The Immortal’s "White Moonlight" Reborn - Chapter 2

One hundred years ago.

Cangwang Realm, Dongzhao Domain.

In the heart of this domain stood Wenshen Sect, the largest and most influential immortal sect in all of Dongzhao.

The sect comprised twelve peaks. Among them, Mount Yunwu served as the residence of the Sect Leader, Yun Heng. The peak was perpetually blanketed in snow; when the first light of dawn touched the mountain, it cast a pale golden halo over the slopes, making the entire place look as though it were bathed in divine radiance.

At this moment, the moon was high. The nighttime scenery of Mount Yunwu possessed a charm of its own. A woman in a sea-green dress, looking somewhat frail, walked along the mountain path, the gentle moonlight illuminating the stone steps before her.

Suddenly, a large, white, fluffy ball came tumbling down from the higher steps, “roll-roll-rolling” until it nearly crashed into Wen Qiwu’s feet.

“Snowball?” Wen Qiwu leaned down and patted the little creature’s head, asking softly, “What’s the rush? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Jii…” The fluffy ball was actually a very plump rabbit. It had been kicked out of its tribe for being too weak and having a bottomless stomach. Fortunately, it had encountered a young Wen Qiwu years ago. Wen Qiwu had always been powerless against soft, furry animals, so she had brought it back to the sect and raised it ever since.

“Why are you walking the stairs yourself? Mount Yunwu is cold at night, and your health isn’t good. You shouldn’t risk a chill. Here, let me carry you up.” Snowball transformed into the size of a leopard and nudged Wen Qiwu’s leg, beckoning her to sit on its back.

In truth, with Wen Qiwu’s cultivation level, she could have reached the summit with a single thought. However, she had overheard some disciples mentioning how beautiful the scenery was today and had been struck by a sudden whim to walk the path herself.

Snowball carefully used its spiritual energy to shield Wen Qiwu from the biting wind.

Wen Qiwu smiled helplessly. She was, after all, a cultivator at the Void Refinement stage; she wasn’t so fragile that a single breeze would knock her over. Yet, from her senior sister down to the family pet, everyone treated her like a delicate porcelain doll.

Then again, she really was gravely ill or rather, terminally so.

Even in a world like the Cangwang Realm, where immortals and demons possessed heaven-defying powers, there remained a few rare conditions that were utterly incurable.

One of them was “Spirit Dissipation Syndrome.” Those born with this affliction had a fractured soul that constantly leaked spiritual energy from the cracks. No power in existence could stop the leakage.

Ancient records mentioned only one other case in history. Even the legendary Divine Physician of that era had been helpless, forced to watch the patient’s soul fade into nothingness. Thousands of years later, there was still no cure, and Wen Qiwu had been diagnosed as the second known case.

Her senior sister had scoured the world for treasures to keep her alive this long, always hiding the grim truth and comforting her with promises that she would get better. But Wen Qiwu knew the truth in her heart: she wasn’t going to be cured.

Was she afraid of death?

Wen Qiwu looked up at the bright moon in the night sky. Yes, she was afraid. She feared the day her eyes would close for good and she would sink into the lonely darkness, never to feel her sister’s hand in hers again.

“Is something bothering you?” The little rabbit was exceptionally sensitive to her emotions.

“Not at all. I was just wondering if there would be chestnut cakes today,” Wen Qiwu replied, hiding her unease and patting the rabbit’s head with a smile.

Snowball’s simple mind immediately resonated with the topic of food. It knew Wen Qiwu’s favorite treat was chestnut cake, especially when she was younger. Being sickly meant taking bitter medicine every day; as a child, she would cry the moment she tasted the medicine if there were no cakes to follow.

It must be as distressing as me not knowing if I’ll get to eat Celestial Carrots tonight, the gluttonous rabbit thought, convinced it understood its master’s heart. It gave a silly grin. “If you want them, just ask the Immortal. She’ll surely cook them for you.”

Wen Qiwu gave a soft, smiling hum of agreement.

Snowball was fast and ran with incredible stability. Wen Qiwu didn’t feel a single bump, and within moments, the plump rabbit had delivered her to her sister’s residence.

No one was allowed to enter Immortal Yun Heng’s quarters without permission, but that rule never applied to her only junior sister.

Wen Qiwu took a storage pouch and hung it around Snowball’s neck. “There are some of those Celestial Carrots you like in here. But you can only have ten a day. If you overeat and get a stomachache, I’ll have Sister cut off your rations entirely, understood?”

Snowball nodded vigorously and trotted off to its nest, looking incredibly pleased with itself.

The little guy had no self-control when it came to the high-quality carrots grown in the spiritual gardens, but overeating made it difficult to digest the excess energy. Wen Qiwu shook her head; she would have to mention it to her sister. If Snowball didn’t behave, they would have to confiscate the snacks.

“Sister…” Wen Qiwu knocked on the door. There was no answer.

Not in her room? She must be at the back of the mountain then.

Wen Qiwu headed toward the rear of the peak, her footsteps light and brisk.

There was a clearing there, surrounded by rare flowers and exotic herbs. Wen Qiwu had practiced her swordplay there as a child. Her sister had been her teacher, though Wen Qiwu sadly possessed zero talent for the way of the sword.

Despite being taught personally by the world’s greatest sword cultivator, her moves had been nothing short of disastrous. Back then, their Master was still alive; the old woman used to push her teacup far away whenever Wen Qiwu practiced, for fear of spitting out her tea in laughter.

But Wen Qiwu had always loved watching her sister practice. While other children were at their most restless, she could sit perfectly still for an entire day just to watch Yun Heng move. The wind and moon of Mount Yunwu were beautiful, but they couldn’t compare to even half of her sister’s grace.

…

In the clearing, standing amidst the rare flora, was the person Wen Qiwu had been pining for. She wore a moon-white dress that fluttered slightly in the breeze, her long hair held up by a single jade pin. A few stray obsidian locks framed her face, making her look like a celestial being carved from jade and moonlight. She held a sword that radiated a sharp, humming edge—a killing intent so cold it added a touch of severity to her ethereal aura.

Hearing footsteps, Yun Heng raised her hand slightly and sheathed the sword, hiding its lethal edge instantly.

Perhaps due to her spiritual root and temperament, Yun Heng was always surrounded by a faint chill. Framed by the snow and plum blossoms, she looked like a sacred, untouchable deity.

Wen Qiwu’s gaze faltered for a moment. Her brisk pace slowed as a shadow of gloom crossed her expression. The hand she had reflexively reached out to hug her sister dropped back to her side just like the way she suppressed the unspeakable feelings in her heart.

Noticing the footsteps behind her had stopped, Yun Heng turned around. A flicker of warmth rose in her eyes, which usually looked like cold, deep pools.

Yun Heng pulled a pale red cloak from her storage pouch and draped it over Wen Qiwu’s shoulders. It was woven from the feathers of Fire-Feather Birds, designed to ward off the chill of Mount Yunwu’s icy spiritual veins.

Wen Qiwu felt the fabric and suddenly burst into a soft laugh. Her smile was more radiant than any flower on the mountain, bringing a touch of warmth to the thin snow.

“What is it?” Yun Heng asked, carefully tying the cloak for her. Her movements were gentle. When Wen Qiwu looked up, she saw her own reflection in her sister’s eyes—a gaze so focused and tender it felt as if she were the only person in Yun Heng’s world.

Wen Qiwu’s heart skipped a beat. To hide her fluster, she looked down and teased, “I heard today that all the Fire-Feather Birds in the beast pens have suddenly gone into hiding. So, they were plucked bald, were they?”

“They gave them up voluntarily,” Immortal Yun Heng replied with a straight face. She was always so serious that one instinctively believed her, even when she sounded like she was joking.

But thinking about it… voluntarily?

Wen Qiwu was silent for a moment. Legend said that Fire-Feather Birds carried a trace of Phoenix blood; they were notoriously proud and wouldn’t even give a fallen feather to a human easily. They… weren’t “voluntarily” forced, were they?

“Really?”

“Really. When has your sister ever lied to you?” Yun Heng’s features were the picture of sincerity.

“Well, when I was little, you told me the medicine wouldn’t be bitter,” Wen Qiwu said, blinking. Her five-year-old self had taken one sip and burst into tears.

“…That was only once.” And that was only because their Master had claimed she had adjusted the formula to be sweet. Yun Heng had watched her tiny junior sister take a sip and then silently leak tears from pure bitterness.

Wen Qiwu’s eyes were full of mirth. She knew the truth, of course—their Master had gone into hiding for days after that incident and only dared to return when she could bribe Wen Qiwu into hiding Yun Heng’s sword. “Fire-Feather Birds are famous for their bad tempers. I just didn’t expect them to be so generous.”

“I told them the feathers were for you, and they gave them,” Yun Heng said simply. All the avian tribes in the pens were fond of Wen Qiwu. Yun Heng had only mentioned it, and they had been surprisingly cooperative.

“The wind is cold out here. Go back inside.”

“Is Sister staying out here?”

“Yes. I am waiting for the flowers to bloom.” Yun Heng’s gaze drifted to the nearby buds that were on the verge of opening.

“What kind of spiritual flower is this? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.” Wen Qiwu walked over and poked one. The delicate bud wobbled. Her sister was actually ignoring her to wait for flowers? She wanted to see just how special they were.

“Spirit-Drinking Flowers. They possess the power to condense the soul and stabilize one’s foundation. Once they bloom, you should keep a pot in your room.” As soon as Yun Heng explained their use, Wen Qiwu realized they were her medicine.

Her sister had recently traveled to an ancient secret realm; it must have been specifically to find these.

“But I don’t know how to raise flowers. What if they wither?” Wen Qiwu quietly tugged at Yun Heng’s sleeve, swaying it gently. That’s right, what if I can’t take care of them? The best solution is obviously to stay close to the person who knows how to grow them.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve planted plenty. If one withers, we’ll just swap it for another.” These were rare treasures that the rest of the world would kill for, yet Yun Heng spoke of them like common weeds. But that wasn’t the point Wen Qiwu was trying to make.

She sighed heavily in her heart. She really is a blockhead.

“Something on your mind?” In other matters, her sister was surprisingly perceptive.

“No. But before I came up, I heard the disciples saying the sunrise on Mount Yunwu is breathtaking. I haven’t seen it in a long time, so why don’t I stay here and keep you company?” Wen Qiwu’s soft voice sounded like she was acting spoiled.

Because the new cloak could block the mountain’s chill, Yun Heng agreed. She summoned a soft daybed, and the two sat side by side—one waiting for the flowers to bloom, the other waiting for the sun to rise.

However, the person who had insisted on seeing the sunrise fell fast asleep against Yun Heng’s shoulder shortly after. Constant fatigue was another symptom of Spirit Dissipation Syndrome.

Yun Heng turned her head to watch her sister sleep, her expression softening even further. This wasn’t a good place for a nap. Just as she was about to carry Wen Qiwu back to her room, a breeze swept across the mountain, and a pale pink petal drifted down, landing on her junior sister’s shoulder.

Yun Heng picked up the petal. It was already half-withered, which was why it had fallen with the wind. It reminded her of the person beside her—beautiful as a flower, yet poised to fall from the branch at any moment.

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