The full moon rose in the sky, casting a serene silence over Listening Spring Cliff.
Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue had come to ask several times—what method had Yu Zhiling used to convince the Zhongli Family to invite her to preside over this year’s Spirit Banquet?
In truth, Yu Zhiling herself wasn’t sure whether her plan would work.
She sat cross-legged on the bamboo bed in the small courtyard, her hands clasped together, cradling a jade token.
This was the token of the Immortal Alliance, a symbol of the three Immortal Lords’ status and a tool for communication among them. Yu Zhiling had found it in Immortal Lord Zhuoyu’s room, covered in dust—clearly unused for a long time.
No wonder Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan had previously asked her to suppress the Four Slaughter Realms without directly contacting her, instead reaching out through Yingshan Sect’s leader, Yan Shanqing. They must have been unable to reach Immortal Lord Zhuoyu.
Hesitant, Yu Zhiling finally opened the jade token with care.
She first located Yun Zhi’s communication channel. She had never met Wu Zhaoyan, but she had encountered Yun Zhi once before and found him somewhat familiar—he seemed to have a gentle temperament.
The response came swiftly. Yun Zhi’s voice emerged from the jade token.
“…Zhuoyu?”
The rising inflection at the end carried unmistakable confusion and surprise.
Yu Zhiling stammered in reply, “Y-yes, it’s me.”
A brief silence followed before Yun Zhi asked, “What do you need?”
Yu Zhiling hesitated, then said, “I… I’d like to ask for a favor.”
“What favor?”
She pressed her lips together. “For this year’s Zhongli Family Spirit Banquet… could you let me go?”
Another pause.
“…Yun Zhi?”
“Why do you want to go?” Yun Zhi’s voice remained gentle. “You know the relationship between the Zhongli Family and Yingshan Sect. They’ve never invited you before.”
“I know, but I have my reasons… I really need to go.” Yu Zhiling tried to explain.
“Alright.”
Yu Zhiling blinked, momentarily stunned. When his words finally registered, her voice rose in disbelief. “You… agreed?”
“Mn. If you wish to go, I’ll withdraw from the Spirit Banquet. It’s not an important matter. I’ll handle things with Zhaoyan.”
“Ah… just like that?”
“Mn. Just like that.”
Yu Zhiling stood up, pacing back and forth with the jade token in hand, at a loss for words. She had expected to expend great effort persuading Yun Zhi, her heart uncertain the entire time. Yet, with just one request, he had agreed without hesitation.
“Zhuoyu.”
Yun Zhi’s voice softened.
Yu Zhiling replied, “Ah? I’m here.”
He paused, as if carefully choosing his words. After a moment, he spoke again. “We’re friends. You… should reach out to Zhaoyan sometime too.”
Yu Zhiling nodded dumbly. “…Alright, alright.”
After a few more polite exchanges, Yun Zhi ended the connection first.
Yu Zhiling hadn’t expected things to be resolved so easily. She had anticipated complications.
Yun Zhi seemed good-natured and appeared to have been close with Immortal Lord Zhuoyu in the past. So why had their relationship deteriorated? Something else must have happened between them.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Yu Zhiling couldn’t resist calling out to the system. “System, has my soul still not fully merged with Immortal Lord Zhuoyu’s body?”
When it came to serious matters, the system no longer pretended to be deaf. It activated with a mechanical response:
[Host’s soul has not yet fully integrated with Immortal Lord Zhuoyu’s body. Memory recovery still requires time.]
Yu Zhiling ignored it, shutting the system off immediately.
With this matter settled, the heaviest weight in her heart finally lifted. The longer she stayed, the more curious she became about the memories she had lost.
It felt like she had forgotten something very important.
The next evening, Yan Shanqing delivered the invitation—sent by the Zhongli Family.
Yu Zhiling flipped it open, glancing at the hastily scrawled calligraphy before shaking her head. “You can really tell how unwilling they were.”
The handwriting was especially sloppy.
Yan Shanqing sat down and took a sip of tea. “Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan both declined the Zhongli Family’s invitations one after another. With only one of the three Immortal Lords left free, they had no choice but to invite you.”
Yu Zhiling grinned, tucking the invitation away before sitting properly with her legs crossed. “See? I told you I had a way.”
Yan Shanqing shot her a sidelong glance. “Did you pester Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan again?”
“I didn’t badger them!” Yu Zhiling protested. “I just asked once, and Yun Zhi agreed immediately. Wu Zhaoyan was handled by Yun Zhi himself.”
Yan Shanqing scoffed. “You used to harass them all the time. When Yun Zhi was young, he was timid—you once forced him to spar with you by threatening him with a wild rat. Scared him so badly he didn’t return to Jinling for three months.”
Yu Zhiling: “???”
Immortal Lord Zhuoyu had been that childish as a kid?
“You were quite the troublemaker back then.” A faint smile tugged at Yan Shanqing’s lips as he reached across the table to flick her forehead. “And now, in the blink of an eye, you’ve grown up.”
Rubbing her forehead, Yu Zhiling mumbled, “Eldest Senior Brother…”
Yan Shanqing was over a hundred years her senior. In fact, Immortal Lord Zhuoyu had been much younger than all her senior brothers and sisters—she had been raised by them.
But she wasn’t Zhuoyu. Facing Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue’s protectiveness, she couldn’t help feeling like an imposter.
Lowering her head, Yu Zhiling kept her carefree smile in place, though only she knew how much of it was genuine.
If she accumulated enough virtue points, she would have to leave. Staying at Yingshan Sect meant Mo Zhu would eventually kill her. Yu Zhiling didn’t believe she could truly redeem herself in the eyes of that little ink blot.
She glanced up at Yan Shanqing across from her. His face was naturally stern, intimidating when he wasn’t smiling, yet it gave Yu Zhiling an inexplicable sense of security—not just him, but Xiang Wuxue as well.
And her two senior sisters outside the sect, whom she had never met. Just hearing their names filled her with confidence.
No matter what she did, there would always be someone behind her.
Softly, she said, “Senior Brother, I’ll be taking Mo Zhu to the Zhongli Family tomorrow.”
Yan Shanqing chuckled. “I know. Come back soon.”
Meeting his gaze, she saw undisguised concern in his eyes. Her throat tightened slightly as she gripped her teacup, nodding carefully yet solemnly. “Yes, Senior Brother.”
After Yan Shanqing left, Yu Zhiling kicked off her shoes and socks, hopping onto the bamboo bed. With rare leisure time and Mo Zhu likely still practicing swordplay, she drifted off to sleep without worry.
Only when the night deepened did the courtyard gate creak open, rousing Yu Zhiling from her nap.
Mo Zhu approached, carrying a plate of fruit. “Master, Third Martial Uncle sent these.”
Yu Zhiling sat up. “Are they red taro fruits?”
“Mn.”
Mo Zhu set the plate on the stone table. Barefoot, Yu Zhiling happily peeled one of the fruits—the bamboo bed was right next to the table.
“Mo Zhu, the matter with the Zhongli Family is settled. We’ll depart the day after tomorrow.”
Mo Zhu’s brows furrowed slightly. “The Zhongli Family… agreed?”
The Zhongli Family and the Yingshan Sect had been sworn enemies for generations, their relationship fraught with complexity. For centuries, the two great clans had avoided any interaction, yet now, they had actually invited Yu Zhiling to preside over the opening ceremony of the Lingyue Banquet. The whole affair was somewhat bizarre.
But Yu Zhiling patted her chest confidently and declared, "Of course! With my master's skills, anything is possible!"
Mo Zhu had no idea what method she had used, but the Zhongli Family had only agreed to let her oversee the Linghua Banquet's opening. As for the matter of the Immortal Wood Sprout, it was still up in the air. Yet, judging by Yu Zhiling's demeanor, she seemed utterly self-assured.
He didn’t want to dwell on what tricks she might have up her sleeve. Just as he was about to set down the fruit and leave, his gaze inadvertently caught a glimpse of fair skin peeking out from beneath her emerald-green robes. Realizing what he was looking at, he quickly averted his eyes. The weather in May was indeed getting warmer, and she often dressed lightly. When lounging in the courtyard, she rarely wore socks.
"Mo Zhu, open your mouth."
His thoughts had just begun to wander when her voice snapped him back to attention. Instinctively obeying, he parted his lips—only for them to be promptly stuffed with a peeled sweet fruit.
Yu Zhiling grinned at him. "Well? Not bad, right?"
She peeled another fruit for herself. "Good disciple, you're still growing. If there’s anything you want to eat, just tell your master. I’ve got money!"
She patted the Qiankun pouch at her waist.
As a Yingshan Sect elder and the Immortal Alliance’s Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, she had never lacked spirit stones. These days, she could afford to buy whatever caught her eye without a second thought.
Mo Zhu absentmindedly chewed the fruit in his mouth, the sweet pulp bursting on his tongue. Avoiding her gaze, he muttered a low, "...Thank you, Master."
Pleased with his response, Yu Zhiling scooted closer and pushed the fruit platter toward him.
The distance between them was now uncomfortably close, and Mo Zhu’s throat tightened.
Was she… planning to feed him again?
Then he watched as his little master pouted.
"Good disciple, could you peel a fruit for your master?"
Mo Zhu: "..."
His eyes flicked to the red marks on her palms.
The skin of the Red Peony Fruit was tough. Without tools, peeling it barehanded was no easy task—it required brute force to crack open.
Yu Zhiling blinked at him. "Good disciple, dear Mo Zhu, this fruit is so hard to open."
Half an hour later, Mo Zhu expressionlessly slid a plate of peeled fruit toward her.
"Master, it’s done."
Yu Zhiling beamed. "You’re such a good person!"
The "good person" Mo Zhu returned to his courtyard, carrying a bag of roasted chestnuts his master had given him.
Before bed, he climbed onto the roof and glanced at the neighboring courtyard. She wasn’t outside, but the candlelight inside her room was still burning.
It seemed… Yu Zhiling never extinguished her lamps at night. She rarely shut her windows completely, always leaving a narrow gap. After dark, she never left her courtyard, and when accompanying him in cultivation, she avoided the deepest parts of the forest.
She seemed afraid of darkness and confined spaces.
But the Zhuoyu of the past had never feared the dark.
Nor would she have had such a hearty appetite—eating three full meals a day without fail, never picky, devouring everything in sight. Nothing like an immortal who had long transcended the need for food.
She was nothing like the Zhuoyu he knew.
At the break of dawn, Yu Zhiling was rudely awakened by her own thrifty rooster. She hurriedly packed her things, dressed, and stepped outside to find Mo Zhu already waiting for her.
"Master."
Mo Zhu gave a slight nod.
Yu Zhiling bounded over to him. "We’re setting off for the Zhongli Family today—they’re in the Southern Capital."
Mo Zhu replied, "Mm. I know. The Mustard Seed Boat is ready."
This was the first proper long journey the master and disciple would take together—for both Yu Zhiling and Mo Zhu.
Their last trip to the Four Slaughter Realm had only lasted a day, but this journey to the Zhongli Family would take at least half a month. For the duration of the Lingyue Banquet, Yu Zhiling would have to maintain her identity as Immortal Lord Zhuoyu.
The Mustard Seed Boat they traveled in had only one cabin. Given the distance to the Zhongli Family, even the boat would need two full days to arrive.
Late at night, with the window half-open, the temperature plummeted as the boat floated through the void. Yu Zhiling dragged Mo Zhu back inside after he had spent the entire day meditating on the deck.
Mo Zhu stared impassively at the woman sound asleep across from him.
She hadn’t actually been asleep earlier—she had been lying on the couch reading novels. But by the time he finished his meditation and opened his eyes, she had dozed off.
Mo Zhu could tell that Yu Zhiling’s wariness toward him had lessened considerably these days. Now, she even dared to fall asleep in his presence, completely defenseless.
The Mustard Seed Boat was small. The only room inside held a dining table and a few wooden chairs, leaving little space for the main couch. She lay curled up on it, sleeping soundly, one arm dangling precariously over the edge—on the verge of tumbling off at any moment.
The bracelet on her wrist, which she always wore, shimmered faintly in the candlelight, its surface swirling with intricate patterns.
Mo Zhu rose and silently approached the couch, his gaze fixed on her face.
At this distance, he could hear her soft, steady breathing, see the fine down on her cheeks and the thick fringe of her lashes.
Could a person change so drastically just from losing their memories?
Or was she truly someone else entirely?
Many of her habits were nothing like the old Zhuoyu’s.
Mo Zhu narrowed his eyes, studying her face intently, as if trying to peer past the Central Continent’s most beautiful visage to the soul beneath—was this really his so-called master?
"Mmm…"
A faint murmur snapped him out of his thoughts.
Just as Mo Zhu refocused, Yu Zhiling—who had already rolled to the edge of the couch—suddenly flipped over and plummeted downward.
Instinctively, he reached out and caught her, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other slipping beneath her knees. She landed safely in his arms.
Mo Zhu’s breath hitched. The moment he processed what had happened, his blood ran cold. He blinked in bewilderment, as if cradling a live explosive.
He looked down at her.
She…
Hadn’t woken up.
Mo Zhu let out a humorless laugh.
His "good master" had always been a heavy sleeper. During their cultivation sessions, he had often emerged from the forest to find her napping against a rock—standing, sitting, or lying down, she could sleep anywhere. If she didn’t get enough rest at night, she made up for it during the day.
Suppressing the vein throbbing in his temple, Mo Zhu carefully placed the fallen Yu Zhiling back onto the couch.
After a pause, he pulled a brocade quilt over her, bundling her up.
He told himself it wasn’t because he was worried she’d catch cold—it was just that if she fell ill, she’d undoubtedly make him take care of her. She was always ordering him around.
Mo Zhu sat back in the wooden chair opposite the couch. Assured she showed no signs of waking, he exhaled deeply and closed his eyes again.
The Mustard Seed Boat glided smoothly through the void, drawing ever closer to the Zhongli Family.
Two days passed in a flash.
[Ding. The male lead has mastered the Yingshan Sect’s secret technique. Host’s merit points +100. Current merit value: 630 points.]
Yu Zhiling was mid-bite into an apple when she heard the notification. She swallowed the chunk of fruit and lifted her bright eyes to the cabin door, where the black-clad youth had just returned from sword practice.
Mo Zhu: "..."
What was wrong with her now?
She looked at him like this almost every day—as if he had done something to delight her, even though he was certain he hadn’t.
Mo Zhu remained silent, setting his sword on the table before taking a seat across from Yu Zhiling.
Yu Zhiling hastily set down her own apple and deftly peeled a small one, handing it over. "You must be tired. Have an apple."
Mo Zhu: "...Thank you, Master. I’m not hungry. You eat it."
Yu Zhiling refused to give up, waving the apple insistently. "Go on, I’ve already had two."
Mo Zhu glanced at the two apple cores on the table: "…………"
"...Thank you, Master."
He took it and began chewing mechanically, his expression blank, as if tasting nothing.
By the time he finished the apple, the Mustard Seed Boat had arrived within the borders of Nan Du.
Nan Du was under the jurisdiction of the Zhongli Family, renowned across the Central Continent for their wealth. The main city was especially resplendent, filled with bright lanterns and towering buildings. While most cities capped their structures at five or six stories, Chaoge boasted ten-story edifices everywhere.
For a moment, Yu Zhiling almost felt like she’d returned to the modern world.
"The commercialization here is quite successful. Back where I’m from, this would easily qualify as a 4A-rated scenic spot," she muttered under her breath, assuming Mo Zhu couldn’t hear—forgetting that the Flying Serpent’s senses were extraordinarily sharp.
Mo Zhu watched her for a long time, his gaze lingering, and naturally caught her words. Yet again, she’d said something he couldn’t quite grasp.
Immortal Lord Zhuoyu rarely left the Yingshan Sect, while he himself had spent years exterminating evil across the Central Continent. Even he had never heard such phrases—so how did Yu Zhiling know them?
But Yu Zhiling had already turned around with a smile. "Let’s go. Time to disembark."
"Yes, Master."
The two stepped off the Mustard Seed Boat.
Yu Zhiling planted her hands on her hips and sighed. "Finally here. The Zhongli Family really is far."
Mo Zhu lifted his gaze, looking past Yu Zhiling toward the distant city. Lantern lights flickered in the night, a scene of bustling prosperity—one of the Central Continent’s greatest metropolises, the seat of power for one of the Four Great Families, the Zhongli.
It was also a place he should have visited long ago.
