Yu Zhiling: "..."
She actually closed her eyes peacefully and muttered, "I'm going back to sleep."
Mo Zhu: "..."
For a moment, he was tempted to search Yu Zhiling’s soul—had she truly been possessed?
Mo Zhu closed the book in his hand and said calmly, "Does Master plan to expel this disciple from the sect?"
This was a blatant life-or-death question.
Yu Zhiling covered her ears.
Yu Zhiling refused to listen.
Mo Zhu dropped all pretenses now, leaning against the desk by the window, hands braced behind him on the table, his voice laced with amusement. "Master should know that this disciple is a snake demon."
Snakes possessed heightened senses. He could discern Yu Zhiling’s breathing patterns with ease, knowing full well whether she was truly asleep or not.
Yu Zhiling sat up abruptly, feigning conviction as she spun a tale. "How could I? How could I ever expel you? This master just read a story yesterday—the disciple in it was also surnamed Mo, named Tuanzi. That person—"
Mo Zhu: "What about that person?"
Yu Zhiling pointedly criticized without naming names. "...This Mo Tuanzi was utterly ungrateful! He even dared to defy his master and kill her to prove his Dao! This master couldn’t help but get angry imagining it. If that little dumpling were my disciple, I’d definitely expel him from the sect!"
Then, glancing at Mo Zhu’s expression, she hastily added with a desperate attempt at self-preservation, "Of course, I’m not talking about you. This has nothing to do with you. My disciple is very good—he would never, ever do such a thing. He’s a kind, handsome, upstanding gentleman."
Mo Zhu narrowed his eyes slightly. Though he said nothing, his gaze spoke volumes.
Yu Zhiling shivered, her legs trembling beneath the blankets.
Mo Zhu glanced down, and she quickly pressed a hand to her thigh, forcing an awkward laugh. "Haha, it’s a bit chilly today."
But it was the middle of May.
Mo Zhu’s expression suddenly turned cold—unexpectedly, as if he had dropped all pretenses in an instant.
Over the past two days, Yu Zhiling had been well aware of how deeply Mo Zhu despised Immortal Lord Zhuoyu. But as the protagonist, he had always maintained a veneer of calm.
Now, with just the two of them in the room, Yu Zhiling completely forgot that she should have questioned why he was even here.
In truth, her throat felt tight, her breathing labored.
Mo Zhu stood with his back to the window’s light, his expression dark and inscrutable, as if he had finally shed all disguises to reveal the pitch-black filling beneath.
"Master," he murmured, his voice suddenly soft, like a lover’s whisper. "Are you afraid of this disciple?"
"Afraid? Afraid of you? Don’t be ridiculous! How could this master possibly be afraid of—of—of you?"
Afraid? Of course she was. Terrified, even!
Mo Zhu’s gaze was indifferent as he countered, "Master only said that Mo Tuanzi shouldn’t have killed his master. But has Master ever considered why Mo Tuanzi did it? What did that master in the story do to him? Is what you saw really the truth?"
Yu Zhiling: "I—"
"Did she carve open his flesh with a blade? Rip out his bones? Subject him to endless whippings and curses, to soul-devouring poison, year after year, tormenting him for so, so long? Master, tell me—if that were the case, what should Mo Tuanzi have done?"
"Should he have forgotten it all? Or—"
Mo Zhu suddenly moved, appearing right before Yu Zhiling in an instant. He knelt on one knee beside the bed, leaning down to look at her.
"—should he have shattered her soul, stripped her bones, and returned every ounce of suffering she inflicted upon him?"
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth?"
Yu Zhiling’s eyes blinked rapidly, as if she had forgotten how to breathe. The cold, frost-like scent of him filled her senses.
Mo Zhu raised a hand, his slender fingers slowly approaching her cheek. Yu Zhiling’s heart pounded violently, yet she couldn’t move a muscle.
She saw it—the killing intent in Mo Zhu’s eyes.
But his icy fingers didn’t close around her throat. Instead, they brushed against the hair at her temple, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear—without ever touching her skin.
Mo Zhu’s dark eyes curved into a smile as he whispered sweetly, "Master, why are you trembling? There was a willow catkin in your hair. This disciple was just helping you, alright?"
He withdrew his hand, a single fluffy catkin clinging to his fingertip. With a slight shake, it drifted to the floor.
"Master, look at this willow catkin. So light, so fragile. Yet sometimes, it slips unnoticed into a person’s mouth or nose. If there were enough of them, they could clog the airways, suffocating someone to death. What seems weak may not be as harmless as it appears. Perhaps—it could still take a life."
Yu Zhiling: "..."
She wasn’t fooled. That was a thinly veiled threat.
Mo Zhu made a show of straightening Yu Zhiling’s quilt before suddenly retreating, putting distance between them again.
"Master, there are many willow catkins these days. Remember to close the window when you sleep." His voice was slow, quiet. "Didn’t you say you were cold? If you leave the window open, this disciple will worry you might catch a chill."
With that, he slipped out the window, closing it behind him as if his only purpose had been to tuck her in and shut the window.
The room fell into silence, the lingering traces of cold incense the only proof that what had just transpired wasn’t a dream. Mo Zhu couldn’t possibly think she hadn’t understood his meaning.
That had been a warning. A threat.
Yu Zhiling clutched her chest, gasping for breath.
Damn it! Even though Immortal Lord Zhuoyu’s body had no heart condition, she felt as if she’d been thrown back into her previous life’s frail form, her chest aching violently.
This—this rebellious disciple!
He’d nearly scared her to death!
If her past self had been here, she might’ve been frightened into a heart attack on the spot—so sudden that even living across from a hospital wouldn’t have saved her!
Yu Zhiling wiped imaginary sweat from her brow when suddenly, the courtyard gate creaked open, and a voice called from outside.
"Yu Xiao Wu."
It was Yan Shanqing.
"Yu Xiao Wu" was a nickname for Immortal Lord Zhuoyu—now her.
Yu Zhiling’s sluggish brain finally recalled that before sleeping, she’d sent a message to Yan Shanqing, asking him to visit after finishing his sect duties so she could discuss the Four Slaughter Realm incident.
Mo Zhu must have sensed Yan Shanqing’s arrival, which was why he’d left so abruptly.
Yu Zhiling took a deep breath to steady her racing heart before calling out, "Eldest Senior Brother, just a moment!"
Yan Shanqing waited outside for a short while before Yu Zhiling opened the gate.
She looked up to see him standing there in his sect leader robes, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him was a young man dressed in deep crimson silk robes.
He was strikingly handsome—his features vivid and arresting, unlike Yan Shanqing’s dignified bearing, Mo Zhu’s refined elegance, or Yun Zhi’s gentle warmth. There was something almost bewitching about him, his peach-blossom eyes upturned, shimmering like spring water when he looked at someone.
But right now, those eyes held only caution and concern.
Yan Shanqing stepped aside, revealing Xiang Wuxue behind him, and said, "Greet him properly."
Even as he spoke, he seemed uneasy, unsure why Yu Zhiling’s attitude toward him had shifted since her seclusion—whether it was just him or everyone she treated differently now.
Xiang Wuxue stared intently at Yu Zhiling.
Her mind instantly supplied his identity.
"Third Senior Brother."
Immortal Lord Zhuoyu's sect had five members, with her being the youngest—two senior brothers and two senior sisters above her.
This was her third senior brother, Xiang Wuxue, elder of Chaoyun Peak in the Yingshan Sect.
When she called out to him, Xiang Wuxue's thin lips pressed together, the corners of his eyes faintly reddening. His lips trembled slightly, and it took him a long moment to find his voice. "Little Fifth."
Yan Shanqing let out a relieved sigh.
Yu Zhiling watched as Xiang Wuxue raised his hand, tentatively patting her head.
She didn’t move, quietly letting him ruffle her hair.
Again, it seemed she could always recognize these old acquaintances of Immortal Lord Zhuoyu. After her encounters with Yan Shanqing and Yun Zhi, she could already guess that Immortal Lord Zhuoyu had seemingly been in a one-sided cold war with many people.
Why one-sided? Because judging by Yan Shanqing and Yun Zhi’s reactions, they both cared deeply for Zhuoyu—yet Zhuoyu did not reciprocate.
Now, Xiang Wuxue was the same.
All of them cherished Zhuoyu, but the problem lay solely with her.
Xiang Wuxue patted her head gently. "Let’s go inside first. There are things we need to discuss."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "Alright, Third Senior Brother."
As soon as they entered the room, Yu Zhiling moved to tidy the cluttered table, but Yan Shanqing waved his hand, using spiritual energy to clean everything up effortlessly.
Embarrassed, Yu Zhiling murmured, "Sorry, it’s a bit messy."
Yan Shanqing paid it no mind, picking up a few sword manuals from the table. "You mastered these techniques long ago. Why take them out now?"
"I... wanted to teach Mo Zhu."
Xiang Wuxue and Yan Shanqing exchanged glances, unable to hold back their confusion. Yu Zhiling’s behavior was truly odd.
Xiang Wuxue asked carefully, "Little Fifth, have you... forgotten many things after this seclusion?"
Yu Zhiling stiffened.
Xiang Wuxue continued, "If you remembered, you wouldn’t be this close to us. And Mo Zhu, that child..."
The atmosphere grew heavy, Xiang Wuxue’s expression darkening.
Yu Zhiling knew she couldn’t hide it forever. Her memory gaps would eventually be exposed.
Steeling herself, she spoke bluntly, "Yes, Senior Brother. During my breakthrough in seclusion, I somehow lost many memories... But I know I was wrong in the past. I shouldn’t have distanced myself from you all."
The moment the words left her lips, a weight lifted from her heart—as if this was exactly what she should have said.
Yet anxiety lingered. Would they search her soul and discover that the shell of Immortal Lord Zhuoyu now housed someone else?
They cared for Zhuoyu, not her, Yu Zhiling.
A pang of bitterness struck her. She unconsciously tightened her grip on the teacup, lowering her gaze to avoid their eyes.
Then, a hand rested on her wrist. Startled, Yu Zhiling instinctively tried to pull away, but someone held her firmly.
Yan Shanqing frowned. "Don’t move. Let your Third Senior Brother check your pulse. He knows some medicine."
Xiang Wuxue’s fingers pressed against her wrist, his spiritual energy flowing through her meridians. Yu Zhiling’s heart leaped to her throat as she watched him nervously.
"Well, Third Brother?"
Xiang Wuxue closed his eyes, concentrating for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he withdrew his hand.
"Her soul is indeed weakened, and I couldn’t detect the cause of her memory loss. But her body is unharmed—her dantian is strong and stable. When Second Senior Sister returns in a few days, let her examine Zhuoyu."
Ning Hengwu, Yu Zhiling’s second senior sister, was the daughter of the Valley Master of the Divine Physician Valley and had studied medicine since childhood.
Yan Shanqing nodded. "Fine. I’ll send word to Hengwu."
Yu Zhiling retracted her arm, cradling the teacup as she took small sips.
Her weakened soul was due to the system’s explanation—her spirit hadn’t fully merged with this body yet. Once complete, her memories would gradually return.
But neither Xiang Wuxue nor Yan Shanqing seemed to suspect that the person inside had changed.
"Senior Brothers, let’s discuss the matter at hand," Yu Zhiling said softly, eager to dispel the awkwardness. "I’m fine. There’s no need to worry."
Yan Shanqing grunted in acknowledgment. "Mm. Yun Zhi sent me a message earlier. I’ve heard some of what happened in the Four Slaughter Realm."
Xiang Wuxue added, "In the past, demons ramming the Four Slaughter Stele caused disturbances, but the stele itself never shattered. This time, it was broken from the outside."
Though demons in the Abyss of Demons constantly assaulted the stele, the abyss’s countless formations weakened their spiritual attacks, preventing them from destroying it. At most, the realm would tremble, prompting the three Immortal Lords to reinforce the seals.
But this time was different. A demon had infiltrated the Four Slaughter Realm from the Central Continent, shattering over a hundred formations within six hours.
Yan Shanqing’s voice deepened. "During the great war against the demons six hundred years ago, most demons at or above the Nascent Soul stage perished. The remaining hundred great cultivators scoured the Central Continent, sealing every last demon in the Abyss. Countless lives were lost to ensure the Central Continent would never again face demons. Yet now, one has appeared..."
"A demon cultivator at least at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage," Xiang Wuxue finished.
The two took turns speaking while Yu Zhiling stealthily grabbed a handful of peanuts from the table.
Shelling them quietly, she listened intently. Even without Zhuoyu’s memories, Yu Zhiling knew of the ancient war.
The demons had sought to annihilate the Central Continent’s noble clans. Many perished before the hundred great cultivators sacrificed themselves, using the ancient divine artifact, the Sixfold Mirror, to create the Four Slaughter Realm and banish the demons to the Northern Demon Domain. The Abyss of Demons was erected as a barrier between the two realms.
For centuries, no demons had appeared in the Central Continent—until now.
And one at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, no less.
Yu Zhiling asked, "Are we certain all demons were sealed in the Four Slaughter Realm back then?"
Yan Shanqing nodded. "Yes, I—"
He suddenly stopped, his expression turning grave as if struck by a realization.
Yu Zhiling, mid-bite into a peanut, blinked at the sudden silence.
Both men were staring at her, their faces somber, as if confronting something dire.
Yu Zhiling: "..."
She slowly set down the half-shelled peanut. "I... I’ll stop eating, alright?"
Yan Shanqing cut straight to the point. "Yu Zhiling, do you remember what happened a hundred years ago?"
Yu Zhiling deadpanned, "I distinctly recall saying half an hour ago that I’ve lost my memory."
So she didn’t remember.
Xiang Wuxue and Yan Shanqing exchanged another glance—one turning away to drain his teacup, the other sighing heavily.
Yu Zhiling: "..."
So what the hell happened a hundred years ago?!
Xiang Wuxue spoke gravely. "A century ago, our master died on Mount Sanwei. Her body was riddled with wounds inflicted by demonic energy... She died right in front of you."
Yan Shanqing looked at Yu Zhiling, his expression pained. "Little Fifth, you carried her body back yourself. After burying her, you spent decades hunting down that demon, chasing its aura... You truly remember none of it?"
Yu Zhiling murmured hesitantly, "Mas...ter?"
"Master, our master," Yan Shanqing said. "Immortal Fuchun."
Yu Zhiling blinked in confusion.
Immortal Fuchun?
Immortal Fuchun...
Wasn’t that the person Shu Feng had mentioned during the Four Slaughter Realm incident?
She had no recollection at all. The book hadn’t mentioned it, and her memory seemed completely blank about this person—utterly forgotten.
It shouldn’t be like this... She shouldn’t have forgotten...
"Little Five, Little Five, keep moving forward... Don’t look back..."
A voice seemed to echo in her mind, soft and gentle, as if it had called to her countless times, piercing through the clouds and surging into her consciousness.
"Little Five, Little Five!"
Noticing her distress, Xiang Wuxue and Yan Shanqing rushed to her side.
Yu Zhiling suddenly clutched her head, her vision spinning. She couldn’t even feel Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue shaking her, her thoughts completely isolated, lost in her own world.
Unconsciously, she whispered, "Move forward... move forward..."
"Master, master..."
She repeated these words over and over, unaware of what she was saying, oblivious to the passage of time or the world around her. It was as if she had slipped into another realm—blind, deaf, and detached.
Her mind grew hazier, and the pain in her chest sharpened.
Then—
"Yu Zhiling, wake up!"
A sharp command shattered the fog in her mind, yanking her back to reality.
Yu Zhiling broke free from the illusion to find Yan Shanqing and Xiang Wuxue standing before her, each gripping one of her arms, their spiritual energy flowing into her meridians.
She blinked, her face wet with tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. Her heart ached violently, the pain so intense it stole her breath.
Xiang Wuxue cupped her face, his trembling hands wiping away her tears, his own eyes red-rimmed as he choked out, "You remember something, don’t you? Don’t think about it, Little Five. Whatever comes to mind, don’t dwell on it. It’s all in the past... It’s all over..."
His words sounded as much for himself as they were for her.
Yu Zhiling met their gazes—three pairs of eyes brimming with tears.
Then she heard herself ask, "That demonic cultivator... Did I ever catch them?"
"...No."
"So that demonic cultivator... is still alive, hiding somewhere in the Central Continent?"
"...Perhaps."
Yu Zhiling suddenly shut her eyes and vomited a mouthful of blood.
"Little Five!"
