For unknown reasons, after Nie Hengcheng seized power and assumed the position of sect leader, he chose not to reside in the Celestial Palace or nearby in the Corner Palace. Instead, he settled in the Xuanpin Hall, the first level of the Blissful Palace. Surprisingly, his nephew Nie Zhe, whose authority was unstable, moved back into the Pivotal Sky Palace.
Now, the front half of Xuanpin Hall lay in ruins, destroyed during Lian Thirteen’s attack. The back half had been blown apart by Han Yisu. The Celestial Palace transformed into a soul-consuming den by Nie Zhe, was equally uninhabitable.
Mu Qingyan wandered through the Corner Palace like a specter. Guards along the way greeted him with clasped hands, while maidservants blushed and stepped aside, stealing glances at their cold, handsome, and imposing master as he disappeared into the rear palace’s side courtyard.
This place was where Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather had spent his final years. Tracing back the origins, the Nie clan’s rebellion, which had plagued the Mu family for three generations, began with his great-grandfather’s mishandling of affairs in his later years. He couldn’t bring himself to discipline his willful only son strictly, nor could he effectively restrain his two ambitious adopted sons.
Yet, who could have known that in his youth, Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather had been a man of quick action and decision? However, his decisiveness seemed to have vanished along with the death of his beloved wife.
The residence was arranged in a serene and simple style. The only striking feature was a foot-long purple crystal coral tree placed high in an alcove. Despite decades passing, it remained vibrant and radiant—his great-grandmother’s most treasured possession.
She had married into the Mu family following her elders’ wishes. Consequently, Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather had to part with the woman he truly loved, inevitably leading to resentment and coldness towards his bride. Gentle by nature, she neither complained nor bore grudges, silently responding with tenderness.
In youth, people often believe they have a lifetime to forgive and reconcile, unaware of how swiftly time passes. Only when his wife fell terminally ill did Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather realize what he had missed. From then on, guilt and grief consumed the latter half of his life.
Standing before the coral tree, Mu Qingyan pondered. He thought that stubborn old Yan Xu should see this—even his great-grandfather, who had dutifully married according to his parents’ and teachers’ strict orders, ended up in a state of sorrow and confusion.
He shook his head.
Passing through his great-grandfather’s secluded courtyard, Mu Qingyan arrived at a grand and magnificent building.
Although physically weak and sickly, his grandfather had a volatile and easily angered temperament. He favored the most untamable horses, raised the most defiant falcons, immersed himself in obscure ancient texts, and indulged in poetry, wine, dance, and music.
Nie Hengcheng understood his adopted brother’s aesthetic preferences all too well. He orchestrated an ‘unexpected’ encounter that seemed tailor-made—amidst lingering spring chill and a shower of flower petals, a talented and prideful beauty appeared. The two clashed yet found mutual admiration.
At the height of their passion, neither could see the other’s flaws. The wife only saw her husband’s gentleness, overlooking his fickleness. The husband recognized his wife’s pride but failed to perceive the destructive stubbornness deeply rooted in her character.
Mu Qingyan stood in the side chamber adjacent to his grandmother’s bedroom. Even after decades, the room’s warm and soft arrangement was still evident. All edges and corners were wrapped in thick silk cotton, small toys that could be easily swallowed were tied with silk threads, and copper rings were nailed to the ceiling beams for hanging cradles.
Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather, being experienced, recognized the character flaws in his son and daughter-in-law, as well as the potential future troubles.
When his trusted right-hand man left in anger after years of service, he lay on his sickbed, looking worriedly at his infant grandson. He told his son and daughter-in-law, “Despite my many faults, I at least protected you until you married and had a child. Now that you’re parents, no matter what disagreements arise between you two in the future, you must not let your young child fall into hardship.”
His words became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Both parents passed away when Mu Zhengming was not yet ten years old.
Mu Qingyan couldn’t help but sigh. Lao Yan was right about one thing—for two hundred years, the Mu family’s marriages had never been smooth. Whether they listened to their elders or not, the outcomes were equally unfortunate. Perhaps they had offended the God of Marriage.
As dawn approached, the Eight Trigrams evil-repelling mirror hanging in the corner of the room flickered. Mu Qingyan raised his arm and took it down.
Wiping away the dust, the mirror-bright surface reflected a young, handsome face with a high nose, thin lips, and deep-set eyes, though the gaze was somewhat gloomy. Dissatisfied, Mu Qingyan adjusted his expression in the mirror, relaxing his brows and eyes, and lifting the corners of his mouth to reveal a gentle, detached smile…
He collapsed, one hand covering the mirror’s face, the other shielding his eyes. His shoulders shook slightly as his body trembled with grief—Father!
Mu Qingyan had never lamented his great-grandfather or grandfather; they had chosen their fates. Countless mentors and friends had advised and warned them, but they turned a deaf ear.
His great-grandfather, despite developing feelings for his wife after marriage, allowed his arrogance and coldness to hurt her, ultimately spending half his life as a widower. What was there to sigh about? His grandfather, fully aware of the powerful enemies surrounding the sect and his unstable position, still indulged in reckless behavior, finally falling prey to his cunning adopted brother’s machinations. What was there to regret?
But Mu Zhengming—what had he done wrong?
Elder Chou had repeatedly berated Mu Zhengming for lacking ambition and being weak in the face of enemies.
However, Mu Qingyan knew his father had ambitions. They just didn’t lie within the Departure Sect.
“The Mu family has led the Departure Sect for two hundred years. Every Mu child has practiced diligently from birth, fighting external threats from the Six Northern Chen Sects and controlling the rebellious masses internally. It’s enough, it’s enough.” Under a clear sky full of stars, Mu Zhengming lay on the roof with his son, wine by their side and the starry sky above.
Turning to smile at his son, his face gaunt yet serene and gentle, he said, “Don’t be trapped by the Hanhai Mountains, Yan’er. Don’t be confined here. Go do what you want to do, walk the path you wish to walk.”
Mu Qingyan had read through his father’s journals, from childhood scribbles to adult notes. They detailed the vast world beyond, describing the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers, along with excerpts of local customs from various travelogues.
Mu Zhengming had always wanted to leave the Hanhai Mountains.
He had been planning since he was fourteen, but Elder Chou had desperately pleaded with him. Nie Hengcheng’s faction was losing ground in their life-and-death struggle. Without Mu Zhengming as their most valuable figurehead, Nie Hengcheng would immediately gain the upper hand. This would lead to the merciless slaughter of those loyal to the Mu family.
So Mu Zhengming had to stay.
Then, Sun Ruoshui appeared.
Soon after, Sun Ruoshui became pregnant, and he had to marry her.
The ties binding Mu Zhengming grew stronger.
Later, Elder Chou passed away as well.
Although saddened, Mu Zhengming knew this was inevitable. He had been quietly arranging for Chou’s disciples to leave under Nie Hengcheng’s nose (like You Guanyue). Just as he was preparing to depart again, he fell victim to an assassination attempt…
Five years later, when he returned, he lifted his pale, sickly young son from a dilapidated, filthy cell—Mu Zhengming knew he couldn’t leave again.
He wasn’t a naive, sheltered child. He understood the world beyond the Hanhai Mountains. The journey wouldn’t be smooth; ambushes likely lurked everywhere, waiting to hunt down the Mu father and son. While he could survive on nature’s provisions, a frail, frightened five-year-old couldn’t endure such a nomadic life.
As a father, he had to provide a comfortable, stable environment for his son to grow up in.
So, he took his son to live in seclusion at Huanglao Peak’s Busi Pavilion.
When Mu Qingyan turned fourteen, Mu Zhengming suddenly felt elated. For the first time in his life, he experienced the carefree feeling of being able to leave at any moment.
By then, Mu Qingyan had developed considerable skills. Whether staying alone in the Hanhai Mountains or traveling the outside world with his father, Mu Zhengming knew his son could manage effortlessly.
Unexpectedly, he was soon poisoned and passed away six months later.
Even on his deathbed, he didn’t reveal the truth. He knew his son’s resentment was already heavy and didn’t want to add to his hatred for this place.
“Yan’er, don’t dwell on the bad things. Think more about the good in this world. The sky is vast, the mountains majestic. Go out, explore, and you’ll find yourself more cheerful.”
“Yan’er, when you’re old and look back on your life, I hope you’ll see it filled with beautiful memories, grateful for the journey you’ve had in this world.”
“Yan’er, if you truly can’t let this go, I approve of you dealing swiftly with the Nie family. But don’t let them occupy too much of your mind. Save the best part for something else.”
“For what? Haha, silly child, save it for the good things you’ll encounter in the future. For instance, a girl who brings you joy…”
Mu Qingyan covered his face and wept bitterly, feeling as if his chest had been torn open, constantly filled with salt water.
Time passed, and dawn finally broke. Sunlight streamed through the torn window paper, falling on him. Mu Qingyan’s misty eyes suddenly brightened. He staggered to his feet and walked outside.
Yes, he would go find her—the girl who brought him joy.
…
In a guest room on the west side of the Corner Palace, Song Yuzhi was watching the sunrise from the window.
“This is top-quality tiger bone, bear gallbladder, and these wild ginsengs are said to run away if you loosen the threads. Last night, I sent some to Miss Cai for her to drink—she drank two bowls at once.”
Shangguan Haonan prattled on about several boxes filled with precious items. “Master Song, although our sects are at odds, I distinguish between gratitude and grudges. You saved my life, so these small gifts are to express my thanks. Tomorrow, I’ll have a box of snow cicada lingzhi delivered…”
“Hehehe…” Song Yuzhi suddenly let out a low laugh.
Shangguan Haonan was puzzled: “What’s so funny, Master Song?”
“Nothing.” Song Yuzhi composed himself and sat down, looking vigorous in the early morning sunlight. “Thank you for your kindness, Elder Shangguan, but I’m afraid I’ll be leaving your sect today.”
“Ah so soon?” Shangguan Haonan was a bit dumbfounded.
…
When Mu Qingyan pushed open the door, Cai Zhao was sitting by the window reading.
She wore a rose-colored short jacket embroidered with golden orioles and plum blossoms, her slender waist cinched with a moonlight-white silk sash. Below, she wore a flowing, pleated long skirt. In her hair was a golden hairpin with a raised head holding a pearl. In the morning light, the girl’s cheeks were translucent white, with delicate, adorable peach fuzz. She looked like a small, beautiful jade statue, poised and focused.
“Zhaozaho,” Mu Qingyan stood at the doorway.
Cai Zhao looked up and smiled brightly: “You’re back.” She stood and led him to sit by the window, pouring a cup of water and handing it to him.
Mu Qingyan held the teacup, like a weary traveler returning to a warm home. He had countless words but didn’t know where to begin. “Zhaozaho, do you know? My father, my father was…” His voice caught, unable to continue.
“He was harmed by Madam Sun,” the girl replied calmly.
Mu Qingyan was startled: “How do you know?” Last night’s interrogation was a sect secret; no one present should have spoken about it.
Cai Zhao lowered her eyes: “You respect your father so much; how could you not listen to his final words? Your father clearly instructed you to care for Madam Sun in her old age, yet that day in front of Elder Yuheng, you said Madam Sun might not live long.”
She sighed, “There’s only one situation where you’d go against your father’s last wishes—if Madam Sun did something you could never forgive—harming your father.”
Mu Qingyan smiled bitterly: “Zhaozaho is so clever.”
His eyes turned cold and gloomy as he added, “Elder Yan was right; the only thing that could kill my father was his kindness.”
Cai Zhao had nothing to say.
Mu Qingyan put down the water cup and leaned over, pulling the girl into a tight embrace. He buried his head in the soft, warm crook of her neck and whispered, “Zhaozaho, I’m in pain.”
Cai Zhao stiffened. She felt the young man’s warm breath on her neck, intoxicating and alluring. Unable to resist, she hugged him back, her hands resting on his supple, strong waist.
Mu Qingyan tightened his arms as if trying to meld the girl into his chest, into his very bones and blood.
Cai Zhao felt him nuzzling her neck with his nose and lips, ticklish and soft, intimate yet intense. She closed her eyes briefly, then mustered all her strength to push him away forcefully, struggling free from his embrace.
“Zhaozaho?” Mu Qingyan pushed aside, and looked surprised, his jade-like face still flushed.
The girl stood with her back turned, her chest heaving. After a moment, she turned back with a smile, “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been away from my sect for over two months now. It’s time for me to return. The sooner, the better. I might as well bid you farewell today.”
The color drained from Mu Qingyan’s face. “What did you say?”
Cai Zhao looked away, speaking softly, “I’m leaving. Going back to the Qingque Sect.”
“…Say that again,” Mu Qingyan’s eyes turned cold as ice.
Cai Zhao held her ground, “It would be the same even if I said it a hundred times. This is the Demonic Sect, and I’m from the Northern Chen Sect. Now that you’ve reclaimed your position as sect leader, I can’t stay here anymore.”
Mu Qingyan let out a long, cold laugh, “Unless I agree, let’s see if you can leave!”
Tears welled in Cai Zhao’s eyes as she pleaded softly, “Please don’t be like this. Our journey together has been fated, but now that fate has run its course. Let’s part on good terms.”
Mu Qingyan angrily swept his sleeve, sending teapots and cups crashing to the floor. He pointed at her, fuming, “You dare speak of fate! For you to so easily dismiss our bond, you must truly be a heartless, cruel woman!”
Seeing his reddened eyes, Cai Zhao turned back and grabbed his arm, choking out, “Why say such hurtful things? You know why I must leave.”
Mu Qingyan shook her off, saying bitterly, “You’re just a coward, afraid of facing criticism. Have you forgotten what we saw in the palace? Even Demonic Sect Leader Mu and Lady Luo overcame all obstacles and finally…”
“Is that why you’ve hidden me in the palace too?” Cai Zhao interrupted, raising her voice.
Mu Qingyan was stunned.
The girl’s breathing quickened as tears rolled down her cheeks, “I had hope before, but seeing that underground palace and learning about Sect Leader Mu and Lady Luo’s story made me finally understand—we have no future together!”
She cried out in frustration, “Even with all his power, Sect Leader Mu couldn’t openly be with Lady Luo. They had to hide in the palace or flee far away. What chance do we have?!”
Mu Qingyan’s face paled. His lips trembled as he collapsed by the window.
Cai Zhao wept, embracing him gently, “Lady Luo could abandon her friends and family to disappear with Sect Leader Mu—but I can’t! I love the bustling world, the familiar shops… You know I can’t give that up!”
Mu Qingyan looked up dazedly, seeing only the girl’s red lips. He held her tight, his nose brushing her cheek as he whispered, “Kiss me once. Just once, and I’ll let you go.”
Sorrowfully, Cai Zhao planted a kiss on his gaunt cheek.
Mu Qingyan’s breathing grew heavy, and his empty gaze suddenly filled with blazing anger. He gripped the back of her neck, pressing his burning lips hard against hers, kissing her soft mouth with resentment.
Trapped in his embrace, Cai Zhao broke out in a sweat. In her confusion, she bit down, tasting an unfamiliar metallic flavor—whose blood, she couldn’t tell.
She struggled free, standing tall as she declared, “My aunt told me that as we grow up, we must always consider the consequences of our actions, never acting rashly.”
“When she left Peiqiong Manor at fourteen, she had considered the worst outcome—a broken engagement. She understood and was willing to face losing her betrothed, so she walked out without hesitation.”
“She also knew the consequences of challenging Nie Hengcheng—either death or complete disability. She accepted this, preferring to sacrifice herself to eliminate Nie Hengcheng. Even bedridden for over a decade afterward, she never regretted it.”
“I’ve always remembered my aunt’s words, but since meeting you, I’ve been so confused—I never wanted to think about the consequences of being with you, our future, or how it might affect my family and friends.”
Wiping away her tears, Cai Zhao continued stubbornly, “But now I understand. The enmity between the Demonic Sect and the Six Northern Chen Sects runs too deep. I won’t abandon my parents, friends, and home for you—or anyone!”
“I hope you understand, Young Lord, and remember our past bond. Please let my senior brother and me leave the mountain peacefully. If you insist on keeping us here…” She placed her hand on her waist, her eyes resolute, “Just as countless souls fell to the Yanyang Blade, I won’t tarnish my aunt’s reputation. We can meet again in the netherworld!”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mu Qingyan slowly stood, his face cold as ice. “Miss Cai, you’ve said your piece. I’m not so shameless as to force you to stay. Besides, having just eliminated the Nie family, I have too many sect matters to attend to. I don’t have time to detain you and your senior brother.”
He walked towards the door, passing Cai Zhao without looking back. “With that, farewell.”
Step by step, he left the room, his heart growing colder and number with each step.
He thought to himself, in the end, he was truly alone.