The Sect Leader's Seat (1)

A golden divine spirit descended from the heavens and infused itself into a specific chamber within the Tianshu Divine Palace.

The gold-topped candles hung high swayed gently, casting the constellations floating in the sky onto the smooth marble floor through the astrological array.

Upon the emerald throne, draped in luxurious brocade embroidered with intricate patterns, sat a girl clad in dark purple attire. Her features were delicate, almost ethereal, like a celestial child. Her eyes closed, she leaned against a night pearl ornament beside the seat, a deep purple ring on her thumb glowing faintly with swirling spiritual patterns.

Mu Weiyin opened her eyes to find Mu Xiaochi perched on her lap. The girl’s dazed expression brightened as her sister stirred, tilting her head and gnawing on her fingers. “Sister City Lord,” she chirped, “you’ve gotten taller… and skinnier!”

Soft fingers patted Mu Weiyin’s face, wide-eyed and inquisitive.

“Xiaochi,” Mu Weiyin chided gently, “stop biting your fingers.”

Mu Weiyin’s reproach caused Mu Xiaochi to flinch in fear. She darted behind a pillar at the base of the steps, peeking out to watch the figure on the throne from her hiding spot. Her jet-black eyes were as clear and innocent as a child’s, knowing nothing of the world. Yet instinctively, she sensed her sister’s anger and scurried far away.

Mu Xiaochi was her biological sister, born lacking two souls and two spirits¹. Years ago, the sisters had been abducted and sold to Tianshu City, their paths diverging for a long time. It was only after Mu Weiyin ascended as Tianshu City Lord through her own strength that she finally located Xiaochi after relentless searching.

Now seeing Xiaochi’s endearing peek-a-boo antics from behind the pillar, Mu Weiyin’s stern expression softened into a faint smile. Though her sister’s mind remained childlike, this simplicity might just be a hidden blessing.

The smooth marble floor reflected her silhouette faintly. Her once-round, cherubic cheeks had begun to take on delicate, feminine contours, and her petite frame had grown taller, now resembling a girl of twelve or thirteen years.

Mu Weiyin stroked her face in surprise, a trace of indescribable emotion settling in her clear, bright eyes.

This was the first time she had broken through the confines of the Emotionless Path, and she had aged a few years.

She recalled within the pill furnace, a strand of her consciousness had practiced dual cultivation with a demon cultivator with the Cauldron Physique. Could it be that very union had spurred her growth?

Mu Weiyin had cultivated many pharmaceutical cultivations and sought a suitable Cauldron for nourishment for years, yet none had provided the true antidote to break through the Emotionless Path. Could Jieyu be… her cure?

She suddenly remembered that her consciousness and Xiao Lanle’s body had fully merged. Such a high degree of integration between soul and physical form was rare indeed. Perhaps it was her bond with Lanle that allowed her to transcend the Emotionless Path.

The constellations on the astrological chart surged upward, transforming into a swirling mist of crystalline blue. A spectral vision rose slowly, revealing a peerless beauty clad in red within the cloud mirror.

Mu Weiyin walked at a measured pace, greeting the arrival of the Demon Realm’s Lord. She halted before the cloud mirror and asked, “Lord Han, your sudden visit to Tianshu City—might I ask what urgent matter brings you?”

Han Shengyao lounged lazily against the Demon Realm’s throne, her form draped in a flowing crimson gauze gown. Servants attended to her, massaging her shoulders, kneading her legs, and offering tea. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, hinting at restless sleep, while her violet gaze fixed intently on Mu Weiyin. “My undercover agents in the human cultivator realm detected traces of the Beast Emperor’s natal artifact, the Cold Cicada Zither. Her seclusion in the Demon Realm may be a ruse—she could very well be hiding among the human realms.”

Mu Weiyin’s youthful features tightened. “The Cold Cicada Zither is the Beast Emperor’s most cherished treasure. How could it have ended up here so carelessly? What purpose could she have in hiding in the human realm—could it be for the Beast-Subduing Tower we built?”

Han Shengyao idly swirled the fine wine in her white jade cup, her phoenix-like eyes glancing sideways at Mu Weiyin. Her crimson lips curved faintly as she spoke. “The divine edict of the Heavenly Dao foretold that once the Beast Emperor Xuan Luoqing emerges, the mortal realm will be thrown into chaos, and the Six Paths’ order will crumble. Though I doubt Xuan Luoqing possesses such world-altering power, lately her movements have grown increasingly suspicious, and the human cultivator realm seems far from tranquil.”

Mu Weiyin’s youthful face tightened. “The demonic entities forbidden in the four realms have breached the Penglai Immortal Sect. I, the City Lord, witnessed them escape the seals with my own eyes. Within ten days, the Beast-Sealing Tower of the Wuji Buddhist Sect will surely fall. Demons rampaging unchecked—this is a dire calamity for humanity.”

“You need not fret. Should Tianshu City face peril, I shall come to your aid.”

“Oh, and there’s another matter. Besides informing you of this, I require you to locate someone.”

Han Shengyao lazily raised a brow at a nearby maid, who hurriedly presented a scroll of paintings.

The scroll unfurled from Han Shengyao’s hands, revealing a meticulously detailed ink painting before Mu Weiyin’s eyes. Within it, a slender, graceful woman was depicted vividly, seated on grass dappled with shifting light and shadow beneath a bamboo grove, as if practicing the zither. Though her face was blurred, her hand positions were rendered with exquisite precision—the incorrect finger placement, frozen mid-mistake, betrayed a studied imperfection. The fabric’s texture and the delicate interplay of light and shadow on the flowing garment spoke of the artist’s painstaking effort and deep emotional investment in the subject.

“I task the City Lord with finding this woman in the painting. Demon Realm denizens claim she perished in the human cultivator realm. Should you locate her remains or soul, inform me at once.”

The figure in the painting lacked a face, clad in the ordinary attire of a demon cultivator, and held a plain burnt-tail zither. No discernible clues marked her identity.

Mu Weiyin knew instantly the search would be futile, yet she still agreed, “This city lord will keep watch. The Domain Lord may rest assured.”

Han Shengyao flung the scroll in her hand toward the mirror. A wisp of demonic energy surged from the cloud mirror, alighting in Mu Weiyin’s palm and transforming into the scroll depicting the faceless woman.

“Then I shall entrust the City Lord with this task. This person is of great importance to me.”

As soon as Mu Weiyin grasped the scroll, the cloud mirror dissolved into mist over the astrological disk, its crystal-blue light and electric arcs rising from the hexagrams before coalescing into a star chart amid the constellation’s glow.

The Lord of the Demon Realm had departed, and the scroll—doomed to yield no answers—now held little meaning or worth.

Mu Xiaochi, hidden behind a pillar, emerged once the mirror’s strange phenomena faded. She approached Mu Weiyin, tugging at her sleeve. Though the woman stood half a head taller, her expression bore the harmless simplicity of a five- or six-year-old child.

“Xiaochi, do you like this painting?”

Mu Weiyin watched as Mu Xiaochi’s eyes lingered on the figure in the painting. With a casual flick, she tossed the scroll into her sister’s arms. “Take it if you like. After all, this person never truly existed.”

Mu Xiaochi traced the figure in the portrait, her gaze softening until she broke into a dazed smile. Clutching the scroll to her chest, she leaned against the pillar, her eyes gradually slipping shut as she drifted into unconscious sleep.

Mu Weiyin stepped beside her, nodding to a nearby servant. The servant understood at once, swiftly lifting Mu Xiaochi in his arms and carrying her back to the bedroom.

The ancient bell of the Penglai Immortal Sect continued to toll, its resonant strikes echoing through the canyons of the immortal mountain, the weight of its sound lingering in the air.

Lin Qianshuang stood steadily in mid-air, Xiao Lanle slung over her shoulder, as she surveyed the area amid the howling demonic winds. Just as she prepared to return by sword, a voice called out anxiously from behind.

“Senior Sister Lin! This is a den of rampaging demon beasts, and Junior Sister Xiao remains unconscious—this is far too perilous for you both!”

Chen Shangqing swooped in beside her on his spirit sword, his tone urgent. “Let me take Junior Sister Xiao. It’s no easy task for you to carry her alone through these demonic winds.”