Chapter 53 Part 2

Qin He said, “Shan Shan mentioned before that she had no surname when she was born. After coming down the mountain, she was only wearing a long colorful dawn robe, so she took ‘Shang’ from that.”

Fu Li hesitated. “Colorful dawn… You mean that beggar’s rag?”

Qin He emphasized, “Dawn robe.”

Fu Li tsked, rubbing the fresh red mark on her cheek with her fingertip.

Moments later, she stood and walked to the shelf, selecting wound medicine while saying, “You know, I hate owing people the most. Though I didn’t ask, you all did save me, so I’ll reward you for sure. After some time, when I go home, I’ll send you a letter inviting you to visit the Fu Clan. How’s that?”

Such words from anyone else would invite ridicule. A visit to the home for a life-saving grace? What kind of repayment was that?

But from her mouth, it made sense.

In her mind, the Fu Clan’s mist-veiled style was the most noble and elegant cultivation family in the world. Bound by supreme blood ties and reclusive, only those carefully selected by the clan head could visit—none but the honored and elite, of extraordinary status.

This invitation letter was an honor to flaunt, a mark of recognition others begged for. It could perfectly serve as a reward.

For these people with little status to begin with, getting such a promise from her was already generous. Satisfied with herself, she turned back to add, “Just so we’re clear, whether it’s dawn robe or whatever, she can’t wear that thing to my house. We don’t welcome beggars.”

Hearing this great opportunity dropped right in her lap, Qin He’s expression didn’t change. She set down the towel and folded it neatly. “Whether to go or not depends on Shan Shan.”

Fu Li frowned. “And you?”

Qin He said, “I’ll no longer be in the sect by then.”

“Hm?” Thinking she was off on a mission, Fu Li asked, “Where are you going?”

Qin He fell silent for a moment, then stood and re-fastened her dual swords at her waist. “I’m going down the mountain to investigate what happened back then.”

She offered no further explanation, but Fu Li understood.

Yao’e Immortal’s notorious reputation stemmed from her widely circulated misdeeds, and the third one involved Qin He.

Rumor had it that after the Qin family sisters were taken in by Panxiang Yin, they lived together, deeply bonded, each other’s last remaining family in the world.

Having suffered such a great loss and lost her blood kin, Qin He must be filled with hatred. Wanting to investigate down the mountain could only mean her sister’s case.

Fu Li said, “Isn’t it said that Yao’e killed her? What’s left to investigate?”

Qin He fell silent.

At first, she had always believed that too, even setting it as her life’s sole goal: to relentlessly advance her cultivation and then slay Yao’e to avenge her sister.

Even after the sect master advised her many times that the Mandarin Duck River incident wasn’t so simple, she still regarded Yao’e as her greatest enemy.

But once in Prosperous Joy Workshop and once in the mountain illusion, her sister’s killer had saved her twice. She remembered the grudge so deeply and enduringly—how could she ignore the favors?

She had deceived herself to the point of no return, but would that woman, mostly cold and unapproachable yet occasionally showing her a bit of gentleness, really kill her sister?

She didn’t want to, but she was forced to recall past events. Deep down, she didn’t believe that the woman raised under her sister’s care would truly lay hands on her sister. Yet she had asked Yao’e directly more than once. At first, the woman stayed silent; later, she claimed she didn’t know.

Yao’e was the only one who knew the truth. If she wouldn’t speak, no one knew what had really happened.

Qin He merely took it as guilt, unwillingness to admit it, unwillingness to face it. But no matter her attitude, Qin He no longer wanted to linger in this muddled haze.

A fierce fire burned in her heart, fueled by both gratitude and enmity alike. She had to uncover the truth and figure out what had happened back then. She would repay the kindness and settle the grudge, of course—these matters had to be resolved one way or another.

After waiting half a day with no reply and guessing at her complicated mood, Fu Li changed tack. “Do you need help from my clan?”

Qin He shook her head. “Thank you, but no need.” She fastened her sword, grabbed her cloth bag, and turned toward the door.

Fu Li said, “Where are you headed now?”

“To find my master.”

“Ah?”

“Shan Shan was right.” She paused at the door, then glanced back. “That demon wasn’t killed by us—it was Yao’e Immortal. So it’s not my achievement. I don’t want it.”

She headed into the forest and stood under the moonlight to get her bearings, making for the proctor station where Jiang Zhouyao was posted.

Rustling sounds came now and then from the bushes in the woods as the wind blew through the leaves, swaying like waves on the sea. Qin He felt utterly relaxed, her steps light and swift.

When Shang Shan had left earlier, she had wanted to go too. But considering her disheveled state, she decided it wouldn’t do to meet her master like that. Better to clean up first—that was why she had delayed.

Now, besides explaining that she hadn’t killed the demon, she also needed to discuss her plans to leave the mountain with her master.

This outing meant pursuing a case from over a year ago, with no leads in hand. It might even tie into the demonic creatures that had plagued the Immortal Realm to this day. The difficulty was obvious, and her return was bound to be uncertain.

She might never come back—who knew? She wasn’t even sure her master would agree.

Thinking of that gentle, water-like woman calmed the fierce fire in Qin He’s heart bit by bit.

She was fortunate to have a master who was endlessly kind to her, always protecting and indulging her. Otherwise, she never could have grown into who she was now. She was willing to give everything to repay that kindness, but she couldn’t heed her master’s words: to set aside her hatred and live a good life.

She knew hatred couldn’t simply be set aside. It was like a flower pot with a sharp point at the bottom—either smash it to vent your spleen, or prop it up for life and endure. She couldn’t endure another moment.

As her thoughts raced, a woman’s voice suddenly sounded by her ear. “One by one, you all play the upright good person? So I killed the Yellow Sparrow all by myself, did I?”

Qin He didn’t look at her. She smiled. “Young Fu Clan Head, prodigy of your generation. Soloing a Curse Rank demon—your future knows no bounds.”

“Tch. Toying with me.”

A palm strike whistled through the air. Qin He sidestepped and retreated, leaping onto a tree trunk. “You want to tag along to find my master?”

Fu Li stood beneath the tree and shrugged. “Where else would I go? Stay alone in that spot for two days? I’d die of boredom. Better to find your master—at least she’ll chat with me.”

Qin He said, “Fine.”

“Speaking of,” Fu Li tilted her head slightly, “you’re just tossing the trial results like that. Won’t Feng Ling Immortal punish you?”

Leaves rained down in sheets. Qin He shook her head. “As long as I explain clearly, she won’t.”

Fu Li said, “Yao’e told us not to say she came.”

“I’ll come up with another reason.” Qin He shot back, “You’ve asked that several times now. So concerned—does that mean you’ll get punished when you go back?”

Fu Li’s expression flickered. She turned her head away and ran her left hand over the Jingsha on her forearm. Only after a long moment did she say, “My family sure isn’t as gentle as your master.”

Her tone was flippant, but her expression held a hint of longing.

Qin He’s mind suddenly cleared. She pieced together everything that had happened since they met and arrived at the answer. “You’ve picked fights with me over and over. Are you jealous of me? Jealous that I have Feng Ling Immortal as my master?”

She clearly looked down on everyone, yet she’d chased after Jiang Zhouyao from the start. She’d even eaten heaps of water caltrops—food she’d normally say not even dogs would touch. Later, she’d mooched meals every day, until Shang Shan wanted to fight her.

Day to day, she’d belittle Qin He, intentionally or not, while praising her master. Her little schemes were plain as day. Qin He chided herself—how had she only noticed now? Her knack for reading people must have dulled.

The girl under the tree froze. Color visibly rose on her neck and cheeks—not clear if from anger or something else. She flung out her Jingsha and yelled, “What nonsense are you spewing!”

That reaction only confirmed Qin He’s hunch. Realizing it was mere envy, all the petty annoyances that had built up vanished in an instant. They probably wouldn’t cross paths much after this anyway, and she had no intention of getting close. No point dwelling on it.

“Okay, okay. I was talking nonsense. With your noble status, what master couldn’t you have? No way you’d envy me.”

“You know it.” Fu Li stowed her Jingsha and caught her breath before huffing, “You still haven’t answered what I said earlier. I’ll send the invitation—will you come?”

Qin He drifted down from the tree and stood before the girl, utterly serious. “I don’t make promises I might break. I won’t commit to something I might not manage. But if I have the spare capacity then, I’ll come visit.”

Fu Li said, “One chance only. Miss it, and it’s gone forever. You’ll regret it.”

Qin He made a couple more assurances, and she finally dropped it. They stepped into the moonlight and vanished side by side into the pitch-black forest.

.

In the early morning, Mu Qian Tan slowly awoke from a nightmare. She opened her eyes to find the ceiling swaying back and forth, drifting in and out of focus. It took a good while to settle.

She rubbed her brow and wiped the fine sweat from her forehead with her fingers.

The nightmare had leeched away all warmth. The sweat was cold; her hands and feet were icy.

She lay there a moment before propping herself up on the bed and sitting. Aches radiated through her body, as if she’d climbed a mountain the day before yesterday and every joint had come loose.

She clutched the wound on her abdomen and noticed her throat was parched and sore. She wanted some water.

She swung her feet to the floor and stepped on something soft. Startled fully awake, she lifted her foot and looked down.

“You’re awake.” Shang Shan cradled a spirit pearl, smiling up at her. Her ink-black hair spilled behind her head like a pure monochrome landscape painting.

Mu Qian Tan sat on the edge of the bed and tugged her loose collar tighter. “Not wearing clothes again.”

Shang Shan said, “I washed them—they’re not dry yet.” She reached out, caught that foot, and drew it back to her own abdomen. “So cold. Let me warm them up.”

The spot where her ankle was gripped itched faintly. Mu Qian Tan meant to pull away, but the soft, white, flat expanse of belly beneath her foot felt even better than a hot water bottle.

Expressionless, she stood there a moment. Then she pressed down her other foot too.