Guide to the Rebirth of the Evil Woman in the Immortal Realm - Chapter 17

“Stop stuffing more in.”

Ji Ting shot a glance at Shen Fuxin’s hand reaching toward her again, her beautiful peach-blossom eyes rippling with annoyance: “I told you not to, ouch!”

Shen Fuxin shoved the ten-thousand-year-old turtle she had fished out of the courtyard straight into Ji Ting’s arms. Sensing danger, the creature promptly turned its head and bit Ji Ting’s arm. If Shen Fuxin hadn’t intervened, Ji Ting would have flung the thing right back into the pond.

Shen Fuxin’s storage pouch was nearly bursting with all sorts of odds and ends. Ji Ting, having no storage pouch of her own, was laden with jewelry boxes, immortal herbs, luminous pearls and the freshly caught ten-thousand-year-old turtle.

While Ji Ting was busy wrestling with the turtle, Shen Fuxin gazed contentedly at the noticeably emptied immortal manor.

Sell all this at the immortal market, and we’ll have spirit stones in no time.

As for what her cheap father would think when he awoke from his meditation tomorrow and saw the courtyard in disarray well, that was no concern of Shen Fuxin’s.

By dusk, they returned to Qingdi Ling Mountain, laden with spoils.

–

The moment they stepped out of the teleportation array, the sweet fragrance of blooming mountain flowers gave way to the crisp scent of vegetation. The evening glow bathed the entirety of Qingdi Ling Mountain. Walking side by side through the barrier, Shen Fuxin and Ji Ting had never felt so lighthearted and at ease.

Within the mountain’s barrier, flight spells were unusable. They ascended along the stone steps, and as they passed a bamboo grove near the Sword Platform, they heard the sharp whistle of sword energy cutting through the air.

Ji Ting tugged at Shen Fuxin’s sleeve, gesturing for her to look into the grove.

The grove was small and usually deserted, but today, surprisingly, a handful of young immortals had gathered. Shen Fuxin recognized them especially the youth standing in the middle, serving as a sword practice dummy. He was the same boy who had been waiting outside her door with medicine when she first awoke.

Surrounded by the young immortals, he was clearly running low on spiritual energy, yet his youthful face showed no trace of reluctance. Noticing his exhaustion, one of them snapped impatiently, “Li Jiantai, you said yourself you were willing to spar with us. What, changing your mind now?”

Li Jiantai shook his head like a rattle-drum. “S-senior sister, I’m willing.”

So it’s a case of the willing victim and the eager bully. Shen Fuxin lost interest and resumed climbing the steps. “Nothing worth watching. Let’s go.”

Hearing voices outside the grove, Li Jiantai glanced up anxiously at the retreating figure in green.

In that instant, the young immortal who had spoken to him earlier seized the opportunity to strike. A gust of sword energy swept toward Li Jiantai. Unable to dodge completely, he twisted aside, and the persimmon-shaped jade pendant tied at his waist with a red cord fell.

To everyone’s astonishment, Li Jiantai seemed to forget all about using magic. Instead, he threw himself in an undignified sprawl toward the falling pendant, his face ashen. “My persimmon, my persimmon!”

He landed on the ground, clutching the mediocre mung-bean-green jade pendant in both hands. Fortunately, the jade was unbroken, but the red cord holding it had been severed by the sword energy.

Seeing Li Jiantai’s desperate state, the young immortals who had been teasing him exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, noticing Shen Fuxin hadn’t gone far, murmured with caution, “Let’s just drop it.”

Li Jiantai tightly clutched her persimmon, standing dazed on the ground for a moment before suddenly leaping up to chase after the already distant Shen Fuxin. She climbed over a hundred stone steps in one breath and finally caught up with the two walking side by side: “Senior Sister Shen! Senior Sister Shen, please wait!”

Shen Fuxin turned around and, for the first time, clearly saw the face of the young person before her.

She still wore her hair in the same taiji bun as that day, dressed in that simple blue robe. The corners of the young person’s eyes drooped slightly, her skin was fair, and there were a few faint freckles on her cheeks. Her appearance still looked very youthful, like that of a seventeen or eighteen-year-old in the mortal world.

Shen Fuxin studied her. In her impression, this young person always seemed to be chasing after something, as if a terrifying monster were pursuing her from behind, driving her to chase the stars and the moon without a moment’s rest.

Li Jiantai stood firmly in front of Shen Fuxin, stealing one glance at her, then another. Noticing Shen Fuxin’s impatient expression, she quickly wiped her hands clean and pulled out a familiar packet of comfrey flowers from her robe, offering it to Shen Fuxin like a treasure: “Senior Sister Shen, your medicine.”

Ji Ting’s gaze swept over Shen Fuxin’s face before turning to Li Jiantai: “Oh my.”

Shen Fuxin glanced at the slightly trembling packet of comfrey flowers. She had been to the divine realm, and her injuries had long since healed, but it reminded her of the promise she had made to repay the spirit stones. This young person seemed to be in even more dire straits than herself, and Shen Fuxin assumed she had come to remind her about the spirit stones. She signaled to Ji Ting with her eyes: “Give her a hundred spirit stones.”

Ji Ting clicked her tongue twice, slowly pulled out a spirit stone pouch from her robe, and tossed it into Li Jiantai’s arms: “Keep it safe.”

To her surprise, Li Jiantai took a step back, letting the pouch of spirit stones fall in front of her shoes.

She did not take it.

Li Jiantai looked into Shen Fuxin’s cold eyes, her heart aching so much it felt as if it were twisting out water. Her nose began to sting, and she spoke word by word: “It’s not about the money.”

Shen Fuxin remained silent. Li Jiantai continued, “It’s not about the money. I just want to be good to you, Senior Sister. That’s all.”

Be good to her? Faced with this inexplicable kindness, Shen Fuxin laughed mockingly: “Junior Sister, I don’t need your kindness.”

Hearing the words “Junior Sister,” Li Jiantai froze in place. She watched helplessly as Shen Fuxin turned and walked away again. Clutching the broken red string in her hand, she suddenly raised her arm and buried her tears in the crook of her elbow.

She remembered the year she entered Qingdi Ling Mountain, when Senior Sister Shen sat atop the persimmon tree of the Rainbow Capital Immortal and tossed the last sweet persimmon to her standing below.

In that moment when Shen Fuxin smiled and looked down at her, Li Jiantai felt as if she had returned to that thousand years in the mortal world.

She recalled the laughter and joy in the little green mountain of the past, the master and senior sister who, though not family, had lived with her like family for a millennium, and the persimmon tree outside the sect that bore sweet persimmons every autumn.

She longed to go back, but the world was so vast. Master, Senior Sister, I truly.

I truly can’t find you anymore.

Li Jiantai wiped away her tears, forcing back her sobs as she resumed her steps. Without a moment to catch her breath, she began running and chasing again. Since Shen Fuxin refused to stop, she shoved the spirit stone pouch into Ji Ting’s hands.

Watching Li Jiantai turn and run into the distance, Ji Ting weighed the spirit stone pouch in her hand and said sarcastically, “Well, now we have the master, the senior sister, and the junior sister all gathered. Little Fu, look at the romantic troubles you’ve stirred up.”

Shen Fuxin was utterly baffled. She barely knew this junior sister named Li Jiantai. If she had to recall any interaction, it was that one year when she was consumed by melancholy and secretly climbed Zhao Lanying’s persimmon tree, picking the fruits one by one and hurling them all to the ground, smashing them to pieces. At the time, a dazed-looking youth stood beneath the tree. After Shen Fuxin had thrown enough and found the youth agreeable, she tossed the last persimmon to her.

The youth cupped the persimmon in her hands, repeatedly bowed in gratitude, and left with lingering glances. If not for today’s incident, Shen Fuxin would have completely forgotten such an encounter.

Listening to Ji Ting’s accusations of her heartless ways and tendency to attract troublesome admirers, they finally finished climbing the stone steps and returned to Shen Fuxin’s humble blue-walled room.

But no sooner had one trouble passed than another arose. Ji Ting looked at Yu Zhanxu, who was sleeping with her sword clutched in front of Shen Fuxin’s door, and clicked her tongue twice. “Truly, the world is going to the dogs.”

Hearing their return, Yu Zhanxu instantly sprang to her feet.

Seeing Shen Fuxin’s expressionless face, she felt a subtle embarrassment and turned her head away, stepping aside to reveal the door, now fully repaired. “I fixed your door for you.”

Before Shen Fuxin could speak, Ji Ting exclaimed joyfully, “Thank you, thank you! Now it’ll be much more comfortable to sleep here at night.”

Yu Zhanxu tightened her grip on her longsword and looked at Shen Fuxin, who showed no intention of acknowledging her efforts.

The Crown Princess had never suffered such indignity. Glaring at Shen Fuxin, she trembled with rage, her sword shaking along with her. In her fury, she blurted out, “Shen Fuxin, tell me what you really want! Isn’t it just that you crave validation from others, that you want someone to follow you obediently? If that’s the case, why seek out dubious outsiders. I am your senior sister! Do you understand, Shen Fuxin? I am your senior sister!”

Shen Fuxin sidestepped her. “You’re my senior sister, and I’m your mother.”

“Shen Fuxin, I don’t want to joke about this with you!”

The corners of Yu Zhanxu’s eyes reddened slightly. For the first time, she lost her composure in front of Shen Fuxin and uttered the strictly forbidden words: “You could have come to me.”

Shen Fuxin chuckled and slammed the newly repaired door shut in her face. “No joke your senior sister’s wife is still your mother.”

At these words, Yu Zhanxu’s sword slipped from her hand, and she slumped to the ground in despair.

Why had it come to this? The peony blossom fell beside her sword, and the colorful clouds she had trod upon during her ascension mingled with Shen Fuxin’s face in her mind, finally settling on the moment Yu Zhanxu most wanted to forget.

Her heart in turmoil, she noticed the gemstone on her ring, the one she used to communicate with the Master of Xuanyuan Terrace glowing faintly.

It was a message from her master. To Yu Zhanxu, Zhao Lanying could hardly be considered her true master; only the Master of Xuanyuan Terrace was the teacher she acknowledged.

The Master was currently far away in Liuyao Sea, cultivating in seclusion. Yu Zhanxu activated the message, which contained only a few lines filled with concern. Her master had sensed Yu Zhanxu’s recent instability in her spiritual path and, fearing she might stray, had written to inquire.

Yu Zhanxu stared at the final line of her master’s message:

“The past is beyond reach; focus on the present.”

She looked at the door before her, which could never truly separate her from Shen Fuxin.

In her mortal days, she had been soft-hearted. Her mother’s sickbed was right before her, yet she had hesitated to raise her sword because of the tender name her mother called her. On the day of her ascension, her mother was supported by attendants as she watched Yu Zhanxu depart. Yu Zhanxu plucked a flower, laughing freely and gracefully. The world thought she was at the pinnacle of glory, and so Yu Zhanxu forced herself not to look back even once.

She did not look to see if she had returned to the throne, nor did she investigate whether her mother, the Empress, was still commanding the empire’s alchemists to concoct the so-called elixir of immortality.

Her cultivation progress had stagnated, her heart forever burdened by thoughts of her mother, who had once stroked her forehead and promised that one day they would share this magnificent world together.

It was not until her master informed her that her mother had passed away.

Lost in the delusion of immortality, the Empress had subjected the people to her distorted rule, inciting rebellion that swept toward the capital. Clutching the final elixir, she dreamed of ascending the celestial steps to reunite with her daughter, and three years after Yu Zhanxu’s departure, she breathed her last.

Thus, the empire descended into chaos, with power changing hands and the people suffering. This turmoil persisted for many, many years.

Yu Zhanxu dreamed. Often, she found herself back in that night, holding the Crown Prince’s Sword, a gift from her mother in her youth standing before the Empress’s bed.

Only a thin curtain separated them. Her mother’s hand, pale and frail, betrayed the signs of age, a stark contrast to the strong and youthful figure in her memories. The Empress’s eyes were closed, but Yu Zhanxu knew she was awake. It was her mother’s murmurs that finally broke the silence: “Zhanzhi, Zhanzhi where is Zhanzhi.”

“Zhanzhi, my only daughter.”

Yu Zhanxu stepped forward, placed the sword within her mother’s reach, knelt, and bowed her head.

But instead of the fall of a blade, she felt her mother’s hand clasp hers tightly. The Empress opened her eyes, now clouded with age, and gazed intently at her daughter’s unchanging face. “Zhanzhi, I wish, I wish to live. Every time I see you, I feel so alone.”

Yu Zhanxu lowered her gaze, allowing her mother to hold her hand, unable to bear the sight of the single tear that fell.

She could not bring herself to kill her mother, nor could she endure the sight of countless innocent lives piled beneath the golden dragon throne. In the end, Yu Zhanxu fled, leaving the mortal realm far behind without a single backward glance. Yet, even after nearly a millennium as an immortal, she still found herself revisiting that dimly lit palace in her dreams.

Her Dao heart was flawed. Though she had sworn to forsake trivial affections to avoid future mistakes, her past harshness toward Shen Fuxin was nothing but a reflection of her own unresolved tenderness, a love she could no longer reach.

Unable to turn the blade upon herself, she had directed it toward Shen Fuxin. But at some point, it had all spiraled beyond her control. Yu Zhanxu glanced back once more at the tightly shut door, picked up her sword, and vanished into the boundless moonlight.