Guide to the Rebirth of the Evil Woman in the Immortal Realm - Chapter 50

The Mortal Realm: Qingwu Sect

The night flowed down the stone mountain steps, brushing past Shen Fuxin’s lowered eyelashes before being illuminated by her suddenly uplifted gaze. When Ji Ting saw her standing there unharmed, the subtle panic in her heart was instantly soothed.

Ye Xiao, who had hurried after them, froze in shock. “Daileng?” she cried out.

Jiang Daileng’s legs were still pinned to the ground by Shen Fuxin’s water swords. Unwilling to let her master see her in such a pathetic state, she turned her head slightly. “It is nothing. It will pass after a night of sleep.”

Ye Xiao could not grasp the meaning behind her words. Like an enraged mother eagle, she lunged to Jiang Daileng’s side, shielding her from Shen Fuxin and the others. Her long sword cleared its scabbard with a sharp ring. For the past two days, Sect Leader Ye had been the picture of a good temper, but now her eyes were rimmed with red. Whether it was more from anger or heartache, she shouted, “Why did you attack her?”

Shen Fuxin’s expression remained unchanged. “She tried to kill me. The fact that I did not kill her on the spot is proof of my good temper.”

Ji Ting pursed her lips, looking displeased. However, she did not speak, choosing instead to stand silently by Shen Fuxin’s side. Fuxin was an independent person. She was entirely capable of handling this herself. Intervening without cause would show a lack of trust.

Jiang Daileng felt helpless. It was true she had struck first, but she had not even touched a hair on Shen Fuxin’s head before being pinned to the earth. Enduring the agony, she gritted her teeth and pulled the two water swords out of her flesh. Leaning on her master, she struggled to stand. “Master, let it go.”

“How can I let this go!” Ye Xiao gripped her sword so tightly she began to tremble. “I only have you left. I cannot lose another child.”

She swung her sword, and the blade’s light flashed like a white bird taking flight.

Shen Sha was the closest and was forced to dodge. During the evasion, something heavy landed in her hand. It was a water sword thrown by Shen Fuxin. She instantly understood the intent and raised the blade to meet the attack.

Ye Xiao’s sword style was erratic and unpredictable, slicing through several ancient trees by the stone steps with murderous momentum. The invisible sword wind surged toward them. Shen Sha gripped the water sword and centered her mind to sense the strike.

It was coming.

The tall, red-haired cultivator took a deep breath. She captured the intent within the void. Her amber, tiger-like eyes widened, and with a low shout, she swung her sword downward.

Her current body lacked cultivation, but her reflexes were fast. This single strike managed to deflect Ye Xiao’s killing intent, sending it crashing into a nearby waterfall where it exploded into a massive spray of water.

Shen Sha stood her ground, panting. She dared not blink, keeping her eyes locked on the furious Ye Xiao. Ye Xiao raised her sword again, her intent shifting from a graceful white bird to a bloodthirsty hawk.

The renewed sword intent rushed forward with devastating force. Shen Sha widened her eyes, trying her best to discern its path. Just as the light neared her face, she seemed to remember something. She froze in place, forgetting to swing her blade.

“What are you thinking!” Shen Fuxin snapped, wanting nothing more than to step forward and stab her twice. “Swing your sword!”

This body had finally been opened for cultivation; it could not be wasted. Refining pills took time.

Shen Sha gritted her teeth and gripped the water sword, narrowly blocking Ye Xiao’s strike as it reached her face. Even so, it was late. Her newly practicing body was no match for Ye Xiao’s sword energy. The recoil from the intent forced her to spit out a mouthful of blood. Ji Ting let go of Shen Fuxin to support her. Shen Sha shook her head, her eyes shimmering. She looked up at Sect Leader Ye and said, “Your swordsmanship is very impressive.”

Ye Xiao lowered her sword, looking at her coldly.

“I have seen this style in a dream,” Shen Sha said with difficulty, wiping the blood from her lips with her sleeve. “But it was not you using it.”

Before Ye Xiao could react, Jiang Daileng, who was sitting on the ground, became anxious. She struggled to crawl up and grabbed her master’s hand. “Master, let us go. Let us go back and talk.”

The master’s hand was cold, like a block of ice. Jiang Daileng held it tightly, just as she had a thousand times as a child when her master led her through the sect. Her gaze was almost a plea. But Ye Xiao only stared at Shen Sha, her sword hand trembling slightly.

“It was a cultivator in purple robes,” Shen Sha said. “Her long hair was tied haphazardly with a tattered cloth strip. She said she did not know how to style hair, so it was often messy. Once, she begged someone to cut it short with a single sword stroke, but her hair always grew back unnaturally fast. In a few days, it would return to its original length. She said she had a Junior Sister who was best at tying her hair, but we never once met her Master or her Sister.”

Now, it was not just the Sect Leader’s sword that trembled; Jiang Daileng’s hand began to shake as well.

Shen Fuxin watched Shen Sha, who had lowered her sword. Her normally straight spine was slightly bowed. Even when life in the Kingdom of Ruo had been at its most miserable, Shen Sha had never recoiled. But now, speaking of her ethereal dreams, she seemed to lose the courage to face them, averting her eyes from Ye Xiao’s piercing gaze.

Ji Ting sensed something and fell into a grim silence.

It was Ye Xiao who broke the dead quiet. Her heart was full of hope. Ignoring the fact that her sword was still drawn, she stepped forward with joy. “You have seen her, have you not?”

Shen Sha replied, “I once did.”

Ye Xiao was truly old. She did not understand the hidden meanings behind their words. She was simply happy. How could she not be? Someone had seen the child she prided herself on, the child she hoped for every spring and autumn. This person, whom she thought had vanished from the world, had left a mark on someone else’s heart. She was not a figment of her imagination; she was real.

“How is Mu Canshang doing now?” Ye Xiao asked expectantly. “Did she say when she would be back?”

At the mention of that name, Jiang Daileng interrupted with a flare of unconscious hatred. “Master!”

Ye Xiao faltered, looking at Jiang Daileng in a daze. Jiang Daileng did not want to hear any more. She pulled herself up and, dragging her injured legs, used the railing to head up the stone steps. Sect Leader Ye watched her retreating figure, then took a long look at the bowed head of Shen Sha. Finally, she hurried after Jiang Daileng to help her back to the peak.

Shen Fuxin found the situation tiresome and followed them up.

Shen Sha walked last. Her own blood and Jiang Daileng’s blood had mingled into a single pool on the ground. Her head felt heavy, as if terrible memories were about to break through the soil of her mind. Over the years, she had countless dreams. She had once sought a fortune teller on the streets who told her these were dreams of a past life, a karmic retribution for the killing she had done as a butcher.

Was it truly karmic retribution? Shen Sha returned to the room in a daze. Shen Fuxin had already cleansed herself and was lying down. Ji Ting was resting nearby. Shen Sha spread out her bedding and curled up on the floor. But if it was retribution, why did Heaven visit it upon others?

Shen Sha’s sleep was fitful. She woke in the middle of the night to the sound of a flute drifting in from the window. Someone was playing.

She stood up naturally, as if this had happened countless times before. Guided by the cold moonlight, Shen Sha left the room and walked down the stone steps. Following the sound, she found an exceptionally tall osmanthus tree. A person was lying on the tree, dressed in elegant robes and holding a bamboo flute, playing a mournful tune that Shen Sha had heard a thousand times in her dreams.

It was Ji Ting. Shen Sha said nothing. She sat beneath the tree, listening to the flute music diffuse through the night like water. It was a weeping, complaining sound, like a soldier who could never go home.

For some reason, Shen Sha felt a sense of absolute trust in Ji Ting. The woman who often appeared in her dreams, riding a tall white horse, also wore elegant robes. Her face was hidden behind a pure white mask. Shen Sha had never seen her remove it. Only once, by chance, had she caught a glimpse of those piercing eyes and long eyelashes. The masked woman had glanced at her, lowered the mask back into place, and patted her shoulder. “Let us go.”

Shen Sha listened quietly to Ji Ting’s flute and smelled the fragrance of osmanthus in the wind. Her red hair fell to her waist. She looked up at the hem of Ji Ting’s robe before lowering her eyes again.

The music stopped abruptly. Ji Ting, lying on the branch, suddenly asked, “You have seen Canshang, right?”

Canshang. The image of the woman who loved to drink surfaced in Shen Sha’s mind. She was fond of drinking and killing, always charging at the very front with her sword, impossible to pull back. After every battle, Mu Canshang refused to use cleansing spells, preferring to find fresh water to wash her hair. She cherished that tattered hair ribbon, saying it was cut from her Junior Sister’s swaddling clothes and could never be replaced.

She loved to talk and loved excitement. She could talk until everyone stopped listening. Shen Sha often sat beside her to share her wine. Mu Canshang was considerate and was always the last one to listen. Unfortunately, she only had a few topics: her Junior Sister, her Master, and going home. It was endless, enough to make Shen Sha’s ears grow calloused.

Sadly, the Qingwu Sect that imprisoned them was not Mu Canshang’s home, nor was it the home of Ye Xiao and Jiang Daileng.

“Why does the retribution fall on them?” After a long silence, Shen Sha asked, “Not just Canshang, but many others, many who were dragged into it. Ji Ting, why is that?”

Ji Ting could not answer.

Shen Sha suddenly looked up and asked out of the blue, “Where did your mask go?”

So she already knows, Ji Ting thought. There was no point in hiding it from Shen Sha anymore. She replied airily, “It is gone. My Natal Sword is gone too. Many things are lost. They might be with Jie Fanyin; I do not know.”

At the mention of Jie Fanyin, Shen Sha fell silent. In that momentary quiet, Ji Ting could not guess what Shen Sha was thinking. Years of separation had not made them strangers, but their last failure had stripped Ji Ting of her former arrogance. She had fallen into the mortal dust and had to walk back from the very bottom to take her revenge. But on this journey, what Ji Ting feared was not the power of the God Realm, but them: the ones who had followed her, spilling their blood and giving their lives.

Unlike Ji Ting, Shen Sha seemed to understand her mood. She thoughtfully changed the subject. “Does Fuxin know about your business?”

“I do not want her to know, so please do not tell her,” Ji Ting said, shielding her eyes with her arm. Her voice was muffled. “She has nothing to do with this. Enough people have already died on this path.”

Shen Sha sighed. She seemed to remember something else and asked, “When will you bring that person back?”

“What?” Ji Ting asked.

“Her,” Shen Sha said, thinking of the person in her dreams with a slight headache. “The one who was both brilliant and ill-tempered, the one who used a sword like you. I cannot remember her name.”

Who? Ji Ting searched her mind but could not find a name, only a memory of a back view, carrying a sword while riding a horse. She was not as strong as Shen Sha, and her sword was a light one, but at that time, no one dared to look down on her.

She, they, moved forward toward the sound of camel bells, toward an ancient kingdom buried beneath the yellow sands.