The two had just arrived when the Zhongli Family sent someone to greet them.
The one who came was the head of the Zhongli Family, Zhongli Yang.
Clad in a flowing purple robe embroidered with gold, his sharply defined face wore an indifferent expression. Though he cut a striking figure, the look he gave Yu Zhiling was icy—as if staring at a corpse.
"Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, the journey must have been arduous. The Spirit Music Banquet begins tomorrow. Accommodations have been arranged for both of you—please rest for now."
Zhongli Yang seemed to have come only to deliver this message. After speaking, he turned and left without waiting for Yu Zhiling’s response or even offering a proper bow. It was clear just how strained the relationship between the Zhongli Family and the Yingshan Sect was.
Yu Zhiling, however, showed no irritation. She leisurely instructed her attendants to stow away the pocket-sized boat, then glanced back at Mo Zhu, signaling for him to follow.
The lodging Zhongli Yang arranged for them was an inn within the main city. Though he clearly disapproved of Yu Zhiling’s presence, he had at least maintained appearances—the inn was the most elegantly decorated in the southern capital, and the entire tenth floor had been reserved for them.
Once the Zhongli Family’s people departed, Mo Zhu was about to enter his room when Yu Zhiling grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
"Master, is something the matter?"
Yu Zhiling looked utterly serious. "It’s still early—why sleep? We’ve been cooped up in that tiny boat for two days. Now that we’re finally in the southern capital, why not go out and explore?"
Mo Zhu: "…?"
Before he could protest, she dragged him all the way out of the inn.
She was still holding his wrist, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his sleeve. Mo Zhu lowered his gaze to where her hand gripped his, his thoughts in disarray. By the time he regained his senses, she had already pulled him quite a distance away.
Frowning, he freed his wrist from her grasp.
Yu Zhiling turned to look at him. "What’s wrong?"
Mo Zhu replied stiffly, "Nothing. Master, men and women should maintain propriety."
Yu Zhiling: "…"
Seriously? She hadn’t even touched his bare skin!
Mo Zhu spoke first, changing the subject. "Master, where are you going?"
Yu Zhiling smacked her forehead. "Right, we need to hurry."
She walked briskly, as if pressed for time. Mo Zhu, with his long legs, had no trouble keeping up. Assuming she had urgent business, he followed in silence.
Until they reached their destination.
Mo Zhu fell silent.
Yu Zhiling pointed at the towering building ahead. "We’re going there today."
Mo Zhu: "…"
He turned on his heel and walked away.
"Mo Zhu, where are you running off to?!"
Yu Zhiling yanked him back, wrapping both arms around his and clinging tightly. She tilted her head up at him and declared, "I’m going in there. Don’t you know the wine at Zui Ting Pavilion is excellent? Your master wants a drink!"
Mo Zhu’s ears reddened slightly, though he barely registered her clinging to his arm. He glared at the brightly lit establishment in the distance and said through gritted teeth, "Master, that’s a pleasure house!"
Yu Zhiling nodded cheerfully, still dragging him toward the building with a grin. "I know! But they also serve regular customers. A dirty mind sees filth everywhere—you should view it objectively. We’re just here for drinks!"
Mo Zhu’s voice turned icy. "Master, if the sect leader finds out you entered such a place, he will be furious."
Yu Zhiling paused.
Mo Zhu thought his warning had worked and tried to pull away.
The next moment, her fragrant embrace enveloped him again as she latched onto his arm and hauled him toward the entrance.
Mo Zhu: "?"
He looked down and met her half-lidded, mischievous gaze.
Yu Zhiling, utterly shameless, threatened him, "If you don’t tell, and I don’t tell, who’s to know? If the sect leader finds out, it’ll be because you snitched."
Mo Zhu nearly laughed in exasperation.
But before he could react, Yu Zhiling had already dragged him inside Zui Ting Pavilion. The overpowering scent of perfume assaulted his senses—Mo Zhu, with his keen sense of smell, recoiled. Just as he furrowed his brows, someone sealed his olfactory senses.
Yu Zhiling, still clinging to his arm, pressed close to him as if afraid he’d bolt.
Mo Zhu was much taller, so when he looked down, his gaze met her misty, sparkling eyes—which then blinked at him playfully.
"I blocked your sense of smell. I know you don’t like it. We’ll only stay for a little while."
She deftly maneuvered them past the attendants swarming toward them, half-dragging Mo Zhu up to the second floor. She chose the most spacious seating area with the best view before finally releasing his arm.
Leaning against the railing, Yu Zhiling scanned the lower floor as if searching for someone.
Mo Zhu’s expression darkened. "Master, are you looking for someone?"
Yu Zhiling didn’t turn, her head still peering over the railing as she replied absentmindedly, "Nope. Just admiring the pretty ladies."
Mo Zhu: "…………"
He closed his eyes.
He never should have followed her out today.
No—he never should have come to the Zhongli Family with her in the first place.
The gauzy curtains partitioning their space were suddenly drawn aside as a graceful woman stepped in. Her robes fluttered as she moved, her delicate features alight with amusement. She took one look at Mo Zhu’s murderous expression, gasped behind her silk handkerchief, then turned her attention to Yu Zhiling.
Yu Zhiling blinked up at her, eyes bright like stars.
The woman smiled, leaning in close to Yu Zhiling. "Miss, have you brought your little brother here for fun? Would you like some company?"
"Little brother" Mo Zhu’s face darkened with rage.
Yu Zhiling peeked at him, then grinned. "My brother here is shy. I just brought him to watch the dances. We’ll take your finest wine and dishes—no need for company."
She pulled out a qiankun pouch and placed a high-grade spirit stone on the table.
A single high-grade spirit stone could cover a month’s worth of indulgence in this establishment.
The woman chuckled, brushing her fingers lightly against Yu Zhiling’s cheek before swiping the spirit stone and retreating gracefully.
"Enjoy yourselves, miss and young master. Call if you need anything."
With a light step, she vaulted over the railing, descending to the first floor in a swirl of colorful skirts. She glanced up at Yu Zhiling on the second floor and winked.
Yu Zhiling raised a brow and winked back—with practiced ease.
Mo Zhu, witnessing the exchange, nearly passed out.
"Master."
Yu Zhiling turned to see her disciple’s thunderous expression.
Mo Zhu’s voice was dangerously low. "Why did you really bring us here?"
"I told you—to watch the dances! We’re not doing anything else, just enjoying the performances."
Yu Zhiling shot him a reproachful look and reached for the tea on the table.
Mo Zhu snatched the cup from her hands before she could take a sip.
Yu Zhiling: "…You won’t even let your master drink tea?!"
Mo Zhu set the cup aside and pulled out his own tea from his qiankun pouch, shoving it toward her. "You dare drink tea from a place like this? Do you want to spend the night wide awake?"
Yu Zhiling: "…Oh."
She took small sips while Mo Zhu sat across from her, eyes closed in meditation—clearly wishing he were anywhere else.
The attendants soon arrived with their wine and dishes, but after Mo Zhu’s warning, Yu Zhiling didn’t dare touch a single bite. She could only nibble on roasted peanuts from her qiankun pouch to curb her cravings.
From the second floor, the entire first floor was clearly visible. At the center of the stage, the dancers moved with graceful elegance. Through the bustling crowd, Yu Zhiling scrutinized every person in the hall one by one.
If she remembered the plot correctly, it would happen tonight.
In the original story, there was a brief mention: the third young master of the Zhongli Family died the day before the Spirit Music Banquet, right here in the Drunken Pavilion, assassinated by an evil spirit disguised as a dancer.
After the murder, the evil spirit fled but was intercepted by Mo Zhu, who happened to be nearby exterminating spirits. With a single strike of his sword, Mo Zhu killed the creature. However, Mo Zhu was a man of few words and never claimed credit for the deed, so no one knew it was him who had slain the evil spirit.
This event took place when Mo Zhu was seventeen—this very year.
Which meant the Spirit Music Banquet in the book was happening now.
Mo Zhu had been summoned back to Yingshan Sect earlier by her, unlike in the original plot where he roamed the Central Plains hunting spirits. If Yu Zhiling hadn’t brought him here, he wouldn’t have encountered that evil spirit, and the creature might have escaped indefinitely—while the young master of the Zhongli Family would certainly die.
Thus, Yu Zhiling had devised a better plan—one where both sides won.
She glanced at Mo Zhu across from her. He still sat with his eyes closed, ignoring everyone. Yu Zhiling pouted.
Stubborn brat. Acting all reluctant—your master is doing this for your own good!
Who else would spoil him like this if not her?
Yu Zhiling leaned back in the sandalwood chair, sipping her third cup of tea. A small mountain of peanut shells piled up on the table. As the day neared its end, the Drunken Pavilion remained lively with music, laughter, and clamor—a scene of utter peace.
She frowned. Had she misremembered the plot?
Yu Zhiling refused to believe it. She propped herself on the railing, scrutinizing the dancers weaving through the guests below, not daring to blink. Less than a quarter of an hour later, she whimpered and covered her eyes.
Help, her eyes were burning!
The lights here were too bright, and the dancers wore garishly colorful outfits. Her eyes ached terribly!
Mo Zhu opened his eyes and saw his master perched on the sandalwood chair, rubbing her eyes as she leaned over the railing. From his angle, he could see her muttering lips, her words indistinct but clearly complaints.
The corner of Mo Zhu’s eye twitched.
"Master."
"Hmm?" Yu Zhiling turned to him. "What is it?"
Mo Zhu saw her reddened eyes, glistening with unshed tears. She looked at him with such pitiful grievance, as if someone had wronged her.
The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly before he asked in a low voice, "What’s wrong?"
Yu Zhiling blinked blankly. "What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong."
"You’re crying."
"I… I am?" She wiped her eyes and stared at the moisture on her fingertips. "Ah… I didn’t blink for too long. It’s nothing."
Mo Zhu: "…"
Yu Zhiling mumbled as she turned back to the first floor. "This isn’t right… The day’s almost over…"
Mo Zhu frowned. "Master, why did you really come here?"
Yu Zhiling replied absently, "No reason. Just watching the dance."
Mo Zhu’s frown deepened as he followed her gaze downstairs. She was clearly lying.
As the final moments of the day approached, Yu Zhiling stared intently at the hall below, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the railing.
Half a quarter-hour left…
Only half a quarter-hour remained before the day ended.
Yu Zhiling didn’t dare blink, frozen in place as she leaned over the railing. Her focus was entirely on the scene below, but Mo Zhu, as an observer, noticed something else—
The railing wobbled.
Mo Zhu’s brows furrowed further. "Master, step back."
Yu Zhiling didn’t respond. With the day slipping away and no sign of disturbance in the hall, her anxiety grew. She leaned further over the railing, which creaked ominously under her weight.
Tall as he was, Mo Zhu vaulted over the table in one stride and yanked Yu Zhiling back by the arm.
Startled, Yu Zhiling flinched. "Mo Zhu?"
Mo Zhu retreated a step. "Master, you were about to fall."
Yu Zhiling turned blankly to the railing. It must have been poorly maintained—the joints were loose. Still, as a cultivator, even if she fell, it wouldn’t be more than a stumble.
"You… you’re so kind…"
Mo Zhu: "…Mas—"
"Wait, don’t speak yet!"
Mo Zhu was cut off as Yu Zhiling suddenly stiffened.
She seemed to have spotted something, striding forward with wide eyes.
Mo Zhu followed her gaze—she was fixated on one of the dancers.
All the dancers wore golden peony-embroidered skirts, ethereal as immortals. The stage beneath them was enchanted to emit mist with their movements, creating an illusion of a celestial paradise.
But now, the lead dancer at the center had frozen mid-step. Her sleeves pooled on the ground, nearly tripping the dancers beside her. The others, sensing something amiss, gradually stopped as well. One cautiously approached and took her wrist.
"Red Sparrow?"
The hall erupted into murmurs. The music halted abruptly.
Red Sparrow, who had been bowing her head, suddenly looked up. The sheer veil covering her face was torn away, revealing blackened veins creeping beneath her powder-white skin. Her eyes had turned blood-red. With a sweep of her arm, she flung aside the dancer holding her.
"An—an evil spirit!"
"How could an evil spirit be in the Drunken Pavilion?!"
"Never mind that—run! Get out of here!"
The once-merry crowd dissolved into chaos.
The possessed dancer leaped onto a hanging lantern, scanning the room as if searching for someone. Yu Zhiling’s eyes never left her, yet she didn’t act—until the dancer lunged toward a particular direction.
There sat a man in golden robes, frozen in terror. As the dancer charged at him, he didn’t move.
"H-help! Someone!"
A youth in purple rushed to pull him away. "What are you doing? Get up and run!"
But instead of fleeing, the golden-robed man yanked the youth in front of him as a human shield.
The dancer’s claws aimed straight for the youth’s back.
Yu Zhiling suddenly shouted, "Mo Zhu, stop her!"
The moment the words left her lips, Mo Zhu drew his sword and flipped over the railing.
Clang—
The blade met the curved claws with a resonant ring. Sword energy surged like rolling clouds, crashing into the dancer. She shrieked, her eyes wild with bloodlust as she whirled to kill the boy who had ruined her plans.
Mo Zhu sidestepped her strike, pivoting behind her in an instant. His silver-white sword pierced through her shoulder, pinning her to the intricately carved wooden wall of the Drunken Pavilion.
Before she could break free, Mo Zhu coldly raised his hand, forming a seal.
"Thousand Mechanisms Net—descend!"
A web of spiritual energy materialized, exploding across the dancer’s body and suspending her mid-air in its grasp.
By then, the purple-clad youth’s attendants had snapped out of their shock. One stepped forward and shoved the golden-robed man aside.
"How dare you use my Zhongli Family’s young master as your shield?!"
The golden-robed man seemed dazed. By the time he processed the situation, he was already pinned to the cold floor tiles. Above him stood the youth he had just tried to sacrifice, surrounded by attendants.
The jade pendant at his waist…
This was the third young master of the Zhongli Family—Zhongli Xun.
He trembled in fear, his voice hoarse as he pleaded, "Young Master Zhongli, spare me! This lowly one truly didn’t recognize you! Have mercy!"
Zhongli Xun didn’t even glance at him, his brows slightly furrowed, his expression unreadable—neither angry nor calm.
But the attendant beside him was furious. In an instant, he had the gaudily dressed man bound and ready to be dragged back to the Zhongli Family for punishment.
Zhongli Xun turned and bowed deeply to Mo Zhu. "Thank you for saving my life, young master. I am Zhongli Xun."
Mo Zhu gave a slight nod but said nothing in return.
Zhongli Xun felt a pang of awkwardness—it was the first time someone had ignored him so blatantly. He could only scratch his head and force a chuckle.
Mo Zhu held his sword in his right hand, but his gaze drifted past the bustling crowd to the figure standing by the second-floor railing.
She was still there. When their eyes met, she raised a thumb at him.
Mo Zhu didn’t understand the gesture, but he could see the delight in her eyes—as if she was genuinely happy to see him save someone.
The person Yu Zhiling had just asked him to rescue was Zhongli Xun, the young master of the Zhongli Family.
And the only place where the mystical herb needed to cure his poison—the Immortal Sprout—was kept was within the Zhongli Family’s possession.
Mo Zhu’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression indifferent, but his grip on the sword tightened until the veins on the back of his hand stood out.
Was this a coincidence?
Mo Zhu didn’t think so.
Yu Zhiling—she had known from the very beginning that Zhongli Xun would be attacked today.
