Mo Zhu didn’t want her gift at all.
He took several steps back, refusing her embrace for the first time.
Yu Zhiling was abruptly pushed away, momentarily stunned. She lifted her gaze to look at him. "Mo Zhu?"
Mo Zhu’s expression was cold as he asked, "Is there something Shizun is hiding from me?"
Yu Zhiling stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and tilting her head to kiss his jaw.
"Nothing at all. I just prepared gifts for all your senior brothers and sisters—how could I forget you?" Yu Zhiling sucked lightly on his lower lip, rising onto her toes to press herself against him, feeling the stiffness in his body. "Don’t you want it, my dear?"
Mo Zhu looked down at her. Their eyes met, hers still bright as ever, as if they held an eternal galaxy within. She licked his lips, her movements dripping with temptation.
Yu Zhiling guided him backward toward the soft couch in the corner of the courtyard. Though she was a cultivator, without using spiritual energy, her strength couldn’t match that of a Flying Serpent like Mo Zhu. But with it, she could overpower him effortlessly.
Pinning him down on the couch, she straddled him, her hands roaming over his waist before clumsily undoing his belt. His neatly arranged robes loosened, and Yu Zhiling hesitated for a moment. Between kisses, she caught sight of Mo Zhu’s indifferent gaze—he neither responded nor resisted, as if waiting to see how far she would go.
Suddenly emboldened, Yu Zhiling slipped her hand beneath his robes, tracing the defined lines of his abdomen. He had the kind of physique that looked lean in clothes but was solid to the touch. She had seen it before but never felt it.
The sensation of actually touching him was… unusual.
Yu Zhiling kissed him tenderly, sucking on his tongue while her wandering hand grew bolder. She felt Mo Zhu’s body tense further, his stomach tightening, veins pulsing beneath his skin. When her fingers reached the waistband of his pants and began loosening the ties, Mo Zhu abruptly grabbed her wrist.
"Enough."
His robes were disheveled, lips reddened from her kisses, ears and neck flushed. The open fabric revealed his toned physique.
Yu Zhiling glanced downward and asked, "You clearly want this. Don’t you like me?"
Mo Zhu’s breath trembled. He knew he was aroused—how could he not be, with the person he loved teasing him like this? He wasn’t some saintly gentleman. At his age, most Flying Serpents were either betrothed or already married.
Yet, for the first time, desire left him feeling like he was plunging into an icy abyss. His body burned, but his heart was freezing cold.
Mo Zhu asked, "Of course I want this with you. But I’ve held you in my palms, placed you in my heart, afraid of even the slightest disrespect. What do you take yourself for?"
Yu Zhiling didn’t understand. "You wanted this gift. I’m giving it to you. What’s wrong with that?"
Mo Zhu’s voice rose sharply. "Is this right? Is your body the gift I asked for?"
He sat up abruptly, causing Yu Zhiling to nearly topple backward. Mo Zhu caught her waist and pulled her back onto his lap. She blinked at him in confusion.
He seemed to be crying, droplets clinging to his long lashes.
Yu Zhiling’s throat tightened. She forced herself to explain calmly, "I thought this was what you wanted. I… I thought it was normal for two people in love to do this. I didn’t mean to belittle our feelings."
Mo Zhu turned his head away, inhaling sharply. Even the air felt bitterly cold.
Yu Zhiling fell silent, unsure what to say.
She wanted to comfort him but feared her words would only anger him further. Mo Zhu was perceptive and sensitive—she didn’t even realize her mistake, let alone how to make it right.
Suddenly, Mo Zhu spoke, his voice low. "Shizun wants to do this?"
Yu Zhiling nodded. "...Yes. I like you. I’m willing."
"Fine. Then let’s form a marriage bond. I’ve changed my mind—I want a title now. If you refuse, we’ll both go to bed early tonight. If you agree, we’ll return to my room right now."
Mo Zhu raised his hand, summoning a golden contract that hovered in the air.
Yu Zhiling hesitated briefly before reasoning that it was just a certificate. If he wanted it, she’d give it to him. If she died in the Demon Abyss, the bond would dissolve on its own.
"...Alright."
She pressed a finger to her chest, drawing out a drop of heart’s blood. Mo Zhu had already swiftly imprinted his spiritual seal beside his name, leaving only Yu Zhiling’s side unmarked.
Just as she was about to press her thumb to the contract, her gaze caught the words inscribed upon it.
Twin-Life Marriage Bond.
Her pupils constricted. Yu Zhiling immediately tried to pull back, but Mo Zhu seized her wrist, forcing her hand toward the contract.
Yu Zhiling struggled violently. "Mo Zhu! Mo Zhu, I don’t want this! Let go!"
Mo Zhu’s expression darkened. He gripped her hand tighter, his movements ruthless. "Why not? This is the only bond I’ll accept—no annulments, no widowhood. Only twin deaths. If you die, heavenly lightning will strike me dead. If I die, you’ll follow. We’re forming this unbreakable bond."
"I won’t agree! Mo Zhu!"
"We’re doing it now. If you die, I’ll join you!"
"Mo Zhu! Get away from me!"
As her heart’s blood neared the contract, Yu Zhiling unleashed her spiritual energy. The pressure of a Tribulation Transcension cultivator shattered the bond instantly. Mo Zhu coughed up blood, his head snapping to the side.
Yu Zhiling scrambled off him, stumbling backward.
Mo Zhu wiped the blood from his lips and looked up at her—him still seated on the couch, her standing several paces away.
"Shizun is afraid?" Mo Zhu’s voice was icy. "Why? The Twin-Life Bond is no different from a regular marriage bond, except it can’t be broken. If one dies, the other follows. Are you afraid of being tied to me forever? Or…"
His eyes bore into hers. "Are you planning to die, and that’s why you won’t form this bond with me?"
He knew her too well—her preferences, the meaning behind every frown. How could he not see she was hiding something?
He was too clever. He always knew how to corner her.
Yu Zhiling clenched her fists. "Do you want this or not? If not, leave."
Mo Zhu stood, his robes still in disarray. He didn’t care. The look he gave her was one she’d never seen before—devoid of tenderness, his towering frame overwhelming as he stepped closer.
"I’ve already said it. Form the bond, and we’ll go to my room. Do whatever you want."
Yu Zhiling met his gaze. "Why must it be the Twin-Life Bond?"
He hadn’t told her beforehand. If she hadn’t seen those words, she might have sealed it unknowingly.
Mo Zhu’s answer was firm. "The only bond I’ll accept is the Twin-Life Bond. No annulments. No widowhood. Only twin deaths. If I die, you’ll follow. If you die, I’ll join you without hesitation."
So she wanted to form an unbreakable marriage bond, one bound by the laws of heaven.
"...I don’t want to."
"Why not?"
Yu Zhiling met his gaze. "You're forcing me."
"I'm not forcing you," Mo Zhu said coldly. "You're the one forcing me. You know what I mean."
"Is it that you don’t want to form the Twin Life Bond, or that you don’t dare? Are you afraid my death will burden you, Master... or are you afraid that you’ll die soon and won’t be able to bond with me?"
Yu Zhiling suddenly turned away, her shoulders trembling as she covered her face with her hands.
He was far too perceptive. The moment she had distanced herself slightly out of hesitation and inner turmoil, he had sensed something was wrong. Just because she had cooked this meal tonight and given those gifts, he had guessed what she intended to do.
Her disguise, her self-assured acting—he had seen through it all from the start.
Her voice shook. "Mo Zhu, go back."
Mo Zhu didn’t move. He stared at her back for a long time. Though they stood close, their hearts felt separated by a river a hundred miles wide.
Yu Zhiling knew he remained there for a long while.
Until a hoarse voice finally broke the silence.
"What I want has never been fleeting happiness."
The courtyard gate closed. She didn’t hear the door of the neighboring house open—Mo Zhu hadn’t returned to his own courtyard but had left for somewhere else.
She didn’t know if he had left Tingchun Cliff or what he was thinking now. But she knew he was hurt.
A part of her wanted to comfort him, but reason told her she couldn’t.
The Wu family resided a thousand miles from Mount Ying, their territory vast.
Each head of the Wu family had their own estate. Wu Zhaoyan entered the mansion that had stood empty for centuries, its paths now swept clean of dust.
He didn’t linger, heading straight for the back mountain. At the summit, beside a waterfall, he found a man sprawled in a pavilion, surrounded by empty wine bottles. The drinker’s robes were draped carelessly on the ground, stained by spilled liquor. Wu Zhaoyan frowned at the sight.
He stepped inside, looking down at the figure lounging on the long bench.
Sui Ji didn’t open his eyes, though he had sensed Wu Zhaoyan’s arrival the moment he entered the estate.
"What brings you here?"
Wu Zhaoyan’s voice was low. "What did you say to Yu Xiaowu?"
Sui Ji cracked one eye open. "Guess."
Wu Zhaoyan said, "Sect Leader Yan sent me to ask. Yu Xiaowu has been acting strange—suddenly giving gifts to everyone."
Sui Ji lazily closed his eye again. "Just gifts. You’re overreacting."
Wu Zhaoyan found a clean spot to sit, his expression dark. "Whether it’s an overreaction or not, you know the truth. Sui Ji, my aunt chose to die defending the city. Even in death, she wouldn’t have wanted you to wallow like this. Do you think this is what she would have wanted?"
Sui Ji let out a mocking laugh, groping blindly for a half-empty bottle. He tipped his head back and drank, wine spilling down his chin. He didn’t care—as long as some of it reached his mouth.
The alcohol seemed to sharpen his mind slightly. He opened his eyes, gazing lazily at the full moon hanging in the sky.
"I failed her? Then did she not fail me?"
Wu Zhaoyan crossed his arms, scowling. "What does your business have to do with Yu Xiaowu? Why drag her into it?"
"You think this is dragging her in? That it has nothing to do with her?" Sui Ji suddenly turned his head, his gaze icy. "How naive. Do you know why You Zhou hunts Yu Zhiling so relentlessly?"
"She is Immortal Lord Zhuoyu, tasked with guarding the Four Slaughter Realms. You Zhou seeks to destroy the Four Slaughter Stele, and Yu Xiaowu is the biggest obstacle in his plans. The only way forward is to eliminate her."
Sui Ji laughed again, the sound dripping with scorn.
Under Wu Zhaoyan’s cold stare, Sui Ji swayed upright, leaning unsteadily against the railing.
"Yu Zhiling was implanted with a Demon Seed."
At first, Wu Zhaoyan didn’t understand. The words settled in his ears, bringing only confusion. But when he recalled what a Demon Seed was, his pupils constricted, his body stiffening abruptly.
Sui Ji took another swig, hiccuping drunkenly. "The Four Slaughter Stele was forged using the Six Seals Script. The Demon Abyss is easy to enter—its barriers don’t stop demons. Any demon can pass. That’s why the Central Continent threw all the captured demons into the abyss. Getting in isn’t the problem. It’s getting out that’s hard."
Wu Zhaoyan stammered, "Any demon? But she isn’t one..."
Sui Ji said, "You Zhou planted a Demon Seed outside the abyss, just to force Yu Zhiling to swallow it and leap in. He knew she would do it."
Wu Zhaoyan’s breath hitched. "She... she took it?"
"Of course. How else could she jump into the Demon Abyss? She didn’t collapse and take her own life out of despair for no reason. Where did the inner demon come from? Did you never wonder? After her suicide, did the Demon Seed remain? Could it resurface? Did you never think about that?"
Wu Zhaoyan couldn’t speak, his breathing ragged.
Sui Ji fixed him with a stare, enunciating each word. "A mid-stage Tribulation Transcension cultivator who once hosted a Demon Seed, who spent years in the Demon Abyss, steeped in demonic energy, suppressing an inner demon that could erupt at any moment—someone with an overwhelming risk of demonic possession. A woman who died by her own hand, only to inexplicably reappear in the Central Continent. Do you think the Central Continent would accept her?"
"Or do you think You Zhou would rather kill her... or break her?"
"He couldn’t break her, so he settled for killing her. But if he knew Yu Zhiling’s inner demon still lingers, what then? Do you think he’d try to draw it out and destroy her all over again?"
How do you ruin a Tribulation Transcension cultivator?
For those who follow the Path of Clarity, where the heart is the foundation of cultivation, the cruelest method is to shatter their mental state—to let inner demons fester until they lose their minds.
For a revered immortal lord of the Central Continent, dragging her down from her pedestal would be far more devastating than simply killing her.
Wu Zhaoyan’s spine bent slowly, as if Sui Ji’s words had physically broken him.
Sui Ji stood, swaying, and caught himself on the railing.
"Wu Zhaoyan, the Central Continent has relied on her protection. But in the end, will you turn around and stab her in the back?"
"From beginning to end, all of you have been sheltered. Whether it was A’Ning, Fuchun, the hundred great experts who died forging the Four Slaughter Realms, or Yu Zhiling now—without them, would you be sitting so comfortably as the head of the Wu family?"
Sui Ji staggered out of the pavilion, the distant lake and the mountain-encircled moon reflected in his eyes. For a moment, it was as if he could see a woman dancing with her sword by the waterfall, her movements sharp yet fluid, her waist supple and strong.
When Wu Weining practiced her swordplay, he would play the qin for her. To the rhythm of his music, her strikes flowed between power and grace.
When the song ended, she would sheathe her blade and clasp her hands together, offering him a playful bow.
"Thank you for the music, my husband."
Sui Ji would also stand up and return the gesture: "Thank you for your sword dance, Madam."
Yet, in the blink of an eye, the dream shattered. Apart from this dilapidated pavilion in the mountains, not a trace of the past remained.
He curved his eyes into a smile, laughing wildly as he raised his voice: "I also want to see—after you sacrificed so much for them, whether these people will even remember you!"
"You abandoned me for their sake—was it worth it?!"
Sui Ji tumbled from the cliff into the waterfall. The icy water choked him, its coldness terrifying, but he was no mortal cultivator. He had no heartbeat, no need to breathe, and thus could not drown.
As long as the Six-Time Seal remained unbroken, he would not die.
He endured the agony of suffocation over and over, his organs crushed under the pressure. When the pain in his body reached its peak, the ache in his heart dulled.
Wu Zhaoyan sat inside the pavilion, his hands and feet ice-cold. It had been a long time since he last heard his own breath.
Sui Ji's words struck him like a club to the head.
You Zhou had wanted to destroy Yu Zhiling from the very beginning. Had hiding her away truly been for her own good?
Their self-righteous protection had led to this—the Immortal Alliance slaughtered, the Central Continent unable to even trace You Zhou’s whereabouts, completely at his mercy. Was this… really for Yu Zhiling’s sake?
What could the Central Continent do without Immortal Lord Zhuoyu?
Yu Zhiling sat for a long time, waiting until the faint light of dawn crept in. No sound came from the neighboring room—Mo Zhu was nowhere to be found.
A voice echoed in her consciousness.
[Ding. The male protagonist has mastered the "Piercing Sound Sword Technique." Host’s virtue points +50. Current virtue points: 4700. Please continue your efforts.]
Now she knew—Mo Zhu was at the back mountain.
He was cultivating, and also venting his emotions.
Yu Zhiling lowered her head, unconsciously twisting the sash at her waist. Had she been wrong? Had she made Mo Zhu upset?
She remained in the courtyard the entire day. Normally, by noon, Mo Zhu would return to prepare meals for her.
But today, the food was delivered by a disciple. When Yu Zhiling opened the door, the smile on her face instantly faltered.
"Immortal Lord, Senior Brother Mo said he will be in seclusion for a few days and asked this disciple to deliver your meals."
The disciple was young, with a round, cheerful face that radiated warmth.
Yu Zhiling forced a faint smile and accepted the tray. "Thank you."
The disciple hurriedly bowed. "Immortal Lord, you honor me. It is this disciple’s duty."
Yu Zhiling could see the excitement in the young disciple’s eyes. Immortal Lord Zhuoyu was practically revered as a deity in Ying Mountain. Though she resided year-round at Listening Spring Cliff, the disciples all longed for a glimpse of her, to see the face of the immortal who safeguarded their mountain.
She did not see Mo Zhu the entire day.
She sat there until evening, with only the occasional update in her consciousness about virtue points—reminding her that Mo Zhu was still cultivating at the back mountain—but no other news of him.
Yu Zhiling waited until she fell asleep, curled up on the soft couch in the courtyard without a blanket. It was deep into the night, but the couch was enchanted with a spell left by Xiang Wuxue, shielding it from rain, dust, and maintaining a constant, comfortable temperature.
Neither too cold, nor too warm.
Mo Zhu carefully pushed open the courtyard gate and stood in the shadows, watching for a long time. In the corner, on the soft couch, lay the person he loved. She had waited for him all day, yet he hadn’t dared to face her—afraid he might lose control and press her with questions, making her feel wronged.
The young man lowered his lashes, hesitating for a moment, but in the end, he could not resist the longing in his heart. Closing the gate quietly, he stepped toward her.
He knelt beside the couch, one hand cradling her cheek as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers and nuzzling gently.
It was then that Yu Zhiling awoke.
Her vision was blurred, Mo Zhu’s figure indistinct, but she recognized his scent—a fragrance unique to him alone.
Yu Zhiling froze for a moment before meeting his gaze. She tilted her head up slightly and kissed his lips, tentatively licking at them. She had expected him to still be angry, but instead, Mo Zhu cupped her face and kissed her back fiercely.
The sound of their lips and tongues entwining was intimate and sweet. Her already hazy mind grew even dizzier as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
A single day apart had been Mo Zhu’s limit. A sword technique he normally mastered in moments had taken him an entire day, his movements clumsy, his mind in turmoil—unable to stop worrying about her.
Mo Zhu knelt on the couch, leaning down to kiss her again. His loose ponytail brushed against Yu Zhiling’s cheek, cool and carrying the faint scent of agarwood.
Yu Zhiling instinctively reached for his waistband, but Mo Zhu stopped her hand.
"Master."
"...What’s wrong?"
Dazed, she thought he had regretted rejecting her and had returned to make amends.
Their lips parted, the silvery thread between them breaking. Mo Zhu pinned her hand against the pillow and pressed kisses along her neck, his breathing heavy.
The young man lowered his voice, coaxing her: "We won’t do those things."
Yu Zhiling blinked in confusion. "But you clearly want to."
"It’s fine. Just kissing is enough."
He sat up and pulled her into his lap. Yu Zhiling, still half-asleep, let him kiss her for a long time, only realizing he was massaging her waist when she felt his hands there. She gasped softly, untying the sash of her outer robe and guiding his hand beneath it, along the curve of her back.
It was silent permission. Mo Zhu continued kissing her as his calloused fingers traced up her smooth spine, reaching the crisscrossed ties of her inner garment.
She guided his hand to undo one of the ties, but Mo Zhu suddenly snapped back to awareness and withdrew.
Yu Zhiling coaxed him in a gentle voice: "Be good. Untie it."
Mo Zhu didn’t comply. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and looked down at her. "This disciple said we won’t do those things."
Yu Zhiling smacked his shoulder lightly. "Why are you being so stubborn?"
Mo Zhu asked her: "Then what is Master hiding?"
Yu Zhiling lifted her head from his embrace. "Is it that important?"
"Very important." The passion between them faded instantly as Mo Zhu’s expression cooled. "Anything that affects our relationship is a serious matter."
Yu Zhiling’s robes were disheveled, the collar slipping to reveal a glimpse of her inner garment. Mo Zhu averted his gaze, refusing to look, and instead adjusted her clothes in the dim light.
He leaned in to kiss her cheek, but Yu Zhiling pushed him away. "Don’t touch me."
She slipped out of his arms and stood with her back to him, carefully retying her sash. The warmth of his touch still lingered on her neck—a reminder of their earlier intimacy.
Mo Zhu stood behind her, knowing she was angry.
He watched silently as she straightened her clothes. Just as he reached out to adjust her crooked collar, she spoke:
"Mo Zhu, you are the first man I’ve ever loved."
"I truly… care for you deeply."
