Chapter 13: Three Years

With her six senses sealed off, Lu Shiyuan was oblivious to the world around her. To outsiders, it might have seemed like the briefest instant—a few seconds, perhaps dozens at most—but in that fleeting moment, she truly glimpsed a cascade of unfamiliar scenes.

One thing was certain: she had never set foot in any of those places.

Viewing them as a detached bystander, she saw a young Shang Si, dressed in robes as vivid as fire, wild and flamboyant, standing alongside that legendary “senior” from everyone’s tales atop Cold Mountain Summit.

Cold Mountain was a realm of perpetual snow, yet its peak held a secluded courtyard where eternal spring bloomed.

That version of Shang Si was utterly unfamiliar to Lu Shiyuan; these days, only faint echoes of her former self lingered.

At first, Lu Shiyuan had meant to tell Shang Si about it.

But as their conversation veered into ever more distant and fantastical territory, she decided to let it slide.

After that night, Lu Shiyuan spent more than half a month nursing her injuries through repeated flare-ups, while Shen Guang awoke not long after.

Seizing on the “ambush of Sovereign Consort Sect members” as her pretext, Shang Si launched a sweeping purge of the Demon Race spies lurking nearby—all without raising the alarm.

Less than two months later, word from the Demon Realm reached Yedu: the Silver Fox Clan’s two direct-line young masters had died. Lu Shiyuan caught wind of it by chance at the theater, eavesdropping on some little demons gossiping at the next table.

Ling Yuan and Ling Feng had previously clashed with her in Yedu, earning them a thorough thrashing from Nan Jin before being tossed out. She hadn’t expected their next news to be word of their deaths, which left her surprised.

Deeper digging revealed that even prominent families in the Demon Realm were in the dark about the cause—only that they had died suddenly, with the Silver Fox Clan keeping it hushed.

Something so unusual had to spell trouble. That evening, while practicing cultivation with Shang Si, Lu Shiyuan brought it up.

Shang Si betrayed no surprise. “Over two months dead, and only now the announcement? The Silver Fox Clan sure knows how to bury secrets, but they’ve got no choice but to swallow this loss.” The longer they spent together, the more natural their exchanges became. Shang Si never pulled rank as the Lord of Ye Capital, and Lu Shiyuan regarded her as her closest companion.

“Over two months?” Lu Shiyuan latched onto the key detail in Shang Si’s words, frowning in confusion. “But weren’t they just…”

Wait—over two months.

The woman before her had a face like blooming peach blossoms, her smile as enchanting as dimples.

Seeing Lu Shiyuan catch on, Shang Si said nothing, merely watching her with a quiet smile.

Working backward from the timeline Shang Si had dropped, Lu Shiyuan quickly recalled that night by the bathing pool in Lianqing Palace. Shang Si had been out all day, ignoring even her sound transmission talismans, and when she returned that evening, faint bloodstains marred her robes in unobtrusive spots.

Suddenly, Ling Yuan and Ling Feng’s deaths seemed trivial. It was clear that everything unfolding lately had been firmly under Shang Si’s control.

The Demon Realm’s grand scheme against the Three Realms had pulled Yedu into the fray, but until the final move, victory or defeat hung in the balance.

Amid this drawn-out stalemate, the days raced by.

With diligent care, Shen Guang’s wounds fully mended by the final month of the year. He set out once more for his sect, and this time encountered no mishaps. Half a month later, Lu Shiyuan received confirmation of his safe arrival at the Sword Spirit Sect.

Spring gave way to summer, autumn to winter.

In the Mortal Realm, all things flourished amid the cycle, but three years of chill and swelter passed like the flick of a finger for the other realms—gone before they knew it.

Yedu carried on unchanged. After the murky news of the Silver Fox Clan’s two young masters’ deaths spread, the Demon Realm fell eerily quiet. The great clans kept to themselves, sparking no major incidents over these years—merely the usual skirmishes with Mortal Realm cultivators now and then.

The long street in the city’s east remained bustling around the clock.

Earlier that year, Yedu had lifted its curfew, sending ghosts and demons into ecstatic revelry. They caroused for over a month straight until Nan Jin intervened, finally tempering the chaos.

“Hua Qiu, over here.” Beside the golden signboard of Wangxian Tower, a woman in azure robes leaned out and called down to the teeming street below.

The sudden shout halted Hua Qiu mid-stride as she hurried inside. She looked up, recognized Lu Shiyuan’s face, then lightly tapped her toe and soared to the second floor.

The minor spectacle drew no stares; everyone was long accustomed to such sights. A passing waiter, jug of freshly brewed Biluochun in hand, crossed paths with Hua Qiu on her ascent and called out cheerfully, “Miss, just a snack or a full spread? Wangxian Tower’s got every immortal delicacy and ocean treasure you could want!”

“You’re here.” Shooting the waiter a glance, Hua Qiu waved him off dismissively.

After taking a seat at the table, she hurriedly poured herself a cup of water and launched into complaints before Lu Shiyuan could even open her mouth. “Lu Shiyuan, don’t let the small size of Yedu City fool you—there’s no shortage of things to handle. I finally managed to slip away now that A Si has gone underground.”

“Out with it, then. What do you want from me, summoning me out here over and over?” The tea soothed her throat, and the woman leaned back against the chair with her arms crossed.

Over these three years, Lu Shiyuan—this nominal “Consort of Ye Capital”—had finally borrowed a bit of Shang Si’s favor to strike up a close friendship with Hua Qiu and Nan Jin.

The Ye Capital’s Six Great Ghost Generals were no easy bunch. Each had their own responsibilities: Nan Jin oversaw security and defense within Yedu City, while Hua Qiu served as Shang Si’s indispensable right hand, helping to shoulder a heavy load of administrative duties.

That said, aside from Nan Jin and Hua Qiu, Lu Shiyuan had yet to meet the other four.

She had once asked Shang Si about them and learned that two were down in the ruins of the former Underworld—one guarding the Reincarnation Pool that had survived its destruction, the other suppressing the Million Resentful Spirits. The remaining pair spent most of their time out in the realms, capturing resentful souls that sowed chaos wherever they went, only returning when duty allowed.

Lu Shiyuan curved her lips in a smile, a lively gleam sparkling in her beautiful almond eyes. “Wangxian Tower got a shipment of rare seafood today. I specially bought two portions and had Master braise them in brown sauce.”

“And didn’t you always go on about the food from the Human Realm? I took a trip to Silver City recently and brought back some treats for you.” With that, Lu Shiyuan spread her fair palm, and several packages of varying sizes wrapped in oiled paper materialized from her Spirit Ring.

Unwrapping them revealed candied hawthorns, malt candy, osmanthus cake, and crab-powder puffs.

Hua Qiu had visited the Human Realm on business in her early years and had been nostalgic for its snacks and delicacies ever since—a fact well-known to those close to her.

The way to ask a favor was to offer goodwill first, and Lu Shiyuan did indeed have something to trouble her with.

She didn’t beat around the bush. Propping her slender chin on her fingers, she said slowly, “A few days ago, I heard from Nan Jin that a thousand years back, you were asked to go to Cold Mountain Summit to find Shang Si, and you recorded the scene in a painting using spiritual arts. Today, I’d like to borrow that painting for a look.”

Such a minor thing, yet she had gone to such lengths.

Hua Qiu paused in thought and quickly grasped Lu Shiyuan’s intent. “Hmm… so that’s it. You want to see that senior.”

“Yes.” Lu Shiyuan nodded with a smile, though the mirth in her lovely almond eyes dimmed a touch.

How could she not be curious?

Over these three years, her relationship with Shang Si defied easy description. They had grown steadily closer, yet something always seemed to be missing. Rumors swirled outside, and whenever Shang Si came up in conversation, that absurd wedding from before was inevitably dragged in, lumping her together with that senior for speculation.

Lu Shiyuan’s Dao heart was steady—she wasn’t one to waver easily—but lately the gossip had grown rampant. When Nan Jin had offhandedly mentioned the scroll in Hua Qiu’s possession, she had resolved to borrow it for a peek.

After all, what harm could a look do?

“Done!” Hua Qiu narrowed her eyes, swept the items on the table toward herself, and agreed with cheerful promptness. Cute little pear dimples appeared on her refined face as she smiled. “For the sake of our friendship these past two years, I’ll lend it to you. But next time you head to the Human Realm, bring back even more goodies for me.” Shang Si hadn’t forbidden showing it to others, after all.

Seeing Hua Qiu’s ready agreement eased the tension from Lu Shiyuan’s smile. “Of course, no problem at all.”

In that instant, Lu Shiyuan watched as the woman across the table raised her hand and grasped at empty air. Scattered motes of light bloomed outward, and a long scroll materialized in her grasp. “Here. Look at it right here, and hand it back when you’re done.”

Hua Qiu passed the scroll over.

By this point, Lu Shiyuan suddenly felt a twinge of nerves.

The questions weighing on her heart were about to find answers. Her expression grew solemn as she accepted the scroll from Hua Qiu’s hand and slowly unrolled it.

Hua Qiu’s name included the character for “painting”; her innate technique transformed the heavens and earth into a canvas. She could enter paintings and, in moments of crisis, even conceal people within them.

As the scroll unfurled in her hands, golden light erupted and split into twin beams. They shot into Lu Shiyuan’s eyes swift as lightning yet utterly silent, drawing her swiftly into the scene captured within from years past.

Cold Mountain Summit. A small courtyard. A wooden hut.

These past three years, Lu Shiyuan had periodically dreamed of that fleeting glimpse from the hot spring in Lianqing Palace that night, when her six senses had been sealed. The scene preserved in this painting matched almost perfectly the hazy image flickering in her mind from that evening—with one key difference. This was recorded from Hua Qiu’s own perspective when she had climbed the mountain in search of someone, so the angle shifted slightly.

A closer look revealed something else: perched on the lush branches of the towering heavenly cypress in the courtyard was a small bird with feathers of vibrant, striking beauty.

That detail had been absent from the vague recollection in Lu Shiyuan’s mind.

But Lu Shiyuan’s attention wasn’t on those things. Instead, it was fixed on the woman in white who was speaking to the young Shang Si.

Clad in snow-white robes, the woman seemed ethereal and detached from the world, utterly independent. Just as she spoke, she turned her face, giving Lu Shiyuan a clear view.

She really… looked just like her.

From her brows and eyes to the solemn expression she wore when not smiling.

Outside the illusory scene, Lu Shiyuan subconsciously lifted a hand to touch her own face, feeling a touch of bewilderment.

“Well? Finished watching?” Hua Qiu’s voice suddenly rang out at that moment, her light tone drifting slowly into the painting like a gentle breeze. “If I remember correctly, Lu Shiyuan, your spirit veins have now reached the final stage of repair after these past few years. Once they’re fully healed, you’ll leave Yedu and return to Sword Spirit Sect, won’t you?”

In that case, why bother watching any of this?

Unless… she didn’t want to leave.