Chapter 36

The soul-ferry carrying the departed gently veered away from their group, points of starlight lining up as they floated deeper and deeper into the sky’s midnight sea.
The galaxy shimmered, the ferries passing, cutting off old ties, waving farewell to all that was.
Mu Xue’s own little boat, instead of rising, gradually sank from the twilight border of sky and water, coming gently to rest on the earth, next to the divine pathway paved in five-colored stones.
All of them stepped down, solid ground at last beneath their feet.
Looking up, they watched the fading glow of lanterns drift higher and higher, until they vanished from view entirely.
This crossing, so harrowing, so unforgettable, had left each of them with feelings and epiphanies they could never truly share.
After all they’d survived, battered and bruised, the group built a small campfire by the sacred road and took time to rest and regroup.
Mu Xue tried to pitch in, but Miao Hong’er immediately pushed her down. “Take a break! You’re still just a kid. You’re hurt, no sneaking off to help, got it?”
Only after arriving in this world did Mu Xue learn what childhood really meant: how to accept care, to be protected. It wasn’t, as she’d always believed, just an excuse for the weak to be bullied or exploited.
She’d been so wrong back then.
When Xiao Shan first came to live with them, he’d been painfully thin, covered in injuries and illness. She never gave him any special care, just dumped all sorts of chores on him without a thought.
If he hadn’t collapsed with a high fever, she probably would’ve kept burying her head in work, maybe even forgotten to take him to a doctor at all.
Mu Xue quietly peeked across the fire at Cen Qianshan, a pang of guilt blooming for that boy he used to be.
He was sitting right there, firelight flickering over his unfairly handsome face, but his eyes never left the patch of dirt in front of him, stone-still, not even a glance her way.
Not once did he look at her.
Something about it felt…off. On their journey here, Xiao Shan’s gaze had always found her, sometimes shy, sometimes bold, but never absent. It made her feel a little guilty.
But since they left the Abyssal Tower, something had shifted. He practically seemed to lose all interest in her. Not only was he ignoring Zhang Er Ya, he wouldn’t even meet her eyes, deliberately looking anywhere else.
Well, whatever. As long as he didn’t figure out who she really was, she could breathe easy.
Relieved, Mu Xue settled cross-legged to meditate and heal.
As her hands formed seals, she could swear she still felt the whispery softness of his hair on her palm.
Thank goodness she’d snuck in a quick pet while he was unconscious.
Damn, she missed that feeling.
Inside her Spirit Chamber, the primordial world steamed and shimmered, and Mu Xue sat serenely at the edge of a clear, tranquil lake.
From the water surfaced the Water Tiger, which, of course, now wore Cen Qianshan’s face, lifting his wet, glistening gaze to her.
Whatever, Mu Xue thought, she couldn’t just stop cultivating just because the Water Tiger had turned into a man.
If her inner world insisted on looking like Xiao Shan, then so be it. If he loved hanging around, he could stay there as long as he wanted.
Back in her artifact-refining days, Xiao Shan always used to sit nearby, chin in hand, quietly watching her. She’d gotten used to it, hadn't she?
With that thought, a deep sense of peace settled over her. She let the “Water Tiger” roam and play nearby as she gently balanced her yin and yang, guiding her inner qi throughout her body.
After thirty-six cycles of rotation, the world inside Mu Xue's Spirit Chamber was utterly tranquil. She looked up and saw that “Water Tiger Lord,” half-reclining in the water at the lake’s reedy edge, face half-shadowed by drooping grass, lost in thought.
Mu Xue wandered to the shore and bent down to watch him.
This was the only place she could safely, shamelessly, look at his face as long as she wanted.
He was no longer the gentle boy of years past.
The lake’s water made his skin look ashen pale; his brows carried a hint of melancholy that no smile could vanish, his nose elegant, his cheekbones gaunt, his lips pressed thin and tight. Shadows flickered on his cheek from long lashes that trembled with the faintest movement, a certain sickly beauty, cool and untouchable.
With looks like his, he could've broken a thousand hearts back in Fuwang City. The girls there were bold, passionate, not afraid to chase what they wanted. How had none of them won him over, leaving him to wait alone among the ruins for a hundred and eighty years?
Mu Xue watched as those perfect brows tugged together in pain. And then, just like that, crystalline tears gathered below his lashes and rolled, slow and clear, down his cheek, vanishing into the lake below.
Exactly the same as when he'd been trapped in that dream of endless loss and longing.
“Truly a Water Tiger, he’s made of water, after all,” Mu Xue couldn't help but smile, tinged with sorrow. She reached out on reflex; as the tear touched her finger, it burned, stinging sharply where it met her skin.
Back then, deep in battle, she hadn’t had time to think.
But here, inside her heart’s own sanctuary, by her lake of memory, Xiao Shan’s broken, hopeless voice, crying out, suddenly rang so real, so inescapable, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.
The person who had made him weep like that, was her.
Mu Xue, slowly and with a start, finally understood.
Those tiny droplets shattered the mirror-still surface of the ancient lake. Ripples flared outward, spreading ring by ring into the distance.
……
By the fire, Fu Yun was boiling a pot of hot water. He’d salvaged the clay pot from an abandoned house, and the stand for the pot was makeshift. Fu Yun came from a life of luxury, practical chores weren’t exactly his forte. Somehow, just boiling water left a black smudge across the tip of his nose, making him look a little less aloof and a bit more approachable.
The youngest little junior sister edged over, glancing around shyly before whispering, “Senior Brother, would you, could you go over that Tiger-Subduing Art from the other day again?”
Fu Yun looked down at the small girl in front of him. Her pale face was now smeared with blood and fire-blackened ashes, all muddled together in adorable, grubby streaks.
Through all their hardships, not once had she complained of being tired or muttered a single word about how hard it was. In every battle she fought right alongside them, brave as anyone else. Even during rest she was never lazy, squeezing every moment for diligent study. Hangzhou had only mentored her for a few months, and she’d already risked everything for the sake of her sect-mates. Even Fu Yun himself, always so distant, had benefited from her help more times than he cared to admit.
She really was the sweetest little junior sister. Why had he been so wary of her from the start?
He led Mu Xue over and wrung out a warm cloth, awkwardly copying what Miao Hong’er usually did as he fumbled to clean her small face and hands.
“Still feel like the Water Tiger is too wild and untamed in your heart?” He carefully wiped away the grime from her little cheeks, his tone gentle as he shared his cultivation insights.
“To subdue the Tiger is first to subdue the true water within yourself. Only when your heart’s spring runs perfectly clear can the dragon descend and the tiger yield. As Master Lu once said, ‘Seven cycles to refine the elixir in man, first perfect yourself, then await the right moment.’ To master this art, you have to polish your heart, refine your will, and wait for the chance. If your mind’s lake isn’t still right now, don’t rush it. One day, the knot will unravel on its own.”
He finished cleaning Mu Xue’s hands and tucked a somewhat burnt but still warm flatbread into her palm. “Your senior sister’s injured, so you’ll have to make do with this for now.”
It was burnt at the edges, but somehow the crispy flavor made it all the more delicious.
Fu Yun always seemed cold, but there was a quiet, steady warmth behind his every move.
Through the campfire’s glow, Mu Xue spotted Cen Qianshan, sitting all alone on the other side. He sat bowed, slowly rubbing his palms together, his joints popping softly in the silence.
He… didn’t look especially happy?
Mu Xue couldn’t help but compare herself to her senior brothers and sisters on Xiaoyao Peak. Looking back, she really had been such a lousy Master for Xiao Shan.
Maybe her only redeeming quality was that she remembered to cook every day, and never let the little guy go hungry.
Xiao Shan was good at everything around the house, except, it seemed, cooking. He’d always obediently prep all the ingredients, wash and chop them, and then wait patiently for Mu Xue to arrive and finish the job.
Mu Xue, always buried in work, had gotten used to carving out a little time each evening to whip up a couple dishes and have dinner with her little disciple.
Watching Xiao Shan eat so eagerly, and hear him rave about her skills with such sweet sincerity, Mu Xue realized those shared dinners had become the most relaxing moment of her day.
She dozed a while by the fire, and awoke to the mouthwatering scent of something delicious.
The ever-capable, deadly Cen Qianshan had, in some burst of predatory energy, hunted down a whole wild boar. By the stream, he’d cleaned and dressed it, expertly stewing the choicest cuts in a clay pot.
Miao Hong’er had already plopped herself beside the bubbling pot, mesmerized by the snow-white broth teeming with crisp green bamboo shoots, plump red dates, and all sorts of mouthwatering wild ingredients.
“Did you stuff a whole chicken inside the pig’s stomach and sew it shut before stewing it?!”
Cen Qianshan, sleeves rolled up, was solemnly grilling a slab of marinated pork neck over the fire. He barely glanced up, just gave a soft “Mm.”
After days of nothing but roasted sweet potatoes and yams, Mu Xue woke to find herself facing a feast: rich, nourishing pork-belly broth, juicy grilled meat, and a plate of wild fiddlehead ferns so fresh they no doubt came straight from the forest. It was like, after starving for days, suddenly being served a banquet fit for immortals.
As luck would have it, these were all her favorite dishes.
Mu Xue’s heart did a little somersault of pure joy. She slurped up creamy broth and devoured several meat-stuffed flatbreads in a row, so much her little stomach almost groaned in protest.
Somehow, Cen Qianshan had even materialized a bowl of washed raspberries, their ruby-red skins still glistening with icy creek water, and nonchalantly placed them right in front of her on the stone table.
Mu Xue just about squeaked inside.
Even though she was already stuffed, she still couldn’t resist reaching for those tart-sweet berries with her small hands.
So Xiao Shan had learned to cook. And not just cook, he was amazing at it.
“Never guessed Daoist Cen was this talented in the kitchen. Guess I’ll have to surrender my title as the best chef,” Miao Hong’er joked. Even recovering from serious injuries and too frail for greasy food, her gluttonous nature meant she still ate more than she should, angling for the recipe while she was at it. “Are all these dishes classics from the Demon Spirit Realm? Your magic realm has some wild cuisine, really worth studying!”
“These… were all Master’s favorites. I’ve just made them so often over the years I could do it in my sleep.” Cen Qianshan let his gaze drift sideways; at the edge of his vision, a small white hand was busy ferrying raspberries to a petite mouth.
“I’m not sure… if they taste right.”
They taste amazing, she silently replied. Ridiculously good. It’s been years since I had these, of course I missed them. Xiao Shan’s still the best.
Before, when Cen Qianshan was all cold glares and icy manners, the others were always wary: after all, he was from the Demonic Path. Nobody dared chat too much with him.
But today, he was breaking his own silence, and Miao Hong’er’s gossip antennae lit right up.
This was basically getting firsthand dirt from a romance novel legend, after all, the tragic love saga between this master and disciple had inspired a hundred years’ worth of angsty tales across the city.
Miao Hong’er cleared her throat and ventured, “With skills like yours, Daoist Cen, I take it Master Mu absolutely doted on you, back in the day?”
Cen Qianshan’s long fingers quietly spun his soup bowl around. “Maybe I was too rebellious. That’s why my Master let go so easily, washed her hands of me. Didn’t even come back for a final look, not even as a restless soul.”
No, no, Xiao Shan, let me explain, Master had her reasons, I promise. Mu Xue could only sigh in her heart.
For some reason, after hearing Xiao Shan say that, I suddenly felt like a heartless jerk, like I’d seriously wronged him.
Uncle Zhong let out a sigh. “I really wonder what kind of woman this Master Mu is, that even someone like you would toss aside your cultivation, haunted by her memory for a hundred years, refusing to let go.”
“My Master is, of course, the best person in the whole world.” Cen Qianshan spun the bowl in his hands, then suddenly gave a quiet, sardonic laugh. “If it’s for Master, what’s a little cultivation?”
That laugh brought out a wild, reckless edge Mu Xue had never seen before. And as luck would have it, he glanced up just then, his wounded, aggrieved gaze flickering across Mu Xue, barely restrained.
Mu Xue had a feeling her already-muddled heart wouldn’t be calming down anytime soon.
Her heart was always clear as a mirror, until the green mountain wandered in and disturbed the waters.
Uncle Zhong took his leave from the group. “I’ve fulfilled my wish. I’ll part ways with you here, the rest of this journey isn’t for me, so let’s call this goodbye.”
He told them he lived at the foot of Kunlun Mountain, promising that perhaps, after leaving the Dongyue Temple, they’d meet again if fate allowed.
He bade farewell to Cen Qianshan in private, sighing, “The others are fine, I’ll probably get to see them again someday. But you, Brother Cen, I fear this might truly be our last meeting. I can’t help but feel a little reluctant to part.”
Cen Qianshan was much taller than him. He looked down, then past him to the trio of senior brother and sisters chatting warmly behind them. His eyes seemed to redden, just a touch.
Uncle Zhong’s heart ached. Don’t let his fearsome reputation fool you, beneath that silent exterior, he’s fiercely loyal. He’d helped me more than once along the way, and now, he’s clearly just as sad to go our separate ways. It’s moving, honestly. When we first met, I was so on guard, now I see it was just my own narrow-mindedness.
“This will probably sound silly, but I used to think all you demonic cultivators were just brooding, dangerous lunatics. But after getting to know you, I realize rumors really can’t be trusted. I only hope our worlds will connect in the future, maybe one day we can gather around a fire, swap stories, and drink the night away together.”
Mu Xue and the others waved goodbye to Uncle Zhong, shoes clicking on the rainbow stones along the divine path, setting off once again on their journey.
Behind them, the mournful strings of an erhu played, carrying their friend off into the crimson glow of dusk.
Who knows what storms and danger await us up ahead?
No matter, we keep moving, unafraid.