Chapter 43

Back on Xiaoyao Peak, Ye Hangzhou finally received the antidote, escaping the clutch of death and no longer having to bear the daily torture of forced poison expulsion.
His broken limbs would still need time and magic to heal, he’d be bedbound a while longer yet.
The junior brothers and sisters who’d just returned from the Dongyue Temple now sat crowding around his bedside. Seeing he was out of danger, they were in high spirits, swapping stories of the heart-pounding adventure they'd survived and all the wild things they had seen along the Divine Path.
Su Xingtin was in high spirits. “Hearing all this, it seems the trip was quite the haul. Even leaving aside the treasures, each of you made breakthroughs in your character, now that’s truly rare and makes me proud as your Master.”
Ye Hangzhou sat at the head of the bed, not saying any of those saccharine lines. He just lowered his head and quietly drank the cuttlefish and marrow-bone soup his senior sister Miao Hong’er had handed him. The swirling steam fogged his lashes and eyes.
“Oh, right, Senior Brother Ye, this is for you.”
Mu Xue remembered something, rummaged through her pack, and took out a wooden box used to store herbs. She handed it to him.
Ye Hangzhou took it with one hand, slid the lid open, and inside was a spirit plant with a truly unique form: its emerald-green leaves glowed like jade, while on top perched a golden fruit, the size of a peanut. The little fruit sparkled, the gold like crystallized sunlight, and if you looked close, it hinted at the shape of a baby curled in sleep.
“Heaven-Infant Grass?” Su Xingtin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “That’s the main ingredient for forging Dragon-Tiger Pills. Incredibly rare, Xiao Xue, where did you find this?”
Dragon-Tiger Pills, a secret elixir used in the late Foundation Establishment stage to refine gold from ore and break through to the Golden Core. This pill was astonishly precious; even in the bustling pill markets, it was nearly impossible to find. All because the Heaven-Infant Grass required to make it was vanishingly scarce, almost mythical.
No matter how rare, it was still just a plant. Yet some people would abandon their humanity over it.
Ye Hangzhou stared at that dazzling golden fruit. Back in the Dongyue Temple, just for this very spirit grass, a longtime friend had cruelly shoved him into a nest of venomous red-waisted insects.
“Lu Yihong’s dead now, killed by Red Waist poison. He probably felt guilty at the end, so he left this as a way to pay you back. Just accept it.” Miao Hong’er finished what Mu Xue was about to say. “And next time we’re out in the world, watch your back, got it? Don’t be so easy to fool anymore.”
That journey into the Dongyue Temple had forced Fu Yun, Miao Hong’er, and Mu Xue to grow in their temperament and cultivation heart. After returning to the mountain, each retreated quietly to deepen their skills and understanding, it’s not worth repeating here.
But as for Mu Xue, in just a short time after joining the sect, she’d already opened her Spirit Chamber and Ancestor Acupoint, learned Xingtin’s internal art, and grasped the basics of the Dragon-Tiger Realm. By all accounts, her progress should have been lightning-fast, if only there wasn’t some snag. No matter how she cleared her mind or stilled her thoughts after returning, in her Spirit Chamber there remained that Water Tiger, always restive, always taking on the shape of Cen Qianshan at the slightest lapse.
A barefoot, teenage Cen Qianshan ran along the water’s edge, stirring the lake of her heart into ripples and chaos.
When grown, he lounged by the shore, arm outstretched, tracing the air in pursuit of a fiery red otherworldly flower.
“Cut it out.”
Mu Xue furrowed her brow. With a twist of intent, she turned that crimson flower into an Immortal-Binding Rope, wrapping the unruly Water Tiger head to toe, tying it fast.
At first, the Water Tiger struggled a little against the red cords, but soon stopped, letting itself be tied up and immersed in the lake, staring back at Mu Xue with wet, pleading eyes.
That look just made her feel more guilty and distracted. Swallowing her embarrassment, Mu Xue crept off to consult her Master, Su Xingtin, for advice.
“You’re saying the Water Tiger in your Spirit Chamber has manifested as a person?” Su Xingtin turned around in surprise, only to see his little disciple looking utterly pitiful, as if she’d done the worst thing in the world.
“This really isn’t a big deal,” Su Xingtin chuckled. “You should’ve seen your senior sister in her day, she was too busy making lovebird hotpot in her Spirit Chamber.”
“But if this keeps up, the Dragon and Tiger won’t return to the crucible, how will I produce medicine or return the elixir to its true form?” Mu Xue complained in distress.
She’d been worried her Master would ask which person the Water Tiger had manifested as, a question awkward to answer.
But it seemed, unless she brought it up herself, the Master had no intention of prying into the private secrets of his disciples’ hearts.
Su Xingtin only asked, “Before, you said that in the illusory realm of the Divine Hall, you entered the Void Restoration state, roamed the Great Dao expanses, and in the end, what made you choose to break the illusion and return to reality? Was it really because your heart was tied up with this Water Tiger?”
“Of course not. My senior sister was in danger, and even deep in illusion, I was anxious. Honestly, Master, I broke the illusion out of worry for you and for my senior brother and sister. That’s the real reason I came back so fast.” Mu Xue seized the chance to flatter him.
Su Xingtin ruffled her hair with a big palm.
“There’s no need to rush. Give yourself time and let your feelings settle. If you can cleanse your heart to become as still as a mirror, and silence your stray thoughts, all the better. But if you truly can’t let go, don’t force it. Come see me next time if it keeps troubling you.”
Mu Xue understood everything her Master meant. Cleansing the mind, like polishing a mirror, killing stray thoughts at their root, erasing Xiao Shan from her Spirit Chamber, erasing him from her heart, never thinking of him again. Devotion to the Dao above all else, focused cultivation.
Mu Xue sat upright inside her spiritual sea, and sure enough, Xiao Shan seemed to sense something, huddling by the lakeside, peering at her with those sorrowful eyes.
Once again, Mu Xue seemed to see that figure from within the Dongyue Temple, split by the last rays of dusk, half-hidden in shadow, silently watching her leave. Those slightly-flushed eyes pierced mountain and distance, searing right into her memory. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t bear to erase him.
To break out of her funk, Mu Xue, normally impossible to drag outside, got wrangled by Ding Lanlan and the others to join them for some fun. They planned a trip to a bustling cultivators’ market near Jiulong Mountain.
Guiyuan Sect’s use of teleportation arrays had reached a point of perfection, fast, easy, and surprisingly cheap, these spells had become an everyday convenience. Mu Xue had tried it once on the way into the sect; this would be her second time. On Yuding Peak, where array and talisman study ruled, a special platform held all kinds of array discs for disciples headed off the mountain.
Ding Lanlan and her group headed to a small array dais, grabbed each other’s hands, and stood in a circle atop the formation. At the heart of the array sat a golden toad, and with a soft croak, it opened its mouth wide.
Ding Lanlan dropped a couple of tiny spirit stones into the toad’s mouth, and as the disks brimmed with light, in the blink of an eye the girls opened their eyes to find themselves in the midst of a bustling, colorful market.
This was Mu Xue’s first time at an Immortal Spirit Realm market, and it was a whole different animal than the rough-and-tumble trading rows of the Demon Spirit Realm.
In the Demon Spirit Realm, spiritual energy teemed, monsters and spirits thrived, and most cultivators lived to go hunting. Markets over there were a carnival of gore, fresh monster bones piled high, bizarre scales and feathers, and new-cut spiritual herbs and rare ores everywhere.
In that city where life hung in the balance every day, the wildest sides of human nature ran unchecked, slave markets, pleasure districts, drunken gambling dens blazed with color and chaos. Every inch buzzed with noise and the pursuit of pleasure.
But in the Immortal Spirit Realm, marketplaces prided themselves on order and display.
Shops lined both sides of the avenue, each one boasting refined, tasteful decor, each with its own distinctive flair. Passersby strolled in immaculate robes, ethereal and elegant, pausing to offer courtly bows and polite greetings, yielding the way with perfect courtesy. At least on the surface, everything was seamless and tidy, and the place felt utterly safe.
Even young girls like Ding Lanlan and Mu Xue, wearing the medallions of their respective sects, could wander about without a care.
“I want to buy a flying artifact,” someone chirped. “We’ll be learning artifact manipulation soon, right? Roaming the peaks of the mountains has always been my dream.”
“I wonder how many spirit stones it costs for the lowest grade spatial ring? I really want one of those bracelets that Peak Lord Ding wears, stylish and so handy.”
“You want that? Girl, those aren’t cheap. Maybe you’ll get lucky and snag a secondhand one.”
“I heard that the Nixian Pavilion just launched a new warm-gold mud silk skirt. Apparently, if you wear it, it has… that effect.”
“Heehee, is it really that magical? Then I want one, just to flaunt it in front of Senior Brother Yun.”
They chatted all at once, breathlessly listing the treasures they longed to take home.
Ding Lanlan turned to Mu Xue. “What about you, Xiao Xue? Anything on your shopping list?”
Of course Mu Xue had her own secret desires, she just couldn’t quite say them out loud.
By the time they returned, each girl showed off new artifacts, flowing sleeves, and gleaming hairpins, everyone except Mu Xue, who was juggling a towering stack of books instead.
“Seriously, Xiao Xue, you are a cultivation maniac! We finally get a day out and you don’t buy snacks or anything fun, you only buy these massive, headache-inducing tomes? Don’t our teachers already torture you enough?” Ding Lanlan shook her head, holding her temples, not even daring to peek at Mu Xue’s selections.
Back in her own room atop Xiaoyao Peak, Mu Xue double-checked that the door was bolted and the coast was clear. Only then did she breathe easy, settle at her desk, and stealthily slide out a few slim, inconspicuous booklets from the massive pile of cultivation commentaries and five-phase secrets. She started reading as sneakily as a thief.
Master, senior brothers, and senior sisters had all told her: every hardship you encounter in cultivation is a tribulation, a “calamity”, whether it’s a heart trial, a mortal trial, a love trial, or a demonic trial. No matter what form it takes, you shouldn’t run away from it.
So, since she couldn’t escape this “Water Tiger Calamity,” why bother evading or trying to erase it? Mu Xue had made up her mind: instead of shoving it down, she’d face those memories head-on, sift through what once happened and how it made her feel. Maybe she’d break through and finally let it go for good.
Mu Xue took a deep breath, pulling herself upright, gingerly flipping through one of the silk-bound volumes. Curtains parted in layer after layer. Mandarins twined their necks, murmuring soft, sweet nothings, curling up under the bedding, who could resist?
She snapped the book shut immediately, mortified.
Next, she tried a dog-eared yellow scroll. It was all riverside trysts, fields of flowers, breathless first attempts, the scent of incense drifting as fair hands played the flute. Her cheeks burned as she hurled that book aside too.
No, no, these were all wildly exaggerated! Wasn’t there a single one that dealt with reality, just a little?
She rummaged for ages and finally landed on a slim volume, ‘A Chronicle of Ten-Marvels Street’. The author’s name stopped her cold, she actually knew him. He’d used his real name: Niu Dashuai.
Back on Ten Marvels Street, where Mu Xue had lived in those days, there was a popular noodle shop run by a family with the surname Niu. Everyone called the owner’s wife Auntie Niu; her son went by Niu Dashuai.
The reason Mu Xue remembered all this so quickly wasn’t that they were friends, far from it. That Niu Dashuai had been king of the little street toughs, and when Xiao Shan first arrived, Niu Dashuai picked on him nonstop. The impression had stuck for years.
She could still picture the day it happened: Xiao Shan had just come back from an errand, obediently washing clothes in the yard. Suddenly, the gate slammed open, Auntie Niu, burly and fierce, barged in with her sleeves rolled up, and roared,
“Which one of you is that worthless mutt bought off the street? Get out here! If I don’t beat you half to death today, then my surname isn’t Niu!”
Cen Qianshan yanked his hands, soaked and raw from winter laundry, out of the basin, wiped them on his hem, and stood up, lips pressed tight.
“So it’s you, little bastard, isn’t it? Shameless whelp, laying hands on my boy! Watch if I don’t teach you a lesson right now!” Auntie Niu stormed over, brows nearly vertical, arms akimbo.
Mu Xue, just stepping out, stuck out an arm to block her path. “What’s your problem? My courtyard, my people.”
“Master Mu, you be the judge!” Auntie Niu hauled her son Niu Dashuai out from behind her. “Look what that little slave you bought did to my boy!”
Niu Dashuai tugged her sleeve, “Mom, it’s my turf, I can handle it myself.”
But Auntie Niu ignored him. She yanked up his sleeve, jabbing at the mottled blue and purple bruises, and waved his arm at the growing throng outside the gate: “Look, look at this! That scrawny little stick beat him up, look at the mess!”
Mu Xue glanced at stout little Niu, aka “Niu the Tank.” “I’ve never seen such a thick stick in my life.”
Auntie Niu fumed. “So, what, you’re not even gonna pretend to be reasonable now? You’d side with a slave who’d even kill his own foster father, just forget all us neighbors who’ve known you for decades?”
“Let the kids sort it out themselves. But if you’re dead set on interfering, then I’ll stick to just one principle.”
Mu Xue spoke at her own unhurried pace. “I’ve already set up incense for the ancestors and officially taken this boy as my disciple. From today on, anyone who dares call him a slave can come and say it to my face. Anyone who wants to lay a finger on him, better check if Mu Xue agrees first.”
While she spoke, countless puppet mechanisms snapped upright on the walls and roof, sleek, dark blades all aiming dead at the open gate.
The crowd instantly scattered, retreating a full ten meters.
Auntie Niu’s bravado crumpled; even her knees started shaking.
Everyone knew Mu Xue had a good temper and kept to herself, but her true strength was no secret.
“W-well, even if he’s your disciple, he shouldn’t go around starting fights.” Auntie Niu craned her neck stubbornly, clearly forgetting her son’s past terrorizing the street.
qMu Xue stopped Cen Qianshan, who was about to speak, and slowly rolled up her sleeves.
In a world where fists settle everything, reason never really mattered.
“Even if he’s in the wrong, if you come knocking, I’m the one you deal with. If you’ve got a problem, Auntie, I’m happy to spar with you right now.”
Aunt Niu stammered, “But, but I’m just a woman. There’s no way I could take you on.”
Mu Xue replied with easy patience, “Then let your husband come. I’ll take him on just the same.”
Aunt Niu stomped her foot, grabbed her son, and marched off. “What a savage bunch, both master and disciple! Come on, son. We’re done playing with this family.”
After that day, Mu Xue had no idea if Niu Dashuai ever tried to give Xiao Shan trouble again. But at least, from then on, nobody on that street dared call Cen Qianshan a bastard or a worthless slave to his face.
Wait, that brawling street tyrant Niu Da Zhuang actually wrote a book?
Curious, Mu Xue flipped open the copy of ‘A Chronicle of Ten-Marvels Street’.
Compared to other storybooks with their flowery language and showy turns of phrase, this one was simple, blunt, stripped of any literary flair.
No dazzling plots or bold colors to catch the eye, no wonder nobody ever bothered with it, even in the bookstore. Luckily, Mu Xue had been hunting for books with her name, or she’d never have noticed this battered old thing crammed at the back of a dusty shelf.
She opened those long-abandoned, yellowed pages. The very first line read:
“I lived next door to Master Mu for years; we knew each other well. Master Mu was sharp and talented, gentle with others, always kindest to us younger folks.”
Mu Xue: What?