Chapter 21

Seeing that “Xie Chaoyun” had no intention of entertaining guests, Jiang Yiguang didn’t press further but turned and left, her mind heavy with thoughts.

The Qi Palace was never short of beauties. Once, those who had been sent into Southern Qi alongside Tushan Yi had all vanished in the blink of an eye after entering the imperial city. Tushan Yi, after all, was a Celestial Fox; after consuming the pill, her beguiling illusions became ever more masterful, mesmerizing the Last Ruler of Qi. Yet, compared to the debauched emperor, Tushan Yi was far more interested in the Xie Chaoyun she had met by chance. She easily dug up Xie Chaoyun’s background and learned she was a prisoner confined within this royal city, unable to control her own fate. Tushan Yi deliberately disguised herself as an ignorant little palace maid, slowly drawing closer to Xie Chaoyun.

Women deep in the palace, when confronted with someone weaker, often develop a mutual sympathy, a sense of kindred spirits.

Tushan Yi used Xie Chaoyun’s “pity” to get closer to her, step by step, until her identity was accidentally exposed one day.

For the first time, she saw a flash of anger on Xie Chaoyun’s face, and Tushan Yi finally felt a tinge of guilt. She knew her relationship with Xie Chaoyun was about to plummet to a freezing point, yet she persisted in seeking her out every day. Later, she realized that what Xie Chaoyun loathed wasn’t her as a person, but the absurd things she had done with the Lord of Qi. But she had done so under the orders of the Imperial Preceptor of the Northern Dynasty—she had long had no way out.

In countless cycles of reincarnation, Xie Chaoyun’s cold indifference persisted until the very end.

And Tushan Yi’s “ardor” was more like a moth darting into the flame; all her hopes and trust were dashed, and she ended up battered and broken.

No wonder this resentment born of love had not dissipated even after a thousand years.

But now that “Xie Chaoyun” had changed, didn’t that mean the ending might change too? Could “redeeming the Nine-Tailed Fox” dissolve her resentment?

Meanwhile, Fu Juan finally sorted out her thoughts.

_I offered my heart to the bright moon, but the moon shines on the ditch instead._

Tushan Yi had every right to feel wronged.

Compared to the wandering Daoist who sealed her, her love and hate for Xie Chaoyun were even more intense.

Within the illusion, was she hoping for the ending to be rewritten? But time could not flow backward, and falsehoods could never become reality. Fu Juan frowned, having no intention whatsoever of making “Peach Blossom Pastry.” Instead, she summoned a confidant and entrusted her with preparing a few things. In this illusory world, spiritual energy was far denser than in modern society, and talismans would likely be even more effective.

Jiang Yiguang didn’t know that “Xie Chaoyun” had become “Fu Juan.” She guessed that another consciousness was controlling “Xie Chaoyun’s” body, but based on her experience reading novels and ancient texts, falling into an illusion was usually resolved by untangling a heart’s knot to “dispel the hostility.” So when she stepped into the palace where Xie Chaoyun resided the next day, she wasn’t particularly guarded.

This time, instead of Peach Blossom Pastry, she received a taste of the Two Principles Sword Art.

Jiang Yiguang also heard a sharp, piercing howl—not her own voice, but belonging to that hidden consciousness, the real Tushan Yi’s.

The person before her truly wasn’t Xie Chaoyun.

That ruthless, utterly decisive swordsmanship made Jiang Yiguang suddenly recall someone. Back when Fu Juan’s parents were still alive, there was much interaction between the two families. Fu Juan, who from a very young age was favored by all sides due to her Innate Dao Bone, had begun cultivating Daoist arts, especially swordsmanship. Little Jiang Yiguang, too young to be sensible, refused to listen to her elders and secretly snuck close to Fu Juan as she practiced her sword. The fierce sword momentum halted, and a spark flickered on a falling leaf before erupting into a raging fire. The young Jiang Yiguang was so frightened she plopped down on the ground, wailing loudly. Fu Juan merely glanced at her with extreme calm, then walked away with her ritual sword, without the slightest intention of comforting her.

Jiang Yiguang sighed inwardly.

Although the plot wasn’t developing as scripted, she had once again lost “control” of her body, becoming a spectator watching as Tushan Yi revealed her “Nine-Tailed Fox” true form under a Five Thunders spell. The palace attendants, alarmed by the commotion in the hall, rushed in and saw the scene before them, letting out another round of piercing, grating shrieks. In a daze, Jiang Yiguang heard the “Xie Chaoyun” opposite her speak, her voice cold and indifferent.

“What has already happened cannot be changed. Why persist in obsession? Even if you are unwilling, so what?”

The Nine-Tailed Fox howled mournfully and sorrowfully, and the dream, tinged with a hint of hope, shattered layer by layer. Even the old palaces and towers dissipated into mist and cloud in unison. She stubbornly insisted on replaying that past history, unable to change it herself, and the others who intruded were equally unwilling to grant her wish.

The mountain wind howled mournfully; the dispersed miasma gathered again, so viscous it seemed it could be wrung out.

Fu Juan slowly opened her eyes. Her pupils were dark and deep, like a bottomless abyss. She didn’t look toward the cave but stared at Jiang Yiguang for a moment, until her eyelashes fluttered and she gradually awoke from her slumber.

Xie Chaoyun sensed the malevolent energy floating all around, was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “I thought you would grant her wish.”

Fu Juan said flatly, “She’s been stained with blood. She’s turned into a Ferocious Ghost. Resolving her heart’s knot might not lead to virtue; it could very well make things worse.” She was different from Xie Chaoyun. To her, Tushan Yi wasn’t an “old acquaintance” but a demon and evil spirit that had to be eradicated, a task assigned by the Xuanzhen Dao Court.

“Fu Juan, these sealing talismans are all ancient talismans; they can’t form a talisman array,” Wang Xuanming’s voice rang out, carrying a rare solemnity. Over the millennium, spiritual energy had gradually waned, and talismans had changed accordingly, with many Daoist scriptures lost. This set of ancient talismans still had records in the Wang family, but once he tried to work with them, Wang Xuanming discovered the subtle differences.

A slight deviation led to a thousand-mile error!

Fu Juan frowned and directed the two little paper dolls to stay by Jiang Yiguang’s side. Then she propelled her wheelchair toward where Wang Xuanming was.

The little paper dolls muttered a few complaints, staring longingly at Fu Juan’s back, clearly showing their dislike for Jiang Yiguang.

Jiang Yiguang paid them no mind. She just patted her still somewhat groggy head, feeling as if a thread tethered her soul, denying her freedom.

“Shouldn’t she hate?” Jiang Yiguang looked at Xie Chaoyun and suddenly asked. She had drifted through the riverlands and the north in the identity of “Tushan Yi,” witnessing countless corrupt officials running amok, exploiting the common people. It was half the relentless pressure from the Northern Dynasty’s Imperial Preceptor and half the hatred deep within her own heart. “Some suffering, I imagine, is beyond the imagination of noble clans’ descendants?”

Xie Chaoyun glanced sidelong at Jiang Yiguang, as if seeing through her to another person.

She said softly, “But her choices made the common people’s plight even worse.” After a moment’s thought, she added with a bitter smile, “Humans and demons think very differently after all. In the human world, love and hate aren’t calculated that simply.”

Xie Chaoyun sighed, her tone carrying a hint of guilt: “I actually wanted to help you. I didn’t expect it to turn out like that. I’m sorry.” She didn’t understand those taboos.

Jiang Yiguang raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Then let’s just treat it as broadening our experience?” She stood up, dusted off her clothes, and looked toward the cave. The talismans that had originally sealed the Nine-Tailed Fox hadn’t increased despite Wang Xuanming’s efforts; instead, the energy field had become more chaotic. A fierce wind blew, and the yellow talismans inscribed with cinnabar in mysterious patterns were pulled by a powerful suction force, as if about to be torn in two. “Perhaps you’re more useful than the spell talismans?” Jiang Yiguang said half-jokingly.

The moment she woke up, Jiang Yiguang knew that “Xie Chaoyun” was Fu Juan. But she didn’t exactly approve of Fu Juan’s “cold and ruthless approach.”

A Fu Juan like this, it seemed, would walk the Supreme Dao of Detachment. No wonder “she” would meet an end of Myriad Ghosts Devouring Heart.

She had to keep her distance from Fu Juan.

They simply weren’t on the same path.

Xie Chaoyun studied the shifting expressions on Jiang Yiguang’s face, hesitated, then said slowly, “Perhaps you’re right.”

They should meet one more time.