The Last One (5)

“I… Of course I know!” Lin Qianshuang replied eagerly, seizing this golden chance to curry favor with Tianshu City’s Lord, Mu Weiyin. And if the City Lord and Junior Sister Xiao hit it off, she thought slyly, her mind already racing, securing the Tianshu Mirror will be a breeze.

Smiling brightly, she gathered up the ingredients to wash. “Leave everything to me, City Lord!” she declared. “Junior Sister Xiao will be thrilled to see a meal you personally prepared!”

Mu Weiyin watched as Lin hummed cheerfully, darting between boiling water and stoking the fire. Something seemed off—this enthusiasm didn’t align with the rumors. Her sources had claimed Lin shared a murky, public entanglement with her Daoist partner, even flaunting a marriage token before crowds. Yet here she was, playing matchmaker with gleeful zeal.

Looking at it now, this subordinate didn’t seem entangled with the rumored Daoist partner after all.

“Junior Sister Xiao prefers vegetable meatball soup. First, season the pork—mince it finely, mix in a raw egg, then add starch…”

Lin Qianshuang gestured with the kitchen knife toward a well-marbled cut of pork, poised to chop, when Mu Weiyin snatched the blade.

“This City Lord will handle the chopping,” Mu Weiyin said, fastening the homemade apron Lin offered around her neck and waist. “It’s meaningless if you do it.”

She sliced the meat with measured precision, then turned to prep the vegetables. Lin watched from the sidelines, dazed as if caught in a waking dream.

The fact that the City Lord of Tianshu and master of the Scattered Cultivation Realm would personally cook spoke volumes—Junior Sister Xiao was truly treasured in the palm of her hand.

Mu Weiyin set a steaming pot of vegetable meatball soup and several side dishes before Lin Qianshuang, handing her utensils. “Taste these,” she said. “How does this city lord’s cooking compare to yours?”

Lin sampled the dishes. The flavors were unexpectedly refined. She looked up with a smile. “City Lord, yours is far superior.”

Mu Weiyin froze.

That earnest expression overlapped with memories of Mu Xiaochi before madness had consumed her—the same sweet smile the girl had worn in that cramped, damp ship’s hold while clutching the scallion pancake Mu had risked stealing from a stall.

Lin Qianshuang took a few more bites before setting down her chopsticks. After a moment’s hesitation, she broached the subject cautiously, “City Lord, regarding the final name on the list you provided… When do you intend to act? I worry that haste might expose my identity as a demon cultivator, complicating future tasks for your sake.”

“Everything is prepared,” Mu Weiyin replied, her initially warm tone cooling sharply. “You need only follow instructions and settle in after tomorrow’s marriage.” She tossed a pill toward Lin, adding, “This is half the antidote for the Gu poison. Eliminate the Chen family head, and I’ll grant the second half—along with your appointment as Tower Lord of Tianshu City.”

Lin swallowed the pill, relief flickering through her. With the Tianshu City Lord’s backing, the assassination would be far simpler.

As Mu Weiyin rose, directing attendants to pack the meal, her gaze drifted to Lin, now silently lingering in the corner. The young woman seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant, whole demeanor oddly listless. The demon infant in her dantian teetered precariously—without an external supply of demonic energy, it might collapse completely at any moment.

Mu Weiyin assessed Lin Qianshuang’s physique in a single glance. Her cultivation foundation was unstable, and a powerful, mysterious demon spirit lurked within her—its energy seeping out, slowly eroding her organs. Only the rarity of her Nine Spirit Sword Physique and the purity of her cultivated sword intent allowed her to barely counter the demonic corrosion. Yet this merely delayed the inevitable. Within a century, the demonic energy would fully claim her, supplanting her with whatever monstrous entity—god or demon—dwelled within that spirit.

The City Lord saw clearly: if Lin wished to survive, she needed to match the demon spirit’s power before it fully awakened.

A thought struck Mu Weiyin. Jieyu lacked a natal spiritual artifact to stabilize her soul. With such a treasure anchoring her, the demon spirit might grow dormant.

Her gray-black eyes locked onto the woman before her. If Lin Qianshuang was now her subordinate, her life belonged to Mu Weiyin’s designs.

Approaching Lin, Mu pressed a jade token into her palm. “Through my Heavenly Eye, I perceive you lack a suitable artifact. The Tianshu Sword Mausoleum holds countless spiritual weapons. Retrieve one—but do not venture into its depths. Your current cultivation cannot withstand that realm.”

Each year, countless cultivators perish during failed tribulations, their fallen abbeys transforming into relic-strewn ruins that lure ambitious treasure hunters. Such tombs promised rare artifacts…and lethal risks.

Before ascending as Tianshu City’s ruler, Mu Weiyin had nurtured an obsession with collecting artifacts scattered across the realm. Upon claiming dominion over the rogue cultivators’ world, she’d concealed a century’s worth of treasures within the city’s largest Sword Mausoleum—a sprawling ruin left by a God Transformation Stage sovereign. That she now granted Lin Qianshuang entry spoke volumes about her trust.

Lin’s pulse quickened as she clutched the jade pass, meeting the City Lord’s gaze with glittering eyes. “This humble one thanks the City Lord for her generosity.”

Mu’s attention shifted to a maid lifting an ornate food box. “You’ll carry this,” she said, gesturing for Lin to take it. “We depart for Penglai Immortal Sect.”

Tucking the token into her storage jade, Lin hefted the heavy container. Peeking under the first tier’s lid revealed plump steamed buns shaped like pink-eared rabbits. A faint smile tugged her lips as she glanced at Mu Weiyin.

Interactions with the City Lord always left Lin walking on eggshells, painfully aware of the thin line between deference and offense. Beneath their recent collaboration lingered cold truth—Mu remained an untouchable force of pragmatism, her authority as unyielding as the glacial peaks of Kunlun.

Mu Weiyin had unexpectedly revealed this whimsical side of herself—though her actions, of course, were merely to indulge Xiao Lanle.

As Mu Weiyin lifted the carriage curtain to board, she felt a tug at her sleeve. Turning, she found Lin Qianshuang gripping the fabric, a food box in her other hand. The demon cultivator hesitated, then swiftly released her hold as if realizing the impropriety.

“City Lord,” Lin blurted, anxiety tightening her voice, “do you truly mean to approach Penglai Immortal Sect directly? If you arrive openly now, rumors will spread that Junior Sister Xiao’s accomplishments rely solely on your influence.”

Mu Weiyin’s expression remained impassive. After a prolonged silence, she tilted her head. “Propose an alternative.”

Demonic energy coalesced into a hovering sword beneath Lin’s palm—a rare use of her flight technique. Steadying herself, she suggested, “The back mountain’s side entrance. Less conspicuous. It could… surprise her.”

The blade wobbled abruptly as Mu descended from the carriage. In a swirl of light, the City Lord’s form shrank into a purple-clad child who perched on the sword’s edge. Tiny hands gripping the blade, she turned with a youthful lilt to her voice: “The Sect’s Spirit-Detecting Gate would expose my true cultivation. A partial seal will suffice. Direct us quietly—I’ll tolerate no mishaps.”

Lin Qianshuang tucked the windblown strands from her cheeks behind an ear, her lips quirking faintly. “City Lord, rest assured—I’ll ensure our infiltration of Penglai Immortal Sect proceeds flawlessly.”

She glanced sidelong at Mu Weiyin, poised motionless as a porcelain figurine, guilt flickering in her gaze.

The Penglai Sect simmered with ambitious eyes fixed on both the leadership seat and its treasured Glazed Temple Gem. This covert operation served dual purposes: manipulating Mu Weiyin to purge those circling vultures, while discreetly retrieving the first sect leader’s remains. Hidden within those bones lay the crystal containing the sect’s secret inheritance—a resource she desperately needed.

The male protagonist had survived the Sect Master’s trials unscathed thanks to that very crystal. But Xiao Lanle lacked his plot armor. Without the legacy stone, her junior sister’s trial would become a death sentence.

As Lin turned back to focus on sword maneuvering, Mu Weiyin’s slate-gray eyes snapped open, piercing through her like twin daggers. The City Lord’s gaze lingered just long enough to make Lin’s pulse stutter—coldly perceptive, utterly unimpressed—before closing once more, retreating into detached meditation.

While sunlight still bathed the mountains, a wisp of demonic aura slipped past the foot of Penglai Immortal Sect. The cauldron-bell atop Heavenly Execution Peak trembled faintly as lines of the Dao Sect’s Law Spirit Curse flickered into view. A luminous barrier parted before two materializing figures, revealing a passage.

Lin Qianshuang and Mu Weiyin emerged together within the glowing wall.

Mu Weiyin examined the faint spiritual light in her plump, childlike palm and frowned. “My spiritual energy will take a while to restore. Carry me. I won’t waste power needlessly.”

Lin Qianshuang crouched carefully to lift Mu Weiyin onto her back. Though the purple-robed girl appeared round-cheeked and soft, her weight proved remarkably light—Lin barely felt it.

They soared toward Xiaoyao Cave, soon alighting in the clearing outside the cottage. Lin stepped forward, food box in hand, and pushed open the door. At this hour, junior sister Xiao Lanle should have returned to her residence.

She stepped into the cottage, the food box barely set on the table when an iron cage plummeted from the ceiling, trapping her alongside Mu Weiyin.

Ordinary cold iron bars—Lin Qianshuang could warp them with a wisp of demonic energy. These fools had guts. Ambushing them before Xiao Lanle even began the Sect Leader’s trial? Their brazenness meant Penglai Immortal Sect’s surface tranquility was a lie. Whirlpools churned beneath, peak elders likely puppets already.

Fairy Jinghua hadn’t sent word from within the sect. The situation was dire.

Lin Qianshuang put on an act, clutching Mu Weiyin protectively while her gaze darted, pinpointing their attackers’ positions.

Amused, Mu Weiyin nestled deeper into her arms. With a light pass over her face, her features shifted to a sallow, malnourished child’s—harmless, utterly forgettable.

Just as Lin Qianshuang feigned nervousness, faint, labored breaths drifted from the corner near the screen.