Chapter 3

The small town where Mu Xue lived was about five miles from Yunxi City. On the road there, they had wooden ox carts for travelers, cheap too, just three coins per ride.
Da Zhu had always worked in the city. He was used to walking every day and couldn’t bear to part with money for such a thing.
But thinking of his little sister heading out for the first time, never having ridden in an ox cart, he wavered. After a long pause, he fished out three big coins and handed them to the cart driver, sat Mu Xue on the wooden cart, and let her sit among the other kids going into town. He himself followed behind on foot.
The cart was just an ordinary wooden wagon, but the ox pulling it was anything but normal, it was a wooden ox that could move on its own.
A wooden body, iron-forged hooves, and a bold, rough rune carved deep into its haunches.
This was the simplest kind of artifact, almost useless to cultivators.
But to mortals, it was a marvel. The wooden ox didn’t need to eat or rest, just a bit of simple handling, and it would steadily clop along, slow but tireless, carrying huge loads with unflappable endurance. To many, it was life-changing.
In her past life, Mu Xue had been obsessed with the art of artifact crafting, a specialist in the field. She’d found her Dao through craftsmanship and become the most renowned artisan in Fuwang City.
This was her first time seeing a Dao cultivator’s artifact up close, and even if it was such a basic tool, she couldn’t help but be delighted. She perched at the front, eyes shining, inspecting every rivet, seam, and iron hoof on the wooden ox with eager curiosity.
Finally, she couldn’t resist reaching out her small hand and gently touching the carved rune for a long while. Spiritual power flowed through the formation, and her fingertip tingled with a familiar, prickly sensation.
It looked crude on the outside, but the craftsmanship was clearly time-tested and meticulously refined, turning complexity into simplicity, skill disguised as rusticity, so even an ordinary person could operate it with ease.
So the artifact refinement in this world isn’t beneath what we have in the Demon Spirit Realm after all, Mu Xue mused, nodding to herself.
The Demon Spirit Realm, where demonic cultivators lived, and the Immortal Spirit Realm, home to Dao cultivators, were two separate worlds. Only a handful of high-level teleportation arrays could briefly connect the two.
Until now, most of Mu Xue’s knowledge about the Dao world was hearsay from fellow demonic cultivators, half rumors, half unreliable records. Now that she was about to see the legendary world with her own eyes, she couldn’t help the quiet thrill in her chest.
She was all smiles just then, when she looked up and saw Chunhua across from her, wearing a deeply conflicted expression.
"You… why are you still petting the ox’s butt?" Chunhua hissed in a low voice. "Put your hand down! People are watching, you really haven’t ridden a wooden ox before, have you?"
Mu Xue solemnly withdrew her hand. "Actually, I heard that if you touch the mark on the ox’s behind before your destiny with the immortals is revealed, you might absorb some immortal aura. You’re more likely to be chosen."
"There’s really such a thing? R-really?"
Chunhua hesitated, fidgeting for a long time, but couldn’t quite bring herself to reach out, especially with a cart full of kids watching, and pet the swaying wooden ox’s rump.
Little did Mu Xue know that thanks to her impromptu joke, in just a short while, the pre-selection ox-butt-touching ritual would become wildly popular, eventually cementing itself as a full-blown local tradition.
As for the very wooden ox in front of them, it would one day be adorned with a red flower and placed at Biyun City’s main gate, so townsfolk could reach out for a lucky touch and collect a brush of immortal blessing as they came and went.
When they arrived in Yunxi City and entered through the town gates, Mu Xue was dazzled by the ornate pavilions and painted beams flanking the roads, palatial towers reaching skyward all agleam with gold and jade.
The imposing skyline ate up the evening; what was left of the sunset was barely a sliver above the rooftops.
Between the towering watchtowers, arching sky-bridges floated up and down, shuttling people about. Stained glass lanterns twinkled like jewels among old-style shop signs, mingling together in a dreamlike, bustling scene.
Refined, everyday spell-artifacts were woven into city life at every corner, making everything seem dazzlingly sophisticated and vibrant.
Da Zhu held Mu Xue’s hand as they moved with the surging crowds into the heart of the city.
Down the broad main avenue, a parade of lanterns wound by.
In the air, drums and flutes crashed together; golden petals scattered like rain; and the vast processional marched forward, led by a lifelike golden dragon. Its sculpted wooden head glared with great glassy eyes that shone twin beams of warm yellow light, blazing a path before them. The dragon’s mouth opened and closed, letting out rolling, soul-thrilling roars.
Behind the dragon came a team of towering wooden puppets in vibrant costumes, flags flying. Their big, cartoonish heads beamed with joy, and each lumbered forward on its own, wobbly and animated.
"Look, little sis, wooden people!" Da Zhu pointed them out to Mu Xue.
Back in my world, we call those puppet constructs, Mu Xue thought to herself.
She’d once been a master of puppet making. Her constructs could chat and joke like real people and, in a fight, were fierce allies on the battlefield.
Mu Xue lifted her gaze. Under the night sky, colored confetti whirled, jade trees sparkled with silver lamps, and neon arches floated above it all.
This place really is nothing like the Demon Spirit Realm.
In that world, city walls towered, bristling with defense arrays and snarling gargoyle statues. Most homes were low, squat, sunk halfway into the earth, anything to keep demon beasts and monsters from smashing their way through. The idea of a city like this, delicate, luxurious, totally unprotected, was simply unthinkable.
They didn’t have the sect tradition, either. If a demonic cultivator needed help around the house, they’d just head to the slave market and buy a disciple, complete with a life contract: “Life or death, health or illness, all left to fate; body and soul, wholly at master’s disposal.”
The roar of the crowd jerked Mu Xue out of her memories.
In the parade, a massive, multi-story float inched into view, on top, the suona wailed as singers performed a grand demon-banishing opera. One actor, with painted brows and flowing robes, wielded a golden sword as a hero exorcising monsters. Another, masked and horned, swathed in eerie black robes, played the dark, sinister demonic cultivator.
The hero brandished his glittering artifact, and the demon cultivator let out a piercing wail, “My fate is sealed!”, then collapsed in defeat.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
The white-clad immortal on stage spun his robe, triumphantly raising a horned, demon-masked head high for all to see.
The crowd grew even more raucous, cheers echoing nonstop.
Da Zhu scooped Mu Xue up in his arms, bursting with excitement. “Xiao Xue, look! That wicked demonic cultivator got killed by an immortal!”
Mu Xue: "..."
Oh, my sweet idiot brother, you have no idea. The one you’re hugging right now is the real, bona fide, pure-blooded demonic cultivator.
Mu Xue’s gaze lingered on the head of the “demonic cultivator,” hoisted high atop the flower float. Once again, she sternly reminded herself: Be careful, be discreet. No one can know what she really is.
In her last life, she’d spent years grinding away at cultivation, only to stall at the Golden Core stage and die a wretched death. After her rebirth, Mu Xue had turned the problem over and over, but couldn’t find a better cultivation path. In the end, she made her choice: this lifetime, she wouldn’t practice the demonic arts just yet. Instead, she’d do whatever it took to sneak into an righteous sect and see if Daoist alchemy and their secret techniques could break her through to the next level.
All for this goal, over six years, though she carried powerful demonic cultivation methods in her mind, she stubbornly refused to practice even a sliver, not until she was safely inside a sect. Exposure was simply too dangerous.
As the grand flower festival parade neared its end, the crowd ahead suddenly surged in a wave, all eyes flooding forward.
Mu Xue craned her neck, and spotted, atop the city tower, a young man who’d appeared out of nowhere. He wore simple robes, dark hair tied up, nothing flashy at all, he seemed even plainer than the beautifully-dressed immortal actor on the float.
“Wow, so many people today!”
The guy, who couldn’t be much older than twenty, scratched his head a bit awkwardly as he looked down at the sea of people packed shoulder to shoulder below.
“All right, here we go!”
He drew out a tiny silk pouch, loosened the cord, and balanced it in his palm. A sliver of golden light crept over the edge, out fluttered a Xiumu Butterfly, its wings trembling as it spread them wide and soared up into the night.
All the music fell silent; the crowd, too, gradually hushed, even the rowdiest children clamped their mouths shut, everyone’s gaze locked on that lone glimmer of gold hovering in the dark.
First just one butterfly. Then a second, then a third… Suddenly gold light shimmered everywhere, the city wall ablaze with gold, thousands of butterflies pouring down, each one gently drifting toward the children’s outstretched hands.
Some kids, eyes wide with wonder, raised their hands to grab them. The tiny golden butterflies seemed caught, held tight, only to dissolve in an instant, scattering like dust, glowing between their fingers before trailing away and vanishing into the night.
The littlest children didn’t quite understand what had happened; they squealed, giggled, utterly enchanted by the sparkling spectacle. But the adults beside them couldn’t hide their sighs of disappointment.
If you didn’t catch one… it meant you hadn’t been chosen. Their own child would not receive that fabled immortal fate.
A delicate Xiumu Butterfly drifted right down in front of Mu Xue. Her fingers snapped closed, pinning its wings between them.
Golden foil for wings, iridescent scales, slender rainbow antennae.
Mu Xue’s eyes widened in surprise.
A Xu-Mu butterfly, so rare in the Demon Spirit Realm. She remembered spending ages in her past life trying to get her hands on one. And yet in this world, there were so many Xiumu butterflies, they could actually use them just to pick new disciples?
The butterfly wriggled gently between Mu Xue’s fingers, little legs scrabbling, bright colors swirling on its antennae.
Crap. Let my guard down.
Mu Xue’s heart dropped. She’d forgotten the most basic trait of Xiumu butterflies. She wanted to let go, but it seemed she was already too late.
Somehow, the whole world around her had turned silent and still. Her brother was gone, the parade vanished,
Everything was dark, pitch black, pure chaos,
All she could see were her own tiny fingers, and the trembling butterfly wings between them.
Hadn’t she seen something like this before? Whose hand had once caught a Xu-Mu butterfly and held it just like this, right in front of her eyes?
Slowly, light seeped back through the darkness. Sounds swelled, shouting, clamor. Filthy water pooled on the streets; the air was thick with every unpleasant stench imaginable.
Mu Xue stood dazed in this world of harsh light. Who was she? Where did she come from? Where was she supposed to go?
Just then, a Xiumu Butterfly danced lazily past her face.
Right. I’m Mu Xue. Demonic cultivator, Golden Core stage. This is Fuwang City.
Her muddled mind finally cleared.
A few days ago, she’d heard as an artifact refiner that Xiumu butterflies were in town. After pulling some strings, she’d finally got her hands on one, but she’d been too excited, and let the thing slip away.
What am I doing, just standing here? Get it together, go after that butterfly!
Mu Xue gave herself a firm knock on the head, summoned her artifact, and shot off in hot pursuit of that golden speck.