"Yu Xiaowu, I wouldn’t have come to you if the situation weren’t urgent."
Wu Zhaoyan looked at Yu Zhiling across from him, noting her pale, weakened complexion. His lips pressed into a thin line, but some words had to be spoken regardless.
Yu Zhiling lowered her long lashes and asked softly, "When did it happen?"
"Five days ago. The Four Slaughter Realm became unstable again. I was tied up with Wu Family affairs, so Yun Zhi went alone. That night, after finishing my duties, I tried contacting him but couldn’t reach him. Uneasy, I rushed to the Yun Family—he never returned home."
"Did he disappear on the way to the Four Slaughter Realm, or after leaving it?"
Wu Zhaoyan replied, "On the way there. The Four Slaughter Stele was still unstable, and the realm’s barrier showed no signs of being breached. I suspect Yun Zhi never entered—something must have happened along the road."
But a cultivator at the early-stage Great Ascension realm, even alone, possessed overwhelming strength.
Yu Zhiling lifted her gaze. "Why do you suspect the Lingyou Path?"
Wu Zhaoyan said, "Yun Zhi has been investigating the Lingyou Path for years. Didn’t you know?"
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "No."
Perhaps Zhuo Yu knew, but the current Yu Zhiling in this body had lost her memories. She remembered nothing.
Wu Zhaoyan leaned back into the sandalwood chair, crossing his arms as he studied her. "Yun Zhi has been looking into the Lingyou Path for many years. I don’t know why, but this time, after his disappearance, even his communication jade token and personal jade seal couldn’t be traced. You know how renowned the Yun Family’s seals are—as long as a Yun lives, their family can always find them."
"But the Yun Family can’t locate Yun Zhi’s seal. In the Central Continent, there are only two places their soul-tracking arts can’t reach: the Demon Abyss, blocked by countless arrays, and the Lingyou Path, shielded by the River of No Return."
Since the Four Slaughter Realm showed no signs of entry, Yun Zhi couldn’t have gone to the Demon Abyss.
The only possible lead was the Lingyou Path beyond the River of No Return.
Yu Zhiling wasn’t foolish. She understood Wu Zhaoyan’s implication and nodded. "Alright, I understand. Tomorrow, then. I’ll go down the mountain with you tomorrow."
Wu Zhaoyan hesitated. "Yu Xiaowu, your body hasn’t recovered yet. You’ve just survived a tribulation—you should rest for a few more days before setting out."
Yu Zhiling refused. "No need. Yun Zhi can’t wait."
Five days had already passed. If not for Yun Zhi’s soul lamp in the Yun Family remaining steady, they wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly planning their journey.
The pavilion held only the two of them now. Yu Zhiling turned her gaze to the lake—its waters clear and deep, the distant mountains veiled in mist. Chunya, the highest peak of the Yingshan Sect, housed only Yu Zhiling and Mo Zhu, yet its lands stretched vast.
She reached out, fingertips brushing the cold lake water, lifting a single orange blossom drifting on the surface.
Wu Zhaoyan set down his tea. "Yu Xiaowu."
Yu Zhiling didn’t respond, cradling the blossom in her palm. The petals, soaked through, grew even more vivid.
"You… seem more like you did seventy years ago."
Like that cold, composed, dependable yet reclusive Immortal Lord Zhuoyu.
Yu Zhiling stiffened.
Wu Zhaoyan continued, "I don’t want you to become that again. If you’ve forgotten, then let it stay forgotten. Even if you remember—Yu Xiaowu, I know you can’t let go, but can’t you just… be yourself? You’re Yu Xiaowu, not the Central Continent’s Immortal Lord Zhuoyu."
"It’s time to move on. Time to free yourself. Whatever you’ve recalled, don’t let it trap you again. Your world isn’t just Immortal Fuchun. You don’t exist for Immortal Fuchun’s sake."
"The departed are gone. The living matter more."
Wu Zhaoyan left. The pavilion held only Yu Zhiling now.
She bowed her head slightly, lost in thought, stray strands of hair obscuring her face. The tea on the table had long gone cold, a single orange blossom floating in it. Dusk neared, the evening breeze stirring ripples across the lake.
"Am I… really becoming more like Zhuo Yu?"
Those embroiled in the situation remained blind; only outsiders saw clearly.
Even Yu Zhiling didn’t know.
Someone sat beside her—not bothering with a cushion, simply settling on the ground. He poured out her cold tea and refilled the cup with a fresh, steaming brew.
"Are we leaving tomorrow?"
Mo Zhu’s voice was quiet.
Yu Zhiling nodded. "Yes. Yun Zhi can’t wait."
Mo Zhu said, "Good. I’ll go with you, Master."
He placed the tea before her, asking softly, "Does it still hurt? The wound on your back."
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "It’s fine. It doesn’t hinder me."
She had never feared pain. Yu Zhiling never cried from it—Mo Zhu knew that well.
She lifted the cup and took a sip. The warmth spread through her, and her gaze drifted absently to the distance, where ripples danced across the lake’s surface—where a lotus blossom had once floated.
"Mo Zhu, do you think I've changed?" Yu Zhiling didn't turn to look at the person beside her, her gaze still fixed on the empty lake surface. "Wu Zhaoyan said I've changed a bit, that I resemble the old Zhuo Yu more now. What do you think?"
Mo Zhu studied her profile. From this angle, her features were strikingly defined—her side profile delicate yet gaunt, even after having gained some weight recently, she remained alarmingly thin.
He remained silent for a long while, and Yu Zhiling didn’t press him.
After what felt like an eternity, the young man beside her finally spoke: "A little. Whether it was when you used the Frostwind Slash in Lianhua Marsh, or when you defended the Sect Leader at the Zhongli Family, or even this morning when you left to discuss matters with him…"
In those moments, her gaze turned icy, her naturally cool features hardening into an expression that pushed people away, making them afraid to approach.
Yu Zhiling hadn’t even realized she was acting like Zhuo Yu. She set down her teacup, unsure of what to say. To her, she and Zhuo Yu were two entirely different people. They could say she resembled Yu Xiaowu—after all, both Yu Zhiling and Yu Xiaowu shared that childlike innocence.
But Wu Zhaoyan claimed she was becoming more like Zhuo Yu, and that realization terrified her, filling her with unease.
A hand suddenly clasped over hers where it rested on the table, and Mo Zhu’s voice sounded softly by her ear: "I know you’re afraid. Those past memories must be painful, so it’s only natural that you feel lost and upset, that you lose control of your emotions whenever they resurface. But Master, look behind you—there are still so many people here with you."
Yu Zhiling blinked, her breath hitching slightly.
Mo Zhu continued: "You don’t have to shoulder everything alone. No matter how difficult things get, we’re family. We should face hardships together. From now on, we’ll always be by your side. In my eyes, Yu Zhiling isn’t someone who’d be trapped by the past."
"Yu Zhiling will always keep moving forward."
His expression was solemn as he spoke, so earnest that Yu Zhiling almost laughed, the weight in her chest suddenly lifting.
She reached out and playfully scratched his chin. "You’ve gotten so good with words lately. How do you understand me so well? Are you a mind reader or something?"
Mo Zhu caught her wrist, pressing his palm to hers. "Because you’re easy to read. Your emotions are always written on your face. Right now, at least, you’re Yu Zhiling—not Zhuo Yu."
Zhuo Yu had no emotions. She swallowed all her pain and sorrow alone, presenting herself to the world as the cold, silent, yet steady and reliable Immortal Lord Zhuoyu.
But Yu Zhiling wasn’t like that. Whether she was happy or sad, it showed plainly on her face.
When she was joyful, she laughed. When she was upset, she cried without restraint.
Somehow, Yu Zhiling felt like he was flirting again. In her eyes, her little disciple was like a peacock strutting around with its feathers on full display.
Her heartbeat quickened, and she pulled her hand back, stammering, "You’ve really learned how to talk sweetly. Two months ago, you still wanted to kill me—"
She trailed off, but Mo Zhu understood the unspoken words.
The person he’d wanted to kill was someone else. He had never harbored any intention to harm Yu Zhiling.
Not ten years ago, and not now.
Mo Zhu didn’t call her out, still smiling lazily. "Then I was wrong, wasn’t I? From now on, I’ll treat you well."
He scooted closer, and Yu Zhiling shifted away.
"What are you doing? Isn’t there enough space over there?"
"I want to sit next to you. Don’t move so far away."
"Ugh, can’t you be independent for once?"
"No. I want to be close to you."
For every inch Yu Zhiling retreated, Mo Zhu advanced another, until he’d cornered her against the railing with nowhere left to go.
She pressed her hands against his chest, laughing as she scolded him, "You’re really pushing your luck now!"
Mo Zhu grinned, leaning in even closer. "Do you like it, Master?"
Of course she did.
In matters of the heart, a timid turtle of a master needed a bold disciple who refused to be pushed away.
Yu Zhiling’s head bumped against the railing, and she poked his nose. "Mo Zhu, my back’s pressed against the rail."
Her voice was soft, almost whining, and Mo Zhu immediately straightened up, pulling her away.
"Sorry, Master. I didn’t notice."
Yu Zhiling yanked her hand free and bolted like a startled rabbit.
Mo Zhu stared blankly at the now-empty pavilion, then at his master’s fleeing figure, before realizing—his naive little disciple had been tricked again.
He wasn’t angry. Instead, he laughed and set off after her.
"Master, don’t run! You’re still injured!"
Yu Zhiling didn’t look back, shouting over her shoulder, "Stop following me! Go train or something!"
Mo Zhu ignored her, chasing her all the way back to the front courtyard.
The courtyard soon brightened with lantern light, and faint laughter could be heard as Yu Zhiling playfully scolded her disciple.
Yan Shanqing, who had been standing in the distance for a long while, chuckled softly. Beside him, Xiang Wuxue remained silent for a moment before suddenly speaking.
"Eldest Senior Brother, did you already know about this?"
Yan Shanqing raised an eyebrow in response. "Know what?"
"That Little Five and Mo Zhu have crossed the line in their relationship."
"And what if I did?"
Yan Shanqing was utterly unfazed, as if his junior sister and her disciple falling for each other was no different to him than two people becoming ordinary friends.
Xiang Wuxue said, "Master and disciple… in the Central Continent, such a relationship would invite criticism."
Yan Shanqing turned to face him, meeting his gaze. "Are there no precedents?"
Xiang Wuxue hesitated before answering, "There are, but… they’re still considered outliers. Such cases are rare in the Central Continent."
Yan Shanqing pressed, "Does anyone dare openly criticize Little Five?"
Of course, no one dared. No one had ever dared to speak ill of Yu Zhiling, and after she reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage, the Central Continent could only look up to her in awe. She held absolute authority here.
Yan Shanqing continued, "Mo Zhu may be of demonic descent, but he is a Flying Serpent. You know what the Flying Serpent bloodline signifies. If he keeps cultivating at this relentless pace, within two hundred years, he’ll undoubtedly catch up to Little Five. When two supreme experts are in love, who would dare gossip?"
"Strength is the foundation that determines everything."
Xiang Wuxue still seemed hesitant. Yan Shanqing sighed and patted his shoulder.
"I know you think Mo Zhu isn’t worthy. All of us feel the same—no one could ever be truly deserving of Little Five. But as long as she’s happy, isn’t that enough? Look, doesn’t she seem overjoyed?"
Xiang Wuxue glanced at the brightly lit courtyard in the distance. A thousand thoughts swirled in his heart, but none made it past his lips.
All those worries seemed to dissipate the moment he heard Yu Zhiling’s laughter.
"...Mn."
She really was happy.
Mo Zhu had never slackened in his care for her—cradling her in his palms for fear she might fall, holding her in his mouth lest she melt. His devotion was singular, his affection and adoration utterly transparent. For a young woman untouched by love, it was only natural to be moved. And besides…
Yu Zhiling was truly, deeply happy with him.
Yan Shanqing sighed softly and gave his junior brother’s shoulder another pat. "Let’s go. We should prepare the things Little Five will need for her journey down the mountain. Her injuries still require time to heal, but since we can’t accompany her to the Spirit Vein Path, we must at least ensure she’s well-equipped."
Xiang Wuxue cast one last glance at the courtyard, choosing not to disturb Yu Zhiling and Mo Zhu before turning away.
Once again, Chunya Cliff was left with only the master and disciple.
Yu Zhiling lay sprawled on a soft couch in the courtyard. Though it was late, every corner of the yard was illuminated by the countless glowing orbs Mo Zhu had hung—likely numbering in the thousands across Chunya Cliff.
Mo Zhu was preparing supper for her while she lounged on the couch, idly toying with a small serpent pendant.
It was about time she gave this little trinket to him.
After waiting roughly half an hour, Mo Zhu returned with a tray of food, pushing a stone table beside the bamboo couch.
"Master, your meal is ready."
Yu Zhiling sat up cross-legged, cleared her throat, and with an air of affected dignity, extended a clenched fist toward him.
Mo Zhu blinked. "What is it?"
"Your gift," she muttered, her tone awkward. "The one I promised you before."
She unfurled her fingers, revealing a small serpent pendant dangling from a red cord. The serpent’s body was plump, its head adorably round—a far cry from the majestic, awe-inspiring Flying Serpent revered in the Central Continent. To Yu Zhiling, it was nothing more than a little snake that loved rolling onto its back for belly rubs.
Mo Zhu accepted it with a radiant smile. "Thank you, Master. This disciple treasures it."
Yu Zhiling coughed and pointed at his waist. "Hang it there. The red cord was braided by me—it’ll protect the jade from damage. Not even heavenly tribulation lightning could shatter it. The pendant itself was carved from mystic iron jade, which will nourish your meridians. And also…"
She trailed off, suddenly unsure how to continue. When she’d first planned this gift, Mo Zhu hadn’t yet confessed his feelings, and she hadn’t found anything odd about it.
But now, knowing his heart, presenting it felt inexplicably embarrassing.
She made a sudden grab for it. "Never mind. I’ll give you something else later. Return this—"
Mo Zhu deftly evaded her snatching hand and fastened the pendant to his waist with practiced ease.
"No. Once given, it’s mine."
He stroked the little serpent fondly, his smile deepening. "This disciple knows what’s inside."
Embedded within the jade was a restriction placed by Yu Zhiling—a lethal technique she had spent an entire month refining. In a dire moment, it could block a full-powered strike from a Mahayana-stage expert.
A life-saving measure, crafted solely for him.
The way he gazed at her was unbearably tender, laden with unspoken affection. Yu Zhiling’s cheeks burned. Flustered, she quickly sat back and picked up her chopsticks, using the motion to mask her embarrassment.
"It's not for any other reason. I gave it to you simply because you're my disciple. A master protecting their disciple is only natural." Yu Zhiling tapped the plate. "Eat, eat. Stop flirting around like a peacock—you're a Flying Serpent, not some showy bird."
The serpent chuckled softly and obediently picked up his chopsticks.
"Alright, I’ll listen to Master."
Such a simple sentence, yet it carried a different weight to Yu Zhiling’s ears.
She glared at him fiercely, meeting Mo Zhu’s innocent gaze before kicking him under the table.
"You seem quite skilled at this. Definitely not your first time chasing someone."
The wronged disciple hastily raised his hands in defense. "Master can accuse me of anything, but don’t tarnish my virtue. I’ve never been involved with any other woman."
Yu Zhiling buried herself in her meal, muttering, "Who knows where you learned all this."
Mo Zhu smiled. "Liking someone, treating them well, taking care of them—these things don’t need to be taught. Besides—"
The serpent suddenly leaned in, tilting his head to watch his master devour her food.
"Trying to get closer to someone means catering to their preferences, whether in actions or courtship. It’s the same logic." His eyes darkened slightly, voice dropping to a husky murmur. "I know Master likes it when I act spoiled and enjoys looking at this face of mine. If my strengths happen to align with Master’s tastes, then of course I’ll make the most of them."
Yu Zhiling smacked his arm.
"That’s not how you use ‘making the most of it’!"
Mo Zhu rubbed his shoulder, feigning a wince. "Master, that hurts."
"Good, suffer! Stop pretending!"
Mo Zhu simply laughed, eyes brimming with amusement.
He wasn’t actually pretending.
It really did hurt.
Yu Zhiling had now reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage, and her strength had grown. When she hit him without holding back, anyone else might have had their bones shattered—if not for him being a Flying Serpent.
After she finished eating, Mo Zhu cleared the table and returned to his own courtyard.
The young man undressed in the bathing chamber, revealing broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and well-defined muscles. His pale skin glowed faintly under the candlelight. Turning to the bronze mirror, he examined the dark bruise already forming on his right shoulder.
Mo Zhu prodded the injury—sharp but bearable, nothing broken.
He flexed his shoulder, not bothering to apply medicine, and suddenly grinned at the mirror.
If he didn’t cultivate harder and raise his realm soon, he really wouldn’t be able to handle her blows. Once she reached full Tribulation Transcendence, a single slap could dislocate his arm, and stealing a kiss might leave him coughing up blood.
For the sake of his future, the little disciple skipped sleep that night. After bathing and changing into fresh robes, he sat cross-legged in his room, immersing himself in cultivation.
The Spirit Desolate Path was a barren wasteland, where dust swirled endlessly under an unrelenting sun.
Yun Zhi paused, covering his mouth as he coughed softly. Drops of blood speckled his crane-feather cloak, and his white hair slipped over his shoulders, swaying before his eyes.
He lifted his gaze to the endless desert ahead, his expression calm, devoid of panic.
Even upon waking to find himself here, he remained composed. There was no need to wonder who possessed the power to abduct a Great Ascension cultivator—the answer was obvious.
Yun Zhi continued walking, crossing dune after dune. An unending desert could instill fear, but his mind was tranquil, and days of travel brought no impatience.
"Hey, sickly."
A light, mocking voice drifted down.
Yun Zhi stopped and looked up. A woman hovered midair, her vibrant hibiscus-red robes clearly not of the Central Continent’s style. Her striking features were adorned with a bold peony mark between her brows, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Yun Zhi said nothing. His sword materialized in hand, and he slashed horizontally without warning.
The woman dodged hastily, barely avoiding the blade. When Yun Zhi flipped his sword and struck again, she leaped back a hundred paces.
"You’re really starting a fight without a word?"
Yun Zhi’s face was icy. In a flash, he appeared before her, reversing his grip to swing once more.
"A demonic cultivator, daring to act so boldly in my presence?"
The woman gritted her teeth, drawing her curved blade to block. The moment steel met steel, the shockwave traveled up her arm, forcing a mouthful of blood from her lips.
She reassessed the "sickly" man instantly. Despite his frail appearance, his strength as a Great Ascension cultivator and head of the Yun Family was far beyond what she, a mere Demon Soul cultivator, could handle.
A single exchange left her lungs burning. Seeing Yun Zhi press the attack without hesitation, she teleported away.
"Yun Zhi, I’m only here to deliver a message—the Heavenward Lotus is here!"
She seemed to have come only to speak, and having said her piece, she turned to leave. Yet Yun Zhi clearly had no intention of letting her go.
The woman in red had barely fled a hundred paces when a figure descended from above, his sword slashing downward. The blade’s light whipped up the yellow sand, transforming it into a rolling cloud that surged toward her. Every grain carried a fierce killing intent. Though she dodged swiftly, his strike still grazed her left arm.
In an instant, a chunk of flesh was carved from her limb.
Clutching the wound, her face drained of color, she gritted her teeth and cursed, "You sickly bastard truly have no regard for tenderness! Even with the frost poison in you, you still fight—do you not know the more you force your spiritual energy, the faster the toxin spreads? How can you face her like this? Back then, Yu Zhiling was the one who—"
"Demoness."
Yun Zhi cut her off, appearing before her in the blink of an eye. Sword light erupted in front of the woman’s face.
His voice was icy, his gaze devoid of emotion. "You dare utter Zhuo Yu’s name?"
The razor-sharp sword energy pressed forward, forcing the woman in red to parry with her blade.
"My Lord, save me!"
The incoming slash was intercepted, and the swirling sand reversed direction, hurtling back toward Yun Zhi and crashing into him with brutal force.
His crane-feather cloak fluttered wildly as he was thrown back a hundred paces, landing on one knee. Blood gushed from his lips as he braced himself on his sword.
The ends of his white hair were stained crimson. His lashes, too, were pale as frost, making him seem like a figure carved from snow—only now, this snowman was coughing up mouthfuls of blood, splattering his robes and streaking his hair with violent color.
The snowflake mark on his neck flickered, creeping up his cheek. Icicles formed on his long lashes.
Yun Zhi lifted his gaze, cold and indifferent, to meet the newcomer.
The figure approached leisurely, tall and slender, the lower half of his face beneath the hood pale and strikingly handsome.
"Yun Zhi," he said, voice unhurried. "Long time no see."
