After a Fake Death, the Emotionless Dao Senior Sister Became Obsessed - Chapter 21

Xueye (Snow Night) glanced at the woman who had fallen into a deep slumber before her, her features peaceful, and dusted off her hands.

A smile touched her lips, “Yingzhi is obedient and respectful of her master after all.”

The jade chamber was sealed and hidden with an enchantment, yet she treated it as if it were her own territory, completely unhindered.

She smacked her lips a few times, then turned over the person Si Jing was holding in her arms.

Seeing Chu Zhao’s pale face and crumpled, unconscious look, her fingers paused.

She pinched the girl’s cheek, which was like a ball of snow, and couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s been a long time, why have you become this pitiful little thing?”

She was used to acting recklessly. Just as she was about to knead the cheek again, she suddenly let out a soft hiss.

Chu Zhao, seemingly harboring resentment, opened her mouth in her coma and bit down on Xueye’s finger with a muffled cry.

Xueye sucked in a sharp breath of pain, stroking the girl’s soft, downy hair, “Alright, alright… I won’t say any more.”

A drop of blood welled up on her fingertip. She sighed, stood up, and suddenly felt that she, the Sect Master of Yunshuijian, was truly too incompetent.

She turned to look, and behind her were two other children, also nestled close even in their coma.

They seemed to belong to her sect as well.

Xueye crouched down, pulled out a handful of melon seeds from her sleeve, and started cracking them.

She pondered the depravity of the human heart, the instability of the world, and why only she had been left with a lonely ending.

Perhaps she drank too much every day and smoked everyone away?

She hadn’t sorted out her thoughts after finishing the seeds, so she had no choice but to carry one on her left and sling one over her back on her right, dragging Yuan Ling and Shen Susu onto her sword first.

Just as she was about to free her hands to pick up Si Jing, Xueye’s peripheral vision caught something.

She was not yet sober and drifted towards the shattered Jiao (Mermaid) lamp. Her willow-leaf eyes narrowed, and her expression abruptly turned solemn.

The fragments of the lamp had already dispersed into thin spiritual power, leaving only a piece of scorched wick, which she lightly pinched.

Waving her hand to dismiss a wisp of spiritual power with a deep resonance from the wick, Xueye, for once, looked serious, raising her head to gaze north.

North of the Nine Provinces, sects were abundant, powerful cultivators were entrenched, and Kunlun Xu, the foremost of the Xuanmen (Mystic Sects), was located there.

“…It’s starting again, isn’t it?” The woman in the raven-blue robe took a swig of wine, shaking her head and laughing softly.

She muttered carelessly, seemingly recalling something, “A hundred generations, a thousand years, meeting and parting have their time.”

“Little Sister, only you… remain still in the same place.”

The only thing in her sight that was not a dull shadow was the calming raven-blue color.

Si Jing’s lips were extremely parched; all the moisture in her body was rapidly evaporating.

She opened her eyes in a daze, holding a dagger in her hand. Unmindful of the pain, she clenched the sharp edge, and crimson droplets splattered onto the ground.

She turned and looked into the distance.

Before her was no longer the jade chamber, nor the sea of blood where demons raged.

The fish pond was dry, the peach trees withered, the magnificent, compassionate, and solemn glazed gold statue was covered in cracks, and the lotus pond and Buddhist land were desolate and decaying.

Demonic energy overflowed. This desolate scene seemed to have all been caused by her.

She had been confined here for long enough. The chanting was trying to extinguish her, to turn her into a being without desire.

But she still had things she wanted to do.

Si Jing looked at the water pond beside her where the pink lotus had drooped, now empty.

She seemed to be looking for someone.

Si Jing left the Pure Heaven, which had turned into a hell, behind her, without any reluctance.

She didn’t know when, or where she passed through; she simply wandered and searched ceaselessly, never stopping.

Until she passed through a remote border town, some distance from the Immersed Silence Sea.

Demonic energy had already spread to the human world, and the miserable scene was no different from the Buddhist land. Once the masters of disguise, the demons, infiltrated, the seemingly stable town, with its flickering, tranquil light, would soon be engulfed.

At that time, the cheerful sounds would abruptly cease, crockery would shatter on the ground, and human lives would be as fragile as paper.

All compounded phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, and a shadow.

Si Jing watched silently as the oil lamp, which had just been flickering gently in the inn, suddenly went out. Wives and children scattered, shadows of ghosts flickered, and the screams and cries were mournful and desperate.

Yet she remained unmoved, intending to turn and leave.

It’s not, it’s not.

None of them were what she was looking for.

Just as she was about to depart, she caught a glimpse of a faint light streaking across the dark night sky.

The newcomer was dressed in a raven-blue Daoist robe, with a lazy, carefree appearance. The light was the residue from her sword flight.

Like snow thrown into a furnace, a moth drawn to a flame.

In a few breaths, the woman turned her wrist, eliminating the nightmare shadows formed by demonic energy without bloodshed. The storm subsided, and peace returned.

She blew a breath, lighting the candle on the table, and then lit a crooked talisman paper.

The still Yuanyang (Mandarin Duck) hot pot began to gurgle, instantly filling the air with a rich aroma.

The woman patted the dust off her robe, first smilingly bent down to hug the little girl who was trembling under the table, then walked a few steps to find the child’s parents, pulling them back by their collars.

She dragged a wooden chair to the table, leaning back lazily, “Don’t mind me, you family continue eating.”

The inn waiter peeked out cautiously. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, she raised her hand and called, “Hey, bring me a plate of melon seeds.”

She turned her head to look at Si Jing by the door, raising an eyebrow, “Do you want some too?”

Si Jing couldn’t quite remember what she answered then.

She only remembered the woman in the raven-blue robe forcefully pushing a multi-colored bird feather into her arms, saying things like “Go up the mountain to seek an apprenticeship,” and “I’ll help you find your fish,” before walking off with a bag of candied melon seeds.

Why must I look for… a fish?

Si Jing held the bird feather and set foot on the ground indicated by the guiding beacon.

It was a remote mountain, covered in perennial snow, cold and desolate.

Climbing from the foot of the mountain, there were a total of eight hundred and thirty-four steps. Halfway up, a stark stone gate stood.

She looked up. The raven-blue figure on the mountaintop was embracing a wine jar, looking like a phantom in the falling fine snow.

“Oh dear, you actually came. In that case, you are my very first good disciple.” The woman was drunk.

“Put your hand on the gate stone, let me see.”

Si Jing silently stood on tiptoe, placing her hand on the cold, hard stone that was taller than she was.

The accumulated snow slowly melted under her palm. She saw the spiritual stone embedded in the stone suddenly emit a dazzling light.

First a deep blue, then it gradually lightened, settling into a grass-green, and finally, bursting forth with an iridescent gold.

Si Jing closed her eyes, a sense of revulsion rising in her heart.

She detested the colors that were ubiquitous in that peaceful, hypocritical paradise.

Yet, she heard an indescribable shout from the person on the mountaintop, “Wow, a Gold Legend!”

“What’s wrong with a four-element spiritual root?” The woman, in the height of her inebriation, began to sing, “Ah~ four-element spiritual root, you have one less root than a five-element spiritual root!”

“…” Si Jing lowered her head.

She whispered, “Can I become your disciple now?”

The wind howled on the mountainside. Snow pellets pelted her cheeks and neck, stinging sharply.

Not receiving a response from the woman on the mountaintop, she only felt her thin clothing soaked through with snowmelt. Her body felt like a thousand pounds, and she couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes.

Si Jing had not properly rested for a long time on her journey here.

Before she passed out, someone seemed to catch her securely.

That person’s clothes reeked of strong alcohol. She checked her pulse and mumbled, “…Can’t be, there’s no heartbeat or pulse, did she just pass out from hunger?”

In her hazy consciousness, Si Jing leaned towards the woman’s wrist.

She smelled a fragrant scent.

Although the other party was drunk, she reacted quickly, swiftly pulling her hand away, “Hey, don’t, don’t drink my blood! If you drink it, you’ll be bound to me! There’s a proper grudge and a proper debtor; you go find your fish.”

She was held in the woman’s arms, treading on the fine snow, step by step, completing the remaining four hundred or so mountain steps.

She heard the woman muttering drunkenly, “Don’t be sad. How about I stew you a pot of fish soup?”

“Yulu Peak, Yunshuijian… Hey, I don’t know what you’re called now, so I’ll tentatively name you… Si Jing.”

“Those eyes, they’re like mirrors.”

“Yulu Peak, Yunshuijian, Disciple Si Jing, your Master has made you a big pot of richly fragrant fish soup, come quickly to the sect gate to collect it—”

Si Jing frowned.

She hated the fishy smell of fish soup more than anything.

But strangely, the feeling of extreme thirst that had been lingering in her mind dissipated.

The wet snowy night, the chaotic, sticky memories of the sea of blood, and the sight of the conquered Pure Heaven of the Buddhist land were now wiped clean like dew.

She opened her eyes and slowly sat up. The surroundings were familiar.

Her resting chamber.

Outside the paper window, crystal snow fell, silent and peaceful. Yulu Peak had rarely experienced such a heavy snowfall again as spring arrived.

Si Jing flicked a talisman to make the candle on the peach wood table flicker bright and looked down.

Sure enough, there was a bowl of fish soup, exactly like the one in her dream, stewed to bits and kept warm with a fire talisman.

Presumably, she had been unconscious for some time after returning to the mountain.

Si Jing wanted to pour the fish soup away, but as her fingertip touched the chipped porcelain bowl, her movements suddenly froze.

She seemed to recall something.

Her movements were hurried, causing the candlelight to sway. Her gaze darted around.

She didn’t see the crimson silhouette of the girl, but by the door, she discovered an unfamiliar rough earthenware water jar.

Si Jing pursed her lips, picked up a candle lamp, and slowly approached.

Someone had placed a delicate, fresh lotus flower in the water jar. A slender, small fish shadow lingered and played under the flower.

Not noticing she was being watched, the fish, in its boredom, hooked its tail and scratched an itch near its gill cover.

It spat out a few circles of resentful bubbles, then suddenly opened its mouth wide, bit a petal of the lotus flower, and munched on it with a crunch.

It was clearly hungry.

Si Jing broke the plum blossom cakes sent by the disciples into small crumbs and dropped them into the water jar.

She saw the little fish’s moist, round eyes suddenly light up.

It happily wagged its tail and swam over. It first nudged the crumbs with its head, and only when it detected no danger did it start to feast.

“Lord Ah’Chu has received a feeding! Do you seek wealth or luck? Just go back to sleep, and it will come true,” the red fish declared boastfully while eating.

“…Anyway, you can have anything in a dream.”

It muttered a quiet sentence, but it couldn’t escape Si Jing’s ears.

Chu Zhao sensed that the person in front of the water jar was silent and gave no response. Annoyed, she let out a hum, “Is it for a marriage fortune, perhaps? Then let me see what you look like!”

Just as she raised her head, she met the woman’s pair of clear, cold peach-blossom eyes, reflecting the candlelight.

In the mirror-like eyes, a crimson, lively fish shadow was reflected, but the woman remained completely silent.

The cake crumbs around Chu Zhao’s mouth fell into the water.

Splash.

She flipped onto her belly, floating on the water’s surface, playing dead, and was heard no more.

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