Yu Zhiling's heavenly tribulation arrived swiftly.
When the thunderclouds gathered, she was sitting cross-legged in the courtyard having her meal. Yan Shanqing hadn’t visited her in the past two days, but Yu Zhiling didn’t think he was angry—she knew he had his own matters to attend to.
Mo Zhu glanced at the tribulation lightning brewing over the distant mountain peaks, his lips pressing into a thin line as his expression tensed. "Master, the heavenly tribulation is coming."
Yu Zhiling, however, remained perfectly calm. She popped the last bite of rice into her mouth, chewing leisurely before replying, "I’m off to face the tribulation. Don’t come near the back mountain—just wait here for me to return for dinner."
She spoke of the tribulation as casually as if she were heading down the mountain to buy wine, her smiling face radiating ease. She even had the leisure to take a sip of soup before standing.
As Yu Zhiling turned to leave, Mo Zhu remained seated in the sandalwood chair, only lifting his head to call after her. "Master."
Yu Zhiling turned back. "Hmm? What is it?"
Mo Zhu hesitated for a moment before saying, "Come back soon. I’ll be waiting."
"Alright."
He watched her depart. The sheer pressure of the tribulation lightning alone was enough to blanket the entire Yingshan Sect. Disciples with lower cultivation levels shuddered under the oppressive force, though the boundless realm’s barrier swiftly neutralized the pressure. The heavenly-grade barrier couldn’t block the lightning itself, but it automatically shielded the disciples within.
Yu Zhiling made her way to the back mountain, trudging step by step up the slope. Since using spiritual energy would only agitate the tribulation, she chose to climb on foot.
When she reached the orange blossom tree halfway up the mountain, she paused, reaching out to touch its thick trunk.
This tree was already a hundred and seventy years old. Back then, Fuchun had planted it with her own hands while living on Tingchun Cliff with Yu Xiaowu.
Yu Zhiling withdrew her hand and continued resolutely toward the summit. Upon reaching the broad, treeless peak, she set up a barrier formation, containing the tribulation lightning within its bounds.
She sat cross-legged on the ground, gazing down at the vast expanse of the Yingshan Sect. Among its many structures, Yan Shanqing, Ning Hengwu, Xiang Wuxue, and Mei Qiongge were surely aware that her tribulation had arrived.
Above her, the thunder rumbled ominously. The nine bolts of heavenly tribulation were each equivalent to nine bolts at the Mahayana stage.
Yu Zhiling lowered her head slightly, idly knotting the ribbons on her robes while humming a soft tune. But beneath the calm facade, her heart pounded violently, as if trying to break free from her chest.
This was her first time enduring a tribulation alone. When she first arrived in this world, she had already possessed peak Mahayana strength—all previous tribulations had been weathered by Zhuo Yu. Now, with a different soul in this body, Yu Zhiling had only witnessed Mo Zhu’s tribulation, where the lightning struck mercilessly and the Heavenly Dao tested one’s heart with illusions of inner demons.
She wasn’t sure if her current state of mind could withstand it.
She tilted her head back, staring at the roiling dark clouds high above. The oppressive gloom unsettled her, but she found solace in one thing…
Her fingers brushed the small pendant at her waist.
This was the second mermaid pearl Mei Qiongge had given her—just yesterday.
The hairpin from before had likely been lost in the Four Slaughter Realm, never to be found again. So Mei Qiongge had retrieved another pearl from the human realm’s royal family and gifted it to her. It hadn’t yet been crafted into a hairpin, remaining a simple pendant for now.
As the clouds thickened and the darkness deepened, the mermaid pearl at her waist glowed brighter, illuminating the space around her like daylight.
Then, the first bolt of tribulation lightning struck.
The impact was earth-shattering, collapsing a portion of the mountaintop as the deafening roar echoed for miles.
Back in the small courtyard on Tingchun Cliff, Mo Zhu sat motionless before the now-cold dishes. Yu Zhiling’s half-finished bowl of congee remained untouched. The sudden arrival of the tribulation had interrupted seventy years of stagnant cultivation—thanks to that manual, her power had surged like bamboo shoots after rain.
He wasn’t overly worried about her fear of pain. Though Yu Zhiling often acted delicate, she was far more resilient than she let on.
What truly frightened him were her inner demons—the memories that had made her weep countless times before.
And he wasn’t the only one afraid.
Yan Shanqing and the others shared the same dread.
No one knew what trials the Heavenly Dao would subject her to, or whether she could emerge unscathed from those painful recollections.
Mo Zhu had no appetite. He sat like a statue in his chair, listening to the terrifying peals of thunder rolling from the back mountain.
Nor was he the only one distracted.
Throughout the Yingshan Sect, disciples paused their training, all eyes fixed on the distant peak. They knew their Zhuo Yu Immortal Venerable was undergoing her tribulation—perhaps today, the youngest Tribulation-stage cultivator in the Central Continent would be born.
In the Teaching Hall, Yan Shanqing reclined in his chair, gaze drifting over the half-written calligraphy before him. The characters started neat but grew increasingly erratic, the final stroke ruined by an abrupt tremor of his hand.
Once the tribulation struck, his work for the day had come to an end.
The hall held several others—Ning Hengwu, Xiang Wuxue, and Mei Qiongge sat below, while Wu Zhaoyan occupied the opposite seat.
The five of them sat in silence. The second bolt of lightning would follow an hour after the first. When it finally crashed down, even the reinforced Teaching Hall trembled.
It was then that Wu Zhaoyan spoke. "Once Yu Xiaowu finishes her tribulation, we must tell her. If something has truly happened to Yun Zhi, she’ll be devastated."
Yan Shanqing gave a quiet hum of agreement. "Mm."
They had kept it from Yu Zhiling for two days precisely because they knew her tribulation was imminent. They wanted her to undergo it safely within the Yingshan Sect. Had she learned of Yun Zhi’s disappearance, she would have undoubtedly rushed down the mountain with Wu Zhaoyan immediately. Facing a tribulation outside the sect was dangerous—there was always the risk of enemies striking when she was weakened after the ordeal.
But now, Yun Zhi had been missing for five days.
And Yun Zhi was one of Yu Xiaowu’s dearest friends.
"Xiaowu."
Snowflakes as thick as goose feathers drifted over Tingchun Cliff, melting into the pond below.
Yan Shanqing was polishing bamboo chopsticks when he glanced up, remarking lightly, "Where have you been playing this time? You’re covered in thorns."
Xiang Wuxue stood, plucking the bramble spikes from Yu Zhiling’s clothes with an amused chuckle. "One, two, three… Xiaowu, there are seventeen of them! Doesn’t it itch?"
Yu Zhiling looked down at the mud staining her skirt before grinning up at them. "These can be used for medicine! I brought them back for Second Sister to use."
From the pavilion, Ning Hengwu shot her a mock-stern look. "Always so sweet-tongued. Come sit—aren’t you cold?"
Yu Zhiling gathered her skirts and settled beside her, still smiling, though her gaze lingered on the woman across the table.
Her features were gentle as she adjusted the broth.
The two tables in the pavilion had been pushed together, laden with meats, vegetables, and a bubbling hot pot—the Yingshan Sect’s monthly communal meal, and Yu Xiaowu’s favorite.
Fuchun lifted her eyes, warmth glimmering in their depths. "Xiaowu, Master will be undergoing tribulation soon and will enter seclusion for a few days. If you find Tingchun Cliff too lonely, you may stay with your senior brothers and sisters."
Yu Zhiling nodded cheerfully. "Of course!"
Mei Qiongge beside Fuchun quickly raised her hand: "Come to my place. I just ordered several batches of silk to have a new robe made for Xiaowu."
Yu Zhiling answered loudly: "Yes!"
She looked genuinely happy, her smiling face radiant and carefree, utterly adorable. The others couldn't help but chuckle.
Some washed vegetables, others chopped them—each had their own task. Yu Zhiling arrived a bit late and found nothing left to do, so she watched as her senior brothers, sisters, and master swiftly prepared the meal.
Fuchun rolled up her sleeves and stirred the soup with practiced ease, casually mentioning: "The Grand Gathering of Heroes is about to begin. This time, the Zhongli Family, Yun Family, Wu Family, Jiang Family, and the three major sects will all send disciples. Yingshan Sect has seventeen participants. Shanqing, remember to keep an eye on Xiaowu."
Yu Zhiling frowned and protested: "Why only watch me? I'm already an adult!"
Fuchun gave her a lazy glance: "Because this little Yu Xiaowu has participated in the Gathering three times and caused trouble every single time."
Yan Shanqing continued without looking up: "First, she broke the lifebound sword of the Young Master of the Sword Sect. Second, she broke the leg of the Second Young Master of the Yun Family. And the third time—what was it again?"
Xiang Wuxue seamlessly picked up: "Tried to play matchmaker for the Young Master of the Jiang Family, who cultivates the Path of Emotionlessness. His parents were so furious they came after her with swords."
Yu Zhiling: "..."
Yu Zhiling lowered her head and took a big bite of meat: "Oh."
Fuchun couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. Reaching across the table, she patted Yu Zhiling’s head: "Be good and listen to your seniors. But also protect them. I won’t be going this time. If anyone bullies you, Xiaowu, don’t hold back."
Yu Zhiling nuzzled into her palm: "Hehe, of course not!"
Fuchun added more meat to her bowl: "Eat more. You’re too thin."
Yu Zhiling happily devoured the meat, her eyes squinting with delight: "So good!"
Yan Shanqing rolled his eyes: "You’ve loved Master’s marinated meat since you were little. Never get tired of it."
Despite his words, he scooped the portion Fuchun had just served him into Yu Zhiling’s bowl.
"Eat, eat. No idea where all that food goes—you stay so slim. People might think Yingshan Sect starves you."
Yu Zhiling giggled and clung to his arm: "Senior Brother, you’re the best! The finest in all of Zhongzhou!"
Yan Shanqing shuddered in disgust and flicked her forehead, pushing her into Ning Hengwu’s arms.
"Ugh, get off me! If you’d cause less trouble, I’d wake up laughing."
Ning Hengwu caught her and rubbed her forehead: "Aiyo, poor thing. Your senior brother hits so hard."
Yu Zhiling covered her face and fake-sobbed: "Second Senior Sister, look at him!"
Mei Qiongge kicked Yan Shanqing under the table: "Xiaowu never causes trouble—she just likes to fight. And she’s strong enough to never lose."
Yan Shanqing flushed red: "She doesn’t get beaten—she’s the one doing the beating!"
Yu Zhiling buried herself in Ning Hengwu’s arms and wailed: "Second Senior Sister, my head hurts!"
She’d always been dramatic. Ning Hengwu played along, patting the little fox in her arms: "Oh dear, Xiaowu’s forehead is all red! What if she gets brain damage?"
It wasn’t actually red—Yan Shanqing hadn’t hit her hard. But Yu Zhiling’s fair skin made even the faintest mark stand out, though it would fade quickly.
Yan Shanqing rolled his eyes at the two of them, knowing the whole table would side with Yu Xiaowu.
Across from them, Fuchun laughed until her shoulders shook.
"Xiaowu, jokes aside—try not to stir up trouble at the Gathering. We don’t fear conflict, but we don’t seek it either."
Yu Zhiling grinned carelessly: "Got it! Yes, Master!"
Fuchun sighed softly: "You’ve all grown up so much."
Xiang Wuxue, seated beside her, poured her a cup of water and murmured: "Master, we’re all grown now."
Fuchun rested her chin on her hand, lost in memory.
"When I found Shanqing, it was also a snowy day like this. I’d just become Yingshan Sect’s leader and didn’t plan to take disciples. I meant to send him to a good family, but he was so small—five or six years old—and he tugged my sleeve, asking, ‘Pretty fairy, can I go with you?’"
Yu Zhiling giggled: "Senior Brother’s always known how to appreciate beauty."
Yan Shanqing raised a hand to flick her again, but Ning Hengwu shot him a warning look.
Yu Zhiling stuck out her tongue from the safety of her sister’s arms.
Fuchun watched their antics, still smiling.
"After raising Shanqing, the head of the Divine Doctor Valley—an old friend—asked if her frail daughter could train under me. Seeing how skilled Hengwu was with medicine even as a child, I took her in."
Ning Hengwu smiled: "Master guided me onto the path. Now my health is much better."
Yu Zhiling nuzzled her: "You and Master were fated to meet."
Fuchun nodded, then turned to Xiang Wuxue: "About ten years later, Hengwu found Wuxue at the mountain’s base while treating patients. He wasn’t even ten yet, but his talent for talismans and mechanisms was extraordinary. When I asked if he had family, he said they’d died in a demon attack. So I kept him."
Xiang Wuxue raised his cup to Ning Hengwu: "I owe my life to Senior Sister. Thank you."
Ning Hengwu teased: "Just build me more medicine cabinets in return."
Xiang Wuxue grinned: "Deal. I’ll start tonight."
After recounting the first three disciples, Fuchun’s gaze settled on Mei Qiongge.
"Qiongge is the eldest princess of the mortal emperor’s line. You awakened your spiritual roots at birth. Your father, valuing talent, originally intended for you to train with me until forming your golden core, then return to inherit the throne and extend your lifespan. But once you began cultivating, you refused to go back. A twist of fate."
Mei Qiongge lounged lazily, sipping tea: "I’d never be emperor. I’ll stay with Master forever."
Though over two hundred years old, before her master, she remained a child.
Finally, Fuchun looked at Yu Zhiling nestled in Ning Hengwu’s arms, her eyes tender.
"Xiaowu, I didn’t raise you—your seniors did. You weren’t even a month old when I became occupied with Zhongzhou affairs. Your brothers and sisters took shifts caring for you. You grew from this tiny thing to wobbling on your feet."
"Your first word was ‘shijie’ and ‘shixiong.’ Your first ten steps alone were toward your second sister waiting at the end. Now look at you—all grown up."
"Time flies so quickly, Xiaowu."
Yu Zhiling smiled in response, "Indeed, time flies, Master."
Fuchun sighed with emotion, "I've longed for you all to grow up, yet also wished you'd grow slower—to stay by my side a little longer."
Yan Shanqing replied softly, "We will, Master. Your disciples will never leave you."
Mei Qiongge added, "Master will ascend to immortality in another hundred years. When that time comes, wait for us in the Ninth Heaven. We’ll cultivate diligently and join you soon. We’ll all be together again."
Ning Hengwu chimed in, "Xiaowu will likely be the first among us to ascend after Master. The rest of us will hasten our cultivation too. Please don’t worry, Master."
Xiang Wuxue nodded in agreement, "As long as we’re together as a family, we’ll always stay united."
Fuchun gazed at Yu Zhiling, her eyes as tender as autumn waters.
"Xiaowu, promise me you’ll stay in the Yingshan Sect, with your senior brothers and sisters. Don’t go anywhere else."
Yu Zhiling hesitated, "Stay... here forever?"
Fuchun nodded, "Yes, stay here forever. Don’t leave, alright? Stay with us."
Yu Zhiling’s vision blurred as she leaned into Ning Hengwu’s embrace, breathing in her faint, soothing fragrance.
She sat in the warmth of the pavilion, snow falling heavily outside while spring-like comfort enveloped them inside.
Around her were the spirited Yan Shanqing, the gentle and carefree Ning Hengwu, the serene Xiang Wuxue, the fiery Mei Qiongge, and—
Fuchun, who had saved her life and imparted all her knowledge.
Yu Zhiling slowly straightened, pulling away from Ning Hengwu’s arms. The moment she did, a biting cold pierced through her.
She lowered her head, taking the last bite of meat and the final sip of tea before lifting her gaze to meet the tender eyes of her companions.
Standing up, she smiled brightly. "Master, senior brothers, senior sisters, I still have some matters to attend to."
Fuchun pleaded, "Xiaowu, stay a little longer. Spend some more time with me."
Yan Shanqing and the others echoed, "Xiaowu, we’re all here. Didn’t you want to play kickball? We’ll go once the snow stops, alright?"
"Xiaowu, can’t it wait? Let’s finish this meal together first."
Yu Zhiling looked at Fuchun.
Fuchun sat upright, bamboo chopsticks still in hand from serving her disciples. She tilted her head slightly, her warm smile unwavering.
"Xiaowu, I spent a long time preparing this meal. Let’s eat together, won’t you?"
Tears streamed down Yu Zhiling’s face as she laughed, her voice trembling. "I’ll handle my business and come right back."
She turned and stepped away, one foot after another, leaving the warmth of the pavilion behind.
Fuchun’s voice followed her gently, "Xiaowu, must you really go?"
Yu Zhiling stifled a sob, covering her mouth as she stepped into the blizzard. Snowflakes settled on her raven hair and thin green robes, melting against her skin into icy droplets.
"Xiaowu, I truly wish to share this meal with you."
With each step farther from the pavilion, her voice cracked with emotion.
"Xiaowu, why won’t you look back? Just one last glance at your master?"
"Just once. I miss you so much."
Yu Zhiling whispered to herself,
Look back at her—this is Fuchun, alive and well, before she faced her heavenly tribulation.
Behind her stood Fuchun, who had raised her like a mother, her beloved senior brothers and sisters, and the happiest days of their family of six.
For a fleeting moment, she nearly turned back—to finish this meal, their last together, their final moment of peace.
A meal prepared by Fuchun, with Yan Shanqing and the others still there.
But in the next breath, she shut her eyes, spun around, and channeled her spiritual energy into a blade—shattering the pavilion in one strike.
Broken tiles buried Fuchun and the others, plunging into the lake with the rubble. The tranquil waters surged violently, swallowing everything whole.
When she opened her eyes again, the final heavenly lightning struck, crashing onto her back.
The mountaintop was sheared in half, dust and smoke swirling around her as she lay in the crater, her hands trembling, flesh torn. Yu Zhiling wailed in anguish.
When had she realized this was an illusion conjured by her inner demons?
The moment Fuchun spoke those words—
"Xiaowu, stay in the Yingshan Sect forever, with your senior brothers and sisters. Don’t go anywhere else."
But in truth, Fuchun would never have said that.
In reality, after Xiang Wuxue’s words, Fuchun had quietly observed her obedient disciples.
She sighed and shook her head. "My children, Yingshan is too small to contain your futures. Your destinies lie in the vast world beyond."
Fuchun would never have asked them to stay. She would only ever urge them to soar higher.
And with that realization, Yu Zhiling jolted awake—trapped in a demonic illusion.
She remembered everything—the past, the present.
Where was Fuchun now in reality?
Where was their master?
The oppressive aura dissipated, the thunderclouds vanished, and the long-hidden sun emerged.
Mo Zhu looked toward the mountain peak, his clenched fist finally loosening after an entire day of tension.
Despite the countless words in his heart, only one escaped his lips.
"Master."
In the teaching hall, the rigid figures exhaled in unison.
Yan Shanqing collapsed into his chair, his palms damp with sweat.
From his elevated seat, he exchanged glances with the other four, and suddenly, laughter bubbled forth—
The first genuine laughter in a long time.
In the six hundredth year of the Xiqing era, the Central Plains welcomed another cultivator who had transcended the heavenly tribulation.
Yu Zhiling pushed open the doors of the Listening Spring Cliff, where a lone figure sat waiting in the courtyard.
"Master."
Avoiding his gaze, she shielded her swollen eyes and stammered, "Why are you still here? I told you to go cultivate."
Mo Zhu approached, brushing the dust from her shoulders.
"I couldn’t focus. I was worried about you."
She shifted uncomfortably, stepping back. "I’m fine. I’m going to bathe."
He withdrew his hand, his eyes lingering briefly on her tear-streaked face before looking away. "The spring water is ready."
Yu Zhiling turned and left, entering the steamy bathhouse Mo Zhu had prepared.
True to her modern habits, she couldn’t stand the grime and blood clinging to her. Carefully undressing before the mirror, she winced as dried blood pulled at her wounds.
Most of the injuries were on her back. She picked up scissors, intending to cut away the fabric stuck to her skin.
Exhaustion weighed on her, and the promise of hot water was the only solace she sought.
After struggling for a long time without managing to cut open her clothes—only aggravating her wounds in the process—Yu Zhiling set down the scissors and stood silently in the room, considering whether to call for Ning Hengwu.
Just then, a careful knock sounded at the door. "Master, do you need help?"
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "No."
Mo Zhu paused before speaking again. "The sect leader and the others are discussing matters in the Council Hall. Should I summon them?"
The Council Hall? That meant they were occupied with important matters.
Yu Zhiling hesitated briefly before softly refusing. "It's fine. I can manage."
The outside fell silent for a long while, and she nearly gave up on bathing altogether, thinking of simply using a cleansing spell instead.
But then Mo Zhu's voice came again. "Master, let me help."
Yu Zhiling instinctively refused. "No need."
Mo Zhu persisted. "I’ll only cut open the fabric on your back and leave immediately. You can’t do it yourself, and I’ve tended to your wounds before at the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion. I won’t overstep. Please trust me."
Yu Zhiling glanced at herself in the mirror before finally sinking into a wooden chair, defeated.
"Come in."
Her voice was heavy, her mood clearly low.
Mo Zhu pushed the door open and stepped lightly behind her. The sight of the tattered green robes and the burns beneath—deep, bone-exposing wounds—made his chest tighten. It looked agonizing.
Yu Zhiling had cried many times, but never from pain. The redness at the corners of her eyes told him exactly what had caused it.
Her inner demons.
Mo Zhu swallowed hard, his expression darkening as he picked up the scissors. "Master, I’ll begin. Tell me if it hurts."
Yu Zhiling only murmured, "Mm."
He worked as gently as possible, carefully peeling away the fabric stuck to her wounds, but it was impossible to avoid pulling at the injuries. Her back was drenched in blood, yet she never once cried out in pain.
She simply sat there, slumped forward, lost in thought. The gruesome injuries made his heart ache—he would have gladly taken them for her. But she seemed indifferent, as though her spirit had fled, leaving only an empty shell behind.
Mo Zhu cut away the last of the fabric and whispered, "Master, it’s done."
Yu Zhiling stood. "Good. You may leave."
Her entire back was a mess of gashes, flesh torn and bleeding. Mo Zhu couldn’t bear to look, his chest tight with sorrow.
"Master, do you need assistance bathing? I can seal my senses to help."
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "No. I’ll manage. I’ll avoid the wounds."
With no choice, Mo Zhu turned and left.
He stood in the courtyard, listening to the sound of water from the bathhouse. But there was no trace of impropriety in his thoughts—only the memory of her reddened eyes.
She had passed the trial of her inner demons, but not without tears.
After a long wait, the water finally stopped. Mo Zhu rose to his feet.
A quarter-hour later, Yu Zhiling emerged in a loose, thin green robe. With her back injured, she couldn’t let the fabric cling to it, so she had only tied it loosely with a thin cord, making her seem even frailer than before.
Her hair was still dripping, her face pale and devoid of color, giving her a sickly appearance.
Mo Zhu stepped forward and took her wrist, silently drying her hair with a spell.
But Yu Zhiling’s gaze was fixed on the courtyard gate.
Mei Qiongge stood there, with Yan Shanqing and the others behind her.
Suddenly, Yu Zhiling remembered the vision from her inner demon trial—the meal they had all shared, where Fuchun served each disciple, and how her senior siblings had all given their favorite dishes to Yu Xiaowu.
Fuchun cared for all her disciples, and in turn, those disciples doted on their youngest sister.
Yu Zhiling pressed her lips together as Mo Zhu released her hand.
In that illusion, she had brought down the pavilion, burying all of them beneath it.
Now, she walked toward them, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Her steps quickened until she was nearly running—until she threw herself into Mei Qiongge’s arms.
"Fourth Sister," she whispered. "I saw Master. I saw all of you. That last meal we shared before Master went into seclusion for her tribulation…"
"That was so long ago," Mei Qiongge murmured, holding her carefully to avoid her wounds, resting her chin atop Yu Zhiling’s head. "What did you do in the illusion, Little Five?"
"I didn’t stay to finish that meal," Yu Zhiling admitted. "I didn’t stay for any of you. Not even for Master."
Mei Qiongge stroked her hair, voice thick with emotion. "Good. That’s good, Little Five. Never look back. Never cling to the past."
"No matter what happens behind you from now on, Little Five—keep moving forward. Never turn around."
The path Fuchun had wished for her was one that stretched endlessly ahead, with no looking back.
Yu Zhiling buried her face in Mei Qiongge’s embrace.
This time, she hadn’t looked back. And she never would. Her path would never falter.
