Liu Guizheng’s expression shifted slightly as she took the teapot from Yu Zhiling and began brewing tea for her.
“Back then, you were dead set on entering the Demon Abyss. Do you really not remember any of it?”
Yu Zhiling shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
Even if she did, she would only think Zhuo Yu had been out of her mind—utterly insane. Not even Immortal Fuchun would dare step into the Demon Abyss. How had she dared to enter it alone?
Liu Guizheng fell silent for a moment. The moment Yu Zhiling walked in, she could tell this wasn’t the Zhuo Yu she once knew.
She murmured softly, “Maybe it’s better that you don’t remember. It’s for the best.”
Yu Zhiling frowned slightly. “Guizheng, can you tell me what happened back then?”
“Are you investigating?” Liu Guizheng cut straight to the point. “Are you still looking into Immortal Fuchun’s death and that demonic cultivator?”
“Yes,” Yu Zhiling admitted.
Liu Guizheng’s face paled further. She rarely ventured outside, and her complexion had always been sickly, but seeing it now made Yu Zhiling’s heart clench.
“Guizheng?”
Liu Guizheng lowered her lashes, her fingers tracing the rim of the teacup as she whispered, “Ah Ling, that demonic cultivator entered the Demon Abyss. You already know that, don’t you? That’s why you stopped Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan from suppressing the Four Slaughter Realm. You knew they’d be in danger if they went.”
Yu Zhiling felt a pang of disorientation. So that was why Zhuo Yu had refused to let Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan take her place in the Four Slaughter Realm?
“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d go there ready to die. I didn’t want to lose you, Ah Ling.” Liu Guizheng looked at her, her voice barely audible. “Are you still angry with me? I… I really can’t tell you.”
Yu Zhiling forced a weak smile. “I’m not angry. Why would I be?”
Anyone with half a brain could see Liu Guizheng was worried about Zhuo Yu’s safety. That was why she refused to reveal how to enter the Demon Abyss—as if keeping it a secret would stop Zhuo Yu from going and facing danger.
But this conversation gave Yu Zhiling another realization.
“Guizheng, how do you know how to enter the Demon Abyss?”
Liu Guizheng’s expression stiffened for a split second before smoothing over as if nothing had happened.
“I… I’m half-demon, half-yao.”
Yu Zhiling blinked. “What?”
She couldn’t hide her shock. There wasn’t a trace of demonic or yao energy on Liu Guizheng. Aside from her frail health, she seemed entirely human.
Liu Guizheng clenched her hands, her slender fingers turning white. She studied Yu Zhiling’s expression carefully, relieved when she saw only confusion rather than disgust.
“Six hundred years ago, my father was a Demon Clan guardian. During the war between the three clans, he was severely wounded and saved by my mother—an ordinary yao woman who didn’t realize he was a demon. Over time, they… grew close. But then, my father suddenly turned cold. Soon after, he found an excuse to leave, telling my mother to remarry.”
Liu Guizheng paused before continuing. “Not long after he left, my mother discovered she was pregnant. She searched everywhere for him, but just before giving birth, she heard the demons had been defeated. She was in Nan Du when she saw my father slain by Immortal Fuchun—with the Frostblade Slash.”
Yu Zhiling froze. “By… who?”
Liu Guizheng repeated, “My father was killed by Immortal Fuchun in Nan Du, with the Frostblade Slash.”
Yu Zhiling recalled what Zhongli Yang had said.
The master of the Three-Pupil Serpent—the Demon Clan guardian—had been slain in Nan Du by Immortal Fuchun’s Frostblade Slash. It was the first time Immortal Fuchun had used that technique. The serpent, its scales too tough to destroy, had been imprisoned in Lianhua Ruins under the Zhongli family’s watch.
So that guardian was Liu Guizheng’s father?
And yet, she and Zhuo Yu were still friends?
Liu Guizheng seemed to read her thoughts. She smiled faintly and took Yu Zhiling’s hand.
“Ah Ling, I don’t blame you. My father was a demon. He deceived my mother and committed countless atrocities. My mother was just an ordinary yao woman—she couldn’t accept that the father of her child was the Demon Clan’s third guardian, a merciless killer. So she found a secluded place to give birth to me, and then… she took her own life. I was still an infant when Immortal Fuchun found me. She handed me to the former master of the Thousand Secrets Pavilion to raise.”
“The former master became my adoptive father. After his death, I took over the pavilion and have stayed here ever since. Once I came of age, I started having dreams—demons from the Abyss trying to manipulate me through my bloodline. In those dreams, they told me how to enter the Abyss, hoping I’d go and aid them.”
Yu Zhiling interrupted. “Wait, if they’re in the Demon Abyss, how can they reach you in dreams?”
Liu Guizheng explained, “My father was one of the three Demon Clan guardians. The three guardians are the Demon Sovereign’s descendants. The Sovereign can control anyone who shares his blood. Since I carry a trace of it, he can reach me no matter where I am.”
Yu Zhiling’s mind reeled. This was more fantastical than any storybook.
Liu Guizheng stayed quiet, letting her process everything.
After a long pause, Yu Zhiling finally spoke. “Alright, I understand. But what about your health?” she asked. “I can tell you’re not well.”
And not just unwell—Liu Guizheng looked worse than Yun Zhi, like a terminally ill beauty with days left to live.
Liu Guizheng continued brewing tea calmly, unfazed by the topic.
“My mother was an ordinary yao. My father was a millennia-old Demon Clan guardian.”
Yu Zhiling’s expression turned complicated. “Reproductive incompatibility?”
Surely the cultivation world didn’t have such a concept?
Liu Guizheng sighed, sounding slightly exasperated. “Demons and yao can produce offspring. But my parents’ cultivation levels were too far apart, and my father carried the Demon Sovereign’s blood. By all logic, my mother shouldn’t have conceived. Yet somehow, she did. Though she gave birth safely, the demonic blood in me constantly tries to devour the yao blood from my mother. The two forces clash inside me, making cultivation impossible. My body can’t endure it, hence my condition.”
Yu Zhiling hesitated before asking, “Is your life in danger?”
“I won’t die. You—Zhuo Yu—found a way to suppress the demonic blood in me. The seal is still holding, so I’m fine.”
Yu Zhiling nodded. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
She finally pieced it together. Liu Guizheng knew how to enter the Demon Abyss. Zhuo Yu had wanted to capture that demonic cultivator, so she came asking for the method—but Liu Guizheng refused.
Zhuo Yu left, and it was unclear if she ever found another way in. But she did end up in the Four Slaughter Realm, vanishing for a month before reappearing as a completely different person—one who rarely left Yingshan Sect and never visited Liu Guizheng again.
Thus passed ten years, during which the two had not seen each other. Liu Guizheng assumed Zhuo Yu was angry with her.
Yu Zhiling sighed softly and sipped her tea in silence.
If Liu Guizheng knew that the person sitting in her room now was an imposter—that Zhuo Yu’s body had long been taken over by another soul, and her dear friend had vanished to who-knows-where—she would probably hang Yu Zhiling up and skin her alive.
She shivered at the thought, shrinking into herself.
Liu Guizheng hesitated for a long while before inching closer to her and whispering, "A-Ling, when my foster father died and I was besieged by trouble, you came to my aid. You protected the Qianji Pavilion and saved my life. We were such good friends. I truly can’t let you go to the Demon Abyss, even if you ask me now. Are you still angry with me?"
Yu Zhiling lifted her head and met the timid gaze of the beautiful woman before her. Her heart, which had been cursing Zhuo Yu, suddenly felt colder than if she’d spent ten years slaughtering fish.
"How could I be angry? I’m not angry at all. I’ll visit you often from now on."
A flicker of joy crossed Liu Guizheng’s face. "Really?"
Yu Zhiling raised three fingers. "Really. I never lie, especially not to pretty girls like you."
Liu Guizheng smiled faintly and poured her another cup of tea. "The first time we met, you said I was beautiful. You were only in your teens then. After my foster father’s death, I was constantly harassed—people kept coming to propose marriage. Once, you happened to visit and saw one of them. You chased him out, calling him a toad lusting after swan meat. Then you stood at the gates of Qianji Pavilion with a voice-amplifying talisman and declared that I was under your protection from then on."
She pointed to the jade plaque hanging by the door, her expression softening with nostalgia.
"That plaque was left by you. You promised that if anyone dared intrude here, you’d come to my aid."
But over the years, no one dared trespass into Qianji Pavilion again, and Liu Guizheng never saw her return.
"I waited and waited… for ten years," Liu Guizheng murmured, placing the teacup before Yu Zhiling. Her eyes glistened faintly. "You used to visit me at least every six months. My health is poor—I can’t leave Qianji Pavilion often. Why… why didn’t you come to see me?"
Yu Zhiling: "..."
Yu Zhiling nearly dropped to her knees. "I was wrong! It’s all my fault!"
How many emotional debts had Zhuo Yu left behind?!
First, the Yingshan Sect, then Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan, and now Liu Guizheng.
But Zhuo Yu had been incredibly well-connected—it seemed like the entire Central Continent was her friend. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, she had cut ties with everyone for a decade, leaving Yu Zhiling to clean up the mess.
Liu Guizheng wiped her eyes and said quietly, "Then… can you stay at Qianji Pavilion for a few days? Just to talk. Aside from Fucui, I haven’t seen anyone else in ten years."
Yu Zhiling didn’t hesitate. "Of course!"
Liu Guizheng’s lips curved into a smile, her radiant expression breathtaking.
"Then I’ll prepare a room for you—right next to mine."
As she stood, Yu Zhiling grabbed her sleeve. "Wait, what about my disciple?"
Liu Guizheng stiffened before remembering that Yu Zhiling now had a disciple.
"Qianji Pavilion has guest quarters in the adjacent courtyard. Ask him if he’d like to stay here or return to the Yingshan Sect first. You’ll be safe with me—I’ll have Fucui look after you."
Her thoughtfulness left Yu Zhiling no choice but to nod.
"Then take me out first. I’ll talk to him."
"Alright."
Liu Guizheng called for Fucui and retreated to another room.
As soon as Yu Zhiling was wheeled into the main hall, she spotted Mo Zhu standing by the entrance.
From this distance, she couldn’t help but admire her little disciple’s striking looks—tall, long-legged, broad-shouldered, and narrow-waisted, with sharp, handsome features.
The moment she appeared near the stone gate, the young man’s cold expression brightened. He strode forward and knelt before her wheelchair, taking her hand.
"Master, are you done? Let’s go."
Mo Zhu’s grip was tight, his anxiety palpable after being separated from her for so long. Even Qianji Pavilion seemed to irritate him now.
Fucui left after pushing Yu Zhiling into the hall, presumably to help Liu Guizheng prepare the room.
Yu Zhiling patted her disciple’s head and forced a smile. "Actually… we’re not leaving yet."
Mo Zhu froze. "Master?"
Yu Zhiling explained, "Liu Guizheng and I really are good friends. She’s asked me to stay for a few days. Maybe you should return to the Yingshan Sect first?"
Her disciple’s face darkened instantly.
Panicking, Yu Zhiling quickly added, "Or—or you could stay here with me!"
Mo Zhu’s expression softened slightly, though he remained silent.
Yu Zhiling coaxed him gently, "Then… stay with me for a few days?"
"Where will Master be staying?"
"...Next to Liu Guizheng."
"And where will I stay?"
"In the courtyard next to… next to… next to… mine."
Mo Zhu’s face darkened again.
Yu Zhiling hurried to placate him. "Fine, fine! I’ll stay next to you instead. I’ll talk to Liu Guizheng."
But Mo Zhu’s icy glare suggested he was ready to carry her away by force.
Yu Zhiling squirmed in her seat, cupping his face with both hands. "Sweetheart, I know you think this place isn’t safe, but trust me—Liu Guizheng really is a good friend. Believe in my judgment."
Mo Zhu pressed his cheek into her palm, and Yu Zhiling instinctively pinched his face.
The young man’s lashes lowered, his heart aching with bitterness.
Yu Zhiling had too many friends. She was kind, loyal—her connections spanned the entire Central Continent. Even Zhongli Yang of the Zhongli Clan, who feuded with the Yingshan Sect, was her friend. Though they quarreled, he genuinely cared for her.
And then there were Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan… and countless others. It seemed like the entire Central Continent was filled with people who adored her.
So many loved her. So many were stronger than him now.
Mo Zhu nuzzled against her wrist, inhaling the faint fragrance clinging to her sleeve. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she smiled at him—bright, sweet, irresistibly endearing.
He wanted her to look only at him, to spare no thought for others.
Just as he saw only her.
After much insistence from her disciple, Yu Zhiling finally convinced Liu Guizheng to let her and Mo Zhu stay together.
With an outsider in the house, Liu Guizheng swapped her gauzy robes for more modest attire, covering herself completely. She leaned against the courtyard gate, locking eyes with Mo Zhu, who stood behind Yu Zhiling’s wheelchair.
The beauty’s expression was cool. The young man behind Yu Zhiling was even colder.
Caught between them, Yu Zhiling fell silent for a moment before wheeling herself away in a hurry.
Now, only Liu Guizheng and Mo Zhu remained in the courtyard.
Both of them carried demon blood in their veins. At a glance, Liu Guizheng recognized Mo Zhu's identity and sneered, "So you're a demon too?"
Mo Zhu lazily lifted his eyes. "Aren't you the same?"
Liu Guizheng scoffed. "Don’t covet what isn’t yours. The person by her side can’t be a demon. How dare a mere snake demon aspire to the First of the Central Continent? What do you have that compares to Zhao Yan? He’s the head of the Wu family, an Immortal Venerable of the Central Continent."
From the moment she first saw Mo Zhu, she had noticed the affection in the young man’s eyes.
Dependence and adoration—it was painfully obvious. Those involved were blind, while bystanders saw clearly. Yu Zhiling only saw him as a disciple who relied on his master, unaware of the wolfish ambition lurking in her student’s heart.
Mo Zhu’s expression remained unchanged. So, Wu Zhaoyan did harbor feelings for Zhuo Yu. Back at the Yingshan Sect, he had sensed something off about Wu Zhaoyan—the inexplicable hostility and wariness directed at him.
Liu Guizheng knew about it too. She was aware of Wu Zhaoyan’s feelings. The group must have been close in the past.
Liu Guizheng continued, "Don’t delude yourself. The one by Ah Ling’s side will never be you. She’s not short of admirers."
Mo Zhu showed no reaction, his voice calm as ever. "You’d better not make any moves. If you dare spread nonsense, I’ll ensure your Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion vanishes from the Central Continent."
Liu Guizheng laughed in disbelief. "Does your master know how you feel? Such arrogance for someone so young. Ah Ling has no shortage of suitors from noble families. What makes you think you can compete with them? Pick any one of them—be it lineage or cultivation—what do you have that measures up?"
"A common snake demon, daring to covet Immortal Venerable Zhuo Yu? Do you think you’re worthy? Would you have her lower herself for you?"
"None of your concern. I’d never let my master suffer for my sake." Mo Zhu’s gaze turned icy as he glanced at her. "And you’d better behave. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your feigned illness? Were you truly so weak you couldn’t walk?"
It was all just to keep Yu Zhiling by her side.
Liu Guizheng’s expression shifted.
Mo Zhu turned and strode toward Yu Zhiling’s room, pushing open her door with practiced ease—a clear sign of his frequent intrusions.
Liu Guizheng looked away and laughed again.
Fucui, standing nearby, asked, "Master, are you alright?"
Liu Guizheng gritted her teeth. "That wolf in sheep’s clothing! What is Wu Zhaoyan doing? How can he just sit idle while someone steals his place? And Ah Ling—she’s such a fool!"
How could she not see it at all?
Even Fucui could tell what Mo Zhu was thinking!
Meanwhile, inside the room, someone was devouring pastries with gusto.
Mo Zhu caught the crumbs in his palm, then gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Yu Zhiling’s ear. "Master, slow down."
Yu Zhiling mumbled, "These chestnut cakes have officially become my favorite. Guizheng really knows my tastes."
A loud slam echoed from outside, startling her. Still chewing, she mumbled, "What’s wrong? Who upset Guizheng?"
The culprit, Mo Zhu, didn’t even glance away, offering her a cup of tea instead. "Miss Liu is fine. It must have been the wind. Have some tea, Master."
Yu Zhiling hastily swallowed and took a sip from the cup held by her ever-attentive disciple.
She leaned back into the chair, stroking the armrest. "This chair is wonderful. Now you won’t have to carry me around all the time."
Mo Zhu eyed the chair, fighting the urge to smash it to pieces. Ugly and obstructive.
"It’s fine on flat ground, but the paths of Tingchun Cliff are uneven. It won’t be practical."
Yu Zhiling brightened. "Ah, right! Too many steps there. Guess I’ll still have to trouble you to carry me."
Mo Zhu nodded. "Of course."
It was no trouble at all.
He wanted to carry her for the rest of his life.
Now that he knew what Yu Zhiling admired in a person, Mo Zhu was striving to become better—learning to care for her, obeying her every word. His master was so oblivious, completely blind to her little disciple’s ambitions.
After feeding her a few more pastries, Yu Zhiling grew drowsy. It was noon, and her daily nap was non-negotiable.
Mo Zhu carried her to the bed, watching over her until she fell asleep, then sat by her side for a while longer.
He carefully smoothed the stray hairs from her face, revealing delicate features. In sleep, her breaths were soft, her expression serene—nothing like the decisive, formidable Immortal Venerable Zhuo Yu of the Central Continent.
The longer he looked, the more his heart ached. Every inch of her face was etched into his soul, and the more he gazed, the more unwilling he became.
He didn’t want to remain just her disciple.
Mo Zhu sighed softly. He couldn’t confess his feelings yet, knowing he was still unworthy.
"Just a little longer, Master. Soon, I’ll tell you everything."
He tucked the blankets around her, then quietly left the room.
Liu Guizheng sat at the sandalwood table as Fucui served her tea. From the courtyard came the sharp, rhythmic sounds of a sword—even with her limited cultivation, Liu Guizheng could sense the killing intent woven into each strike.
Fucui muttered, "Actually, Young Master Mo is stronger than most noble heirs. A seventeen-year-old at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage—his progress rivals even Immortal Venerable Zhuo Yu’s in her youth. She was the most talented cultivator in Central Continent history, reaching peak Nascent Soul at sixteen."
Liu Guizheng smiled faintly. "Ah Ling was extraordinary. She reached the Mahayana stage at a hundred and attained its peak in just twenty years. If not for—"
She cut herself off.
Fucui knew what went unsaid.
If not for the tragedy of Immortal Fuchun, if not for the cracks in Yu Zhiling’s Dao heart, the relentless turmoil of the Four Slaughter Realms, the endless hordes of evil beings, the weight of vengeance—how could her cultivation have stagnated for seventy years?
The air in the room grew heavy. Fucui set down the freshly poured tea.
"Master, Immortal Venerable Zhuo Yu has forgotten those things. The other two Immortal Venerables seem intent on letting her rest. She no longer battles evil or suppresses the Four Slaughter Realms. Without hatred weighing her down, she’ll surely ascend to the Tribulation Transcendence stage soon. Don’t worry."
Liu Guizheng took a sip, sighing quietly.
"If she focuses on cultivation, the Tribulation stage is nothing. She could ascend within a century. But I fear..."
She feared Yu Zhiling would still seek the truth behind Immortal Fuchun’s fate.
She feared the pain she had forgotten would one day return.
Fucui stayed silent, standing quietly behind her.
The swordplay in the courtyard grew fiercer. Through the closed window, Liu Guizheng could almost picture Mo Zhu’s relentless practice.
She knew Fucui was right—Mo Zhu surpassed most noble heirs in talent and temperament. Gifted, steady, and utterly devoted to Yu Zhiling.
But—
He was a demon.
And the Central Continent despised demons.
Yu Zhiling slept for over two hours before waking to an empty room.
[Ding, the male protagonist has mastered the first level of "Dawnbreak Sword Art." Host gains +30 virtue points. Current virtue points: 1830. Keep up the good work.]
[Ding, the male protagonist has mastered the second level of "Dawnbreak Sword Art." Host gains +30 virtue points. Current virtue points: 1860. Keep up the good work.]
[Ding, the male protagonist has mastered the third level of "Dawnbreak Sword Art." Host gains +30 virtue points. Current virtue points: 1890. Keep up the good work.]
Yu Zhiling: "Ahhh!"
Truth be told, she really liked this system. It was incredibly considerate—never interrupting her rest with task updates, always respecting her downtime. When Yu Zhiling woke up, the system would deliver all the accumulated progress reports in one go, letting her bask in the sheer joy of being showered with virtue points.
A certain master shouted at the top of her lungs: "Mo Zhu!!"
Mo Zhu pushed open the door and entered, only to be met with his master’s affectionate gaze.
His master was just too adorable.
Mo Zhu didn’t understand why Yu Zhiling was so happy, but he approached the bedside and dutifully helped her sit up.
"Master, did you have a good dream?"
She was smiling so brightly—so beautifully.
Yu Zhiling scratched his chin playfully and grinned. "Of course I’m happy! My disciple is working so hard. As your master, I’m just so proud. But at the same time, I feel a deep sense of guilt. It’s really not right for me to just laze around and sleep, so from now on, I’ve decided—"
Mo Zhu was about to dissuade her, reminding her that she was still recovering and needed rest, not rushed cultivation.
But Yu Zhiling beat him to it: "From now on, I’ll cut my nap short by one hour to supervise your training and cheer you on! Go, Mo Zhu, go! You can do it!"
Mo Zhu: "..."
Well, his master was never going to be the hardworking type.
Though he didn’t fully understand some of her expressions, he could usually grasp the meaning from her tone and gestures.
Mo Zhu declined earnestly: "No need, Master. You should just sleep. There’s no need to watch me train."
Yu Zhiling tilted her head. "Why not?"
Mo Zhu: "Your injuries haven’t fully healed. You need more rest."
The real reason? She was a distraction.
With her around, he’d only want to look at her.
Touched to the point of tears, the silly master pinched her dark sesame-flavored Mo Zhu.
"Good boy, you’re the best! I hereby crown you the Nation’s Best Disciple—no, the best disciple in the entire world!"
And so, Yu Zhiling ultimately decided not to sacrifice her precious sleep. After all, her little disciple was right—Yu Zhiling needed to recover. The patient’s needs came first. Eating well and resting well were the keys to healing.
Yu Zhiling happily lounged as Mo Zhu bustled about, preparing dinner for her.
Then a thought struck her—her virtue points were nearing 2000. Based on her calculations, this would likely unlock the second phase of memories.
Given Mo Zhu’s cultivation speed, she’d probably dream again by tomorrow or the day after.
This time, what would she see?
What she truly wanted to uncover was the truth about Immortal Fuchun. What else had happened that drove Zhuo Yu to such despair, to the point where hatred consumed him and his cultivation stagnated?
Yu Zhiling sighed. Was it really just Immortal Fuchun’s death?
Or was there more to the story?
