When the White Moonlight Holds the Script - Chapter 33.1

On the second day, as dawn barely broke, the deep, resonant sound of a horn echoed across the entire encampment.

Zhu Zhihan hurriedly rose and happened to meet Dai Yang, a warrior from the Deer Cloud Clan, who was already geared up and ready.

Dai Yang explained to them, “This is the scout’s horn. Whenever it sounds, it means a new batch of demonic creatures has hatched from the demonic energy within the ‘Rift.'”

Patting the sword at his waist with a resolute gaze, Dai Yang declared, “It’s time for us to fight.”

He turned and said, “I heard the clan leader has assigned you to the squad as well? Follow me.”

This was Zhu Zhihan’s first time facing such a battlefield, and it might have been the same for Xiao Luan Wu.

Zhu Zhihan had heard from her martial aunt Tu Meng that since their generation’s victory in the great war between the righteous and the demonic factions, the demon realm’s passages had been sealed, and the abyss had been contained. Humanity had enjoyed over a century of peace since then.

Such scenes could likely only be witnessed in illusions now.

Snow began to fall from the sky once more.

Dai Yang led the warriors to the vicinity of the rift.

An endless stream of demons took form and surged forth from the rift, their numbers so vast that a single glance was enough to instill dread.

Fortunately, most were low-level demons.

At Dai Yang’s command, the warriors surged into the battlefield, dividing it into several sections.

The stronger fighters confronted the high-level demons, while the remaining mid and low-level demons were split into smaller groups, systematically surrounded and eliminated by the well-trained warriors, showcasing a practiced strategy.

Zhu Zhihan was among those tasked with eliminating the low-level demons.

What is war?

After decapitating what felt like the umpteenth demon, watching the blood from the wound hang in the air before splattering onto the snow, Zhu Zhihan shook her stiff and numb arm, pondering the question.

It was nothing like the duels between cultivators, or even group battles among them.

In an instant, the Deer Cloud Clan female warrior fighting alongside Zhu Zhihan was ambushed by a demon from an unknown direction. A chained blade flew through the air, striking her shoulder and causing blood to bloom.

The female warrior grunted, leaving an opening.

Another demon emerged, raising a long scythe.

Zhu Zhihan gripped her blade with both hands, shifted her stance, and positioned herself in front of the female warrior, deftly deflecting the lethal strike. The female warrior immediately regained her composure and took the opportunity to dispatch the demon.

“Thanks,” the female warrior said.

Zhu Zhihan nodded, lacking both the time and energy to reply.

This is war.

The battlefield is ever-changing; you never know when you or someone beside you might be the next to fall. This time, Zhu Zhihan happened to see it and was just in time to react, but more often than not, there simply isn’t enough time.

[Host, behind you.] A mechanical voice prompted in her ear.

Without a second thought, Zhu Zhihan turned and raised her blade horizontally, blocking the attack.

“Pant, pant…” She gasped heavily.

After hours of combat, her basic sword techniques had become more solid, almost instinctive as breathing.

But what had been honed the most was her intuition for danger and her reflexes.

She didn’t know how much time had passed perhaps after her spiritual energy was depleted for the dozenth time and she swallowed another reserve pill, or after countless numb swings of her arm.

The bottleneck that had constrained her for so long finally began to loosen.

The long blade, Twilight Snow, pierced the chest of the last demon.

Xiao Luan Wu gripped the hilt with both hands, withdrew Twilight Snow, and flicked off the foul, black pus-like blood of the demon from the blade.

For anyone experiencing their first battle and enduring it for so long, it would be natural to collapse from exhaustion and rest.

But Xiao Luan Wu was clearly not normal.

She still had the energy to carry her blade and wander the battlefield, searching for the disciple who had insisted on following her.

Yes, her disciple.

Just thinking about that presence gave Xiao Luan Wu a headache.

She had suddenly gained a senior disciple, but she had never learned how to be a master, nor were there any examples around her to learn from.

Her own master was an outrageous madwoman, hardly a reference worth considering. The elder next door had taken in many disciples, but that elder practiced a hands-off approach, offering little to emulate.

So, she had to figure it out on her own.

Thanks to having marked her with spiritual sense earlier, Xiao Luan Wu quickly found Zhu Zhihan.

Her disciple sat slumped in the blood-stained snow as if drained of all strength, her face paler than the snow itself, her eyelashes lowered as she gazed at the corpses of the Deer Cloud Clan nearby.

It was unclear whether she was too exhausted or simply terrified.

To be honest, Zhu Zhihan’s performance had far exceeded Xiao Luan Wu’s expectations.

Xiao Luan Wu’s first impression of Zhu Zhihan had been “fragile.”

Yes, fragile.

The girl was young, with delicate and exquisite features that, though not yet fully matured, hinted at future breathtaking beauty. A touch of sickness lingered between her brows, and she was wrapped in a white fur coat, resembling the sheltered young ladies from the mortal realm that Xiao Luan Wu had seen in her childhood or perhaps a snowman carved by a deity.

One bump or knock, and she would shatter.

Xiao Luan Wu had been genuinely puzzled: even if her future self were to take a disciple, why would she choose this one? Surely not just for her looks?

Now she understood.

Throughout the hours of battle, this young girl had held her ground without needing rescue. Whether she had relied on elixirs or other external aids, her sheer willpower was worthy of admiration.

“You did very well,” she said, reaching out a hand, her voice unconsciously softening.

Zhu Zhihan remained still for a moment before finally seeming to notice her. Her light-colored eyes fluttered, and she placed her hand in Xiao Luan Wu’s to pull herself up.

But whether from genuine exhaustion or a misstep, she stumbled straight into Xiao Luan Wu’s arms.

Xiao Luan Wu stiffened, her first instinct to push her away.

Yet just as she placed her hands on Zhu Zhihan’s shoulders, she noticed the faint trembling of the body in her embrace.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible.

Xiao Luan Wu’s usually indifferent heart suddenly realized: not everyone was as unfeeling as she was. No matter how resilient one’s will, no one could remain untouched after such an ordeal.

So, inexplicably, she changed her pushing motion into a comforting pat.

“You are a warrior now,” she said.

Meanwhile, Dai Yang had finished counting the surviving members of the Deer Cloud Clan and dispatched people to clear the battlefield and transport the wounded back to the camp.

Spotting the two of them, Dai Yang said, “I’m glad to see you’re both safe.”

By then, Zhu Zhihan was leaning half her weight on Xiao Luan Wu in exhaustion. At his words, she managed a faint smile, she would have liked to be more enthusiastic, but she simply had no strength left.

“Your performance truly exceeded my expectations,” Dai Yang praised generously, turning to Xiao Luan Wu. “Especially you! You seem to have boundless energy. How do you do it?”

Xiao Luan Wu answered truthfully, “I was born with it.”

Dai Yang chuckled. “Haha, you outsiders are so humorous.”

After a couple of lighthearted remarks, he left to deal with the seemingly endless tasks.

Zhu Zhihan watched Dai Yang’s profile.

Perhaps from exhaustion, or perhaps from grieving the loss of his clansmen, the man’s eyes were red-rimmed, his beard unkempt, making him appear even more haggard.

Xiao Luan Wu seemed to have noticed it too, but she said nothing.

The group began moving toward the encampment.

After resting for a while, Zhu Zhihan felt much better. Supported by Xiao Luan Wu, she blended into the scattered procession, walking slowly.

Unlike the journey there, the departing group was equally quiet, but the atmosphere was tinged with solemnity and sorrow.

The surroundings were utterly silent, save for the scattered sounds of footsteps crunching on the snow. Because they were walking slowly, they soon fell to the back of the group.

“Are you really alright?” Xiao Luan Wu asked.

“I’m fine,” Zhu Zhihan shook her head.

“You need to rest. You shouldn’t come next time.”

“Mm.”

Xiao Luan u breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you might push yourself too hard.”

Zhu Zhihan gave a faint smile. “I came to help, not to be a burden.”

“…Good that you know.”

Xiao Luan Wu wouldn’t admit it, but her fondness for this future disciple had grown a little more.

“They’re doing something that will yield no results,” Xiao Luan Wu suddenly remarked, watching the Lu Yun clansmen walking ahead.

Zhu Zhihan’s mind was already drowsy, and she didn’t immediately grasp the meaning. “What?”

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