After Faking My Death, I Became My Rival’s "White Moonlight" - Chapter 9

The other’s fingertips rubbed his palm, slowly interlacing.

Xia Chan ignored Shi Qing’s desire to stay and unceremoniously threw him out.

Shi Qing speechlessly brushed the dust off his clothes and activated the Golden Jade Butterfly. As the jade butterfly’s golden light dissipated, Shi Qing turned around, preparing to jump back into the well, only to feel a sudden tightening around his waist. Looking down, he saw Chen Shi’s arms wrapped around him.

“What are you doing?” Shi Qing looked at Chen Shi in confusion.

“Junior Brother, Senior Xia’s cultivation is far superior to ours. We should wait for the Aowu Pavilion disciples to arrive,” Chen Shi said with an expression of utter sincerity.

Inside the Illusion: By the Embroidery Workshop Well

Xia Chan raised his hand, casting a spell to seal the illusion’s passage. He turned around, his youthful and delicate face looking somewhat out of place under the moonlight due to his excessively cold eyes.

As the doors of the embroidery workshop swung open, Xia Chan stepped out. With each step, his delicate features transformed into an extraordinary beauty. Those freezing eyes now resembled frost and snow adorning fine jade.

Outside lay Linhai City, a place of deathly silence shrouded in night. Only the top-grade magical artifact within the City Lord’s Manor, the Taixu Phantom Mirror, could sustain an illusion of such massive scale.

Xie Ciyou shifted his gaze toward the distance, where the City Lord’s Manor lay hidden among dark clouds under the moonlight. In the next instant, the white-clad figure vanished.

“Still no news?” Dongfang Yuqing asked in a heavy voice, his tone laced with anxiety. “Have you found out? Who is the Aowu Pavilion disciple accompanying that Qingyun Sect disciple?”

The most dangerous place was the safest. This area was created by him using the Taixu Phantom Mirror. At the time, he had lured demonic energy everywhere to distract Aowu Pavilion. Once his injuries healed, he took advantage of the withdrawal of most Aowu Pavilion disciples and the takeover of Linhai City by the Tianji Sect to sneak back.

The Taixu Phantom Mirror was an ancient divine artifact capable of isolating demonic energy. Inside were the secret guards and death soldiers he had raised, along with his chosen hiding spot. Even if Xie Ciyou came, he would find it difficult to detect.

“Reporting to the City Lord: according to Chen Shi, that Aowu Pavilion disciple once fought Chen Ji, the eldest disciple of Qingyun Sect. He is likely at the peak of the Golden Core stage.” A row of dark guards in black stood below; there were about dozens of them, all in the Mahayana Stage, surrounded by swirling black energy.

In an era where spiritual veins were depleting, even reaching the Nascent Soul stage was rare. Yet, among the thirty death soldiers owned by the Lord of Linhai City, twenty were Mahayana cultivators. This was all thanks to the demonic energy of the Demon God’s divine sense. Back then, thousands had been captured, but only thirty survived the erosion of the demonic energy.

Having sent twenty out, Dongfang Yuqing was supremely confident in the success of this assassination.

However, it was taking a bit too long.

He firmly believed the failure of his plan the other day was due to carelessness. If not for the Soul-Binding Array, what would a mere outer sect disciple matter? Even if that boy knew Shi Shuangyu’s arrays, Dongfang Yuqing wasn’t afraid, even if that person was.

Dongfang Yuqing narrowed his eyes, recalling the silhouette on the West Pavilion under the moonlight, the one who told him to kill the Qingyun disciple who used arrays at any cost. He sneered, “It seems he really is terrified of Shi Shuangyu.”

A great wind swept into the open hall, bringing a sudden chill. The illusion was vivid; unless the master of the illusion changed it, even the climate matched the outside world. Why was a summer night wind so cold?

The smirk on Dongfang Yuqing’s face froze as he snapped his gaze toward the entrance.

Dark clouds blotted out the moon, thick enough to drip ink. Out of that darkness walked a person, clothes as white as snow. This person appeared abruptly, walking with slow, deliberate steps. Like fine jade and elegant branches, every step seemed to tread upon the clouds, untouched by dust. With a posture like frost and snow, the chill surrounding him was colder and more desolate than the moonlight itself, crushing the moonbeams beneath his feet step by step.

Dongfang Yuqing’s pupils shrank violently. Reflected in his eyes was the white-clad man who had suddenly flashed before him. As the man’s sleeves fluttered, the dozens of dark guards behind him collapsed instantly.

Dongfang Yuqing’s face turned as pale as paper, the color draining from his lips. The approaching man in white leaned down and spoke, “Dongfang Yuqing has fallen into demonhood. The crime is punishable by death.”

Shi Qing looked at the Aowu Pavilion disciples surrounding him. They were all familiar faces, especially their leader, Zhong Ling, who had always been Xie Ciyou’s close attendant.

“Didn’t Brother Xia send you to meet us? Why are you surrounding me? Instead of wasting time here, why don’t you go into the well and help your Pavilion Master’s personal disciple?”

“Personal disciple?” Zhong Ling was taken aback, then recalled the instructions in the Pavilion Master’s Jade Butterfly. He said impassively, “Daoist Chen and the hostage have already been sent for placement. As for you, Young Master, please do not take offense. We received orders that we must bring you back to Aowu Pavilion.”

“What? Are you sure it’s Aowu Pavilion and not back to Qingyun Sect? Is there a mistake?” Shi Qing was baffled, his mind racing through a thousand possibilities.

Did Xia Chan discover something? He knew Aowu Pavilion operated with an iron fist; better to kill by mistake than let a threat go. He had been too careless! Remembering Xie Ciyou’s look on the Qingyun Hall, as if he wanted to pry open his brain, and the scene of Xia Chan’s soul-searching, Shi Qing’s teeth began to chatter.

Going back with them was no different from walking into a tiger’s den. It was absolutely impossible!

Shi Qing feigned calm. “Whose order? Is there a misunderstanding? I only sent out one golden butterfly given by Brother Xia. Could he have given me the wrong one?”

Zhong Ling remained polite. “We only act on orders. Whether it is a misunderstanding will be known then. Rest assured, we will not harm you.”

Shi Qing blinked and said thoughtfully, “Really? You won’t hurt me?”

“Naturally,” before Zhong Ling could finish, he shouted, “Catch him!”

Golden light flashed beneath Shi Qing’s feet. Zhong Ling reacted almost instantly, but he was still a moment too late.

An enhancement array formed instantly, and the golden light propelled Shi Qing toward the sky at high speed. They never expected that a useless disciple who couldn’t even fly a sword would attempt to escape through the air.

Shi Qing looked down and grinned at Zhong Ling, but in the next second, his head slammed into something. With a loud thud, he fell to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. Before he could clear his head, he felt a tightening; looking down, he saw a Soul-Binding Array.

The golden light at Zhong Ling’s fingertips faded. Sweating slightly, he thought, “The Pavilion Master is indeed brilliant.”

At first, when he received the message, he had been confused. The instructions were: Do not reveal the butterfly is from the Pavilion Master; bring the messenger back to Aowu Pavilion unharmed; most strangely, set up the Nine Heavens Profound Spirit Array in advance to prevent escape; and use the Soul-Binding Array immediately if there is resistance.

The Nine Heavens Profound Spirit Array was a boundary array used by Aowu Pavilion to capture enemies alive; it was extremely difficult to break. Seeing the message, Zhong Ling couldn’t tell if the person was a friend or foe, but such elaborate measures suggested a high cultivation level.

Upon seeing the messenger, Zhong Ling was stunned. How could a youth at the Qi Refining stage who couldn’t even fly a sword require the Nine Heavens Profound Spirit Array? For the first time in his life, he doubted his Pavilion Master.

Until now. Seeing the youth form an array in an instant to escape, he marveled at the Pavilion Master’s foresight.

“Pardon my rudeness,” Zhong Ling said, his tone turning somewhat respectful. Then, puzzled, he asked, “Why did you run, Young Master?”

Shi Qing grumbled internally, “If I don’t run, am I supposed to stay and let you take me back to be tortured by Xie Ciyou?” Looking at the Soul-Binding Array, his own creation, Shi Qing’s expression soured. “How do you know the Soul-Binding Array?”

“I am unskilled; I have studied for decades to grasp only a fraction of it. I am not even worthy of a percent of the Pavilion Master or Immortal Master Shuangyu,” Zhong Ling said shamefacedly.

“More than a percent, it’s actually quite good,” Shi Qing affirmed, though his focus remained on the array bound to him. “It would be hard for even a Transformation Stage cultivator to break free.”

This sounded like praise, but it felt strange to Zhong Ling, as if he were being complimented by a senior. Had this youth suppressed his cultivation and disguised himself? Even he couldn’t see through it.

As he pondered, the youth caught in the array suddenly chuckled, then said with a hint of regret, “Unfortunately, it won’t stop me.”

Golden light exploded. Zhong Ling lunged to grab him, only to see the youth leap directly into the well.

With a splash and the sound of bubbling water, Zhong Ling rushed to the edge. The youth submerged in the well suddenly broke the surface, gasping for air and looking furious. “Who closed the illusion passage! Brother Xia! You just wait!”

The youth swung a palm toward Zhong Ling. A wave of golden light surged up; Zhong Ling dodged, and the light dissipated into the air.

The well fell silent. Zhong Ling cautiously leaned over again, only to catch a glimpse of the illusion passage closing at that very moment.

“What do we do?” An Aowu Pavilion disciple who had been hiding in the crowd and was instructed not to show his face ran over. It was Xia Chan.

“It’s fine. The Pavilion Master is inside anyway.”

Xia Chan breathed a sigh of relief. “True. If the Pavilion Master can’t catch him himself, he can’t blame us.”

Inside the Illusion: Above Linhai City

Xie Ciyou floated in mid-air, summoning the Dinghui Sword. Sword energy cascaded down like a starlit river, striking the fleeing black mist with the force of a mountain.

The black mist was hit and slammed into the ground with a resounding boom.

As the mist dissipated, Dongfang Yuqing vomited a mouthful of blood, glaring at the sky with wide eyes.

The Immortal Gate Token summoned before Xie Ciyou erupted in golden light, transforming into threads that shot toward Dongfang Yuqing, binding him like tentacles.

Surrounded by golden threads, Dongfang Yuqing tried to struggle, but the more he fought, the tighter they gripped. He began to twitch violently as black energy poured out of him, emitting sharp, ghost-like shrieks in an attempt to escape, only to be trapped by the golden lines.

Shi Qing climbed out of the well amidst these earth-shattering shrieks. Before he could steady himself, the sound pierced his ears. He clutched his head, but the screaming seemed to vibrate directly within his soul, shaking his very spirit.

Xie Ciyou focused entirely, pouring spiritual power into the Immortal Gate Token to absorb the Demon God’s divine sense.

He hadn’t guessed wrong. The previous demonic energy hadn’t been the source; the divine sense on Dongfang Yuqing was the real deal, though likely only a tiny fragment of a remnant sense. Yet, even a small piece of the only remaining deity in this world was enough to lure countless people into demonhood and bring chaos to all living beings.

The token in his palm shook slightly. The black mist on Dongfang Yuqing suddenly erupted in a more intense, pained shriek. The mist, which had been struggling to flee, now desperately dove into the token as if it were surrendering.

The Immortal Gate Token could only purify ordinary demonic energy; the energy from a Demon God’s divine sense could only be sealed. Seeing the mist surrender so readily, it felt as though something even more terrifying was approaching from behind.

Xie Ciyou stabilized the token with his spiritual power while spreading his Transformation Stage divine sense through the secret realm, tracking the aura that was faintly competing with the token.

The Immortal Gate Token was one of the incarnations of the Heavenly Dao before its decline. Though the Dao was now weak, what else in this world besides the Demon God could contend with it?

Xie Ciyou closed his eyes. His divine sense reached the well that should have been sealed. Seeing the situation there, his eyelashes trembled, and his eyes snapped open.

Shi Qing was radiating a shimmering golden light similar to the Immortal Gate Token, but even more brilliant. He was frantically competing with the distant token, devouring the black mist into his own body.

For the first time, Shi Qing clearly felt his body absorbing the demonic energy. It rampaged through him, feeling as though it would tear him apart. He knit his brows, and memories of his past life sacrificing himself to the array suddenly flashed through his mind. The fear of death turned his blood cold.

No, this body can’t take this much demonic energy. It’s going to collapse.

He couldn’t stop shaking. Cold sweat poured from his forehead where veins bulged, and blood seeped from his clenched teeth. His body felt as if it would shatter at any moment.

Suddenly, his vision went dark. A cold scent of plum blossoms enveloped him, and a snow-white sleeve entered his view. Shi Qing was pulled into a slightly cool embrace, and his clenched fist was covered by another cool hand.

Something began to draw away the continuous surge of black energy. Leaning in that embrace, the uncontrollable shaking subsided as the energy was siphoned off. His breathing leveled out. Pressed against the person’s chest, he could hear a heart beating slightly fast.

Exhausted, his eyes half-closed, he saw his clenched hand being pried open, revealing a bloody mess within. The other’s fingertips trembled slightly as they touched the wound; the injury vanished instantly, restoring the skin to its original texture. The fingertips rubbed his palm gently before slowly interlacing their fingers with his.

Shi Qing’s head was heavy and swimming. His blurry vision fell on the interlaced hands; the fingers were well-defined, slender, and beautiful.

“It’s okay now. It’s okay,” the person whispered in his ear, their voice carrying a hint of gentle coaxing.

Shi Qing, eyes half-lidded, listened to the words. His heart felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, strangely stifled.

To maintain his persona, he had always acted calm. To follow the plot, as a senior, he always considered others and took injuries on their behalf. In front of Gu Yan, he had to be eternally gentle and powerful. Even when sacrificing himself to the array, he had to pretend to face death with indifference. He had played the part for so long that he had almost forgotten who he truly was.

He forgot that he, too, could be afraid: Afraid of reuniting with people from his past. Afraid that if his identity were discovered, he would have to wear that heavy mask again. Afraid of losing his freedom. Afraid of every face-to-face encounter with death now that there was no script.

Perhaps the terror from the brink of death hadn’t dissipated yet. All the emotions buried in his heart turned into a flood of grievance that broke through the dam.

Shi Qing’s eyes welled up, blurring his vision. He looked up toward the voice that had been whispering in his ear.

Xie Ciyou had been gazing at the person in his arms, feeling every change in his body. Noticing him look up, their eyes met. Shi Qing’s delicate, pale face was twisted in pain; he frowned, and as he tilted his head, a teardrop rolled down.

The drop fell, making Xie Ciyou’s heart skip a beat.

Shi Qing’s vision was hazy, and his brain wasn’t quite functioning. Seeing that beautiful, deity-like face, he sobbed: “Are you the fairy come to deliver my wronged soul?”

“…”

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