Chapter 52 Part 1

A chilly breeze stirred the pear blossoms that filled the courtyard. Wu Chongyun sat cross-legged on a stone, a whisk resting across her lap.

Compared to Wei Mingyi, who dashed to the Revival Furnace every day, Wu Chongyun showed little enthusiasm. Except for that first day when Wei Mingyi had dragged her along, she hadn’t budged since.

The midday sun filtered through the branches, scattering over her like flecks of drifting gold. Hearing Wei Mingyi’s excited cry of “Shizun,” she picked up her whisk and turned to look. Perhaps it was the fine weather, or perhaps she’d been infected by Wei Mingyi’s high spirits, but the quiet chill in her brow softened, gilded with a touch of warmth.

“The antidote!” Wei Mingyi planted a hand on the stone slab—big enough for several people—and vaulted up with practiced ease. Kneeling before Wu Chongyun, her knees pressing down her wind-tossed robe, she produced the antidote. “Shizun, quick!” If they missed the appointed hour, they’d have to wait another whole day.

Wu Chongyun lowered her eyes, asked no questions, and took the white, odorless pill directly from Wei Mingyi’s hand. Her lips couldn’t help but brush Wei Mingyi’s fingers, grazing them softly.

That soft touch lingered at her fingertips, sending a jolt through Wei Mingyi. But right now, her mind held no wayward thoughts. She nervously asked, “Shizun, how is it? Has it taken effect?”

Wu Chongyun collected herself and examined her internal Dharma Body. The Minor Spirit‑Returning Pill she’d taken earlier had only forced the Wither and Flourish toxin into a corner, protecting her Nascent Soul Dharma Body. But after this Nine-Revolution Soul-Returning Elixir entered her abdomen, the previously clear toxin rapidly dissolved. Inside her Qi Sea, that “Human Dharma Body” began to shake off its shackles, slowly regaining vitality. But this wasn’t enough. After years of being sealed, the Nascent Soul hadn’t received sufficient spiritual nourishment, and its state was far from its former peak.

“There’s one more pill, to be taken at the zi hour,” Wei Mingyi said, licking her lips. “Why can’t the zi hour be right now?”

“It’s working,” Wu Chongyun answered her earlier question, then added, “Soon.”

Wei Mingyi was just musing aloud. She lifted a hand and caught a few strands of wind-blown white hair. “Will Shizun’s hair turn black again?”

Wu Chongyun glanced at Wei Mingyi, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes. If she wanted black hair, all it took was a turn of her magical power to reshape her outer appearance; she could do it even now. Ignoring the strands still caught in Wei Mingyi’s fingers, she said, “Don’t you like white?” From their first acquaintance, Wei Mingyi had always played with her hair, sometimes even with an odd little smile.

Wei Mingyi: “.” Fine, Shizun had seen right through her. She blinked and said, righteous and solemn, “If it’s white because of illness and suffering, I’d rather not.”

Wu Chongyun only gave a soft scoff and said nothing more.

They’d waited years already; one day was nothing. Wu Chongyun’s face betrayed no urgency, but Wei Mingyi always lacked a certain calm—especially when she was watching Wu Chongyun. She shifted to sit cross-legged, one hand on her knee propping her chin, the other playing with the whisk, sweeping it back and forth across Wu Chongyun’s lap.

When Wu Chongyun didn’t speak to her, she let her mind wander on its own. Somehow, her drifting thoughts turned to the nights they shared a bed. At first, it had been to keep Shizun from harming herself that she’d moved in. Later, with the Minor Spirit‑Returning Pill suppressing the poison, Shizun hadn’t really needed her care anymore. But she’d been afraid of that one “what if”—what if someday Shizun forgot to take her medicine?

Now the Nine-Revolution Elixir could purge the poison altogether, and Shizun wouldn’t need anyone to look after her. She might just close the door and enter seclusion for years. The thought made Wei Mingyi so angry she leaned back, slapped her own thigh, and gave a loud hmph. Before, no matter how she waved the whisk, she couldn’t draw Shizun’s gaze—but now, lost in her own indignant musings, she suddenly found Shizun looking at her with puzzled eyes.

Wei Mingyi: “…”

She tucked her hands behind her back, eyes darting, and offered an explanation: “There was a bug. A bold, arrogant bug, swaggering around the courtyard. I couldn’t stand it.”

Wu Chongyun’s eyelids drooped. “Mm.”

That’s it? Wei Mingyi pursed her lips, then gave another soft, emphatic humph. “Shizun is afraid of the dark, right?”

Wu Chongyun: “?”

No answer meant yes, Wei Mingyi thought. She continued, “Shizun doesn’t need to worry. I’ll always stay by your side.”

Wu Chongyun still said nothing. She retrieved the whisk from Wei Mingyi’s hand, gave it a sweep, and it transformed into a fine zither. Wei Mingyi was startled. She’d been drilled so hard by Wu Chongyun before that seeing the zither was like watching wind blades and frost swords closing in. She instinctively tried to leap off the stone and go back to being a “fishball,” but Wu Chongyun swept a glance at her and said, “Sit.”

Wei Mingyi sat back down, eyes wide. Suddenly understanding Wu Chongyun’s intent, she asked, “Shizun is going to play the zither for me?”

But in the face of high art, she was just a cow.

A melodious tune filled the air; pear blossoms drifted on the wind.

The zither was no killing weapon—it only gave voice to the strings.

Wu Chongyun cultivated the Dao of the Zither. Putting aside the Dao path itself, she truly held an affection for the art. But since leaving Spirit Mountain, she had never played like this again. All her emotions hid within the music. The surging melody grew impassioned and fierce, then abruptly dropped, low and halting, as if reaching a dead end. Yet the plaintive notes never truly broke. After circling the depths for a long while, they finally saw green hills again, as clear and bright as the chirping of birds.

“I left home at eight and entered the Dao path. I achieved the Golden Core in fifty-some years, formed the Nascent Soul after two hundred. The name ‘Zither Paragon’ was forged by wading through a road of blood. The people the Wu Clan wanted me to kill—I killed them. The demons Wu Weiheng ordered me to eliminate—I eliminated them. The fame they wanted me to win—I won it… Back then, I didn’t think I had done anything wrong. That was an iron law, in place for thousands of years. All paths under heaven were like that; everyone did so. Later, I opened my eyes and saw the mortal world. And that opening of my eyes was not my own insight—it was the Grand Elder who showed me.”

“She said the Dao truly lies ‘outside the Dao.’ She showed me how much blood and hatred lay outside the aristocratic clans’ Dao. She showed me that countless flesh and blood watered that glorious, flower-bedecked high platform. She said what we cultivated was never the Dao—it was Devilry. She said all the evil and depravity had long been in our blood. She said no one could ever break free of those millennia-old shackles… She destroyed every conviction I’d ever held and pushed me out of Spirit Mountain. To this day, I can’t understand her—it’s neither grace nor hatred.”

“Without enduring its bitterness, one cannot know its resentment. What did I do right? What did I do wrong?”

Amid the zither’s melody, Wu Chongyun’s voice rose, briefly recounting her past.

Wei Mingyi, lost in the music, was suddenly called back by Wu Chongyun’s tone.

Right or wrong… it was truly a philosophical question. She wouldn’t—and didn’t want to—think about it; why torment herself? But if Shizun asked, she had to answer somehow. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Right or wrong are relative. Isn’t the goal of cultivation to be free and unrestrained? Shouldn’t we also let go of the shackles in our thoughts? So long as you don’t go against your own heart, that’s what matters.” The zither music stopped abruptly. Wu Chongyun sank into silence.

Wei Mingyi smoothed her brow and continued, “Follow the heart’s desire without overstepping the bounds. Isn’t that inscription on Shizun’s zither ‘Follow the Heart’s Desire’?”

Wu Chongyun gazed deeply at Wei Mingyi. After a long while, she said, “You should be the one blessed by the Heavenly Dao.”

Wei Mingyi blinked.

She actually didn’t much care for heavy topics. Since opening up about the past, Shizun had brought it up twice now. Watching the sorrow-knotted brow of Wu Chongyun, Wei Mingyi lifted her chin and grinned. “Ah, but a child of the Heavenly Dao has to shoulder the mission of saving the world. Some trudge through wind and snow, rejected by the mediocre masses. Some, after turning the tide, sit alone on an empty cliff, forgotten by the world, enduring an eternity of solitude. Others spend their lives amidst the adoring crowd, yet can only ceaselessly toil… All of those are too miserable. I don’t want to be that kind of person.”

Wu Chongyun didn’t know where Wei Mingyi had heard these “savior stories.” The zither transformed back into a whisk, sweeping across Wei Mingyi’s face. She asked, “What kind of person do you want to be?”

Without a second thought, Wei Mingyi declared, “Of course, just Shizun’s good disciple.” Her brows flew high, her tone light and carefree, the smile at the corners of her lips dazzling even brighter in the sunlight.

Wu Chongyun had grown accustomed to Wei Mingyi’s sweet words, yet her heart still skipped a beat. She had never met anyone so direct and passionate. Sometimes it was an unyielding, forceful intrusion; other times a gentle, spring-breeze tenderness… Without thinking, she lifted her hand and traced Wei Mingyi’s brow, then gently brushed downward, pausing at the corner of her lips. “Disciple?” she asked.

Wei Mingyi held her breath, her cheeks flushing, her vision filled only with Wu Chongyun so close. She fought down the impulse to give Wu Chongyun’s finger a little bite. “Mm-hmm,” she hummed. She actually wanted to ask, “And besides that?” but she couldn’t say it, only daring to let her thoughts run wild. Also, she was afraid her shameless words would startle Wu Chongyun.

Wu Chongyun withdrew her hand.

Her brow smoothed, and her fingers unconsciously tapped her own lips.

Her eyes were serene, her expression returning to normal—but inside Wei Mingyi’s mind, fireworks exploded, and her whole body went weak. Her heartbeat quickened fiercely, as if about to burst from her chest. Her face flushed deeply, and she wanted to take deep breaths to calm herself, but feared the movement would be too obvious and Wu Chongyun would notice her state.

But she was a big person, impossible to hide.

First puzzled, Wu Chongyun then seemed to realize something. She flicked the whisk onto Wei Mingyi’s face and quickly rose to leave the large stone beneath the tree.

Wei Mingyi didn’t chase after her. She lay back on the stone. Turning her head, she watched Wu Chongyun’s figure vanish. The whisk slid down with the motion, and she lifted it to cover her face. The sunshine was just right, filtered by the tall pear tree so it didn’t glare. Wei Mingyi’s heartbeat gradually calmed, but that giddy joy still swirled in her chest.

Pillowed on fallen blossoms, she suddenly laughed out loud, free and bright.

Inside the house, Wu Chongyun had only stepped through the door for a moment. She soon turned back, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, gazing at Wei Mingyi laughing on the stone. A clear, soft smile also curved her lips.

The zi hour.

Wei Mingyi had already returned to the house.

The room was simply furnished, clean and spotless on all sides.

A lamp glowed softly; the bright moon hung in the window, flower shadows slanting across.

Wei Mingyi sat cross-legged on the couch, offering the final pill to Wu Chongyun.

Wu Chongyun nodded and took it herself. The pill at noon had already driven the poison from the Nascent Soul; this one would restore its vitality. The Nascent Soul had three stages, cultivating the Three Powers Dharma Body. Her original cultivation had been at Nascent Soul Stage 1, but had she not met with misfortune, her Human Dharma Body would have already been perfected. Now, as the pill dissolved, what had been missing returned, directly bringing her Human Dharma Body to completion. Moreover—though the Wither and Flourish toxin was gone—it seemed to have left something beneficial to her own Dao cultivation.

Wu Chongyun looked at Wei Mingyi and said, “I need to enter seclusion.” Her eyes were clear and cool, like bright moonlight.

Wei Mingyi was momentarily stunned. She’d thought that after Shizun recovered, they’d chat idly through the night. But on second thought, the herbs, used sparingly, could have made three batches—yet the Assistant Master, blessed by “Wish Fulfillment,” had merged the full potency. Shizun’s cultivation was already at that threshold; after taking the medicine, advancing further was only natural. If Shizun reached Stage 2, Chongyuan Sect would be even stronger. So she nodded: “Alright.”