking Heaven’s secrets, getting into the inner sect at all, that’s no simple feat.
Of course, there are always those born blessed, who never have to worry about such things.
“Obviously, us girls are going to my aunt’s Biyou Peak. You can learn artifact refinement, alchemy, spirit planting, beast-taming, everything! No messy boys, just peace and quiet.” Ding Lanlan proclaimed, chin high, scanning the table.
All the girls at the table nodded, clearly on board.
Only Mu Xue stayed silent, gnawing on her drumstick.
Artifact refinement was her specialty, sure, but something Master Su Xingtin said that morning on Xiaoyao Peak still tugged at her heart. She needed time to figure out her path this life.
Plus, she knew the discipline too well. If she really joined Biyou Peak and apprenticed under Master Ding, she’d slip up for sure, way too messy to explain away.
The dinner chatter had already shifted to today’s classroom spectacle.
“Do you guys know about that demonic cultivator? The one who, ” Ding Lanlan waggled her brows, “turned the whole Demon Spirit Realm upside down, just because he was hopelessly in love with his late master.”
“Of course! The story’s everywhere, even made it across realms. Demonic cultivators really know how to make a mess, even their forbidden teacher-student romances are headline material.”
“Wait, what? He fell for his own master? Isn’t that, like, criminally taboo?” Xia Tong’s ears perked up. “Come on, spill, who is it? Who’s his master?”
Mu Xue’s head snapped up, chicken still in hand. She’d been dead a hundred years, and apparently the Demon Spirit Realm had gotten way more exciting?
Gossip is human nature, even cultivators are hardly immune.
Mention a juicy scandal, and the girls perked up more than when someone brought up a new cultivation technique.
“They say his master was a knockout, dazzling, wickedly charming, scandalously legendary. She left behind a trail of broken hearts: the Yan family heir, the Lian family golden boy, even her own disciple, now the Demon Spirit Realm’s strongest, Cen Qianshan. They all fell for her, and she left every single one in the dust.
After Mu Xue died, Cen Qianshan raised hell with the Yan and Lian families for years. Honestly, those two clans still haven’t recovered.”
“Wait, isn’t that the guy we saw in the classroom today?”
“Yeah! He was terrifying, the way he fought, even as a phantom. Had me shaking in my seat.”
“Cen Qianshan himself, powerful and cold, always a lone wolf. His one obsession? His late master. The only thing that’ll lure him out now is a soul artifact.”
“A soul artifact?”
“Yeah, the kind that can summon the dead. It’s said the ancient soul artifacts could even bring someone back to life. But... no one knows if they truly exist.”
“So he spent a century haunting his master’s old house, all for a pipe dream? God, even his demonic love story is enough to make me cry.”
“I wonder, what on earth did Master Mu do to him? How did she dig so deep under the skin of a man like that, strong, breathtaking, still obsessed after all these years?”
“I’ve got the full storybooks at home, you know. Nothing left to the imagination, ‘Mu Xue’s Disciplinary Seduction’ and ‘Romance & Legend: Lovesick Qianshan, Heartless Xue.’ Got the whole set.”
Mu Xue dropped her drumstick.
No way. I swear, I didn’t, I haven’t,I didn’t even touch a single one of his fingers!