Guide to the Rebirth of the Evil Woman in the Immortal Realm - Chapter 3

Enduring the fiery, ant-like pain and itching that gnawed at her body, Shen Fuxin slept soundly for the first time in what felt like ages, free from fear and worry.

But that night was filled with dreams.

At times, she dreamed of the mother she had never met, desperately chasing a faint, lotus-colored silhouette atop a crane. At other times, she dreamed of a black-canopied boat drifting through a lotus pond in June, its hull swaying gently. Through layers of lotus leaves, she glimpsed a delicate hand plucking a lotus flower, wiping away the mud and grime. Or she dreamed of a snowy day, under the eaves where swallows nested, a figure in crimson approached through the snow, kneeling outside the door and calling out to her with heartfelt sincerity, “Little Fu…”

And then there was the tattered, ancient statue buried deep beneath the moss, its age unknown.

She still remembered that year, beneath the ancient peach tree, when she had offered it a fallen blossom and made a wish half in jest, half in earnest.

Shen Fuxin jolted awake abruptly.

Outside the window, a gentle spring rain fell, and the first light of dawn had broken. With a premonition in her heart, she lay with her eyes open for a few breaths. Sure enough, the life-or-death bell from the Sword Platform rang out as if from another lifetime, its solemn tolls reverberating deep within her, shaking her very organs and causing her pain.

She sat up, recalling that in her previous life, she had also skipped the Sword Venerable’s morning lesson on this day. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If she were to change the fate of being a cultivation furnace, why not start by attending the morning lesson?

The whip used for her punishment had been enchanted with a special immortal technique. Even with medicine applied, her wounds would take at least seven days to fully heal.

As she moved, the pain made her frown again. The clothes she had worn yesterday were stained with blood, and though she had cast a cleansing spell, a faint, lingering scent of blood still clung to them perhaps because it unsettled her. So, Shen Fuxin summoned her storage pouch, intending to change into fresh clothes before heading out.

In her haste yesterday, she hadn’t paid much attention to the garments inside the pouch. But now, as she looked closely, everything came flooding back to her. Anger and hatred burned through her like a fever, making her wish she could set the entire family estate ablaze and reduce it to ashes.

The reason was simple: every single item in the pouch was a dress prepared by her family. Ordinary dresses would have been one thing, but each of these was adorned with pearls and jade, designed to expose either her arms or her thighs.

The immortal realm was open-minded when it came to aesthetics, and some immortals wore such extravagant, alluring attire to banquets. But Shen Fuxin was here to learn swordsmanship.

Swords were merciless. Faced with the Sword Venerable Jiexia’s unleashed sword intent, other students wished they were clam spirits, with shells covering their bodies. Yet Shen Fuxin stood out conspicuously. With every swing of the Sword Venerable’s blade, pearls would clatter off her clothes. Though no one said anything to her face, after class, they would gather in small groups, snickering at her absurdity.

In her earlier years, Shen Fuxin had been confused and had resisted. But her adoptive father had silenced her with a dismissive “It’s for your own good.”

Yes, how could her family not be good to her? They had taken in a celestial child of unknown origins, raised her with care, provided her with the finest swords and the most expensive spiritual pills. Even the prestigious Qingdi Ling Mountain, which countless second-generation immortals scrambled to enter, had accepted someone of her mediocre talent.

She stared coldly at the bag of delicate, extravagant clothing, recalling her adoptive father’s repeated insistence that it was all for her benefit. But now, Shen Fuxin saw it clearly: every word was meant to groom her for sale to Zhao Lanying, all in exchange for repayment.

The swords were not given freely, nor were the spiritual pills. The unjust punishments she had endured as a child due to her lack of talent were not without purpose.

They had taught her from a young age to strive by any means necessary, but they had never taught her how to be a person with dignity.

The lingering chimes from the Sword Platform continued to echo, but Shen Fuxin hesitated no longer. For the first time in her life, she did not reach for the opulent gowns her family had purchased for her.

Within moments, Shen Fuxin unprecedentedly clad in simple blue robes stepped over the threshold with her sword in hand, leaving behind a pile of fabric scraps about to be consumed by flames.

This time, she did not waver, nor did she look back.

–

By the time Shen Fuxin arrived at the Sword Platform, the colossal bronze bell suspended above the barrier had yet to toll nine more times.

As she walked, blue lotuses blooming vibrantly across the Cloudwater Heaven unfurled in sequence with her steps. Releasing a wisp of immortal consciousness, she summoned the twin yin-yang fish that roamed the skies of Cloudwater Heaven. They leaped from the mist, merging before her to form a black-and-white Taiji gate.

Shen Fuxin slipped through the barrier and lifted her gaze to two familiar massive cauldrons.

Legend held that these cauldrons were once used by ancient deities who crafted true divine elixirs. As those ancient immortals attained godhood, their beloved cauldrons were left abandoned in the celestial realm for countless millennia, their surfaces now riddled with as many holes as there are stars in the sky.

Though they appeared dilapidated, they were actually treasured artifacts privately hoarded by Zhao Lanying’s family. Since they were merely gathering dust anyway, she had retrieved them from the vault to serve as the sacred guardians of the Sword Platform.

Shen Fuxin passed along the narrow path between the two cauldrons and, as she had done countless times in her past life, laid her palm against one of them. Instantly, a familiar, comforting warmth flowed into her hand.

Three centuries at the Sword Platform, three centuries of solitude. Now, in this vast celestial realm, only these two battered cauldrons could offer her any semblance of response.

At least they were more responsive than the so-called life-bound divine sword in her hand, which stubbornly refused to be drawn.

Beyond the two cauldrons, Shen Fuxin could already glimpse the outline of the Sword Platform veiled behind the clouds. Bearing her pain, she pressed forward, but suddenly, a hurried figure darted out from behind and accidentally jostled her, sending her stumbling.

Shen Fuxin grunted from the impact, clutching her nearly split wound as she snapped, “In such a rush, are you hurrying to be reborn in the animal realm?”

The one who had bumped into her hastily bowed and offered repeated apologies. Her eyes cold, Shen Fuxin watched the up-and-down bob of the other’s Taiji bun, then glanced down at the worn indigo sleeves, remaining silent.

Just moments after the youth’s apology, several fellow disciples she had shared three hundred years with approached from behind.

In her previous life, Shen Fuxin had been wholly fixated on Zhao Lanying and naturally couldn’t recall any of their names. These junior immortals, each carrying their own life-bound swords, had merely been passing by. Noticing the blue-robed junior bowing before someone who seemed unfamiliar, they exchanged subtle, knowing glances.

Shen Fuxin observed their reactions and, seeing that none intended to assist the apologetic junior, found the situation tedious and turned to leave. Unexpectedly, the blue-robed youth with the Taiji bun quickly caught up, as if assuming her anger had subsided, and chirped brightly, “Senior Sister Shen, I promised to request leave for you yesterday, why have you come?”

Her voice brimming with energy, she trailed behind Shen Fuxin, repeatedly calling out “Senior Sister.” As the two passed through the mist and stepped onto the Sword Platform, all eyes turned toward them.

Without looking back, Shen Fuxin retorted, “Who is your senior sister? Stop claiming kinship, I don’t know you.”

Undeterred, the blue-robed junior circled around to block Shen Fuxin’s path, pointing at her own face dotted with faint freckles. “Senior Sister Shen, yesterday when you were punished, I bought medicine for you. My name is Li—”

Shen Fuxin halted and looked the other girl up and down, cutting her off: “After class, I’ll return twice the spirit stones to you. Don’t come again next time.”

The little fairy gave a soft acknowledgment, blinking her eyes as she watched Shen Fuxin. Seeing that Shen Fuxin had truly walked away and was ignoring her, she lowered her head, pulled a packet of comfrey flowers from her collar, and clutched it tightly. Just as she was about to chase after and give it to her, a figure as crimson as a peony blocked her path.

Yu Zhanxu had been standing there, holding her sword and looking down at her. When she noticed the comfrey flowers in the little fairy’s hand, she almost neurotically snatched the packet of herbs away. She didn’t utter a word, but her face darkened so much it seemed as if water could be wrung from it, no one knew what strange mood had taken hold of her again.

The little fairy, now bereft of the herbs, stood frozen in place, watching as Yu Zhanxu walked toward Shen Fuxin. The two figures, one in green, the other in red gradually drew closer, overlapping and reflecting each other.

A moment later, an unsuspecting Yu Zhanxu was clutching the remaining half of a shattered red flower at her temple, the other half, severed by a spell, falling through her slender fingers.

“Shen Fuxin!” she cried out, cradling the broken red peony in her palm, “What madness has taken you?”

The instigator, clad in green robes, merely smiled gently at her: “Do you know? That half-broken flower suits you far better than a whole, perfect one.”

Hearing Shen Fuxin’s words, the little fairy in blue robes, who had been eavesdropping all along, quietly lowered her eyes and smiled, pressing her lips together.

The entire sword platform, usually solemn and dignified, was now unusually lively because of the three of them. Before the Sword Venerable Jiexia had even arrived, many little fairies were whispering among themselves, most of them astonished that Shen Fuxin had so uncharacteristically abandoned her lavish attire and heavy makeup.

Stripped of these excesses, Shen Fuxin, for the first time in her life, truly lived up to her name graceful and refreshing as a lotus in the breeze.

Yu Zhanxu, having suffered a public humiliation, was about to retaliate when she noticed Shen Fuxin standing alone at the edge of the sword platform.

It was clear that her injuries had not yet healed; her face was pale, and one hand was pressed against the wound from the previous day. The fierce winds sweeping across the platform billowed her green sleeves, making her appear somewhat isolated and helpless.

Remembering what Shen Fuxin had said to her the day before and recalling the contract, Yu Zhanxu fell into an uncharacteristic silence.

She no longer dwelled on Shen Fuxin’s struggles, instead redirecting her anger and resentment toward Zhao Lanying.

Shen Fuxin leaned against the edge of the sword platform, hugging her sword with a cheerful smile, as if amused by Yu Zhanxu’s predicament, yet her gaze did not turn in that direction. Without needing to guess, she knew exactly what Yu Zhanxu was thinking at that moment.

It had been the same in her past life.

Caught between Yu Zhanxu and Zhao Lanying, she had felt less like a person and more like an object, a trophy with a gilded exterior but stuffed with straw. Whoever seized her gained the authority of the superior; no one cared what Shen Fuxin thought. After all, she was both a vessel and a plaything, not even human, why grant her thoughts or dignity?

In the years after forming the contract with Zhao Lanying in her past life, Shen Fuxin had brooded and hated every day. In the solitude of the mountain residence, she had finally understood the things that had once baffled her.

Lowering her head, she focused intently on how to break free from her family’s control, so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice the arrival of Sword Venerable Jiexia.

It wasn’t until the familiar black and gold robes stopped in front of her that Shen Fuxin lifted her gloomy eyes to look.

What first caught her eye was the Sword Venerable’s face, which bore the refined elegance of a mortal scholar. Beyond that, she noticed several pairs of yin-yang fish quietly floating beside another immortal near the Sword Venerable Jiexia.

She shifted her gaze and met a pair of profoundly familiar, tranquil eyes.

It was her. Zhao Lanying.