Chapter 57

Just as Mu Xue caught that line, another eruption of laughter broke out across the fire.
Perfect age to be infatuated with beauty, no elders around, no one could resist teasing when a young demoness stole a kiss from Xiao Changge.
Everyone’s attention was fixed on the excitement, no one noticed Mu Xue, lost and dazed on her side of the flames.
Fire danced; the soft red glow blurred the edges of the world.
In that wavering light, old memories came surging back, clearer than crystal.
Once there was a night much like this, facing flickering firelight, sharing a drink with Xiao Shan.
That same boundless sky overhead, the same silver moon reigning above.
The firefly tribe’s peach blossom wine was coveted even among immortals, amber-bright, its subtle bitterness gave way to a heady, fragrant sweetness. It tasted gentle at first, but the afterburn could sneak up on you, strong enough to make your cheeks flush and your heart pound.
Sweet and bitter tangled on the tongue, wine glowing, blood boiling, longing burning in every vein, Mu Xue, never one to hold her liquor, ended up drunk almost immediately.
She slumped contentedly against Xiao Shan’s solid back, swirling her cup. “Who’d have thought we’d find peach wine in a frozen wasteland like this?”
“If Master likes peach blossoms, I’ll sneak a branch back for you.” A gentle voice at her shoulder.
When had Xiao Shan grown so big, broad-backed enough for her to lean against?
“Perfect. I’ll wait for you to bring them back.” Wine left Mu Xue rosy and mellow, warm through and through. “You’re too good to me, Xiao Shan. How did I get so lucky to end up with a disciple like you?”
The shoulder she leaned on shifted, as if he turned to look back at her.
Her drunken vision blurred him at the edges: “Honestly, I always planned on living out this life alone. Honestly, I could’ve managed, but the quiet gets so heavy, it hurts sometimes. Now that I have you, things just… feel so much better.”
“Then I’ll stay with you forever, Master. Is that okay?”
“Yes... yes, please.”
“Always, just the two of us, living here together.”
“Of, of course! Who else would there be?”
“Then it’s a deal.”
“Mhm… a deal.”
That night sky felt endless. The peach wine was a spell, it cracked open the cold shell of her heart, letting words spill out she’d never dared say. That stubborn boy gathered them up and kept every promise, no matter what the years threw their way.
Mu Xue, by the fire, reached out to pick up the blossom.
A hand appeared from the shadows, retrieving the dried flower from where it had fallen on the ground.
Tendrils of pure spiritual power coiled and danced around deft fingers, and the dead stick, untouched for years, swelled fat with life. A bud unfurled, blush-pink petals opening wide, a peach blossom in full, heady bloom.
“Once upon a time, there was a girl born into a world of ice and snow. Even her name carried the word ‘snow,’ but all she truly loved were the spring flowers.” Cen Qianshan held a peach blossom out to Mu Xue, the branch trembling slightly between his fingers. “Are you a bit like her?”
Mu Xue took the flower, still in a daze, her gaze rising in confusion.
His eyes, the color of deep night, reflected the glow of spring, the flicker of firelight, and somewhere in their depths, her own shadow.
Whether in the past or now, he always gazed at her like this: with those luminous, searching eyes. Expecting something, yearning, or maybe silently accusing her of something unknown.
His dark lashes fluttered softly. It was as if a butterfly brushed across Mu Xue’s heart, light and fleeting, leaving ripples in its wake.
She thought she could almost hear the first icy crack and drip of a thawing world, spring’s earliest echo.
Had he figured something out?
Mu Xue’s mind spun into chaos, her thoughts a blizzard of white noise.
When she made it back to Ding Lanlan’s side, she was still holding that perfect peach blossom in her hand.
“Hey, where’d you find a peach flower in this frozen wasteland?” Ding Lanlan looked her up and down, then flapped a hand. “Come on, help me out! Last sensor’s almost hooked up.”
Chaos still reigned over at Xiao Changge’s campfire, Cheng Yan was giddy flipping through his new treasures, and the few girls who’d been whispering about nightmares earlier were now snoring in harmony.
Qianji zipped back to Cen Qianshan in a flash, scuttled up his knee and onto his shoulder, and threw him a huge thumbs-up from behind, then, with all the drama of a wandering bard, quoted, “Peach blossoms die all unkissed, but love in quiet places runs deep.”
Qianshan, who never paid attention to his antics, actually paused, then asked, “How...did I do just now?”
As his master spoke, Qianji was hit with a shockwave of nervous anticipation, one of those rare, private feelings that sometimes leaked from Qianshan’s heart into the world.
Qianji almost never sensed things like this. Nervousness and happiness, those rarely visited emotions in his master’s chest. In that beating heart of flesh and blood, there was usually just sorrow, loneliness, and numbness.
Out of respect for that feeling, he didn’t dare joke around as usual. Instead, he rummaged through his databanks for something genuinely useful.
“It went great, Master! You were perfect.” Qianji assured him. “Didn’t Master Mu take your flower? Books always say: if a girl’s willing to hold onto your flower, you’re already, like, halfway down the aisle!”
“There’s only two strokes in ‘half the aisle.’” Qianshan actually, unbelievably, cracked a smile, plucked Qianji off his shoulder, and set him on his knee for once.
“Master, honestly, what you need is to read more romance novels, just like I do! Learn from the best leading men. These days, girls aren’t into clueless, awkward types, they want someone with game, funny, and charming, you know?” Qianji pumped out advice like a little strategist.
Cen Qianshan actually hesitated. “You...think those books could help?”
“Of course! I learned everything from love stories.” Qianji puffed up with pride at being seriously consulted for a change. “I’ve got pretty much every romance the Demon Spirit Realm has ever produced. Wanna start with the trendiest ones from the last few years?”
Cen Qianshan pressed his lips together, didn’t say no, which meant yes.
Qianji eagerly produced a small stack of scandalously-illustrated booklets. Qianshan snatched them, a flash of movement, straight into his robe.
After a day of twists and turns, everyone grew weary and the camp gradually fell quiet, sinking into dreams. Mu Xue lay awake, shifting restlessly, unable to find peace no matter how she turned.
That figure by the fire, he was just like the Water Tiger in her Spirit Chamber, impossible not to notice even when she tried to look away.
He sat before the flames, features handsome and sharply defined, broad-shouldered, elegantly long-legged. In the glow, he pored over a book, brow slightly creased in concentration. Whether it was the firelight or something else, a faint blush tinged his neck and earlobes.
What kind of book could he be reading?
That book, double-wrapped in oil-paper, a treasure for sure, something worth hoarding for a lifetime, right?
Mu Xue let out a sigh and sat up, resigned, settling into meditation. As she entered a state of calm, the earth in her Spirit Chamber felt solid beneath her, her heart’s lake cool and glassy, star patterns shifting quietly overhead. This was the foundation she’d laid for ten years, running the Embryonic Breathing Art day after day, her new normal.
But tonight, to her surprise, the playful “Xiao Shan” who’d always frolicked in her heart’s lake was missing, vanished without a trace.
Above, the sky ignited with flame, and from those flames soared a brilliant Fire Dragon. It coiled in the sky, crying out clear and fierce. From the depths of her calm heart’s lake, a wild tiger burst forth.
When the Fire Dragon saw the White Tiger, it was exhilarated. With a single leap, it caught the tiger’s neck in its jaws, fiery red winding around snowy stripes. Dragon and tiger tangled, biting, circling, fighting, until yin and yang met within her spiritual sea; sun and moon glimmered as one.
From water and fire came union; as the elements swirled, the ground cracked open, and out sprang a tender green shoot bursting with life.
For a moment, her Spirit Chamber was all mist and muddle, snow swirling endlessly, everything blurred, except for that lone, exuberant yellow sprout.
Mu Xue felt a surge of gentle warmth from within, her entire body suffused with heat and a giddy softness, an unnamable delight blooming inside her for the first time.
She understood: she’d finally reached the stage of “Heaven and Humanity as One; gathering herbs for the sacred cauldron.”
Back when she joined the sect, her master had branded this heart-seal for her. Now, it stirred. A forgotten chant surfaced in her mind, drifting ghostlike in her consciousness:
“Draw in the primal breath before heaven and earth split; seize the essence of dragon and tiger’s union; gather it swiftly to your inner chamber, refine it to a priceless treasure.”
Mu Xue sat in the heart of her Spirit Chamber, plucked that newborn shoot, sent it back to her spiritual furnace, and refined it into liquid gold, the first root of her Great Elixir, the foundation of her Golden Core.
When she opened her eyes, joy radiated from within.
Ten years ago, because the dragon and tiger could not unite, her cultivation had stalled. She turned inward and focused solely on the Embryonic Breathing Art, strengthening her body, building her roots. At the time, she’d asked her mentor: When could she hope to advance?
Back then, Master just ruffled her hair and said, “Great joy begets great wisdom. When you first glimpse your true self, yin and yang balance, dragon and tiger unite, and the elixir is born.”
“No need to be anxious. When the time is right, you’ll understand without even trying.”
And now, even if she didn’t know exactly what brought this breakthrough, the road ahead in alchemy was finally open. She could start gathering rare medicines, refine them in her furnace, and maybe one day achieve Golden Core mastery.
Dawn crept over the horizon. The group packed up, prepping to set off again. Xiao Changge got up and went down the line, re-dressing wounds for everyone hurt last night, doing final checks before they set off.
As he was nearly to Mu Xue, she felt a sudden, inexplicable panic. Jumping up, she darted over to stand by Lin Yin, raising her bandaged, burnt arm. “Senior Sister Lin, could you help me change my bandage? Maybe use the Rain Nourish Art too?”
Lin Yin shot her a glare. “Are you out of your mind? Why would you ask me to treat your wounds? Go find Junior Brother Xiao!”
Mu Xue: “It really hurts, Senior Sister. Please, just help me out.”
Huffing and puffing, Lin Yin grumbled and glared, but in the end, she gave in to soft, pitiful Mu Xue. Grudgingly, she changed her bandage and cast Rain Nourish on her several times.
The team began moving out. Ding Lanlan was barely awake, practically clinging to Mu Xue just to stay upright. Cheng Yan stood atop a rock, loudly doing a roll call.
The girl from the Crane Clan wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about last night. She’d transformed into a tiny, pure white bird, tugging Xiao Changge’s sleeve with her beak, asking him to carry her for a while. Her eyes were as clear as spring water, her voice lilting but tinged with sadness, half her body still broken. Watching her perched on his shoulder, red-faced, good-guy Xiao Changge really didn’t have the heart to refuse.
The group was young and rowdy, buzzing with life. Mu Xue, ready to head out with everyone, looked back over her shoulder, caught sight of that solitary black silhouette standing silent in the snow and ice.
In the Dongyue Temple, she’d always left with the others, following behind her seniors. That figure would just stand there in the dusk, quietly watching her go.
On the night the sacred bell first rang, he stood by the threshold, lips trembling faintly, eyes fixed on her as she faded into the distance.
Drunk on peach blossom wine, she’d once promised they would always be together.
And now, her world was loud, warm, full of everything she could ever want.
Only Xiao Shan was left behind.
Bathed in morning light, the person seeing her off looked untouchable. Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, and steady as pine. They called him the mightiest in the Demon Spirit Realm, his name alone could send enemies fleeing.
But maybe only Mu Xue knew how the strongest ones on the outside often hid the softest, most fragile places within.
“There’s a place in his heart nobody is allowed to touch. Brush up against it, and he’ll start crying.”
Cen Qianshan stood there, watching the rest of them set off in laughter and chatter, leaving him alone in the snow.
Maybe that was an especially good place, so Master chose that world, and left him behind.
“It’s alright. There’s still time. We’ll take it slow.” He turned, gently consoling the drooping, dejected little puppet slumped forlornly on his shoulder.
The little puppet hardly had the energy for more than a few half-hearted grunts.
“Daoist Cen.” A familiar voice suddenly called out from above.
Cen Qianshan lifted his head.
Suspended mid-air was a soft white cloud, and on its edge sat a young woman in red, hugging her knees to her chest. She rubbed her nose, looking a little sheepish. “Um… which way are you headed? If you don’t mind, want to travel with us?”
“Not at all, not at all, we’d love to!” Qianji perked up at once, bounding excitedly, “We wanted to follow you all al, mmmph!”
His master sealed his mouth before he could finish, leaving him muttering nonsense, flailing in panic.
Master, if you won’t let me talk, at least say something yourself! Not everyone is a mind reader like me, even I know your silence means yes!
“Perfect, we’re traveling together again.” The girl atop the cloud grinned. “Let’s go, I’ve already told the others.”