Yu Zhiling had been living quite leisurely these days. With the Yingshan Sect enforcing strict lockdown measures—allowing entry but no exits—she found the perfect excuse to laze around without guilt.
Though the disturbances in the Four Slaughter Realms grew increasingly frequent, both Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan flatly rejected her offers to help, insisting she stay put in the Yingshan Sect until her injuries fully healed.
Her days followed a blissfully idle routine: sleeping in till noon, wheeling herself into the courtyard to bask in the sun, and waiting for lunch. If Mo Zhu didn’t return to join her, one of the three—Yan Shanqing, Ning Hengwu, or Xiang Wuxue—would inevitably drop by to make sure she ate before she dozed off for an afternoon nap, only to wake in time for her little disciple’s return in the evening.
Now, as dusk settled, Yu Zhiling lounged on the bamboo daybed in the courtyard, one leg casually propped over the other, counting the minutes until Mo Zhu came back to cook for her.
[Ding! The male protagonist has mastered the "Fragrant Breeze Sword Technique." Host’s virtue points +50. Current virtue points: 2450. Keep up the good work!]
Yu Zhiling cheered, "Good job, kiddo!"
Half a month had passed, and Mo Zhu had been diligently earning virtue points for her every single day. At this rate, she’d complete half her mission in no time!
Just as she finished her seventh tangerine and scrambled to hide the peels, the courtyard gate creaked open.
"Master, I’m back."
Caught red-handed, Yu Zhiling froze.
Mo Zhu’s gaze flickered to the tangerine peels clutched in her hand, and his brow arched slightly. "How many did you eat today?"
Without missing a beat, she lied, "Two."
She adored tangerines, and with the Huainan harvest at its peak, Xiang Wuxue had brought back several crates. Yu Zhiling would’ve happily camped in the storage room if not for her little disciple’s strict rationing—no more than two a day.
The reason was simple: too many would aggravate internal heat, and she was still recovering.
Mo Zhu clearly didn’t buy it. He stepped forward, gathering the scattered peels and chestnut shells from the table with a chuckle. "More like three or four, hm?"
Yu Zhiling pouted. If only he knew—she’d devoured seven! But since he’d given her an out, she played along. "Yeah, yeah, just three or four. No big deal."
"Fine, fine. No harm done."
Mo Zhu didn’t press further, tidying up as he casually asked, "Can you walk properly today?"
Yu Zhiling grinned, flipping off the daybed and circling him a few times. "Master could run eight hundred meters right now—no, make it two rounds! How’s that for progress?"
He studied her briefly before nodding, lips curving. "Very good. Very beautiful. That outfit suits you too. Everything about you is lovely today."
Yu Zhiling: "..."
She kicked at him. "Go make dinner!"
Mo Zhu rubbed his knee, feigning injury with a theatrical wince—though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Master, that hurt."
Despite his complaints, his smile never wavered. His voice softened into a coaxing lilt, sweet as honey, as if he’d taken lessons from a courtesan. And with that face—those tender, adoring eyes—he might as well have been a fox spirit sent to bewitch her.
Yu Zhiling raised a fist. "I’ll really hit you if you don’t move!"
Her little disciple straightened at once, though his smirk lingered. "As you wish, Master. I’ll obey."
With a final chuckle, Mo Zhu left for the kitchen, leaving Yu Zhiling alone in the courtyard. Her gaze drifted to the freshly cleaned table and the small bouquet of wild chrysanthemums placed discreetly beside her daybed. Her pulse quickened, warmth flooding her cheeks.
He’d been bringing her flowers every few days lately. Where had he even learned such tricks?
Yu Zhiling picked up the chrysanthemums, inhaling their faint scent before hastily setting them back, pretending she hadn’t touched them. She paced the courtyard, then glared at the open door where Mo Zhu bustled about preparing dinner.
That damned ink-blot of a disciple! She regretted ever tearing down that wall between them. Now he’d fully embraced his role as a little temptress—cultivating by day, clinging to her by night, and spouting… spouting sweet nothings at every turn.
Where was her cold, aloof little disciple? This flirty fox had taken his place, honing his skills in seducing his master to perfection!
With a huff, Yu Zhiling flopped back onto the daybed. The clatter of pots and pans from outside reminded her how quickly Mo Zhu learned. Once incapable of roasting a sweet potato, he now whipped up dozens of dishes—and was still expanding his repertoire.
A twinge of guilt pricked her. Her disciple truly was busy: training at dawn, tending to his half-crippled master by dusk, and only retiring to his own quarters after she’d fallen asleep.
Yu Zhiling took out a small wooden box from her Qiankun bag. Inside lay the little snake pendant she had asked Liu Guizheng to craft—a plump, uniquely styled serpent that represented her vision of Mo Zhu. While the world saw the majestic, winged Teng serpent as awe-inspiring and enormous, in her eyes, it was just a chubby little snake.
The thought of Mo Zhu wearing the tiny snake pendant, with both the big and small serpents appearing before her, made her stifle a laugh.
It was unbearably adorable.
Yu Zhiling tucked the pendant away. Now wasn’t the right time to gift it.
She lay on the couch for a while. It was late June, and the orange blossoms in the courtyard had bloomed, filling the air with their fresh, crisp fragrance.
Just as she was drifting into a drowsy slumber, Mo Zhu finally finished preparing dinner and entered with a tray.
The noise roused her, and she propped her head up to watch as her little disciple set the meal on the table. The aroma of stir-fried pork wafted toward her.
"What delicious treats did you make for your master today?"
Yu Zhiling sat up cross-legged, beaming, as Mo Zhu pushed the stone table closer to the bamboo couch.
"Your favorites. Your injuries have mostly healed, and Second Uncle said you can eat spicy food again. I added extra chili today—see how you like it."
Yu Zhiling took the chopsticks he handed her and declared cheerfully, "Then this master shall dig in!"
Her question had been perfunctory; without waiting for his reply, she picked up a bite and tasted it.
Mo Zhu sat quietly beside her. He rarely ate much, usually just sipping soup, but the way her eyes crinkled with delight told him he’d pleased her today.
She was so easy to please—just a good meal could make her happy. But winning her heart required more than that. He had to be good to her in every way.
Mo Zhu chuckled inwardly, his fondness for her growing as he listened to her hum a tune he didn’t recognize—but it sounded lovely.
Between bites, Yu Zhiling said, "The Spirit Artifact Pavilion should fully open in the next couple of days. Chengfeng has probably slept enough. I got a message from my senior brother today—it’ll likely be tomorrow or the day after."
Mo Zhu nodded. "Understood."
Yu Zhiling scooted closer to him, seeing his calm demeanor, and adopted a stern tone. "You need to prepare yourself. Opportunities favor the prepared!"
Mo Zhu: "Alright. I know you want the sword on the highest floor. I’ll bring it to you."
Yu Zhiling: "Correction—it’s not that I want it. You do."
Mo Zhu: "..."
Truthfully, he didn’t.
But a smart disciple knew one rule above all: the master’s word was law.
Mo Zhu nodded. "Right. This disciple wants it."
Yu Zhiling shoveled another mouthful of rice, chewed, and swallowed before asking, "Do you know the name of that sword on the highest floor?"
"Yes, I do."
Wuhui.
Once drawn, it never returns.
As the oldest and most prestigious sect in the Central Continent, the Yingshan Sect’s Spirit Artifact Pavilion had been established by its founding patriarch—Chengfeng’s master. The first artifact placed inside was Wuhui, a ruthless, masterless sword the patriarch had stumbled upon.
After the patriarch ascended, Chengfeng, the blade spirit, took charge of guarding the pavilion. Over the years, countless disciples of the Yingshan Sect had tried to claim Wuhui, yet none had succeeded in making the sword acknowledge them.
The spirit of Wuhui was fierce—an undeniably vicious blade, but also immensely powerful.
Yu Zhiling scoffed. "How vicious could it be compared to my Zhu Qing?"
Zhu Qing whined in protest, vibrating unhappily at its master’s public branding of it as a "vicious sword."
Yu Zhiling patted the blade beside her. "Back then, Zhu Qing shattered half my bones! But after I beat it senseless for half a month, it finally submitted!"
Ever since awakening, Zhu Qing’s spirit had clung to Yu Zhiling. Whenever she lounged in the courtyard, the sword would press close to her side.
Mo Zhu said nothing, simply watching her quietly.
Yu Zhiling pressed, "Zhu Qing, tell him! Isn’t that right?"
Zhu Qing: "Mhm! Mhm!"
It couldn’t speak, but it nodded vigorously—a sword bobbing up and down in midair.
Mo Zhu smiled faintly. "Master, I understand. I can obtain it. Let’s eat first."
Yu Zhiling’s expression turned serious. "Eat? No. We need to prepare."
Mo Zhu: "..."
Mo Zhu sighed. "What preparations does Master suggest?"
Yu Zhiling explained, "Claiming a lifebound artifact depends on how the weapon’s spirit tests you. Zhu Qing liked fighting, so I battled it for half a month until it surrendered. But Wuhui might be different. All these years, no disciple has reached the top floor or even seen the sword. No one knows how it tests its challengers."
Mo Zhu inclined his head. "It could be combat, a trial of the heart, or a task it demands. Or all three. Master, I know what to expect."
Yu Zhiling frowned. "So what if you know? If Wuhui wants to fight you, you might stand a chance. Weapon spirits usually suppress their power to match the challenger's level—it’d just be a test of endurance. But what if it’s an inner demon?"
Mo Zhu reassured her, "I don’t have any inner demons. I already passed that trial during my Nascent Soul lightning tribulation."
Yu Zhiling pressed, "What if it makes some absurd demand, like singing a tune or dancing?"
Mo Zhu: "..."
Yu Zhiling slammed the table. "You need to be prepared!"
Mo Zhu really wanted to say that weapon spirits with awakened intelligence weren’t as ridiculous as his master. In all these years, no weapon spirit had ever tested a challenger with something like singing or dancing.
But his little master’s train of thought was… uniquely unpredictable.
Mo Zhu could only nod. "Alright, I’ll prepare."
Yu Zhiling felt slightly more at ease but still demanded a promise from him.
"You also have to swear to me that no matter what happens, your life comes first. Chengfeng, the spirit of the Spirit Armory, will oversee the trial once you enter. If your life is truly in danger, it’ll pull you out. But what if—just what if—Chengfeng dozes off?"
It had happened before. Chengfeng loved to sleep. Centuries ago, a disciple had nearly died during a sword trial because Chengfeng was napping. If not for the disciple’s master sensing the danger and barging in, that disciple would have perished under the sword spirit’s test.
Zhu Qing nuzzled against its master, pressing its hilt to her cheek.
Too busy to entertain it, Yu Zhiling pushed it away. "Stop clinging to me. You’re a grown sword spirit now. I’m occupied."
Mo Zhu sighed. "Master, it seems like it has something to say."
Yu Zhiling: "?"
She eyed Zhu Qing suspiciously. "You have something to say?"
Zhu Qing flew to Mo Zhu’s side, affectionately rubbing against its master’s obedient disciple. It adored Mo Zhu because he treated Yu Zhiling well—something Zhu Qing deeply appreciated.
Damn it, it couldn’t speak! All it could do was wiggle its stiff blade, hoping its master would understand.
But its dense, clueless master only squinted, utterly failing to grasp its meaning.
Zhu Qing frantically nudged Mo Zhu.
Mo Zhu dodged slightly but stayed silent.
Yu Zhiling: "…Are you into him now? I’m your master! You fickle, two-timing traitor!"
Zhu Qing: "..."
Zhu Qing: "Aaaah!"
Shut up, Master! A sword would never cheat!
Mo Zhu steadied the agitated Zhu Qing and ventured, "You want to go in with me?"
Zhu Qing: "Mhm!"
Yu Zhiling: "…………"
Mo Zhu set Zhu Qing down and glanced at Yu Zhiling.
His master was poking at her rice bowl, muttering, "Why follow him? I’m your master. You must have a crush on him."
Zhu Qing, exhausted, lay motionless on the table like a dead blade.
Mo Zhu defended Zhu Qing’s honor. "Zhu Qing is one of the three Divine Artifacts. It can communicate with Chengfeng. If Chengfeng really falls asleep, Zhu Qing can wake it up. That’s probably what it meant, Master."
Zhu Qing buzzed in agreement.
Yu Zhiling: "…Oh."
She shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice, mumbling through her food to salvage her dignity. "Fine, go ahead."
Mo Zhu stroked Zhu Qing’s hilt. The sword never rejected him—it adored anyone who treated Yu Zhiling well. But if he ever betrayed her, Zhu Qing would be the first to unsheathe and strike him down.
"Master, will you wait outside the Spirit Armory for me?"
"Mhm, sure."
Yu Zhiling, still chewing, glanced up at him before resuming her meal.
She didn’t hesitate. She’d already planned to stay outside the Spirit Armory. Whether she lazed around at Listening Spring Cliff or outside the armory made no difference—she simply couldn’t let Mo Zhu go alone.
The original novel mentioned Mo Zhu obtaining the sword but never described how difficult the process was. The unknown bred fear, even for her.
Mo Zhu smiled, placing a chicken drumstick in her bowl.
"With you waiting for me, I can accomplish anything."
If she stood guard outside, he would climb to the highest floor and claim the sword she wanted him to have.
Yu Zhiling nearly choked on her rice, hastily gulping down water before shooting him a fierce glare.
Mo Zhu gently patted her back, coaxing, "Eat slowly. Don’t choke."
Little rascal! Did he not realize why she’d choked in the first place?!
Yu Zhiling wriggled away, putting distance between herself and her disciple, who lately seemed determined to flirt at every turn.
No matter how subtly he tempted her—Yu Zhiling’s Dao Heart remained unshakable!
Yu Zhiling hummed twice before happily digging into her meal.
Ah, her little disciple had surely won over her stomach first. As expected, the protagonist succeeds in everything they do.
The successful disciple sipped his porridge leisurely, his movements refined and dignified. After all, he was of royal lineage. Even though he had wandered with his parents in his early years, they had never neglected to teach him proper etiquette.
Mo Zhu glanced at Zhu Qing on the table, knowing full well that this sword was playing matchmaker between him and Yu Zhiling.
Zhu Qing nodded in response.
The boy was teachable! Its master sorely needed someone warm and persistent to pursue her. Wu Zhaoyan, that prideful man who had known its master for two centuries, hadn’t made a single inch of progress—what a disgrace! Such a prime opportunity, yet he couldn’t pluck this lofty moon of a master.
But with this little bun of a disciple? At this rate, it wouldn’t take ten years for him to win over its aloof, untouchable master!
After finishing dinner and tidying up, Mo Zhu sat in the room, listening as Yu Zhiling’s breathing gradually steadied into sleep.
He had adorned the entire Tingchun Cliff with luminous pearls. Along the path outside her door, pearls were placed at regular intervals, ensuring that after curfew, the only illuminated place in the entire Yingshan Sect was Tingchun Cliff.
Mo Zhu lowered his gaze to watch her. She had grown accustomed to his presence now—every night, he would wait until she fell asleep before returning to his own quarters.
The young man watched for a long while before reaching out to tuck the blanket more securely around her.
"Goodnight, Master," he murmured.
She always said it first, and he always replied in kind.
Yu Zhiling didn’t respond, already lost in dreams.
Mo Zhu rose and left, closing the door behind him.
Inside, the window was half-open, and the bedroom was embedded with over a dozen ever-glowing luminous pearls. The bed curtains were left undrawn, leaving the room bright and open—nothing like the dark, enclosed spaces she feared.
Yu Zhiling drifted hazily, her dreams a mystery to all, unseen and unknown.
The autumn wind howled, stripping the last of the orange blossoms from the trees of Yingshan Sect. The fallen petals drifted into the pond below.
The window was pushed open from within, and Zhuo Yu lifted her face to the dim sky, Zhu Qing hanging quietly at her waist.
She stretched out her hand. It had rained the night before, and droplets from the eaves fell onto her palm, icy and sharp.
"Zhu Qing," Zhuo Yu said, "this time, when we enter the Four Slaughter Realm, we may not return. Are you afraid?"
Zhu Qing remained silent. A sword knew no fear, but it shared its master’s emotions—and Zhuo Yu’s heart was a still, lifeless pool, devoid of feeling.
"Little Five."
Zhuo Yu turned. A group approached from the distance.
Yan Shanqing in deep blue sect robes, Ning Hengwu in pale green, and Xiang Wuxue in dark red.
Yan Shanqing carried an oil-paper bag, grinning as he walked. "The Four Slaughter Realm is stirring again, isn’t it? If Yun Zhi hadn’t sent word that you were going alone, we wouldn’t have known. Leaving so early—have you eaten?"
Zhuo Yu smiled faintly. "Yun Zhi told you?"
Ning Hengwu stepped forward and patted her head. "Of course. Yun Zhi suddenly sent word that you were going alone, so your senior brothers and sisters came early to see you off. You never eat properly."
Zhuo Yu murmured, "Yun Zhi told you…"
Xiang Wuxue and Yan Shanqing were already setting out the meal. Hearing this, they glanced at the two women.
"Hengwu, Little Five will be back by evening. Come eat first. Your Fourth Senior Sister will be here soon."
As if summoned, a bright voice called from afar.
"I’m here! I bought buns from the foot of the mountain—pickled vegetable filling. Little Five loved these as a child."
Zhuo Yu looked toward the voice. Mei Qiongge came running, two oil-paper bags in hand, dressed in resplendent golden robes, her hair adorned with ornate hairpins. Before joining Yingshan Sect, she had been the eldest princess of the human realm’s imperial family—her love for lavish jewelry had never faded.
Mei Qiongge reached Zhuo Yu’s side and proudly displayed the bags. "Guess what else Fourth Senior Sister bought?"
Ning Hengwu teased, "It must be more hairpins and trinkets. You always spoil Little Five with these gaudy things, even though she never wears them."
Mei Qiongge frowned. "Second Senior Sister, today is Little Five’s birthday! These are birthday gifts!"
Ning Hengwu chuckled. "I’ve prepared something too. I’ll give it to her when she returns tonight."
Yan Shanqing, already seated, rapped the table. "Come eat. She won’t be back until late, and Third Brother and I have to go to Chengdong City this afternoon. We won’t be able to gather tonight."
Xiang Wuxue added, "The gifts from Eldest Senior Brother and me are already in Second Senior Sister’s room. Little Five can collect them when she returns. We have matters to attend to this afternoon."
So they had risen early, moving the birthday feast—usually held in the evening—to the morning.
Zhuo Yu’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Alright."
Such a lavish spread at dawn—these dishes must have been prepared at the crack of morning.
Mei Qiongge had already begun eagerly unwrapping her gift. Her personality was as bold and vibrant as her attire. This year, she had brought pearls from the East Sea, specially crafted into hairpins.
"Xiaowu, lower your head a little. Let your senior sister pin this for you."
Zhuo Yu obeyed meekly, tilting her head down to reveal a simple bun tied with nothing but a hair ribbon.
Mei Qiongge undid the ribbon and deftly coiled her hair into an elegant updo, securing it with an exquisitely crafted pearl hairpin.
"Xiaowu, this is a mermaid pearl—one formed only once every hundred years. It’s not just an ornament. You can even use it as a lamp. The Four Killings Realm is terribly dark, but if you venture deeper, you won’t need to waste spiritual energy lighting your way. This hairpin will glow for you."
"As long as you wear it, as long as it remains unbroken, darkness will never touch you. This is my gift to you—an everlasting light."
Zhuo Yu reached up to touch the hairpin, her eyes curving into crescents as she smiled. "Thank you, Fourth Senior Sister."
Ning Hengwu shot Mei Qiongge a mock glare. "You and your silver tongue. My gift is just as good. I’ll give it to you myself when you return tonight."
Zhuo Yu nodded. "Alright."
She finished the bowl of longevity noodles Yan Shanqing had made for her, draining the last of the broth before setting the bowl down. When she lifted her head to meet the gazes of her four companions, her eyes brimmed with tears.
"Xiaowu?"
Alarmed, they rushed to her side, abandoning their seats.
"Why are you crying? Was the food not good?"
"Are you tired? Should we discuss with Yun Zhi and let him handle the unrest in the Four Killings Realm this time?"
They fired questions at her, but Zhuo Yu covered her face.
She couldn’t stop the tears, just as she couldn’t stay with them.
Her voice trembled, thick with emotion. "I’m just… I’m just so happy."
Ning Hengwu gently pulled her hands away, wiping her cheeks. "Are you really happy, Xiaowu?"
Zhuo Yu smiled—a radiant, unguarded expression she hadn’t worn in decades, one that mirrored the carefree Yu Xiaowu of the past.
"Yes, so happy. In my next life, I still want to be Yu Xiaowu. For every lifetime after, I want to be Yu Xiaowu."
Ning Hengwu tapped her nose playfully. "Silly girl, what nonsense are you spouting? Once you ascend, you’ll live as long as the heavens. The rest of us will still be stuck cultivating for another century before we can join you. But when we do, we’ll all be together again."
Zhuo Yu nodded. "Alright. I’ll wait for you."
She finished the meal, savoring every bite of this birthday feast—her 183rd, celebrated once again by her senior brothers and sisters.
It had been this way every year.
Once, Fuchun had made her longevity noodles. Now, it was her eldest brother, Yan Shanqing.
The taste was entirely different, just as they were no longer the sheltered disciples under their master’s protection. Yan Shanqing had become sect leader, Ning Hengwu had inherited the Medicine Valley, Xiang Wuxue devoted himself to his mechanical arts, and Mei Qiongge spent her days evading the royal family desperate to drag her back as their sovereign.
And Yu Xiaowu, once the most unruly of them all, had become Central Continent’s Immortal Lord Zhuoyu. Until her ascension, she would wield her sword tirelessly for the land—hunting evil, suppressing the chaos of the Four Killings Realm.
This time was no different.
Except it was.
Because this time, she wasn’t journeying to the Four Killings Realm for Central Continent.
Standing atop the peak of Listening Spring Cliff, she turned to gaze at the familiar landscape—every tree, every blade of grass etched into her memory after so many years.
Yan Shanqing and the others watched from a distance.
"Xiaowu, come back early tonight."
Zhuo Yu smiled, the mountain wind tousling her hair and fluttering her robes.
"Eldest Brother, Second Sister, Third Brother, Fourth Sister."
She tightened her grip on her sword, her voice soft. "If I’m late, don’t wait for me to eat."
Ning Hengwu huffed. "Then just come back on time, won’t you?"
Zhuo Yu kept smiling, as if pouring every remaining trace of joy into this moment.
"Alright. I’ll return soon."
She turned and walked toward the cliff’s edge, boarding her miniature vessel. But just as it began to rise, she paused.
Looking back at the four of them, she said, "There’s something buried under the orange blossom tree in the back mountain. I’ve set a restriction—it won’t open for ten years. That’s my gift to you. Brothers, sisters, my memory is poor. If I forget, you must remember to retrieve it."
"I really, truly, deeply love you all."
Then she stepped fully onto the vessel.
It lifted into the void, carrying her toward the Four Killings Realm.
Ten years passed in a blink.
Yu Zhiling opened her eyes, her expression blank. She touched the pillow beside her—already soaked through.
Tears had drenched the silk, just as they had drenched her heart.
Zhu Qing lay curled beside her, stirring excitedly when it sensed her awake.
Yu Zhiling remembered: when Zhuo Yu left for the Four Killings Realm, she had taken Zhu Qing with her.
But the real Zhuo Yu had remained in that realm.
The false Immortal Lord Zhuoyu had returned to Yingshan Sect with Zhu Qing in tow.
Zhu Qing had chosen to slumber because its master was missing, and even the fake Zhuo Yu couldn’t wield it.
What if—what if Zhuo Yu had taken Zhu Qing into the Four Slaughter Realm? A sword spirit with awakened intelligence like that…
Would it know what had truly happened inside the Four Slaughter Realm?
Or perhaps… what its master, Yu Xiaowu, had experienced there?
Yu Zhiling sat up, her gaze drifting toward the mountain shadows outside the window—the back hills of the Listening Spring Cliff.
"I buried something beneath the orange blossom tree in the back hills. I set a restriction—you won’t be able to open it until ten years later. It’s my gift to you, Senior Brother, Senior Sister. My memory is poor. If I forget about it, you must remember to retrieve it."
Yu Zhiling rose, slipping on her outer robe as she made her way to the back hills.
She had a feeling—whatever Yu Xiaowu had left behind was far more important than it seemed.
