Chapter 6: The Wrathful God

The scene at this moment was quite comical.

Shi Luoyi’s cheeks were stuffed full with the oversized pill, and she was both angry and itching to curse. Even if he wanted to poison her, couldn’t he have used a pill of normal size?

In the young woman’s mouth, along with the terrifyingly large pill, she had also bitten down on one of Bian Lingyu’s long, elegant fingers.

Those hands really were long and beautiful.

Even in this situation, she could only manage to bite the first joint of his finger.

She had intended to spit out the poisonous pill and unleash a torrent of curses, thinking he was just as cruel as his sister, wishing for her death.

However, under the moonlight, the moment she forced her puffed-up cheeks open and opened her eyes, she saw a face that looked even closer to death than hers.

Bian Lingyu’s complexion was deathly pale, his eyes filled with an endless void.

The cold wind rustled, lifting the hem of his clothes. She saw a pair of powerless, sorrowful eyes—eyes she had never seen in either of her lifetimes.

For some inexplicable reason, she was struck by this sudden wave of despair and sadness. Instead of immediately lashing out, she stared blankly into those eyes, momentarily forgetting to spit out the pill.

The pill dissolved in her mouth, and with a “gulp,” she swallowed it.

“…”

That was it. Instantly, she slapped away Bian Lingyu’s finger and leaned over the side of the bed, dry-heaving.

She had swallowed it too quickly and hadn’t even tasted what kind of poison it was. Could she still vomit it out? Was there still time to save herself? If she went to Elder Hanshu now, would it be in time?

Shi Luoyi regretted it immensely, nearly gagging herself. How could she have swallowed such a massive poisonous pill! Wasn’t Heaven supposed to favor Bian Lingyu, giving her a second chance at life just so he could personally exact his revenge?

Bian Lingyu hadn’t expected Shi Luoyi to suddenly open her eyes.

Even less had he anticipated that upon waking, she would coincidentally swallow the pill.

He watched as Shi Luoyi’s dewy eyes filled with panic, fear, and despair. Finally, her face turned ashen, and with a sudden movement, she sat up and leaned over the bed, trying to vomit out the pill.

After observing her silently for a moment, Bian Lingyu’s gaze gradually cooled.

Once he calmed down, it was clear to him that Shi Luoyi was perfectly fine—far from being on the brink of death. What had she thought he had fed her? Poison?

“It’s useless,” Bian Lingyu stated flatly, frowning slightly as he watched her struggle to induce vomiting.

In truth, her actions in front of him didn’t anger him. Over the three years since he had come to the mountain, his interactions with Shi Luoyi had been few and far between.

Every time they met, she would look at him with wary, disdainful eyes, occasionally hurling insults his way.

Bian Lingyu knew his temperament wasn’t endearing, and he was accustomed to the hatred in her gaze. Even if she believed he had poisoned her, it couldn’t pierce his already frozen heart.

If not for what happened three months ago, he probably would have gone through his entire life without crossing paths with her again.

Thinking of that incident three months ago, the girl seemed to sense his thoughts and, between coughs, said, “Bian Lingyu, give me the antidote first. I know I wronged you three months ago, and I deeply regret it… cough, cough…”

“I regret it… cough, cough… more than you do. Whatever compensation you want, or whatever punishment you wish to inflict, just tell me.” Her face flushed red from coughing, but she still couldn’t expel the pill.

Bian Lingyu’s expression darkened as he repeated, enunciating each word: “You say you regret it?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Shi Luoyi replied desperately. She trusted no one now and dared not reveal the truth about her inner demon, so she vaguely explained, “It was my fault, and I had my reasons. If you decide how I should make amends, I will do my best to comply.”

After waiting in vain for a response, Shi Luoyi finally looked up to see Bian Lingyu watching her indifferently.

She didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want to die. If she died, what would happen to Elder Hanshu two months from now? What about her father?

She had heard that when people realized their enemies were suffering even more than they were, they might let go of their hatred.

Suppressing her embarrassment, Shi Luoyi added awkwardly, “That… I, I was in great pain back then. Doing that to you… I felt nothing but pain…”

“…”

Shi Luoyi saw a pair of utterly icy eyes staring back at her.

Her cheeks were once again pinched by his hand, and the distance between them closed until she could almost feel his slightly hurried breaths from his suppressed anger.

Shi Luoyi had always vaguely thought of Bian Lingyu as frail, but under the moonlight now, the youth resembled a wrathful god. With a cold laugh, he said, “You want an antidote? There is none. Wait for death.”

She didn’t know where her sudden surge of anger came from. Her cheeks hurt from his grip, but he abruptly released her and turned to leave.

Shi Luoyi covered her face, furrowing her brows. The murderous aura and cold fury she had cultivated as a demonic cultivator surged within her, and instinctively, she raised her hand to summon a spell, intending to force him to reveal the antidote.

But as she gazed at the youth’s retreating figure against the snowstorm, she remembered the look in his eyes when she had first opened hers. Her raised hand eventually dropped, and the golden glow of the spell dissipated in her palm.

She sighed, feeling an inexplicable sense of helplessness.

This was the downside of being in the wrong. No matter what, she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—lay a hand on Bian Lingyu.

Fine. He had been humiliated, so his behavior was understandable. If she had experienced something like that, she doubted she would have been any kinder. The only thing she could do was console herself: a mortal’s poison probably wouldn’t kill a cultivator immediately, right?

Resigned to her fate, Shi Luoyi climbed off the bed, her face ghostly pale. Not daring to wait for Huixiang’s return, she dashed toward Elder Hanshu’s quarters in the middle of the night.

Her figure was light and graceful, disappearing instantly under the moonlight like a butterfly dancing among clouds.

Ding Bai first saw Bian Lingyu emerge with a cold expression, followed by a wisp of gauze fluttering through the air.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking he had imagined it, but the ethereal veil vanished quickly.

What was that?

Bian Lingyu said, “Let’s go.”

“Master, did you see…”

“No, I didn’t see anything.”

Alright, but he hadn’t even asked what he was supposed to have seen.

When they had come, Bian Lingyu needed Ding Bai to push his wheelchair, but now he refused any assistance, descending the mountain on his own.

As they retraced their steps, Ding Bai was freezing to the point of tears, his senses nearly numb. Yet, the fragrance from earlier in the evening began to waft through the air again.

Ding Bai sniffed the air again.

“Master, do you smell any fragrance?”

Bian Lingyu paused for a moment before replying, “Perhaps it’s poison.”

Ding Bai closed his mouth, realizing once again that talking to him was a mistake. How could something so fragrant be poison? He detected the irritation in Bian Lingyu’s tone and didn’t dare ask further. Fortunately, his nose soon went numb from the cold, and he could no longer smell anything.

The two returned to the outer disciples’ courtyard just as dawn was breaking.

In the faint light, Ding Bai was horrified to see the man who had always been as cold and aloof as jade—his chest now stained with streaks of red spreading outward.

“You… you…”

Bian Lingyu tightened his grip on the fabric covering his wound, frowning as he concealed it. In a low voice, he commanded, “Silence.”

The moon had long since vanished into the pale sky. Clutching the armrests of his wheelchair tightly, Bian Lingyu endured the piercing pain.

________________________________________

Hanshu withdrew her spiritual energy after examining Shi Luoyi’s body, deep in thought.

“What’s wrong with me?” Shi Luoyi asked.

Hanshu replied, “I didn’t detect anything unusual. You have an immortal constitution, so ordinary poisonous pills wouldn’t affect you. You say someone fed you a toxic pill. Who was it?”

Shi Luoyi lowered her gaze. “Hmm… Since there’s nothing wrong, there’s no need to pursue who it was. It wasn’t intentional. I’ve already disturbed you at this late hour, Elder Hanshu. I’ll take my leave now.”

Seeing that she didn’t want to report the matter, Hanshu didn’t press further. However, she added coldly, “If you feel unwell later, send someone to fetch me anytime.”

Shi Luoyi nodded. Just as she was about to walk out the door, Hanshu hesitated for a moment before saying, “Before your father awakens, you must protect yourself wisely. Don’t trust anyone too much.”

Hanshu knew well that Buye Mountain was the most mysterious immortal mountain in the world. Its master, Daojun Shihuan, had risen to fame at a young age, amassing countless treasures and cultivation techniques within its halls. The Daojun rarely took disciples and had planted the entire peak with ice lotuses for his beloved wife. Ordinary people were forbidden entry.

The world coveted such a place. After Daojun fell into slumber, Hanshu had subtly sensed that Shi Luoyi’s situation was precarious, but she had never had the standing to advise or warn her.

She was fully aware of how much Shi Luoyi disliked her in the past. After all… she had admired Shi Luoyi’s father for nearly a thousand years.

But recently, Shi Luoyi had shown her an unexpected warmth and closeness, prompting Hanshu to offer this warning.

Mingyou Mountain was far more complicated than it appeared on the surface. Hanshu knew that this little fairy of the Shi family, now without parents, was a good child. Without the protection of the Daojun, how could she possibly survive amidst wolves and tigers now that she had just come of age?

Though she had given this advice, Hanshu felt a pang of regret afterward, fearing that Shi Luoyi might think she was overstepping.

However, in the soft morning light, Shi Luoyi turned back, her eyes clear and soft. “Elder Hanshu, you’re truly kind!”

Hanshu: “….” Hmm.

________________________________________

December in the mortal realm.

Wei Changyuan had spent days pursuing a bear demon that had wreaked havoc across the human world. This bear demon, having cultivated for five hundred years, had become a monstrous force after losing its cub. Corrupted by demonic energy, it began devouring humans indiscriminately.

The bear demon’s thick hide made it highly resilient. Sensing danger, it fled into the depths of a familiar cave. Wei Changyuan and several junior brothers chased it for days before finally beheading the beast at noon today and extracting its core.

As they approached the sect, the tassel of Wei Changyuan’s sword, Qinghong, suddenly fell off.

He picked it up, feeling inexplicably heavy-hearted.

His fellow disciple, Jiang Qi, raised an eyebrow and teased with a smile, “The world says that Young Master Wei is peerlessly elegant, but it seems he’s also quite frugal and sentimental. Even an old tassel like this hasn’t been replaced.”

Wei Changyuan replied indifferently, “Senior Brother jests.”

He gazed at the tassel in his palm, memories of the distant past surfacing.

Wei Changyuan was a sword cultivator. For sword cultivators, their swords were often like a second life. Born with innate sword bones, his birth had shaken both realms. He was destined to become a sword immortal, and his family had crafted the finest divine sword for him, naming it Qinghong after an ancient sword technique.

Sword cultivation was arduous, and most sword cultivators developed cold and aloof personalities. The worn, childish yellow tassel hanging from his sword was something most sword cultivators would be ashamed to display, yet he had worn it for years without replacing it.

Perhaps because he had worn it for so long, he had grown accustomed to it and eventually forgotten about it altogether.

The tassel had been a gift from Shi Luoyi when they were young.

On the day of his coming-of-age ceremony, Shi Luoyi had personally woven the tassel and begged him to attach it to Qinghong. Though it wasn’t particularly attractive, he had accepted it and promised her that he would never remove it himself.

Now, the broken tassel felt like an ominous omen, leaving him silent for a long while.

At that moment, Bian Qingxuan arrived with a group of disciples to welcome them back.

When they encountered Wei Changyuan and Jiang Qi, they greeted them respectfully, “Senior Brother Wei, you’ve finally returned. And this is…?”

Bian Qingxuan also looked toward Wei Changyuan.

Wei Changyuan introduced, “Jiang Qi, my senior brother.”

Only then did Bian Qingxuan realize that this was the first disciple taken by the sect leader—the legendary Senior Brother Jiang Qi.

It was said that Jiang Qi had ventured into the mortal realm alone twenty years ago and had not returned until now. Meeting him for the first time, Bian Qingxuan and the other new disciples quickly greeted him, “Senior Brother Jiang, hello.”

Jiang Qi smiled faintly and nodded, his gaze sweeping briefly over Bian Qingxuan.

Bian Qingxuan, her eyes red-rimmed, tearfully said to Wei Changyuan, “Senior Brother Changyuan, the other day when we brought Senior Sister Luoyi back, her condition hasn’t improved. A few days ago, I heard she was on the brink of death. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t quarreled with her that day, she wouldn’t have gone down the mountain alone and gotten injured. Senior Brother, now that you’re back, please hurry and check on her.”

Upon hearing the words “on the brink of death,” Wei Changyuan’s expression blanked for a moment. Clutching the tassel in his hand, he instinctively turned to leave and head up the mountain.

But after walking several steps, he suddenly remembered something and turned back.

The crimson-clad girl stood at the mountain entrance, the wind lifting the hem of her disciple robes. Bian Qingxuan’s face was pale, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Seeing Wei Changyuan looking at her, she forced a smile and waved at him, “Senior Brother, go quickly.”

Wei Changyuan pressed his lips together and turned to leave.

Watching him depart, Bian Qingxuan’s eyes grew slightly cold.

The remaining disciples were heartbroken by her appearance.

“How can this be Little Junior Sister’s fault? Clearly, it was Senior Sister Luoyi who started it. And she’s the one who ran down the mountain alone!”

“How could Senior Brother Changyuan act like this? Little Junior Sister has been waiting for him here since early morning, and he didn’t even ask a single question.”

“Who knows if she’s really in trouble.” Some disciples who had begun to sympathize with Shi Luoyi started to doubt and speculate. “Perhaps it’s another scheme to frame Little Junior Sister!”

Bian Qingxuan hurriedly shook her head. “Senior Sister Luoyi isn’t like that.”

Nearby, Jiang Qi played with his sword, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed Bian Qingxuan. After a long while, a sly smile curved his lips.

Though Jiang Qi had been training in the mortal realm, he kept many messenger cranes, through which he had heard endless rumors about Shi Luoyi in recent years. Most were malicious, claiming she was neither as outstanding nor as beautiful as her parents, and that she was narrow-minded and bullied her peers.

In contrast, the person whose fame had risen rapidly over the past three years was none other than this junior sister standing before him—Bian Qingxuan.

Jiang Qi was quite curious about these two girls upon returning to the sect after his training.

What kind of fate could cause a princess to fall into the dust while a sparrow ascended to the treetop?

Now, he was beginning to understand. His lips curved into a smirk—it was truly impressive.

Unless Shi Luoyi was actually dead, the situation would become extremely unfavorable for her. Would the little fairy of Buye Mountain suffer such a great loss?