The Zui Ting Pavilion was tightly surrounded by the Zhongli Family.
Yu Zhiling sat leisurely on the second floor, sipping tea. Her Qiankun bag was filled with snacks prepared for her by Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue. She pulled out pastries one by one, munching happily while engrossed in a storybook, completely unaware that the person across from her had been watching her for a long time.
Before long, the beaded curtain was lifted, and several people stepped inside.
"Immortal Lord Zhuoyu."
Yu Zhiling raised her eyes and, sure enough, saw Zhongli Yang's cold expression.
Zhongli Yang, however, immediately fixed his gaze on the cowering figure of Zhongli Xun behind Yu Zhiling. The composed and polite young man from earlier now shrank behind Yu Zhiling like a guilty quail at the sight of his elder brother.
Zhongli Yang glared at his useless younger brother.
Zhongli Xun: "...Brother, I know it was wrong of me to leave home without permission, but you can scold me later..."
Zhongli Yang strode forward, yanked him out, and smacked him hard on the forehead, leaving his younger brother dizzy.
"Useless fool! Do you realize you nearly died here today?"
Yu Zhiling happily munched on melon seeds, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
Nearly indeed—in the original story, Zhongli Xun had been killed by the evil spirit that very night. Zhongli Yang's grief had driven him to tear apart the entire Southern Capital, and the person who had used the Zhongli Family's young master as a shield had met an unknown fate. Given Zhongli Yang's temperament, he’d probably skinned and dismembered them.
Zhongli Xun endured several more smacks from his elder brother, his head ringing, and desperately tried to hide behind Yu Zhiling again.
"Immortal Lord, Immortal Lord, save me!"
After all, among those present, his elder brother only feared Immortal Lord Zhuoyu. And judging by the silly—no, simple—look on the Immortal Lord’s face, she seemed like a good-natured person.
"Get over here!"
"No!"
"I’ll beat you to death today, you little brat!"
"Then go ahead and beat me to death!"
The two went back and forth, and Yu Zhiling, sandwiched between them, grew dizzy from the commotion.
Before she could speak, someone pulled her away.
Mo Zhu, his face cold, extracted his master and said impassively, "Master Zhongli, regardless of your family matters, may my master and I leave? The Zhongli Family has this place completely surrounded."
That was why neither he nor Yu Zhiling had left yet—and it seemed Yu Zhiling had no intention of leaving.
She had been waiting for someone to arrive.
The tall disciple shielded Yu Zhiling completely, allowing her to escape the battlefield. Without his protection, Zhongli Xun was promptly seized by the ear by his elder brother.
"Brother! Brother! Stop hitting me!"
Zhongli Yang, however, grabbed him firmly, signaling his attendants to bind Zhongli Xun and drag him over before finally turning his attention back to Yu Zhiling and her disciple.
One glance nearly made him faint from anger.
The so-called number one Immortal Lord of the Central Plains, Yu Zhiling, peeked out from behind her disciple, still clutching a handful of melon seeds. She cracked them with practiced ease, her eyes sparkling with amusement as if their sibling squabble was the most entertaining show.
Yu Zhiling even had the audacity to comment, "Young Master, you’re quite nimble, huh."
He could even scramble up the rafters with ease.
Zhongli Xun, the fool, blushed at the praise. "Immortal Lord... you flatter me."
Zhongli Yang turned and smacked him on the head again. "Shut your mouth!"
Mo Zhu tilted his head slightly, watching Yu Zhiling stir trouble without a care, and felt a headache coming on. He took a deliberate step to the side, exposing her.
Yu Zhiling: "..."
You little brat!
After dealing with his useless brother, Zhongli Yang turned to Yu Zhiling with a stern expression. "Thank you, Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, for today."
Yu Zhiling waved a hand. "No need to thank me. It was my disciple who saved him."
Beside her stood the black-clad young man in fitted martial attire. Though only seventeen, he was already as tall as Zhongli Yang, standing out effortlessly in any crowd. His strikingly handsome features only made him more conspicuous.
A jade token hung at his waist, bearing Yu Zhiling’s spiritual mark—proof of his status as her direct disciple.
Zhongli Yang was surprised. This demonic cultivator was her personal disciple?
But he maintained his composure, cupping his hands respectfully. "Thank you, Young Master."
Mo Zhu gave a slight nod but remained silent.
Unfazed, Zhongli Yang continued, "Since the two of you saved the young master of the Zhongli Family, we are indebted to you. Name your reward."
Mo Zhu replied, "No need. Eliminating evil is a cultivator’s duty. I don’t—"
"Yes, yes, we do!" Yu Zhiling clamped a hand over his mouth. "Master Zhongli, you mean that?"
Zhongli Yang: "...Yes."
Mo Zhu’s lashes trembled slightly. His lips were sealed by her palm, her scent enveloping him. Due to their height difference, she was practically hanging off him.
His ears burned red in an instant. He struggled faintly, but Yu Zhiling, mistaking it for refusal, pressed down harder.
With her sweetest smile, Yu Zhiling said, "To be honest, I’ve heard the Southern Capital excels in medicine. My disciple suffers from the Heart-Devouring Gu. Could you arrange for a medical cultivator to examine him?"
Zhongli Yang narrowed his eyes. "Immortal Lord, you must know the Heart-Devouring Gu can only be cured by the Divine Wood Sprout?"
Yu Zhiling’s red lips pursed. Her long lashes lowered slightly, and for a long moment, the air around her grew heavy.
Zhongli Yang was taken aback. "You... what’s wrong?"
Mo Zhu, too, froze. He turned slightly and caught the sight of a single tear rolling down her cheek.
She... was crying?
Yu Zhiling turned her head away, wiping the corner of her eye. "I know. I’m not asking for a cure. But I’m at my wits’ end. The Divine Wood Sprout has long vanished. Mo Zhu is my only disciple. I can’t bear to watch the Gu torment him. I’ve heard there’s a medical cultivator in the Southern Capital named Liu Yi. He has a medicine called [Pain Relief] that can dull the senses greatly."
She slowly withdrew her hand from Mo Zhu’s mouth, her delicate face a picture of restrained sorrow, her lashes still damp with tears.
Yu Zhiling looked at her disciple, her voice trembling. "I... I just want him to suffer less when the Gu acts up. He’s so talented, only seventeen, with his whole life ahead of him. He’s the same age as Young Master Zhongli Xun—he shouldn’t have to endure this."
Zhongli Xun: "Waaah, Fellow Daoist, you’ve suffered so much!"
Zhongli Yang: "..."
Mo Zhu: "???"
Mo Zhu nearly laughed in disbelief. "Master, you—" What nonsense are you spouting?
Before he could finish, Yu Zhiling covered his mouth again.
She wiped her tears on his shoulder, sniffling. "I’m sorry. Your master is useless."
Quite useless indeed—even drying her tears required rubbing them on his robes.
Zhongli Yang frowned, glancing between his foolish younger brother and Mo Zhu, who was about the same age. The young man’s face was flushed, his gaze fixed on Yu Zhiling as she buried her face in his shoulder, seemingly at a loss over his master’s tears.
Mo Zhu wasn’t at a loss.
Mo Zhu was purely furious.
But Yu Zhiling kept her hand over his mouth, her other arm wrapped around his waist, her fingers pinching his back in warning—play along, don’t ruin your master’s act.
Zhongli Yang had never seen Zhuoyu like this before. Ever since that incident, when she appeared in Zhongzhou, she was aloof and taciturn, speaking only when necessary for demon-slaying and showing emotion solely upon receiving news of that demonic cultivator. The rest of the time, she was like a lifeless puppet.
But now…
Her tears seemed genuine, her remorse sincere—after all, Zhuoyu would never stoop to acting.
Zhuoyu might disdain pretense, but Yu Zhiling reveled in it.
After crying for a short while, she finally heard Zhongli Yang’s gruff voice: "The Zhongli Family has Immortal Wood Buds."
Alright, time to wrap it up.
Yu Zhiling stifled her tears and looked at him in feigned shock. "...What?"
Zhongli Yang said, "The Zhongli Family possesses three Immortal Wood Buds. We can spare one for you."
Yu Zhiling: "...Really?"
Her hands trembled as she wiped her tears, her expression one of disbelief mingled with despair-turned-hope. A few crystalline tears rolled down her cheeks, her performance so convincing that Zhongli Xun, the big fool, started sniffling pitifully—only to earn himself two more slaps from Zhongli Yang.
Yu Zhiling turned away, hiding her face from Zhongli Yang’s gaze. A sly smile curled her lips as she locked eyes with Mo Zhu, whose dark gaze was unreadable. She winked at him playfully, her expression screaming:
—Just a little Immortal Wood Bud? Easy peasy!
Mo Zhu: "……………"
Perhaps her act was too convincing. Zhongli Yang had never witnessed Immortal Lord Zhuoyu display such emotions before. Seeing Yu Zhiling turn away, he assumed she was on the verge of a breakdown. His head throbbed with irritation as he snapped impatiently, "Stop crying. Is one Immortal Wood Bud enough?"
Yu Zhiling slowly turned back. "Huh?"
Wait, could she ask for more?
Zhongli Yang frowned. "Not satisfied? How about an extra twenty thousand top-grade spirit stones?"
Yu Zhiling: "Huh??"
Zhongli Yang’s frown deepened. "Immortal Lord Zhuoyu has quite the appetite, huh? Fine, thirty thousand."
Yu Zhiling: "Huh???"
Zhongli Yang: "My idiot brother’s life isn’t worth that much. Forty thousand, take it or leave it."
Before Yu Zhiling could utter another sound, Zhongli Yang’s expression darkened. "Immortal Lord, if you ‘huh’ one more time—"
Yu Zhiling: "…………"
Is this guy a complete moron?!
The big fool Zhongli Yang grabbed the second fool Zhongli Xun by the collar and dragged him downstairs.
"We’ll be taking the dancer with us. Immortal Lord Zhuoyu and your young disciple should rest early. The Spirit Music Banquet begins at noon tomorrow—don’t be late."
Once the two were gone, only master and disciple remained in the cramped tearoom.
Yu Zhiling wore a complicated expression. "Those two… are they both idiots? We just got forty thousand spirit stones for free."
She had nearly broken character earlier—Zhongli Yang’s offers had left her genuinely stunned.
"Shizun."
Mo Zhu’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Yu Zhiling hummed absentmindedly. "Mhm? What is it?"
When she looked up, she found her disciple staring at her with icy eyes, his gaze practically screaming: Care to explain yourself?
Yu Zhiling chuckled awkwardly and reached out to dust off his shoulder. "Ah, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get you dirty. Don’t you have spare robes?"
Mo Zhu had been driven to exasperation multiple times today.
This wasn’t about clothes—that wasn’t what he wanted to ask.
His voice was frosty. "Shizun, did you come here today for the Immortal Wood Bud?"
Yu Zhiling: "...Huh? What are you talking about?"
She feigned ignorance. "Of course not! I was here to watch the beautiful dancers. Didn’t you see how absorbed I was? My eyes are still sore from not blinking!"
She rubbed her eyes dramatically and made to leave. "So tired… I need to sleep."
"But Shizun, it’s only hai hour (9–11 PM). At the sect, you never rest before zi hour (11 PM–1 AM)."
Before she could react, Mo Zhu—who had been behind her moments ago—appeared right in front of her. Yu Zhiling stumbled straight into him.
As she wobbled backward, his hand shot out to steady her by the arm.
"Shizun, watch your step."
Yu Zhiling blinked. He stood firmly in her path, blocking her escape.
"You… what are you doing?"
She retreated a step.
Mo Zhu’s gaze dropped to her retreating foot, his expression unreadable. The coldness in his eyes made her take another step back.
Then, suddenly, he smiled.
Yu Zhiling: "!"
No no no! Don’t smile like that!
Mo Zhu stepped forward. "Does Shizun see me as nothing but a child?"
Yu Zhiling forced a laugh, backing up again. "N-no, of course not!"
Another step forward. "Really? Compared to Shizun’s one or two hundred years, am I not just a naive brat in your eyes? So naive that I wouldn’t notice anything?"
"You—don’t slander your shizun! I never—"
She had thought that way. Even though she was only in her early twenties in her past life, Mo Zhu was just seventeen now—a little brat in her eyes, which was why she often called him that.
Though Mo Zhu smiled, his eyes remained frigid as he advanced on her.
"Your cultivation is at the Great Perfection Stage—the strongest in Zhongzhou. If you’d wanted to save someone, you’d have been faster than me. Yet you deliberately made me rescue the Zhongli Family’s young master in front of hundreds of people."
"I don’t want to overanalyze Shizun’s actions, but you made it too obvious. Shall I guess what you’re really after?"
Yu Zhiling had nowhere left to retreat. Her back pressed against the railing.
Mo Zhu stood mere inches away, leaning down until their faces were so close she could count his lashes.
"Shizun, you knew Zhongli Xun would be in danger today. You had me save him so the Zhongli Family would owe me a favor. Since I’m close in age to him, they wouldn’t suspect me."
"You avoided mentioning the Immortal Wood Bud to distance us from suspicion—making it seem like we weren’t here for it. Those fake tears were to unsettle Zhongli Yang, because—"
Yu Zhiling’s lashes fluttered, a teardrop clinging to them before falling. Mo Zhu caught it in his palm.
He gently wiped the moisture from her cheek, his touch tender but his gaze piercing.
"—Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, Yu Zhiling, is heartless and unfeeling. She would never shed tears for a mere disciple."
Yu Zhiling’s heart leapt into her throat.
She had assumed Mo Zhu was too young to see through her, forgetting one crucial fact: in the original story, he reached the Tribulation Transcendence Stage by his twenties. He was the one who slaughtered the entire Yingshan Sect and killed Immortal Lord Zhuoyu in the end.
How could someone like that be an ordinary teenager?
"Mo Zhu, I—"
Before she could finish, the railing behind her gave way with a crack.
Her back met empty air, and the world spun as she plummeted. The last thing she saw was Mo Zhu’s stunned face.
In her panic, she forgot to use spiritual energy—and crashed straight down from the second floor.
Mo Zhu forgot too.
The situation happened too suddenly—his body reacted faster than his mind. He reached out and grabbed her arm, then tumbled down with her due to momentum, his pupils reflecting her widened eyes.
Just before they hit the ground, he suddenly exerted force to switch their positions. His back slammed hard against the tiles, while she crashed heavily into his embrace.
Mo Zhu didn’t make a sound. The floating lanterns above Zuiting Pavilion flickered in his vision, their dizzying glow almost mocking him.
Yu Zhiling lay atop him, struggling to prop herself up as she reached to touch his face. His silence only deepened her panic.
"Mo Zhu, Mo Zhu! What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"
She had completely forgotten—Mo Zhu was now a Golden Core cultivator, with the innate resilience of a Tengserpent. Even a fall from ten stories wouldn’t faze him.
Mo Zhu met her gaze, her unrestrained distress piercing him like an invisible hand clenching around his heart. In that moment, he shut his eyes and lifted a hand to cover them.
He was insane. Utterly, completely insane.
He had… jumped down with her.
