The Last One (2)
The wind roared as dark clouds converged above Lin Qianshuang. Though restrained by Mu Weiyin’s presence, the heavenly tribulation lingered like a blade poised to strike.
Mu Weiyin, after centuries of cultivation, had never encountered such a paradox – a thunder tribulation fixated not on testing an ascendant, but on annihilating a target within the mortal plane.
Her silver lashes trembled slightly as she formed a single-handed seal, layers of robes billowing like ink-stained clouds. Rings of celestial light flickered beneath her feet as her misty gray eyes studied Lin Qianshuang coughing blood in the dirt.
The Heavenly Dao only eradicated two kinds: immortal interlopers forcibly descending from higher planes, or aberrations defying cosmic law. Yet this battered demon cultivator bore three concentric rings of spiritual merit – clearly no malefactor.
Mu Weiyin’s inscrutable gaze sharpened, her dispassionate features betraying rare curiosity. The girl’s cultivation sat like ill-fitted armor – if she were truly a suppressed immortal, why wallow in such weakness? Divine castaways reliving their journey should master cultivation with ease.
The Tianshu Mirror thrummed with ancient divinity, its power fused seamlessly with Mu Weiyin’s perfected immortal form. The clouds of tribulation churned like frustrated predators, denied their prey – a mere human cultivator shielded by Mu Weiyin’s unassailable presence. After endless circling, the heavenly wrath relented, dispersing upward in wisps of defeated lightning.
Sunlight stabbed through the retreating gloom, its brutality undimmed. Xiao Lanle’s hands trembled as she lowered her blade. She’d fully expected to perish alongside Lin Qianshuang beneath those annihilating strikes, yet here they stood – spared through another woman’s casual display of might.
The realization bit deeper than any wound. While Mu Weiyin had scattered celestial fury like ash, Xiao Lanle’s desperate resolve had amounted to nothing. Helplessness curdled in her throat as bloodied fingernails dug into her palm. Her sword vanished into her dantian with a flicker of light, her curled fists leaving crescent imprints on her skin. Crimson droplets pattered the scorched earth.
I’m still… so weak.
Mu Weiyin’s appearance made Lin Qianshuang’s eyes brighten. With the Tianshu City Lord herself intervening, survival was assured.
Relief flooded her, and she reached into her storage jade slip for magic cores to replenish herself—but froze. Her arms had shrunk, now stubby limbs covered in silver fur. She prodded a fluffy paw at its own thick padding, the paw pad yielding softly beneath her tentative touch.
Lin Qianshuang jerked her head up. The world tilted—Xiao Lanle loomed impossibly large above, while she lay diminutive on the girl’s forearm. Exhausted magic energy had stripped her human guise, shrinking her back into this pitiful beast form.
Xiao Lanle’s expression shifted with poorly concealed fascination. She scooped the silver-furred creature into her arms, eyes sparkling as she studied the soft ears and tufted tail. A bloodstained hand hovered, then withdrew.
Instead, she pressed her cheek against the beast’s fuzzy face, delighting as its liquid-blue eyes blinked up at her—so docile, so absurdly endearing.
“Senior sister,” she breathed, voice thick with suppressed glee, “you’re… adorable. Is this your true form?”
Xiao Lanle’s words burned Lin Qianshuang’s cheeks crimson. She buried her furry face in her paws, soul utterly desolate. Being called adorable to her face, by her own junior sister no less, had shattered every shred of her senior sister dignity.
To her surprise, Xiao Lanle didn’t interrogate her transformation or mention the demonic energy clinging to her form. Instead, the girl, eyes sparkling, kept playfully tossing her plush silver body like a fluffy toy, catching her midair each time. When Lin’s kinked tail refused to unwind, Xiao Lanle only laughed brighter.
“Hold still, Senior Sister.” Xiao Lanle cradled the sulking beast in the crook of her elbow, deft fingers working through tangled fur. A warm wisp of true qi seeped into Lin’s meridians, mending fractures.
Lin Qianshuang flopped in Xiao Lanle’s arms like a disgraced cushion. Her stubborn cowlick quivered indignantly. Ugh, she’d always worked so hard to maintain that dignified, reliable senior sister persona around Xiao Lanle. Now here she was—a glorified stress ball, her moral authority scattered like fallen leaves. Even if Xiao Lanle used that sugary “bereaved daughter” act, she’d—no! No forgiveness!
The storm clouds had fully dispersed when Mu Weiyin descended. Golden cultivation energy rippled and vanished as her sleeves stilled. The Tianshu City Lord levitated down before them, gaze frost-pure.
Mu Weiyin leaned down, meeting Xiao Lanle’s gaze. “Lanle,” she said coolly, “never again gamble with what you can’t afford to lose. A life spent dying for others is wasted. Remember—your fate is bound to mine. If you perish for someone else, I’ll see they join you in the grave.”
“How could I stand idle?” Xiao Lanle clutched the small creature in her arms tighter, voice fraying. “Senior Sister Lin is…all I have left. Father is gone. Senior Brother Liang betrayed us. Am I meant to watch everyone dear to me vanish?” Her eyes gleamed, bitter and bright. “If you cared for someone, Weiyin, wouldn’t you fight to keep them?”
The Tianshu City Lord’s expression stiffened. Her thumb brushed the jade ring on her hand, memories of fleeing Tianshu City with Mu Xiaochi surfacing. But her heart remained still as stagnant water. Centuries walking the Emotionless Path had leached away grief, regret—any ripple of mortal feeling. She understood Xiao Lanle’s words, yet the sorrow behind them felt distant, muffled.
“This was my mistake,” Mu Weiyin said at last. “I did not consider your feelings.”
Mu Weiyin studied the silver-furred beast peering intently from Xiao Lanle’s arms. “Lanle,” she said, “your senior sister’s magic core is spent and her essence damaged. As Tianshu City Lord, I can restore her human form within three days and return her unharmed. Entrust her to me.”
Xiao Lanle hesitated until Lin Qianshuang gave a tiny nod. Reluctantly, she passed the small creature to Mu Weiyin.
The City Lord gripped Lin by the scruff, making no move to cradle her. “The Sect Leader’s Trial begins tomorrow. Tread carefully. I expect you to emerge from the secret realm unscathed.” Golden light erupted around Mu Weiyin as she vanished in a swirl of leaves, leaving Xiao Lanle alone on the frost-dusted plain.
The girl’s composure crumbled. She stared at her empty hands, desolation pooling like poison in her chest.
Pathetic. Her nails bit into her palms. I’m still too weak to claim what’s mine.
Xiao Lanle’s nails dug deeper into her palms. Even in front of the one I love, she thought bitterly, I must still hide what’s in my heart.
Her natal spirit sword materialized, floating comfortingly before her. She gripped the Plain Inquiry Sword, its blade shimmering as pure sword intent surged through her fingertips. A frigid wave of sword qi erupted around her, severing nearby foliage at mid-stem.
The shackles fell. Her suppressed cultivation erupted outward – the golden lotus of her Nascent Soul blossoming in her dantian, sword qi coalescing into an aura so potent it froze the world itself. For miles, even rustling leaves hung motionless in the air.
By the riverbank, Xiao Lanle cradled a wine jar, watching fish dart beneath the surface until her expression smoothed to glacial calm. She lifted her gaze to the heavens and laughed, sharp and cold.
“Useless Heavenly Dao,” she sneered. “Protecting vermin like Liang Jingxuan while grinding the worthy into dust.”
Liang Jingxuan had been unfazed by her sword qi, astonishing for someone who hadn’t even formed a demon infant. Yet his composure betrayed no fear of her superior cultivation.
To keep her true power hidden and her revenge intact, she’d lurked by Mu Weiyin’s side, forced to watch her father crumple from deadly poison, clutching her hand until his last breath.
Xiao Lanle’s lips twisted into a bitter smirk as she glared skyward. “How long can you shield him?” she mocked. “One day, I’ll carve his corpse into fish bait.”
A gulp of wine scorched her throat, its fire seeping into her veins. Her grip tightened on the crumpled enemy list—her father’s final act, thrust into her palm as he died.
The memories surged: Mu Weiyin’s honeyed lies, the suffocating charade of camaraderie. Bile rose as Xiao Lanle braced against a tree, retching until her eyes watered.
You’ll pay for this, she vowed, knuckles whitening against bark. Every last one.
A fierce red light flickered in Xiao Lanle’s eyes. Her delicate features twisted into a sweet yet eerie smile. Once she obtained power surpassing that of the Five Great Sects, slaughtering her enemies would be effortless. Then, none could defy her—not even the so-called righteous hypocrites who dared label her marriage to Senior Sister Lin as “depravity.” Let them whisper. She’d carve out their tongues and feed them to the crows.
—
In a sunlit courtyard, Lin Qianshuang curled her furry form lazily on a chair, snow-white belly exposed as demonic energy slowly replenished her dantian. Five delicate-featured youths in thin robes shifted uneasily nearby, too intimidated to approach. Mu Weiyin had tossed her here after the storm, casually procuring five Cauldrons for her recovery.
Lin Qianshuang knew Mu Weiyin had only pretended to help her transform to curry favor with Xiao Lanle. She’d followed the City Lord intending to discuss urgent matters, but before she could speak, guards whispered something to Mu Weiyin, who then cast her a fleeting glance and hurried off. Should’ve guessed the lord was too busy for this, Lin thought, exasperated, turning toward the five trembling youths before her.
For ten minutes now, the delicate-looking boys had clustered together, wide-eyed and shrinking back as though she were some flesh-eating beast poised to devour them. Ridiculous. Her beast form was harmless—a fluffy silver creature hardly capable of menace.
Didn’t these idiots notice the magic cores stockpiled in her jade slip? Or that she cultivated the orthodox sword arts of a prestigious sect? Slaughtering innocents would tarnish her spiritual merits, and she had no intention of squandering hard-earned karma on these hapless Cauldrons. Yet here they quivered, their terror as baffling as it was irritating.
Lin Qianshuang cleared her throat, deciding she owed them an explanation. But before she could speak, the five youths paled, frantic eyes darting for exits. One even cracked his head against a doorframe and collapsed to the floor.
Choking back a laugh—though she immediately chided herself for the cruelty—Lin schooled her expression into sternness. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Seriously, I don’t need Cauldrons. The exit’s there,” she said, jabbing a paw toward the courtyard gate. “Now scram.”
The boys didn’t spare her a glance as they stampeded out, colliding in their haste.
Am I really that terrifying? She flicked an ear, baffled. Her beast form was just a fluffy silver critter, all paws and whiskers—harmless, even adorable… unless she enlarged it.
Lin Qianshuang flicked her fluffy, plush tail in irritation, letting her chubby paws drop with a huff. Plum-blossom claw prints peppered the ground beneath her. Mortals truly lack discernment, she thought sourly. I just wanted conversation. Recovering alone is so dull.
“Little demon cultivator,” a voice purred overhead, “bored all alone? Perfect timing—I’m bored stiff myself. Come up here. I’ve got something interesting to show you.”
That familiar tone seemed to drift from the rooftop eaves. Lin raised her head to the red-robed woman lounging on the tiles, her cheek twitching. Again with the roofs? Ever since her Master arrived in Tianshu City, nine times out of ten, Lin found her perched atop some lofty structure. How had she never noticed before that her esteemed master was… well, a habitual roof-percher?