t

Mu Weiyin offered courteously, “Domain Lord, your swift departure makes it seem as though Tianshu City has been lacking in hospitality. Might you share a drink with us before you go?”

Han Shengyao gave a languid smile. “No need.”

She tilted her amethyst eyes upward, the curve of her lips faintly teasing. “Once the Beast-Subduing Tower is complete, City Lord, we’ll have ample time to reunite—assuming your sincerity holds.”

A practiced smile crossed Mu Weiyin’s face as she sighed regretfully. “Despite mobilizing Tianshu City’s full resources, we’ve found no trace of the woman you mentioned. Not a single clue. Might the Domain Lord elaborate on where you encountered her?”

“Abandon the search if it’s fruitless,” Han Shengyao replied dismissively, her tone light. “She was merely a figment of my dreams. A foolish whim, really—I don’t even know why I indulged it.”

As talk turned to the mysterious figure from her dreams—so often mentioned in the Demon Realm, yet someone she knew nothing about—

Han Shengyao’s thoughts drifted to the woman in white beneath the peach trees of Shuanghan Manor’s Tingfeng Pavilion. She recalled the figure cradling a qin by the stream, head gently bowed as if whispering secrets to the water. Sunlight filtered through blossoms, dusting the woman’s ink-black hair and diaphanous robes with fragmented gold.

Her lips held a rosy curve, her eyes a serene clarity—a smile as tranquil as petals floating on a clear brook. When her brows knitted faintly, the illusion fractured: ripples swallowed dancing flowers, and that brief radiance faded like a sigh. Yet for a heartbeat, she’d seemed more vivid than spring itself—a fleeting vision of birdsong and swirling blossoms that stripped the world of color, leaving only the ache of something achingly real.

Han Shengyao’s gaze slid to Lin Qianshuang lingering behind the peach trees. Though her violet eyes glinted with calculation, her expression remained dispassionate, as though the observer meant nothing more than a blade to be sheathed.

Mu Weiyin noted the shift. With affected remorse, she offered, “If my subordinate has offended you, Domain Lord, I could gift her to the Demon Realm as recompense. Would that satisfy you?”

It was framed as an apology, but all three understood the underlying implications.

“…” Lin Qianshuang cleared her throat pointedly, reminding Mu Weiyin of their prior bargain. Burning bridges now would be unwise, the gesture implied.

She couldn’t fathom why Han Shengyao and Mu Weiyin’s mutual flattery had to involve her. She was merely a bystander here.

Han Shengyao arched a brow, amused by Mu Weiyin’s casual offer to relinquish a subordinate. Her gaze lingered on Lin Qianshuang before replying coolly, “I’ve no interest in this sort. Though… if you insist on gifting her, I might take her as a Cauldron. Would the City Lord truly part with her?”

Mu Weiyin’s stoic expression twitched, her thoughts churning. The girl masquerading as “Jieyu” had grown alarmingly close to her Taoist companion—a development she no longer trusted.

The Demon Realm’s Lord appears drawn to Jieyu. Presenting her as a Cauldron could secure a strategic foothold in their domain.

Yet Mu Weiyin hesitates—their prior agreement binds her, and she finds this particular Cauldron too useful to discard. Relinquishing Jieyu might also sour Xiao Lanle’s mood.

Noticing Mu’s indecision, Han Shengyao dismisses the idea with a thin smile. The offer had been a idle prod, not a genuine bid to barter the demon cultivator like cargo. “Until another time, City Lord,” she says, her gaze lingering on Lin Qianshuang before departing.

Mu Weiyin waits until Han’s entourage vanishes, then turns to Lin. Five blood-smeared magic cores clatter into the girl’s palm. “You’ve recovered,” she states, tone clipped. “Come. We’ve pressing matters to discuss.”

Lin Qianshuang trailed behind Mu Weiyin, staring at the five bloodied magic cores clutched in her palm. A twinge of unease stirred—these were the inner cores of the five young men Mu had just offered to her as Cauldrons. Was this a reward, she wondered, or a twisted warning?

Her thoughts churned as they passed Tianji Tower. Scattered cultivators in varied robes knelt along their path, members of the intelligence network forged from orphans Mu had sheltered. Their deference only deepened Lin’s disquiet.

A flash of blue snapped her attention upward. On the sixth-floor eaves of a nearby tower, a girl beamed down at them, waving with reckless enthusiasm. She began scaling the windowsill, nimble as a sparrow—until her foot slipped. Arms windmilling, she teetered dangerously before plummeting.

Lin’s breath caught. The girl’s face tugged at her memory. She stole a glance at Mu Weiyin’s profile. The resemblance was faint but unmistakable—the same sharp cheekbones, the tilt of the brows. A silent question lodged in her throat, unanswered.

Could this blue-robed girl be Mu Xiaochi from the original plot—the Tianshu City Lord’s half-sister?

The system helpfully provided fragmented memories: Mu Xiaochi, born stubbornly naive yet housing a sliver of an ascended deity’s spiritual entity. After Liang Jingxuan courted City Lord Mu Weiyin, demonic incursions escalated. When the Beast-Sealing Tower collapsed, unleashing the primordial Taotie, cultivators fractured without leadership. The resulting Immortal Alliance needed a figurehead.

Cowardly Liang Jingxuan schemed to exploit both Tianshu City and Demon Realm forces. He planned a heroic charade to claim the Alliance leadership—until Mu Xiaochi began thwarting his manipulations. Enraged during Mu Weiyin’s absence, he murdered the girl, absorbing her divine essence. This stolen power granted temporary divinity, letting him “heroically” defeat Taotie and cement his reign.

Yet the bitter truth remained: Mu Xiaochi alone had been destined to destroy the calamity-beast. Her death sealed the world’s fragile fate.

Lin Qianshuang saw Mu Xiaochi plummeting from the tower and lunged forward without hesitation, channeling demonic energy to catch the girl mid-fall.

“Sister, have we met before?”

Mu Xiaochi clung fearlessly to Lin’s neck, her shadow-gray eyes—eerily reminiscent of Mu Weiyin’s—studying Lin with open curiosity. Small fingers brushed the smooth space where beast ears might have been. She giggled, clear as wind chimes, “You smell like sweets and look so cuddly! Your ‘ears’ feel soft too. You’re all fierce on the outside but warm underneath. I really like you!”

Sweet? Cuddly?

Is she describing a pastry?

Lin touched down softly, tuning out the child’s babbling. Children’s words hold no malice, she reasoned. No need to fuss over a child’s chatter.

Mu Weiyin’s imperious aura faltered the moment Mu Xiaochi appeared. She yanked the girl from Lin Qianshuang’s arms and anxiously inspected her from head to toe. “Xiaochi,” she chided, “how many times have I told you to wait safely in your room? Do you realize you nearly died today?”

Mu Xiaochi giggled airily, entirely unbothered, and pointed at Lin Qianshuang. “Big Sister always saves me! That kind lady would’ve saved me too! Why be scared?”

Mu Weiyin pressed her lips tight and turned to her attendant. “Who’s been supervising the young City Lord?”

A steward hurried forward and knelt. “She slipped away on her own, my lady. Claimed she smelled something sweet and dashed out before the servants could stop her.”

Rubbing her temples, Mu Weiyin nudged Mu Xiaochi toward the steward. “See that she’s fed whatever she craves—no matter the trouble.”

The steward bowed and reached for Mu Xiaochi’s hand, but the usually docile child writhed free, her giggles dissolving into an uncharacteristic tantrum.

Mu Xiaochi clung stubbornly to Lin Qianshuang’s hand. “I won’t go! I need to tell her—Xiao Chi likes her!”

Lin Qianshuang flushed, her arm trapped as she hesitated to wrench free from the girl’s grip.

Mu Weiyin stepped in wordlessly, peeling her sister away and shoving her toward a steward. “Keep the Young City Lord under watch,” she ordered, voice monotone, as if accustomed to such outbursts. “And fetch a spirit rabbit for her quarters.”

The steward bowed, dragging a squirming Mu Xiaochi into the shadows despite her protests.

Lin Qianshuang exhaled, though her smile remained strained. “…She must really adore fluffy spirit pets,” she offered awkwardly.

Walking ahead, Mu Weiyin replied without turning. “Xiaochi’s favored white-spirited creatures since infancy. Her Heavenly Eye mirrors my own. Naturally, she glimpsed your true form—hence the fuss.”

So she’d been mistaken for a spirit pet.

Lin Qianshuang’s cheek twitched as her thoughts spiraled. That inner core from the Canglan Beast obviously wasn’t its own. No wonder my transformed form looks nothing like it—different size, different fur color… She glanced down at her small, fluffy body. Honestly, even I want to pet myself.

—

Mu Weiyin walked ahead in silence, the two soon arriving at a wooden cottage. Lin Qianshuang pushed the door open—and froze. She’d assumed Mu Weiyin wanted to discuss the final name on the list. But a kitchen?

Red and yellow chilies, napa cabbage, winter melon, fresh pork, live fish…

Lin Qianshuang stared at the table loaded with ingredients, then at Mu Weiyin poised stiffly before the stove. She blurted out, “City Lord—you’re cooking?”

Mu Weiyin’s expression hardened as if issuing a battle decree. “Tomorrow, Xiao Lanle faces her sect leader trial. I intend to prepare dinner for her tonight.” Her gaze sharpened. “You’ve lived with her at the Penglai Immortal Sect. Surely you know her preferences.”