Chapter 56

The campsite had been put back together, and outwardly, peace had returned.
But everyone’s nerves were stretched taut thanks to their mysterious new guest.
The nights here were bitterly cold, so cold and still that even the blood and carnage left on the battlefield seemed frozen by the chill, unable to send its scent as far as the camp.
Once again, the spirits beneath the ground peeked their heads up cautiously, mirroring the younger disciples’ mix of curiosity and anxiety about their unexpected company.
Sitting at the fringe of the campfire’s glow, the black-clad silhouette seemed like he belonged to legend: powerful, striking, tragic, someone who lived in another, far-off world. Like a storybook hero made real.
“Why’s he still here? I’m too scared to sleep.” One Guiyuan Sect disciple huddled under a blanket and whispered to her friend.
“No idea,” her companion hissed back, “Who knows why a boss-level guy would hang out with us. I can’t sleep either.”
Some, though, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the demonic cultivator parked in their camp.
Cheng Yan was nose-deep in his copy of Study of Beasts, occasionally sighing for reasons known only to himself.
Xiao Changge used the frozen air to coax tender shoots and vines to grow, weaving a cozy bird’s nest atop a low wall for the crane-girl to rest in.
The girl peeked out from her nest, catching hold of Changge’s sleeve, insisting he stay and keep her company awhile longer.
Ding Lanlan, meanwhile, was grimly trying to repair her puppet, which had been flattened by a bull demon. The task was monumental, Mu Xue squatted beside her, lending a hand.
“Xiao Xue, you there?” Ding Lanlan nudged her, snapping Mu Xue out of her daze. “Is the puppet’s hand sensor array done yet?”
Mu Xue glanced down at the wonky array symbols she'd drawn, a little embarrassed. “Ah, sorry, let me redo it...”
“What’s up with you? You’ve been totally out of it since earlier.” Lanlan took the carved symbol, carefully fixing it into the puppet's arm. She chatted as she worked, “Didn’t you meet Master Cen when you were little? Aren’t you going to say hi? Isn’t it kind of rude not to?”
If Ding Lanlan wasn’t so focused on repairs, she’d have noticed something was up with her friend.
“Say hi? Right, yes… I probably should…” Mu Xue swallowed, heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She nearly slapped herself for acting this bashful. After so long in the Immortal Spirit Realm, was she getting rusty, her fists, and now her personality?
Seriously, what was there to be nervous about? Mu Xue tried to rally herself.
That was just Xiao Shan, Cen Qianshan, her own little disciple. Sure, he looked all tall and intimidating now, scaring off a pack of bullies with a glance, but back then, she’d even smacked his butt a few times.
Cen Qianshan sat alone at the far side of the fire. Everyone else had instinctively chosen to rest as far away from him as possible, leaving a wide empty space and making him seem all the more solitary.
The flames danced on his black boots, highlighting the fine leather and careful craftsmanship. Long, sculpted legs stretched above, wrapped in perfectly tailored fabric. He perched with elbows on his knees, long white fingers interlaced at his lips, eyes lost in the firelight.
As Mu Xue approached, a small mechanical puppet hopped down from Cen Qianshan’s shoulder.
The little puppet was practically vibrating with joy, dancing circles around Cen Qianshan, then tripping on the ground. It scrambled up, waved its skinny arms like mad, and scampered away, leaving Mu Xue and Cen Qianshan alone by the fire.
“Cen, Daoist Cen, do you remember me?” Mu Xue stood awkwardly at the edge of the firelight, stooping a bit as she addressed the man at the flames. “It’s me, Xiao Xue. Back in…”
With the fire crackling between them, Mu Xue watched him lift his lashes to glance her way, a look that, for some reason, seemed full of silent accusation.
Mu Xue knew, in that moment, that he absolutely remembered her.
“What a coincidence, running into you like this. I was actually planning how I might find an excuse to visit you in Fuwang City.” Mu Xue sat cross-legged at his side. “Can’t believe I’ve only just arrived in the Demon Spirit Realm, and here you are.”
Cen Qianshan slowly turned to face her. Ten years had passed since they last met, one careless word sent ripples across the autumn waters of his eyes, so many thoughts tangled up inside, countless things he wanted to say but didn’t dare utter aloud.
Qianji wandered over just as he passed by Ding Lanlan. Noticing her tinkering with a puppet construct, curiosity got the better of him and he hopped up onto her worktable.
“Huh, so your Immortal Realm puppets are pretty much just like ours.” Qianji extended an arm to hand her a pair of needle-nosed tweezers. “Need a hand?”
“Oh! Sure, can you help?”
Ding Lanlan regarded this Demon Spirit puppet with fascination. She'd never seen one so sentient, so nimble and clever.
The tiny puppet stretched out its arm to deftly pinch a slender part and pass it to Ding Lanlan. Its hand morphed into a cone, beaming out a thin thread of spiritual energy to help her attach the tiny component in place.
“Wow, you’re amazing!” Ding Lanlan praised generously.
“This is nothing.” Qianji’s mechanical voice was flat but tinged with pride. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve helped my master assemble things hundreds of times more complex than this.”
With her warm, outgoing nature, Ding Lanlan quickly hit it off with the naturally lively little puppet,
“Your master’s kind of a celebrity back where I’m from. We’ve all seen your images at school.” she whispered to Qianji. “Your story scrolls are even circulating in the Immortal Realm these days.”
“Really?” Qianji replied. “We’ve got so many story scrolls back home, I adore reading them. I study human behavior by devouring as many of those stories as I can.”
“You... study human behavior by reading stories?” Ding Lanlan stammered, a bit thrown.
“Of course! It’s the best way to understand my master’s moods and provide exceptional service.” Qianji declared solemnly.
Ding Lanlan eyed the puppet she was repairing with newfound seriousness, wondering if maybe she also ought to let hers read storybooks in the future.
“But your Master Cen looks way better than when I last saw him.” Ding Lanlan commented.
“Better? How so?” Qianji’s hand transformed into a screwdriver, spinning rapidly to tighten a nut in place.
“Well… he still has that world-weary, unapproachable vibe. But compared to how he looked, he seems so much better off, maybe even a little shy.” Ding Lanlan snuck a glance at the man sitting by the campfire with Xiao Xue. “And, I gotta say, he’s got great taste and looks sharp, honestly, he’s even more handsome than I expected.”
Obviously, Qianji thought to himself. Didn’t even want to know how many times he showered and changed before we left. Made us all wait while he stood in front of his bronze mirror, muttering to himself forever.
Practiced for so long, but as soon as we arrived here… mute! the Great Mu herself opened with a whole speech, and he just sat there useless. Qianji watched the pair by the fire, internally losing his mind: Master is good at everything except acting normal around Mu Xue. It’s hopeless!
Mu Xue was pulling out a packet of pastries from her storage pouch to hand to Cen Qianshan. “These are called 'Rolling Donkeys,' something you can’t find in the Demon Spirit Realm. Want to try? I got my senior sister to make them just for you before I left.”
Cen Qianshan’s fingers curled back for a moment before tentatively reaching out.
He took the bag from Mu Xue, fingertips unintentionally grazing hers, heat blooming between them, the touch lingering on her skin long after.
Mu Xue glanced up at him, but Cen Qianshan had already dipped his gaze, pinching one out delicately and tasting it, cautious and careful.
A dusting of soybean powder settled onto his cool, thin lips, suddenly, that aloof and icy man seemed touched by the warmth of mortal life, much less intimidating than before.
For a moment, she glimpsed the same familiarity of years past, eating by her side.
Mu Xue relaxed, pulling out candied hawthorn, a plate of sesame sugar cakes, a small box of milk rolls from her storage pouch…
“Bought them from the base of the mountain before I came,” she said as she arranged them, “I stashed them in my storage pouch for you, wanted you to try everything.”
Cen Qianshan didn’t reply. He simply tried every single treat, focused and earnest, barely stopping to breathe. As though he hadn’t tasted sweetness in ages, and now that he had a bite, he refused to stop.
Mu Xue sat quietly beside him, keeping him company as they slowly indulged in the snacks together.
The gentle atmosphere spread throughout the whole camp, helping everyone unwind.
Someone immediately thought to seize this rare opportunity to ask a demonic cultivator a scholarly question.
“Daoist Cen, I wonder if I could consult you about something?” Cheng Yan hurried forward, holding the borrowed copy of Study of Beasts from Mu Xue, flipping it open. “This is our Immortal Realm’s translation, not sure if there are any mistakes. For example, here it says that on their wedding nights, Devouring-Dragon brides eat their grooms alive. That just can’t be true… right?”
The thick book was covered in notes, the handwriting bold and free, at first glance different, but if you looked closely, those penstrokes were just like the ones he’d made on official documents all those years ago.
Cen Qianshan accepted it one-handed, paging through for a long while before suddenly snapping it shut. “That’s correct; there are indeed many errors and omissions. I’d recommend switching to the Comprehensive Study of Beasts instead.”
He efficiently produced a gorgeously bound, brand-new tome from his storage pendant and handed it over to Cheng Yan.
Then, quite naturally, he slipped Mu Xue’s copy of Study of Beasts into his own storage space.
With the Demon Realm’s official compendium now in hand, Cheng Yan could finally look up any obscure beast that caught his interest. His eyes sparkled with pure joy.
He stroked the book for a long while, before suddenly remembering that the book wasn’t his, it’d been borrowed from Xiao Xue, and he definitely shouldn’t have traded it away so freely.
Scratching his head, he turned sheepishly to Cen Qianshan. “Sorry, Daoist Cen… that Study of Beasts wasn’t actually mine. Xiao Xue lent it to me, I should check with her first…”
Out of nowhere, Daoist Cen’s gaze towards him turned sharp as a blade, icy and hostile. Cheng Yan almost reflexively started cycling his Indestructible Vajra Art for protection. Only when Daoist Cen visibly tamped down that odd surge of resentment did Cheng Yan begin to breathe normally again.
He drew out an old, well-worn volume and handed it in person to Mu Xue, who was seated beside him.
“I’ll trade you… for this one.” His fair fingers lingered briefly on the faded cover. “Deal or no deal?”
It was a copy of ‘Study of Beasts’ printed over a century ago. Mu Xue flipped through the pages, finding them packed with scrawled notes. At first the handwriting was awkward, almost childish, then gradually became steadier, more mature.
Wait, wasn’t this the book Xiao Shan gave her himself when he was little?
Mu Xue’s memory finally clicked. The year she’d taken Xiao Shan under her wing, the first book she’d taught him from was this very bok. She’d pulled it from the shelf, pressed it into his hands, taught him to read every line, and left detailed notes together with him.
She had no clue why Xiao Shan suddenly wanted to trade this childhood relic for a book published in the Immortal Spirit Realm.
But Mu Xue didn’t mind at all, she agreed on the spot, no hesitation.
Nostalgia washed over her, and by firelight, she lost herself in the yellowed pages.
She didn’t notice the man by the fire growing flustered, cheeks tinged with red, looking visibly ill at ease.
Almost every margin was crammed with a riot of ink, notes in every color, the odd doodle squeezed wherever there was room, some so ridiculous even Mu Xue couldn’t help but laugh.
“Year XX, Month XX, Day XX: Caught a white fox in Qingqiu and gifted it to Master. The fox transformed, charming, alluring. Master disliked it. Exiled.” Beside the line perched a lopsided little fox, big cartoonish X scribbled over it.
His memory’s faulty, isn’t it? That fox had turned into a kid with pointy ears and a fluffy tail, Mu Xue had actually found him adorable. But oddly, the little fox disappeared overnight. Xiao Shan said he’d run away of his own accord.
“Year XX, Month XX, Day XX: Slayed a red dragon, presented bones and blood to Master. Concealed my injuries out of pride. Master was furious, decreed ten slaps as punishment. Yet, pitying my frail body, spared me the beating. Still owed to this day.”
“Year XX, Month XX, Last Day...”
A crane maiden peeked from the edge of her nest, chatting to Xiao Changge, who sat lotus-style beneath a squat tree; her silken hair spilled gently over his shoulder.
A few words from Xiao Changge had the girl laughing quietly, eyes softly luminous.
She reached through bright new leaves, cupping his cheeks with downy pale hands, and pressed a delicate kiss to his face.
“Thank you. I like you, human boy.”
Xiao Changge, raised by the empty monastic rules, was stiff and shy, he’d never seen a demon as heartbreakingly direct and passionate as this.
His face blazed crimson; he shot to his feet like he’d touched lightning.
Everyone nearby exploded in raucous laughter at his expense.
“Demons aren’t like us, they’re pure-hearted, reckless in love, never hiding what they feel. They just throw it all out there,”
Mu Xue shook her head, amusement on her lips, and bent once more over the pages.
A dried peach blossom slipped from between the sheets.
“Year XX, Month XX, Day XX: Acquired firefly peach wine. Drank with Master beneath the moon. Master tipsy, face flushed like blooming peach, promised me a lifetime together.”