The sky showed hints of azure, dawn light like fine threads.

The vigorous handsome young man sheathed his sword and restrained his qi, standing composed and tranquil in the lush green courtyard—tall and lean in snow-white silk robes, like a straight and elegant silver poplar.

Sect Master Mu’s day began with morning practice glistening with light perspiration.

Next came digging the newly appointed Sect Master’s wife out of bed, light teasing… ah no, gentle persuasion to wake her, then dressing her, combing her hair, feeding her breakfast, then kissing and hugging while supervising her practice, followed by picking vegetables and catching fish to cook—marital bliss, drawing eyebrows for pleasure.

Very pleasurable.

Finally, before nightfall, burning incense to report to Mu Zhengming and Cai Pingshu—today he had also been a good sect master and lived well with Zhao Zhao, so please rest assured, Father and Aunt.

Carrying his long sword Fuying back to the inner chambers, he saw the broad bed covered with silk brocade quilts, lustrous pearl light reflecting against the peach-pink and sea-blue padded brocade, flowing languorously onto the mirror-bright lacquered wooden floor. Two soft, delicate silk slippers lay scattered east and west, easily imagining how the young mistress had impatiently kicked them off.

Mu Qingyan put on an inscrutable expression, reversed his sword hilt and tapped twice on the coral chime behind the meerschaum candlestick. Two palace-dressed maidservants gracefully approached.

“Where did Madam go?” he asked.

One maidservant said timidly, “Madam said she would return for lunch…”

Mu Qingyan raised his long eyebrows.

“…or dinner.” The maidservant tremblingly completed her words.

Mu Qingyan’s expression grew colder.

He said displeasedly: “I asked where she went.”

The other, older maidservant boldly said: “Madam said she wanted to wander around alone, going wherever she pleased.”

Mu Qingyan took a deep breath, “Is that all? Anything else?”

The older maidservant thought for a moment, “Madam also said not to steam the fish—she wants it with scallion oil. She’s tired of steamed fish.”

Mu Qingyan narrowed his eyes. What did this mean?

Was she tired of the fish, or tired of the person?

“…We can wait until she returns to steam the fish. Fresh is better anyway.” The maidservant added.

Only three months married, and his wife already wanted to “wander around alone.” What was this—couldn’t she “wander around” with her husband? This wasn’t the first time either—it had happened several times already. Could it be she was no longer “fresh”?

Miss Cai’s lightness skill was excellent—with a thought she could vanish without a trace. Unfortunately, the Hanhai Mountains were truly vast, so finding someone was like fishing for a needle in the ocean. Moreover, he was young and thin-skinned, too embarrassed to tell his subordinates “your Sect Master’s wife has run off somewhere again, quickly find her and bring her back.”

These past few times, if lucky she’d return by noon; if unlucky, not until lamp-lighting time. He was just like those wives in story books who turned to stone waiting for their husbands, wringing jealous tears and cursing “damned ghost, finally willing to come back!”

Mu Qingyan’s eyelids twitched slightly—such humiliating imagination was truly unsuitable for himself.

He waved to dismiss the maidservants, bathed, changed clothes, burned incense, and read, planning to wait calmly for the heartless person to return home, to show he hadn’t taken such a trivial matter as being neglected to heart.

After reading only a few lines, he irritably threw down the book, paced back and forth in the room with his hands behind his back. The more he thought, the angrier he became. In fury, he grabbed a cleaver and went to the back kitchen’s chopping block to kill fish—one cut to gut it, two cuts to separate head from body, three cuts down like a family massacre.

When Lian Shisan calculated the timing to extract roasted sweet potatoes from the stove, he happened to see all the kitchen servants scared away. Seeing Mu Qingyan wielding an eighteen-tael-seven-qian cleaver with the aura of a famous sword, he hurriedly said: “Stop killing fish! Your wife dug out two jars of good wine from the cellar early this morning—who knows who she plans to drink with!”

Mu Qingyan’s heart leaped with joy, but he didn’t show it. Instead he said: “Why are you always lurking around the wine cellar? Uncle Fu said you’re not allowed to drink until you’re eighteen.”

Lian Shisan was exasperated: “Who’s always lurking around the wine cellar? I saw your wife sneak into the wine cellar and followed curiously for a bit. I came specifically to bring you news.”

Mu Qingyan leisurely washed his hands with clear water: “Did you lose at dice to Zhao Zhao again yesterday?”

Lian Shisan’s face reddened: “Throwing dice can’t be called gambling… This tests eyesight and hand strength—matters of martial artists, how can it be called gambling!”

“What did you lose to Zhao Zhao this time? Just don’t lose your bedding and underclothes.”

“I won’t tell you which direction she went!”

Mu Qingyan spread his left hand’s five fingers, and the sweet potatoes in the stove flew straight out of the ashes as if pulled by strings. His right hand picked up two chopsticks, smoothly inserted them to perfectly spear the fragrant sweet potatoes on the sticks, then extended chopsticks and sweet potatoes out the window—the threatening intent was obvious.

Lian Shisan immediately caved: “She went toward the rear mountain entrance to the underground palace tomb, as if she had arranged to meet someone…”

Before he finished speaking, there was a flash before his eyes. The steaming sweet potatoes fell into Lian Shisan’s arms while Mu Qingyan’s figure had vanished from the room.

Wine jars, underground palace, secret tomb.

He roughly knew who Zhao Zhao was going to meet and what she planned to do.

Originally, the large hole blasted by Han Yisu in Paradise Palace’s guest hall had long been repaired and sealed with extremely thick iron plates and steel cement. The bone-corroding Heavenly Rain poison that had flowed everywhere had also been absorbed and cleaned bit by bit with quicklime. Now the only way to enter the underground palace tomb was through the rear mountain secret passage that Mu Qingyan and Cai Zhao had originally used to exit.

Mu Qingyan had no intention of hiding the existence of the underground palace tomb, but he hadn’t deliberately publicized it either.

There weren’t many peerless secret manuals there—just two segments of past events buried by time, like an abandoned old house that, while containing no precious items, wasn’t a place just anyone could come and go freely.

Coming again to that great hall surrounded by five stone walls, he saw Cai Zhao and old man Yan Xu standing before the wall carved with the heartbreaking father-son past between Beichen Laozu and Mu Xiuque.

From several zhang away, Mu Qingyan hid behind a stone wall, circulating qi to quietly listen to the two people ahead—Miss Cai had a smiling face and spoke continuously, while old man Yan Xu kept a stern face, occasionally shaking his head forcefully as if resisting Cai Zhao’s persuasion, though his expression gradually softened, seeming somewhat moved.

Mu Qingyan smiled lightly.

When selecting scribes to compile sect history throughout the ages, the examination standards prioritized three criteria.

First, they must be indifferent to fame and profit, able to endure loneliness. Even if outside there was celebration, if colleagues achieved great feats, obtained countless treasures, or became famous throughout the world, as long as the Sect Master hadn’t given orders, the scribe must still dutifully stay indoors writing.

Second, scribes shouldn’t be overly persistent. Compiling sect history was long-term desk work—they weren’t famous detectives or martial arts masters. Recording sect affairs faithfully was sufficient; there was no need to investigate thoroughly. Even if they had doubts, just recording the doubts was enough, with no need for additional commentary. Naturally, they also needn’t obsess over their own cultivation, constantly thinking about martial progress and neglecting records.

Finally, scribes must be utterly loyal to the Divine Sect, but absolutely forbidden from interfering in sect disputes.

Though old man Yan Xu was wine-loving and stubborn, he fully met all three criteria above.

Twenty years ago, abandoning Mu Zhengming to support Nie Hengcheng was due to loyalty; after Nie Hengcheng’s death, refusing to assist Nie Chui and hoping Mu Zhengming would emerge was also due to loyalty. However, precisely because he was too loyal, he remained extremely dissatisfied with Mu Qingyan’s marriage, daily hoping the Sect Master would quickly divorce and return to the right path.

Cai Zhao naturally knew of Yan Xu’s dissatisfaction with her, but she didn’t care at all—she even found it quite interesting. Today she had dragged Yan Xu here, pointing to the underground palace tomb and stone walls, making old Yan work.

The old man shook his head: “Forgive this old man’s frankness, but for Madam, as a disciple of the Beichen sects, to know our sect’s secrets is truly inappropriate.”

Cai Zhao: “It’s not like I pried and investigated—Han Yisu blasted us down here back then.”

“Hmph, all good disciples Nie Hengcheng collected!”

“How do I hear that you strongly supported Nie Hengcheng becoming sect master back then?”

“This old man saw Nie Hengcheng’s momentum, prestige, talent, and magnanimity were all unmatched, so I was momentarily confused!”

“You even personally wrote articles praising Nie Hengcheng’s achievements!”

“I was truly momentarily confused!”

“You also said his four great disciples were ‘illustrious reputation, dragon-like and tiger-like, unifying the martial world, just around the corner.'”

“I already said I was momentarily confused!”

“You also praised them as…”

“Momentarily confused, momentarily confused—how many times are you going to say it!”

Though Yan Xu held elder rank, he had dealt with paperwork for decades and was simple-natured. How could he match Cai Zhao in verbal sparring? After a few rounds, his face was completely red, his beard bristling, so ashamed and indignant he wanted to find a well to jump into.

Seeing Yan Xu about to explode entirely, Cai Zhao finally said with a grin: “Confused once—how can you guarantee you won’t be confused a second time? Elder Yan is getting on in years and is truly confused. You should mind your own business less in the future.”

“Hmph, if this old man doesn’t interfere, I fear some demon will bewitch the Sect Master with evil intentions, then make off with our Divine Sect’s entire foundation. Wouldn’t I fail the heroic spirits of past Divine Sect generations?!” old man Yan panted heavily.

“The word ‘demon’ coming from you, a Demon Sect elder, has a special flavor indeed.” Cai Zhao shook her head, “Fine, even if I have evil intentions and want to make off with the Demon Sect entirely, what would you do?”

Yan Xu was so agitated his beard trembled, “Good! You indeed have improper intentions! Years ago your aunt Cai Pingshu left our Divine Sect leaderless, declining from prosperity to decay, and now you’ve come to cause more trouble!”

Little Cai changed expression like changing weather, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be this troublesome Sect Master’s wife anymore. The world is so vast—I want to go out and explore.”

“Leave?” Yan Xu first rejoiced, then hesitated, “…When might Madam return?”

“Why return after leaving? The world is vast—even a lifetime of wandering wouldn’t cover it all.”

“Then what about our Sect Master?”

“Whatever happened to Sect Master Mu Donglie, the same will happen to your Sect Master.”

“How can this be! When Sect Master Mu Donglie left, he still had a nephew to inherit the position. But now, now…”

“Do I care about your Demon Sect’s fate? I only care about my own happiness.”

“You demo… ahem, Madam, no no, Miss Cai… please don’t be impulsive!”

Only then did Cai Zhao say leisurely: “Whether I’m impulsive depends on you, Elder Yan. If you keep showing me sour faces all day, making me uncomfortable staying here, perhaps in a moment of impulse, I’ll wander to the ends of the earth.”

Yan Xu’s face changed from red to black, then black to white, finally saying: “This old man understands.”

Cai Zhao clapped happily: “Good! Elder Yan truly follows good advice and can bend when necessary. No wonder among the Seven Star Elders of old, only you survived.”

Yan Xu’s old face wrinkled like fragile tree bark, completely devastated. He flung his sleeves to leave but was stopped by Cai Zhao. Yan Xu said shame-facedly: “Does Miss Cai want to continue humiliating this old man?”

Cai Zhao looked bewildered: “When did I ever humiliate Elder?”

“You you you—haven’t you humiliated this old man enough today?!”

“Not at all. So-called humiliation’s pleasure comes from having as many people see and hear as possible. So if I truly wanted to humiliate Elder, I should do it in broad daylight before a crowd. Specifically bringing Elder to this underground palace—who would know if I humiliated you?”

Then the old and young engaged in over ten rounds of verbal combat over the “humiliation” issue. Finally, old man Yan was entangled until dizzy and confused: “Fine, fine, fine! Miss Cai is magnanimous and humble, never humiliated this old man!”

“Elder understands perfectly.” Little Cai was satisfied.

“Today I brought Elder here to request that you record the story on this stone tablet, along with the story of the abandoned ‘Dongyun Palace’ behind it, together with the entanglements from two hundred years ago—record it all.”

Yan Xu, who had been rubbing his swollen temples, couldn’t help but be startled.

Cai Zhao looked toward the tall standing stone tablet, “In the entanglements from two hundred years ago—which people appeared, what events occurred, who died, who lived, who left, who stayed… the details are scattered and vast as smoke and sea, surely not the work of a single day. I know Elder has preferences—it’s fine, you can write from the Mu family’s perspective as you wish. Just don’t arbitrarily distort or fabricate, and it will be good.”

Yan Xu became increasingly dazed, staring blankly at the stone tablet.

Finally he stumbled away, clutching the two jars of fine wine Cai Zhao had pressed on him, along with her words.

“…Long after, all of us will perish in the passage of time. Then no one will know that Beichen Laozu had Seven Stars under him, nor that the Mu ancestors grew up at Laozu’s knee. Perhaps only Elder’s writings will ultimately remain. Through all changes, everything will be worn away—I only hope that what happened and who lived will someday be known by others.”

After seeing Yan Xu off, Mu Qingyan emerged from behind the wall: “Do you really want someone to record these stories, or are you just finding something for Yan Xu to do?”

“Both.” Cai Zhao smiled, “Elder Yan’s writing is truly excellent. Besides, if he broods all day, it’s easy to shorten his lifespan.”

Mu Qingyan was silent for a moment, “Let’s go home.”

Cai Zhao laughed heartily, linking her husband’s arm: “What home? I’m treating for lunch—let’s go to South Market for a restaurant meal. I still have someone to see this afternoon!”

“South Market?”

“The marketplace south of Youming Huangdao. These decades under Nie Ci’s people it became desolate—such a waste of a feng shui treasure spot. I had You Guanyue arrange to reopen the market recently.”

“Come now. Even before, Youming South Market was where weapons, medicines, and information were sold. When did it ever have restaurants? If you want food and entertainment, leave Youming Huangdao and turn left to the pleasure quarter.”

“There weren’t any before, but we can open them now. I know you have sect rules—no mixing of riffraff inside Youming Huangdao—but opening restaurants isn’t riffraff. Come on, that restaurant is opened by the sworn sister’s daughter-in-law of Shangguan Haonan’s third aunt. Sheep’s trotters, sheep soup, sheep hot pot—supposedly the taste is very authentic…”

Mu Qingyan looked at his wife’s excited, joyful profile and was speechlessly dragged away.

Many people found it strange that someone as carefree and leisurely as Cai Zhao was actually quite busy in daily life.

These people included not only various folks from Falling Petals Town and Azure Gate Sect, but also Mu Qingyan himself.

Regarding such doubts, Cai Zhao felt greatly wronged. Her carefree nature didn’t mean she would spend all day lying on the couch by the fire eating fruit and reading story books—though she often did exactly that.

In childhood, as long as little Cai Zhao completed her daily required cultivation homework, Cai Pingshu would release her like a little sparrow—go wherever you want, just remember to come back for meals.

Supposedly because Cai Pingshu had once been severely restricted in her youth, she always felt that for children, the most tragic thing in the world was being confined.

Mu Qingyan knew that the person who had mistreated Cai Pingshu decades ago was Old Madam Zhou of Peiqiong Mountain Villa.

During their intimate moments after marriage, Mu Qingyan had heard Cai Zhao say bitterly—she had vowed since childhood that when she married into Peiqiong Mountain Villa, she wouldn’t consider accounts settled until she tormented that old hypocrite to spiritual and physical exhaustion. She wasn’t as good-natured and easy-going as Cai Pingshu!

For a moment, Mu Qingyan didn’t know whether he should be jealous of this.

Now, that Old Madam Zhou had gone mad, occasionally rushing out of Peiqiong Mountain Villa to search frantically for her son Zhou Zhizhen, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his death. Zhou Yuqi was unable to inherit the villa master position and had long since moved with his mother and wife to a separate residence.

Under the restaurant owner’s trembling gaze, Mu Qingyan met the person Cai Zhao was to see that afternoon—a black, burly man built like an iron tower, about fifty years old, covered in scars.

This fellow was named Liu Sanchui, quite famous twenty years ago, called “Underworld Furnace Master.” He possessed ghostly divine craftsmanship and had once forged many mystical weapons for Nie Hengcheng.

He was called Liu Sanchui because supposedly few people in the martial world could withstand his three hammer blows. But if you survived three hammers, Blacksmith Liu had no other moves and could only submit to execution.

However, since he was still alive, he obviously had the good fortune of never encountering anyone determined to kill him.

Blacksmith Liu had been obsessed with forge fires and hammer anvils since childhood. To obtain various precious materials, he often used unscrupulous means—like poisoning an entire southwestern swamp just to retrieve a broken blade from the bottom, or digging up someone’s ancestral grave overnight to take the iron coffin while discarding the corpse, or stealing the iron gallbladder that Golden Blade Master had treasured for decades, turning someone’s birthday banquet into a funeral…

So he took refuge with Nie Hengcheng. Though Nie Hengcheng couldn’t appreciate his pursuit of technical perfection, Nie Hengcheng had overwhelming power and numerous followers—he could obtain any precious materials for Liu Sanchui.

Naturally, Blacksmith Brother also became what the righteous path called an evil demon.

“Why did you suddenly disappear twenty years ago?” Mu Qingyan asked, standing in the newly opened blacksmith shop.

Liu Sanchui scowled: “That Nie fellow interfered with my work!”

Initially, the blacksmith and Nie Hengcheng got along well—Nie Hengcheng obtained needed materials for the blacksmith, who forged items for Nie Hengcheng. The blacksmith felt this was fair trade, but Nie Hengcheng thought since you’re already my man, you should obey orders.

“Later he wanted increasingly strange items—meridian-locking hooks, blood-sucking gu vessels—really time-consuming work. When I was unwilling, he injured me.”

In Liu Sanchui’s view, his purpose in following Nie Hengcheng was to freely exercise his talents. But if he was forced to work daily without being able to do what he wanted, wouldn’t following Nie Hengcheng be pointless?

“So what did you actually want to do?” Mu Qingyan asked.

“Swords—I only wanted to make swords.” Liu Sanchui’s eyes blazed with brilliance, his dark face seeming to brighten. “The sword is the saint among weapons. All weapons under heaven submit to it!”

Mu Qingyan mentally rolled his eyes—fool.

Cai Zhao emerged from the inner room holding ledgers, laughing: “Wasn’t I right? Master, with your skills, why steal and rob? Just openly post notices to heroes throughout the world—fair trade, honest dealings for all.”

Liu Sanchui scratched his messy hair: “Little Madam spoke correctly. These past two months I haven’t lacked anything.”

This was Cai Zhao’s suggestion to Liu Sanchui.

Whenever he wanted precious materials, he would directly post reward notices on martial world bulletin boards, like “A pair of Southwest Red Bull rhinoceros horns can be exchanged for one weapon under half a jin, medium difficulty, materials provided by customer.”

The world was vast with many capable and well-connected people. With Liu Sanchui’s abilities, many throughout the world wanted weapons personally forged by him. Then he’d have materials, Liu Sanchui wouldn’t gain infamy, and backed by the Demon Sect, he needn’t fear customers breaking commercial agreements—how wonderful.

Cai Zhao had also provided new thinking—even if customers didn’t need anything immediately, they could write IOUs first.

Liu Sanchui pulled out a leather paper roll from his chest: “Look, this is an IOU I just wrote for Elder You Guanyue. He said he’ll decide in seven months whether to forge a pair of exquisite short swords or something else.”

“Why wait seven months?” Cai Zhao was puzzled.

Mu Qingyan sneered: “Because in seven months You Guanyue will know whether it’s a daughter or son.”

“Ah, Xing’er is with child!” Cai Zhao was both surprised and delighted.

Mu Qingyan glared at her angrily; Cai Zhao pretended not to see.

Liu Sanchui was very satisfied with his current work and life, repeatedly expressing willingness to forge items for Cai Zhao free in the future. Cai Zhao enthusiastically praised Blacksmith Brother’s tremendous ideological progress, encouraging him to continue improving and reach new heights in professional standards.

Before leaving, Liu Sanchui requested to see Cai Zhao’s Brilliant Sun Blade.

Cai Zhao agreed.

Liu Sanchui caressed the short blade with deep feeling. Golden-red gorgeous patterns covered the blade’s surface, radiating both bloodthirsty and gentle beautiful luster. He murmured: “This blade, just this one—I must forge one just as good…”

Cai Zhao asked: “Has Master seen this blade before?”

Liu Sanchui said: “Naturally. It was precisely because I saw this blade at the Sect Master’s father’s place that I fell out with Nie Hengcheng.”

“Ah?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Cai Zhao and Mu Qingyan were simultaneously shocked.

The dark-faced blacksmith said dumbly: “Didn’t I mention it before? Young Master… the Sect Master’s deceased father also loved forging items in his spare time. I’d chat with Young Master from time to time.”

He and Mu Zhengming weren’t particularly close friends. He was obsessed with forging techniques his entire life. However, in the vast Hanhai Mountains, the only person who could purely discuss techniques without any calculations was Mu Zhengming.

Once, Mu Zhengming obtained a broken ancient weapon from somewhere, pitch-black and unidentifiable in material. He then went into seclusion for half a year. When he emerged, Liu Sanchui went to see him…

“Young Master had grown thin and haggard but was in good spirits, saying he was entrusted by someone and must forge that short blade well no matter what.” Liu Sanchui caressed the Brilliant Sun Blade with obsession.

In his half-lifetime, he had forged countless swords of various lengths, weights, and appearances. Each time he gave his all, completely focused. Whenever he felt he’d achieved perfection, upon seeing the finished product, he always felt something was missing.

The moment he saw that thin-bladed short sword at Mu Zhengming’s place, he suddenly understood what the technical peak he’d been pursuing was. Obviously a cold weapon, yet it radiated amazing vitality, golden-red halos lingering endlessly, like sunrise, like boiling blood surging from the chest—gorgeous and passionate.

He felt that even if it took his entire lifetime, no matter what, he must forge a weapon of comparable technical level.

“I immediately told Nie Hengcheng I wouldn’t work for him anymore—I wanted to focus on sword-making.” Liu Sanchui carefully returned the Brilliant Sun Blade to Cai Zhao. “Then that Nie fellow injured me, so I hid to recover until now.”

He glanced at the long sword at Mu Qingyan’s waist: “The Sect Master’s ‘Fuying’ should have been forged by Young Master afterward—his technique became even more refined.”

Even without ancient broken weapons as material, Mu Zhengming could forge peerless weapons like ‘Fuying.’ Liu Sanchui was increasingly admiring.

As the sun set westward, on the way home Cai Zhao was still muttering: “That ancient broken weapon should have been found by Mu Zhengyang, given to your father to forge, then presented to my aunt, and finally Mu Zhengyang died under this blade… What kind of fate is this?”

Mu Qingyan had planned to steam fish and cook, but returning home he found Uncle Fu had already prepared a table of hot dishes, steaming and waiting for the young couple’s return.

Cai Zhao picked up chopsticks and ate: “When we were at the blacksmith shop, I already sent word to Uncle Fu. Actually, Uncle Fu’s cooking is also excellent—if he opened a shop, business would definitely flourish.”

Mu Qingyan remained silent.

After bathing and changing, the two retired for the night.

Mu Qingyan sulked, turning his back to Cai Zhao, who also turned her back to Mu Qingyan, stubbornly refusing to speak first.

After a while, the bed behind him dipped slightly. Mu Qingyan’s arms embraced Cai Zhao from behind, gently nuzzling her neck.

After another while, he whispered lowly: “Zhao Zhao, my heart delights in you.”

Cai Zhao had decided to hold out to the end, but hearing this, her heart softened. She turned to embrace him.

Pressed against his broad chest, she said softly: “My heart also delights in you, but you must first delight in yourself.”

Mu Qingyan was startled: “Delight in myself?”

The head in his arms nodded forcefully, “Yes, my aunt said it—everyone should first delight in themselves.”

Cai Zhao raised her head: “I greatly delight in myself. I love hearing interesting stories, love seeing all kinds of people… Aunt taught me this from childhood—every day should be lived well. Ah Yan, what about you?”

Mu Qingyan made no sound, then after a moment said: “…In this world, aside from Father and you, probably no one else likes me.”

Cai Zhao looked directly at him: “I’m asking about yourself.”

Mu Qingyan’s gaze darkened with hidden turbulence. His slender fingers applied slight pressure, grasping his new wife’s neck and pressing her toward himself, lips and teeth meeting, breath mingling, wishing he could bite down until blood flowed freely.

“You’re very much like my father.” Long afterward, he finally released her.

“You both can live colorfully even alone.”

“But I cannot.”

Mu Qingyan buried himself deeply in his wife’s delicate, gentle neck hollow, murmuring to himself.

When first entering Azure Gate Sect, suffering from Qi Lingbo’s exclusion and Zeng Dalou’s favoritism, little Cai Zhao never had a moment of dejection or gloom.

She enthusiastically appreciated every plant and tree on Ten Thousand Waters Thousand Mountains Cliff, tirelessly criticized the sect chefs’ skills, joyfully anticipated brief trips to Azure Gate Town, and daily invented new ways to banter with her two maidservants.

Being beside such a person, one always felt the sky was bright, water was clear, each day interesting.

Long before Mu Qingyan understood his own feelings, he had already become dependent on the taste of staying by the girl’s side.

Because he had spent a full ten years beside someone equally passionate about life.

From anyone’s perspective, Mu Zhengming’s life wasn’t good.

Parents died early, brothers scattered, long years under Nie Hengcheng’s control and suppression, even his romantic affairs manipulated by various factions.

However, even in the tiny gaps between suppression, Mu Zhengming still arranged his life colorfully.

He had wide interests and was always enthusiastic, even once handcrafting a bamboo raft following a book. Because the stream was too shallow, underwater stones cut the grass ropes, the raft fell apart, and father and son fell into water, then swam to shore laughing heartily while Uncle Fu hurriedly cooked ginger soup.

Later, he died.

Died from poison given by his former wife.

Cai Zhao listened to his heartbeat, sighing after a long while: “I’m not rejecting you, it’s just that this won’t work. Every morning when I wake up…”

Mu Qingyan interrupted: “Most days you don’t wake up early.”

“Will you listen or not?” Cai Zhao was annoyed.

“Please continue.”

Cai Zhao lay back in his arms: “Every morning when I wake up, I know what I want to do—taste tea, cook, stroll, even what to have for lunch. Even if I’m lazy and idle, just lying and listening to rain on the eaves, I can pass a day peacefully. But what about you? Do you know what you should do each day?”

Mu Qingyan didn’t speak.

Before age five, his childhood had only a dark, broken little hut; after five, he obeyed his father—practicing, studying, writing, following his father to enjoy spring outings and fishing.

After fifteen, he was filled with bitter hatred as he began revenge, scheming and calculating relentlessly without a day’s rest.

Later, he met Cai Zhao and wanted to spend his life with her.

Now enemies were all dead, the sect leader position reclaimed, and he couldn’t level the Beichen Six Sects. Apart from clinging closely to his wife, he momentarily couldn’t think what he should do.

Cai Zhao touched his face—the young, handsome features slightly bewildered.

She said: “If you want to follow me around aimlessly, then follow. But you need to think carefully.”

Thereafter, Mu Qingyan followed Cai Zhao everywhere—sometimes around the Hanhai Mountains, sometimes traveling for half a month.

Cai Zhao feared his murderous aura would frighten people, so he wore plain cloth robes with only a simple blue cloth to bind his hair, like a modest, quiet, handsome scholar, shy and taciturn, following his lively young wife through markets and wilderness.

They sheltered from rain under low common folk’s eaves, rode donkeys on high mountain paths, watched drunkards play finger-guessing games in noisy taverns, and threw thousands of gold in legendary pleasure quarters.

Once, Cai Zhao exposed cheating in a gambling den. The boss immediately turned hostile to teach this strange young couple a lesson, then… there was no then.

Because the entire gang of thugs were either dead or injured, the gambling den had to hang a “closed” sign the next morning.

Another time, Cai Zhao heard of a newly opened duck house somewhere and wanted to ride Little Gold alone to patronize it. Initially Mu Qingyan didn’t understand what was so good about duck meat. After You Guanyue risked his life to secretly report the truth, the enraged Sect Master Mu in his fury…

…

…

Drove away the establishment’s leading courtesan and personally sat in the main seat of the central tower, glaring menacingly as he waited for Zhao.

As time passed, increasingly strange rumors about this couple spread through the martial world.

Some said Sect Master Mu feared his wife like a tiger, not even daring to stop her from visiting male brothels; others said this fear was mere pretense—actually the Demon Sect leader’s evil heart was unchanged, building roads openly while secretly plotting to slaughter all righteous heroes in one stroke; still others claimed Cai Zhao possessed secret treasures passed down from Cai Pingshu, and the Demon Sect leader had married her only to obtain this treasure…

One night, while Cai Zhao slept sweetly, Mu Qingyan suddenly sat up without warning.

“I know what I want to do from now on.”

“Mm… wonderful.” Cai Zhao was drowsy, “Let’s make crispy duck tomorrow.”

Mu Qingyan rubbed his wife’s head and lay down smiling. The next morning after waking, he said: “I want to do two things.”

“First, Father’s lifelong wish was to travel throughout the great rivers and lakes, appreciating all the world’s scenery. I want to fulfill this cherished dream for Father.”

Cai Zhao rubbed her eyes: “If you want to tour mountains and waters, just tour mountains and waters. Why make it sound so high-minded? You’re not afraid of people saying you’re a sect leader who doesn’t attend to proper business. Anyway, we already go out every few days…”

Mu Qingyan ignored her rambling and continued: “Second, I want to organize Father’s manuscripts and writings, add the story of Father’s life, compile them together, and edit them into a book.”

Cai Zhao’s eyes widened.

Mu Qingyan tapped Cai Zhao’s nose: “From now on, you’ll accompany me half the year in Reflection Studio editing manuscripts, and I’ll accompany you half the year wandering all over the world.”

Cai Zhao blinked: “I don’t mean to say you lack literary talent, but as they say, each profession has its specialization. Things like writing books and biographies should probably be left to talents like Elder Yan.”

Mu Qingyan shook his head: “How many people in this world know what kind of person Father was? Even among sect brothers, when they mention Father, they either sigh with regret or secretly despise him.”

“But I know Father wasn’t such a constrained person. He was indifferent and at ease, gentle and easygoing. He liked drinking while listening to rain, liked reading, appreciating flowers, fishing, painting, and raising exotic beasts and forging weapons. He had so many insights and experiences—I want to organize them all.”

“You spoke reasonably. Through all changes, everything will be worn away—I only hope that what happened and who lived will someday be known by others.”

“Father should be known and remembered. Also, I will write down Mu Zhengyang’s story.”

Cai Zhao was moved.

Though equally brilliant and talented, Cai Pingshu was famous throughout the world, yet the Mu Zhengming and Mu Zhengyang brothers were almost unknown to anyone.

“This is good—I strongly support it.” She lay in his embrace, “So what will we do after finishing these writings?”

“After that, we should have other things to keep us busy.”

“What things?”

“For instance, raising children?”

“…Mm.”

“Mm?”

“Good thing. I support it.”

Author’s Note:

These extras are just written when I think of them—everyone read them when you have time.