Chapter 2

With fate gone, all things perish,
When all illusions end… then is found Nirvana,
The way of nature fulfilled.
Half-awake, half-dreaming, Mu Xue’s ears filled with distant, chanting Sanskrit, sometimes echoing faint and far, sometimes close and thunderous, endlessly murmuring by her ear.
It unsettled her. She was a demonic cultivator, how could she be hearing Buddhist hymns in her dreams?
She wanted to wake, but her eyelids felt weighted with lead. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free from the dream. Outside, there was light, a world both gentle and warm, and a soft hand lovingly stroked her hair.
Even half-asleep, she knew: that was her mother.
“Xiao Xue, this technique is called the Infinite Rebirth Cycle Secret Art. It’s a peerless method, drawn from glimpsing the gaps of heaven’s laws. It can protect your reincarnation, keep your spirit pure through a hundred lifetimes, let you wander unburdened. But you must never breathe a word of it to anyone, or else, ”
“Or else what?” Mu Xue asked, groggy and half-lost in the haze.
Her mother just smiled softly and whispered something too quiet to catch.
Mu Xue opened her eyes.
She lay flat atop a sun-dried heap of straw, gazing up at a sky as azure and clear as water. The afternoon sun spilled one golden halo after another, pouring warmth and light in such generosity it almost dazzled her.
Mu Xue stared blankly for a long moment before reality finally came into focus.
This was no longer storm-ravaged Fuwang City. Instead, she found herself in an ordinary town, full of mortals. Sunlight everywhere, peaceful lives, the sky gently beautiful, not at all like the doom-laden thunderclouds and savage lightning of her death.
Her mind drifted back to the day of her failed tribulation, the sky shrouded in oppressive clouds, that frenzied violet lightning splitting the heavens, driving home with relentless force, dead set on erasing her existence from the world.
The agony of her body burning, the horror of her spirit unraveling… even now, that terror carved deep in memory.
Afterwards, who knew how many years she drifted, until finally, she slipped into the cycle of reincarnation and was reborn into the world of righteous cultivators.
Now, she was no longer the Golden Core demonic cultivator of Fuwang City, just a powerless, six-year-old girl.
Mu Xue pressed her palm to her chest. There, known only to herself, was a hidden dharma seal. When she was little, her mother placed this “Infinite Rebirth Cycle Secret Art” on her. With it, her soul would endure rebirth with her memories intact, allowing her to chase the Great Dao again, lifetime after lifetime.
The road of cultivation is fraught with peril. With such an extraordinary seal, she’d never again need to fear the limits of life and death, single-mindedly striving, an unmatched blessing any cultivator would kill for.
The only true taboo with this technique is that the heavenly way forbids it. Whoever possesses it must never let its secret slip into the mortal world.
Of course, since it concerns your cultivation path, your very life, no sane person would ever leak even a hint of it.
Mu Xue's fingertip, pressed against her chest, paused for a beat.
If that's the case, then why did her mother tell her about this forbidden art?
In her previous life, Mu Xue's mother died when she was still very young, leaving her memories of her mother hazy at best. Those blurry shadows and the snippets of words in her dreams only came rushing back after Mu Xue’s resurrection from her tribulation.
Grateful though she was, Mu Xue, a true demonic cultivator raised in Fuwang City, frankly didn’t grasp what “mother” really meant. She couldn’t quite understand what people meant by family affection or the bonds of blood.
Her whole life, she was obsessed with cultivation and the art of artifact refinement. Things like family, romance, all that mush, that might as well have belonged to someone else’s world.
On the path to enlightenment, the only thing worth chasing is cultivation itself.
If she ever reached true mastery, she could ride the Dragon on violet clouds, roam the endless void, and wander, free and unbound. What happiness in the mortal realm could possibly compare? Otherwise, why would those madmen go as far as killing their wives or soaking themselves in blood just to prove their Dao?
Take herself for example, no matter what she was in life, one slip and she ended up dead overnight, years of bitter cultivation just dissolving like mist. Any old friends she had probably forgot there ever was a Mu Xue at all by now.
Truly, perhaps the only one who might remember her, even occasionally, was that stray little disciple she picked up so casually all those years ago, Cen Qianshan.
Old memories skimmed her heart like birds over a still lake, stirring a hint of nostalgia within Mu Xue.
That poor, scrawny little disciple, she wondered how he’d turned out. Knowing how quick-witted Xiao Shan was, plus what she’d left him before crossing her tribulation, he shouldn’t have had any problem getting by. He’d be fine, she didn’t need to worry.
After all these years, that bony little guy must’ve finally shot up, right?
Why was she even thinking about this? Maybe even Xiao Shan had already forgotten all about her.
Six-year-old Mu Xue, wise beyond her years, sighed dramatically as she sat atop a haystack, brushed the dry stalks off her clothes, and hopped to her feet.
"What are you doing out here, little sis? Had me looking all over for you. Today’s Lantern Festival, Mom wants you home early. We still gotta head into town to try your luck with the immortals!”
Standing below the haystack was Mu Xue’s older brother, Da Zhu, a farm boy, dark-skinned and sweaty, who opened his strong arms to lift his tiny sister down to the ground.
The triennial Lantern Festival was the biggest event around here. All the major towns hosted grand lantern parades and ceremonies.
On this day, a real immortal elder from Guiyuan Sect would descend to the city gate, bless the people, and select a handful of children with the right fate for cultivation among the immortals.
Out of tens of thousands, only a few would ever be chosen, so the chances were slim to none.
But for ordinary families, just to glimpse a cultivator’s mystical power, to catch even a whiff of immortal fortune, that was even more exciting than New Year’s.
If some lucky kid from your house actually got picked? It was like your ancestors’ graves spouted green smoke, your whole family would live in glory, and sometimes, the entire clan would prosper because of it.
So, from miles around, any family with kids aged six to thirteen would scrub their children clean, dress them up, and have a family member bring them to the ceremony for “meeting the immortals.”
Mu Xue, of course, had been tidied up, standing by the door waiting for her big brother Da Zhu.
She wore a faded cotton shirt, washed so often it was almost white, and her jet-black hair was done up in two glossy little buns, no decoration, but her bright eyes and delicate face still shimmered with a natural glow. Even plain clothes couldn’t hide her elfin charm.
The family was dirt poor. Even on a festival like this, the nicest thing they could offer was an old cotton jacket without patches. Not that Mu Xue cared, her thoughts were elsewhere.
The fence next door creaked open as Chunhua, the neighbor girl two years older than Mu Xue, stepped out dressed in a brand new, flowery red jacket. She eyed Mu Xue’s plain brown cotton coat up and down, feeling very smug as she tugged at her own bright sleeves to show off.
“You’re going to meet immortals today and your family put you in that? Way to slack off. Just don’t tell anyone you know me when we get there, okay?”
Little Mu Xue glanced at the brat’s infuriating face, and said, cool as you please, “No point showing off that jacket, you’re so sunburned, even if you wear red, the immortals won’t be able to see your face once night falls.”
Chunhua, tanned to a crisp from playing outside all day, choked on Mu Xue’s words, pointing at her speechlessly for ages before finally bursting out crying.
Seriously? That’s all it took to make her cry?
What a lightweight. Zero combat power.
Mu Xue could only rub her nose, exasperated.
Life here really was way too soft.
Back in the day, even little Cen Qianshan, skin and bones as he was, could scrap his way across Fuwang City and still come home grinning, never showing a single tear.
Unless you pulled off his shirt, you’d never spot the mess of bruises he’d collected for himself.
Just then, Da Zhu came out to see the “tough” neighbor Chunhua bawling, snot and tears everywhere, while his own supposedly “sweet and quiet” little sister just stood there looking innocent.
The youngest in the family, Mu Xue was pale and delicate as a snowball, always so sensible and gentle. Shame her temperament was a bit too soft; even when bullied, she’d just watch, helpless.
Da Zhu scooped up his sister and barked, “Yao Chunhua, what are you doing picking on my sis again?”