When the White Moonlight Holds the Script - Chapter 29

The face of the woman in the mirror was unmistakably Luan Wu’s.

But compared to the Luan Wu she remembered, this one seemed more unrestrained, more tinged with a hint of wickedness. Her eyes were crimson like blood, lazy yet vivid.

In that moment, Zhu Zhihan deeply analyzed herself.

Why, exactly?

She didn’t consider herself someone who indulged in emotions, especially not when, in both lifetimes, she had been frail and uncertain of survival, leaving no time for romantic notions like love and poetry.

Could it be that after suppressing her feelings for so long, some restless thoughts had sprouted deep within her heart?

And now, of all times.

But that shouldn’t be the case. Why would it be Luan Wu?

Her thoughts were in disarray when the person behind her suddenly drew closer.

Zhu Zhihan felt a warmth at her ear.

Something soft and warm brushed against it.

“Que Que, you woke up so early today,” a familiar voice murmured by her ear, carrying an intimacy she had never heard before.

Zhu Zhihan’s mind went blank, completely unable to think calmly.

This person, she touched it with her lips.

No, the key point was Que Que was her childhood nickname, one that had rarely been used since she was six years old!

Did Luan Wu know her nickname?

Ah, right. If this illusion was drawn from her own memories, then it wasn’t impossible for her nickname to appear right?

Zhu Zhihan’s thoughts were muddled.

The person behind her was slightly taller, enveloping her completely. The scent of sandalwood surrounded her, blocking all escape routes.

She suddenly recalled the times Luan Wu had taught her sword practice.

Back then, Luan Wu had also stood close, one hand gripping her wrist, but there had always been half a foot of distance between them half a foot, separating intimacy from ambiguity. That was the proper distance between friends or strangers.

It was nothing like this.

Even the same sandalwood scent, once cool and mellow, now failed to calm her mind. Instead, it only made her heart race even more.

In the mirror, the silver-haired woman was held from behind, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her eyes shimmering as if with unshed tears. It was like a snow sculpture suddenly gaining color, vivid and alive.

Zhu Zhihan had never seen herself like this. Her lips trembled slightly as she replied in a daze, “I couldn’t sleep, so I got up.”

Only after speaking did she realize how hoarse her voice sounded.

Fortunately, Luan Wu soon released her.

“Demon Lord.”

Outside the hall, a maid seemed to be reporting, addressing Luan Wu as the Demon Lord, and mentioning some disturbance caused by the demon generals.

Hmm… Zhu Zhihan knew that in the original storyline, Luan Wu was the ruler of the demon realm. It seemed reasonable for such a scene to appear in this illusion.

So, this was Luan Wu’s bedchamber in the demon realm?

Hearing the maid’s voice, Luan Wu frowned in annoyance.

Zhu Zhihan, ever “considerate,” said, “You should go attend to your duties.”

Luan Wu shot her an unwilling glance before finally stealing a kiss on her cheek, changing clothes, and leaving.

Zhu Zhihan sat before the dressing table, the heat in her cheeks taking a long while to fade.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how things had come to this.

What were her feelings toward Luan Wu?

Searching her heart, she realized her feelings for Luan Wu weren’t like those of a disciple toward a master. Dan Qi was the one who fit her image of a master, even though Dan Qi had betrayed her.

She held some respect for Luan Wu, but it wasn’t the fearful reverence of a disciple.

Beyond their master-disciple relationship, Luan Wu was also her partner they had agreed to join forces in the future to oppose the Heavenly Dao, and their current bond was built upon this foundation.

Their dynamic was neither that of peers nor strictly that of elder and junior. Luan Wu had once extended subtle goodwill toward her, later storming the Tianjing Sect’s stronghold and venturing into the Luyun Clan’s territory to bring her out.

She trusted Luan Wu. As a major antagonist, Luan Wu would not betray her over someone like Su Siyue. Moreover, through their interactions, she had gradually come to understand Luan Wu’s character. In Luan Wu’s presence, she always felt at ease.

But she had never once thought of Luan Wu in a romantic light.

How could this be?

She slumped over the pearwood desk, burying her face deep in her palms.

Just then, she heard a soft ding the system’s notification tone.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she lifted her head.

The clear surroundings began to twist and fade, sinking into deep darkness. Then, her mind cleared.

She opened her eyes again.

Before her lay the familiar forest shrouded in thick fog, with a thick layer of snow beneath her feet.

【Host, are you alright?】 Miss System asked with concern.

Zhu Zhihan stammered, “You, saw it?”

Miss System replied honestly, 【I cannot see what happens inside the illusion. What did you see?】

Zhu Zhihan remained silent.

It was a relief she hadn’t seen. If she had Zhu Zhihan would have been utterly mortified.

To harbor such improper thoughts toward an upright partner.

Seeing her reluctance to speak, Miss System tactfully changed the subject and explained, 【It’s like this: just now, demonic energy leaked, and I sensed the Heavenly Dao trying to take advantage by inserting something harmful into the illusion you were experiencing. I did my best to intervene.】

【The clash between our powers, combined with the unique nature of the illusion itself, caused some unusual changes to occur.】

【So, whatever you saw, there’s no need to dwell on it.】

Was that it?

Zhu Zhihan breathed a subtle sigh of relief.

Thank goodness.

Those uncontrollable thoughts had finally returned to normal, and her heart settled back into place.

Still, images of Luan Wu from the illusion occasionally flashed through her mind perhaps the impact had been too intense.

She quickly composed herself.

Only when she regained her focus did she realize.

Where were her three senior brothers? And Luan Wu?

The rope in her hand seemed to have been cut or snapped, possibly due to the secret realm’s out-of-control mechanisms. Looking around, there was nothing but trees and snow.

Just like in her previous life.

She had been separated from everyone.

But unlike last time, when she focused her spiritual sense on the broken rope, she could faintly sense the locations of the other segments in her mind.

Those should be the directions where her senior brothers and Luan Wu were.

Having a sense of direction was enough.

【Host, what should we do next?】

Without hesitation, Zhu Zhihan replied, “First, regroup with my senior brothers, and Luan Wu. Before I fell into the illusion, Luan Wu didn’t seem quite right. I’m a bit worried.”

Miss System suddenly understood. 【Ah, she…】

Zhu Zhihan heard a soft sigh.

Zhu Zhihan quickly set off.

But fate seemed determined to thwart her. Along the way, she encountered someone she would rather not have met.

The girl with a silver crown tying up her hair was covered in blood, looking utterly disheveled as she leaned against the tree trunk. Her once proud and bright eyes were tightly shut, her brows deeply furrowed, as if trapped in some unsettling nightmare.

Bo Mingwei.

Zhu Zhihan turned to leave.

But unlike the events of her previous life, a faint sound came from behind, followed by Bo Mingwei’s hoarse, weak voice: “Are you leaving?”

Zhu Zhihan paused for a moment, then stopped and turned back.

Bo Mingwei’s eyes struggled to open, revealing a vulnerability Zhu Zhihan had never seen before.

Zhu Zhihan said calmly, “I thought you were unconscious.”

“A faint sliver of awareness remained,” she replied, pausing before adding with a self-mocking smile, “You might not believe it, but something in my subconscious seemed to tell me that if I fell asleep, I would miss the most important thing.”

She looked at Zhu Zhihan. “That voice in my subconscious was right.”

Zhu Zhihan’s expression remained unchanged. “Last time, I thought I made my stance very clear.”

“No, you said you didn’t know me, but…” Bo Mingwei murmured, “The way you looked at me was nothing like the way one looks at a stranger.”

“You hate me.”

She spoke with such certainty: “It was the gaze one reserves for an enemy, just like how I look at my siblings.”

Zhu Zhihan was somewhat surprised surprised by Bo Mingwei’s sharpness, and also surprised that, having noticed this, Bo Mingwei still chose to call out to her.

“Since you know I hate you so much, aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?”

Bo Mingwei smiled faintly, her gaze distant and tinged with sorrow. “I just wanted to see you again, to be alone with you for a little while.”

She said, “It feels as if it’s been a long time since we’ve been like this. Even though we’ve only just met, it’s strange, isn’t it?”

Zhu Zhihan: “…”

Bo Mingwei continued, “It was about two months ago. That day, I suddenly felt as if a part of my heart had been hollowed out.”

Snowflakes settled on her eyelashes and brows, giving her a lonely appearance.

“How strange. I never had such a thing before, I never felt sorrow. Killing a sibling would make me happy, earning my father’s praise would make me even happier. But that day, even though my father, uncharacteristically, rewarded me with many things, my heart remained heavy, unmoved by anything.”

“It was as if something had once filled that void, but due to my own fault, I lost it, and now I can never get it back.”

“Then I met you. The day I met you, I understood why.”

“The missing piece, the part I lost was you.”

Her eyes were sincere, her voice weakened by her severe injuries. If one didn’t listen carefully, her words might have been swallowed by the wind and snow.

Zhu Zhihan feared she might pass out mid-sentence.

Listening to Bo Mingwei’s words, Zhu Zhihan found it somewhat amusing.

“A touching confession,” she said, unmoved. “Well, it’s true. I had no intention of killing you.”

Among those people back then, Bo Mingwei was the only one who had shown a hint of remorse. Whether it was hypocrisy or not, Zhu Zhihan’s feelings toward her had always been complicated.

She couldn’t bring herself to actually kill her, because she vaguely understood that doing so would leave a lasting regret.

To be honest, Zhu Zhihan had expected to feel much worse upon hearing these words. But after what she had encountered in the illusion earlier, the impact had been so overwhelming that she couldn’t muster any emotions now.

She smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong. I did hate you before.”

Bo Mingwei looked at her, as if harboring a trace of anticipation.

Zhu Zhihan parted her lips and finished the rest of her sentence: “But suddenly, I don’t want to hate anymore because hatred creates ties.”

For you, I don’t even want the slightest connection.

Hearing these words, Bo Mingwei’s expression shifted abruptly, and she suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit, eventually spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Zhu Zhihan seemed thoughtful. “Is it so hard to accept? You’d rather I hate you than have no connection at all?”

Then she spoke gently, “How about this? Our last parting was rushed. This time, I’ll allow the young master to ask me one question. After that, we’ll be like strangers. How does that sound?”

“No!”

“If you won’t ask, then I’ll just leave.” She still had to find her senior brothers, after all.

Bo Mingwei closed her eyes for a moment, then finally spoke: “Why did you hate me so much?”

“That’s a good question.” Zhu Zhihan rubbed her chin, thinking it over.

“A long, long time ago, I had a friend.”

“I saved her, placing that frozen little snake inside my clothes to warm her with my body heat. But a snake is still a snake.”

“So now, that person is no longer my friend.”

After saying this, Zhu Zhihan smiled with a sense of relief.

“Goodbye, young master. Ah, no!” she corrected herself, “It should be, we’ll never meet again.”

She turned and walked away. This time, no matter how much Bo Mingwei called after her, she didn’t look back just like that day at the Luyun Clan’s encampment.

She wondered if, without her this time, Bo Mingwei would be able to survive.

She probably would. Someone like Bo Mingwei could thrive anywhere.

Luan Wu had awakened, but not fully.

She staggered to her feet, glancing around.

An endless snowy plain stretched before her, empty and desolate, as if something was missing though a snow-capped mountain stood not far away.

Her pitch-black eyes had unknowingly taken on a reddish hue. She narrowed them as she gazed at the mountain.

There was a scent of something delicious there.

She was so hungry, had been hungry for so long, and needed that essence to fill herself.

“Hiss.” Just as the thought crossed her mind, a sharp pain shot through her right wrist.

Her gaze dropped to a string of prayer beads wrapped tightly around it, the source of the pain.

Pain. Unpleasant.

She frowned irritably, wanting to remove the thing.

As soon as her fingertips touched the surface of the beads, a searing sting shot through her.

Untouchable.

A moment later, she settled for the next best option. Spreading her fingers, she summoned the long blade that lay tilted in the snow, intending to cut the beads away.

But then, a faint voice echoed in her heart, do not destroy the prayer beads.

Annoying.

Her frown deepened.

After a moment, she finally set the blade down and, displeased, turned toward the snow-capped mountain.

Meanwhile, inside the mountain.

Su Chaya spat out blood, the gems on the bracelet wrapped around her wrists now dim. She struggled to stay standing.

Her trusted followers lay scattered across the ground.

Opposite her, a cloaked figure with twin horns on its head stared at her with dissatisfaction.

“I ask you, clan leader, why must you be like this? You’ve disrupted and halted the formation I worked so hard to activate.”

“I’m only trying to help you. Didn’t I already tell you what the ‘fuel’ for this formation is? Don’t you hate the Immortal Alliance?”

Su Chaya let out a cold laugh.

This indecisive and often hesitant young clan leader now displayed astonishing resolve: “No matter how much I despise the Immortal Alliance, this is an internal matter among us humans. What business is it of you, a demon?”

“My Lu Yun Clan once exhausted our entire clan’s strength to stop you here. We didn’t retreat then, and we won’t retreat now!”

The demon’s crimson eyes stared at her cruelly: “Even at the cost of your ancestors’ souls?”

Su Chaya: “…”

“Even if they remain trapped in this formation, unable to reincarnate, suffering daily cuts and burns?”

Su Chaya’s expression grew more furious: “Shut up!!”

The demon shrugged: “You’re as dull as your ancestors. Even if you delay for a moment, once the fuel burns out, the formation will still break. I’m curious, dear clan leader, what choice will you make then?”

“Oh, given the Immortal Alliance’s temperament, they’ll probably sacrifice other lives to fill the gap. Will you choose to stop them, or pretend to know nothing, just like your father?”

“Cease your nonsense.”

“Enough, no more words wasted on you.” The demon laughed. “You’re too young. If your father were here, I might have been more cautious.”

It raised its hand, black-red demon flames igniting in its palm, grinning: “Clan leader, farewell.”

Despair and determination flashed across Su Chaya’s face as she formed hand seals.

But the next moment, the demon’s words were abruptly cut short.

A sharp blade light shot from the cave entrance, cleanly severing its flame-wreathed right arm.

Moreover, the blade light continued unabated.

The demon only had time to glance toward the cave entrance.

There stood a slender figure clad in black, dark hair flowing loosely, a floral forehead adornment blazing like fire between their brows, and crimson eyes.

“Your aura.”

The demon trembled, whether from fear or excitement.

But it could say no more.

Because the gleaming blade had already swept across its neck.

The headless corpse collapsed.

Before Su Chaya could feel relief, the newcomer’s cold, crimson eyes locked onto her.

A chill rose from the depths of her heart.

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