#62: The Hut

Shi Luoyi hadn’t expected that before they even left the forest, birds would begin falling from the sky in the distance.

Cangwu said, “This is bad—it’s a barrier.”

Shi Luoyi’s heart sank. A barrier of this magnitude could only mean Su Li had personally arrived.

She recalled Bian Lingyu mentioning that Su Li possessed one of his father’s divine pearls.

To find Bian Lingyu, Su Li was willing to expend the power of the divine pearl, slowly compressing the barrier. Nothing—neither humans nor spirit beasts—could escape its grasp.

“What do we do now?”

Seeing the barrier closing in, Shi Luoyi made a quick decision. “Head toward Wangdu Sea.”

The fierce winds of Wangdu Sea would tear apart any barrier that extended there. Though she could try using the clay rabbit Bian Lingyu had given her to break the barrier, doing so would reveal their location to Su Li.

If they entered Wangdu Sea, Su Li might not dare to pursue them further.

After all, it was the site of the ancient Abyss and the burial ground of fallen gods—brimming with perilous gales and dangers at every turn.

Shi Luoyi kept Bian Lingyu unconscious and immediately set off with Cangwu toward Wangdu Sea.

As they approached the exit, Cangwu exclaimed in relief, “There really is an exit here!”

But the next moment, it fell silent. At the entrance to Wangdu Sea, a figure clad in green sat perched on a boulder.

Bian Qingxuan sat cross-legged, her skirt fluttering in the wind as she meditated. However, Shi Luoyi thought it more apt to describe her as waiting like a hunter lying in ambush.

The wound Shi Luoyi had inflicted on Bian Qingxuan’s shoulder hadn’t healed yet, hastily bandaged and still seeping blood. Behind her stood several figures dressed in the robes of Shengyang Sect.

Bian Qingxuan’s presence here confirmed that Su Li anticipated this route as well.

Cangwu and Shi Luoyi hid in the shadows, too afraid to move. Cangwu muttered, “Why is this demoness here? Should we still go?”

“Yes!”

If they hesitated any longer, the shrinking barrier would bring Su Li and Bian Qingxuan together, making things far more complicated.

Fortunately, Shi Luoyi had everything she needed on her. She took out several Turtle Breath Pills from her storage pouch, giving one to Cangwu and feeding another to Bian Lingyu.

“We’ll conceal our presence and move forward,” Shi Luoyi whispered. “If she doesn’t notice us, we’ll enter Wangdu Sea. If she does, I’ll cover for you, and you take Bian Lingyu inside. Once in, head toward areas without corpses—those places might be free of fierce winds.”

With that, the two carefully approached the exit while carrying the unconscious Bian Lingyu.

The closer Shi Luoyi got to the exit, the harder her heart pounded.

Even during childhood games of hide-and-seek with the spirits, she had never felt this tense.

Just as they reached the barrier’s edge and were about to breathe a sigh of relief, the figure on the boulder suddenly opened her eyes.

Shi Luoyi watched as Bian Qingxuan slowly walked toward her and Cangwu. Holding her breath, she remained motionless but prepared herself for a desperate battle.

Shi Luoyi crouched rigidly, convinced that Bian Qingxuan had discovered them. But then, unexpectedly, Bian Qingxuan stopped in her tracks.

They were less than an arm’s length apart.

Right before Shi Luoyi’s eyes was the hem of Bian Qingxuan’s robe. Her lips were pale from the wound Shi Luoyi had inflicted. Her gaze was indifferent, seemingly fixed on Shi Luoyi but also appearing to look past her, toward the array on the ground.

The air grew eerily silent.

The breeze brushed Bian Qingxuan’s robe against Shi Luoyi’s face. Shi Luoyi glared at her but forced herself to remain still.

Suddenly, Bian Qingxuan let out a soft chuckle. She crouched down.

One of the disciples from Shengyang Sect asked, “Senior Sister Bian, have you found something?”

Just as Shi Luoyi’s scalp tingled with dread, Bian Qingxuan reached out and grabbed something off the ground—a frightened mole-like monster scrambling under the pressure of the barrier.

Bian Qingxuan turned and tossed the creature to the disciples.

The disciples fumbled to catch it, and Shi Luoyi heard Bian Qingxuan say indifferently, “Nothing—just a small demon.”

“…”

Bian Qingxuan returned to her perch on the boulder, closing her eyes once more to meditate.

Seizing the opportunity, Shi Luoyi and Cangwu slipped into the boundary of Wangdu Sea.

Not long after they entered, the air rippled, and a white-robed man appeared silently within the barrier.

The disciples of Shengyang Sect quickly greeted him. “Young Master Su Li.”

Bian Qingxuan glanced over as well.

Su Li asked, “Any abnormalities?”

The disciples exchanged awkward glances with Bian Qingxuan before replying, “We only saw a mole demon darting around here.”

Su Li turned his gaze to Bian Qingxuan, smirking faintly. “Qingxuan, I tasked you with finding someone, yet you chase after a mole. Is this how you serve me?”

Though he smiled, the cold menace in his words sent chills through everyone present. The disciples of Shengyang Sect bowed their heads.

Bian Qingxuan met his gaze coolly. “If you doubt me, feel free to guard the area yourself.”

Seeing no trace of unease on her face, Su Li suppressed his growing irritation. He didn’t trust Bian Qingxuan—this wretched offspring had dared to betray even her own brother. She was heartless and ungrateful.

Yet these mortal cultivators were even weaker than her. Despite their numbers, they couldn’t even locate Bian Lingyu.

Though Su Li possessed the divine pearl, he dared not use it recklessly for fear of invoking heavenly retribution. Setting up a barrier was already pushing his limits.

Until he personally witnessed Bian Lingyu’s death, Su Li wouldn’t rest easy.

He thought of how Bian Qingxuan had once been in a position to kill Bian Lingyu but returned with only a sword wound to show for it. His frustration boiled over. Yet, accustomed to maintaining his facade of gentility, Su Li stepped forward and gently gripped her injured shoulder, murmuring, “I don’t doubt you, of course. After all, I promised you that once this is done, you’ll become my Empress. Rest assured—your true form has been delivered to my palace. I’ve taken excellent care of it. Qingxuan truly is the most beautiful of the Chifan clan. That true form of yours dazzles me—it’s far lovelier than this borrowed shell of yours.”

A sharp pain shot through Bian Qingxuan’s shoulder.

She had repeatedly implored her clansmen to safeguard her true form while she descended alongside Bian Lingyu to slay demons. Yet, despite her warnings, her true form had fallen into Su Li’s hands.

Coldness flickered in her eyes, but inwardly, she found the situation amusing. Did he think this would intimidate her? It was nothing but a broken vessel.

True, the Chifan clan was weak and incapable of protecting her. But the illegitimate, crippled bastard born of infidelity before him—did he truly believe he had the right to threaten her?

She licked her dry lips, concealing her malice beneath a placid tone. “Of course. I understand perfectly—I wouldn’t dare betray you.”

Every word, every insult—he would pay for them. She remembered it all. Clearly.

She trusted no one—neither Bian Lingyu nor Su Li. She only trusted herself.

Shi Luoyi never imagined that ten years later, she would return to this place.

Crouching low, she led Cangwu through the swirling sands. Seeing how familiar she was with the terrain, Cangwu exclaimed in surprise, “You’ve really been here before?”

“Yes,” she replied. “In my youthful arrogance, I feared nothing and was determined to save my father.”

Cangwu watched as a fierce gale sliced through the air, carving a deep fissure into the ground. It nearly leaped out of its skin—its tail fur had been cleanly severed!

Just a little more, and its tail would have been gone!

Shi Luoyi quickly cautioned, “Don’t move around carelessly.”

If she had a choice, she wouldn’t have brought Cangwu and Bian Lingyu into Wangdu Sea. In her past life, after entering Wangdu Sea, she had endured countless hardships, exhausting all her life-saving artifacts and even shattering the protective armor her father had crafted for her, just to barely reach the Demon-Slaying Grounds.

But when she arrived, all she found was desolation. She had been too late.

Cangwu fell silent. It was said that those who left Wangdu Sea would lose several cultivation realms. The remnants of ancient demonic energy here could devour a cultivator’s power.

Since ancient times, aside from those resolved to die, few cultivators dared to set foot here.

The horizon was bathed in the crimson glow of a setting sun. From above, Cangwu spotted an enormous pit and widened its eyes in shock. The pit was filled with bones—golden ones and pitch-black ones.

It was the shared burial ground of gods and demons. Cangwu couldn’t articulate the awe he felt. Those towering heroes, who sacrificed themselves for all living beings, were now buried alongside demons. A pang of sorrow welled up within him.

Shi Luoyi shrunk Bian Lingyu further and cradled him in her arms.

Years ago, she had dug him out from the sea of corpses. Back then, he had been in so much pain that he could barely walk, and she hadn’t the strength to carry him. Now, she was leading him on the path back home, making amends for her earlier neglect of him.

Shi Luoyi didn’t dare rest. They had no idea how long they had walked or how many dangers they had narrowly avoided until she finally spotted a small thatched hut and breathed a sigh of relief.

Cangwu was astonished. “This… there’s actually a house here?”

“I built it.”

“…” For once, Cangwu was at a loss for words. Everyone knew sword cultivators were fearless, but he had never truly understood until now. He felt a newfound respect for Shi Luoyi, this young sword cultivator.

Not only did she dare to enter this treacherous place to search for someone, but she also managed to find the only spot free of fierce winds and constructed a makeshift shelter using magical tools. Such determination and courage were rare.

But Shi Luoyi wasn’t acting out of blind bravery.

If the person most important to you in this world was here, their fate unknown, anyone would find the courage to investigate.

On her journey to Wangdu Sea, she had seen others come searching for their loved ones—all of them torn apart by the fierce winds. In the end, only she remained, along with the two small creatures she had rescued.

At first, she protected them, but later, they began guiding her instead.

To give herself and the creatures a chance to catch their breath, she observed for half a month before mustering the courage to build this shelter.

The hut was tiny, containing only a bed and a small partition for cleaning wounds.

Cangwu suddenly realized why Shi Luoyi had brought them here. Embarrassed, it said, “I’ll go to the next room. Don’t worry—I’ll seal my senses. I won’t see or hear anything.”

“… Alright.” Shi Luoyi felt a bit awkward too.

That was why she had initially resisted coming to Wangdu Sea—it truly wasn’t an ideal place. Not only was the outside perilous, but so was what lay within.

Separated by a single wall, Cangwu was in the adjacent room. The bed she had built was so small that it could only accommodate one person.

The entire structure would collapse if they moved too much.

She remembered it happening once before. She had just finished washing the little red snake when the roof suddenly caved in.

She stood amidst the wreckage, dazed, watching Bian Lingyu gaze at the broken door, too afraid to look at her.

Shi Luoyi knew he had already felt uneasy in the cramped space. His horn had accidentally caught on something, causing the hut to collapse.

At the time, she sighed helplessly. “It’s alright. I’ll fix it again. It’s my fault for not making it sturdy enough. Once it’s repaired, I’ll come over to clean your wounds.”

Now, though the dilapidated hut had been reinforced, Shi Luoyi still had no confidence in its stability.

She was still pondering how to begin when Bian Lingyu opened his eyes.

He now resembled a qilin, stripped of his divine pearl and significantly reduced in size, securely bound to the bed.

Shi Luoyi had originally intended to use the artifact that forcibly transformed spirit beasts into human form.

But when she looked into Bian Lingyu’s silver eyes—cold and emotionless, with the same indifferent scrutiny she remembered from ten years ago—she momentarily couldn’t distinguish between the Bian Lingyu of the past and the present.

Their gazes were identical.

Equally cold, devoid of emotion, and laced with detached indifference. Reflecting on this, Shi Luoyi admitted to herself that ten years ago, she preferred the affectionate little red snake over Bian Lingyu.

The little red snake was lively—it would get angry, deliberately coil around her wrist, and yet instinctively drag her out of harm’s way when fierce winds approached.

Unlike Bian Lingyu, who would retreat when she got too close and stubbornly keep his mouth shut when she tried to make him drink talisman water.

Never in her wildest dreams had Shi Luoyi imagined that Bian Lingyu could have fallen in love with her back then.

Memories flooded her mind. Gazing into Bian Lingyu’s eyes, she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re so easy to please.”

Indeed, she had done nothing, and yet a bewildered deity had entrusted her with his most precious divine pearl. Ironically, she hadn’t realized it at the time.

“So let me coax you again. Don’t blame me, alright?”

The qilin could understand her words, but he recognized no one now, reduced to the simplest, most primal awareness.

He sensed he was bound and felt a surge of offended rage. The restraints were merely a set of ordinary linked rings. If he shattered them, the corresponding ring in Shi Luoyi’s hand would also break.

His silver eyes glinted coldly as he prepared to break free. But then, a soft hand gently touched his face.

The qilin instinctively recoiled. In his memory, no one had ever touched him like this.

“Hey, hey, hey, this hut can’t withstand your struggles. I won’t touch you anymore, alright?” Shi Luoyi hastily said. “Didn’t you want to raise a rabbit? Look at me—do I resemble the rabbit you lost?”

She pointed to her face and eyes.

Shi Luoyi watched as Bian Lingyu scrutinized her for a moment before disdainfully turning his head away. In the qilin’s eyes, she was nothing but a divine pearl radiating oppressive energy.

She couldn’t help but laugh, amused.

“So the one in Miss Liu’s arms counts, but I don’t? Bian Lingyu, are you intentionally punishing me for all the ways I wronged you?”

She had indeed wronged him. Even though she had once preferred the little red snake and disliked his aloofness, chasing after her senior brother while ignoring him entirely.

Though she feigned anger outwardly, Shi Luoyi felt a wave of relief inwardly. She hadn’t been mistaken—though Bian Lingyu had reverted to his most primal state, he could still communicate. As long as she didn’t provoke him, he wouldn’t instinctively harm them.

Communication made things manageable. Otherwise, she feared this task might be impossible.

This time, Shi Luoyi had prepared thoroughly. Before leaving Buye Mountain, she had even asked the fox for a manual. Only then did she realize that if a man truly didn’t want something, it couldn’t happen.

In other words, at least that incident she had felt so guilty about—how easily it had occurred—wasn’t entirely her fault.

As the yellow sands swirled around them, the other side of Wangdu Sea sealed her father away.

Shi Luoyi thought to herself: What a mess.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was deceiving someone right under her father’s nose.

Meanwhile, the silvery-white qilin continued to examine the confined space with wary, cold eyes.

Shi Luoyi cleared her throat softly. She reminded herself not to rush. This time, Bian Lingyu would agree. Suppressing her embarrassment, she steeled herself to thicken her skin, just as she had in her previous life. “Well then, shall I take you to wash first?”

There was no reason for him to refuse now when he had silently complied ten years ago.