At the entrance of Elder Changyu's secluded cave for cultivation, Bai Roushuang finally saw her master again.
Amidst the peaks of Misty Cloud Mountain, he stood alone, his wide sleeves and light robes fluttering, an ethereal aura surrounding him. When he slightly raised his gaze to look at others, his eyes seemed to hold frost and snow that never melted.
He was perhaps the closest figure Bai Roushuang had ever seen to the embodiment of an immortal.
—That is, if he kept his mouth shut.
Elder Changyu spotted his disciples, and a faint smile touched his lips. With measured steps, he approached them—only to suddenly pull them all into a group hug.
"My dear disciples! Ah, Shulou, you’ve finally returned to visit your master. I missed you dearly!"
Xu Shulou patted his shoulder. "I missed you too. Now, speak properly."
Elder Changyu released them, wiping away nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes. Then, noticing the fluttering Jiuyao nearby, he snatched the bird into his arms, his face lighting up with delight. "This bird is quite plump—imagine coating it in honey and roasting it till golden..."
Jiuyao instantly bristled in terror.
Unfazed, Xu Shulou rescued the bird and stuffed it into Bai Roushuang’s arms, cutting him off. "Master, the Bright Moon Peak’s main hall has prepared a welcoming feast, all cooked personally by our junior sister."
At the mention of food, Elder Changyu regained a sliver of his dignified composure and nodded solemnly. "Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!"
No sooner had he spoken than he took off at lightning speed, vanishing into the distance.
Bai Roushuang, still bewildered, was carried along by her senior sister as they flew after him.
Xu Shulou stroked the trembling Jiuyao in her arms and reassured, "Don’t worry, Master was only joking."
Jiuyao fluttered its wings and perched on Xu Shoulou’s shoulder, nuzzling her cheek gratefully, as if rejoicing over a narrow escape.
At the feast, Elder Changyu gnawed on a chicken leg and praised Bai Roushuang lavishly. "I knew I made the right choice taking you as my disciple."
Xu Shulou, holding a bowl, nodded emphatically. "Bright Moon Peak finally has a disciple who can cook."
Master and disciple exchanged glances, recalling the hardships of the past when it was just the two of them on the peak, and nearly shed tears.
Most cultivators in the world of immortal arts paid little attention to culinary pleasures, especially those who had long since transcended the need for food. Over the eons, they had invented only two flavors of fasting pills: one salty-sweet, the other sour with a hint of bitterness—both equally revolting.
Every novice cultivator had at some point furiously questioned whether the creator of fasting pills had taste buds—until they learned that the inventor himself never had to eat them.
This, ironically, became a source of motivation for young cultivators, spurring them to train harder so they could reach the fasting stage and escape the vile concoctions.
Of course, no one could say whether the desire to fight the inventor also played a part in their drive.
In any case, Dustless Island had no proper chefs, so Xu Shoulou had no choice but to subsist on fasting pills in her early days. At first, absorbed in training, she barely noticed. But as time wore on, the ordeal nearly sapped her will to live. Back then, Elder Changyu had still been trying to maintain an aloof and transcendent image in front of his disciple, pretending indifference.
So they endured—one choking down fasting pills, the other feigning detachment—until, after many long years, a single shared glance revealed the longing for worldly pleasures in each other’s eyes. In that moment of enlightenment, they abandoned pretense and journeyed to the mortal realm, indulging in a feast at the finest tavern.
Remembering those days, Elder Changyu’s eyes softened with appreciation for his youngest disciple, and his tone turned gentler. Then, inevitably, he glanced at his second disciple, Song Ping.
Song Ping cleared his throat awkwardly.
Ji Ci, the sixth disciple who had joined later, didn’t understand the significance. Jiang Yan, the fifth disciple, leaned in to explain. "When I first arrived, I was homesick. Second Brother kindly tried cooking me a mortal-style meal."
Ji Ci blinked. "And then?"
Jiang Yan pondered. "Let’s just say, if not for our cultivator’s resilience, Master, Eldest Sister, and I might have met our end at the dinner table that night."
Xu Shoulou nodded gravely in agreement.
Song Ping coughed. "It wasn’t that bad. Fifth Brother was crying nonstop from homesickness, so I tried to help."
Jiang Yan rubbed his nose. "I couldn’t tell if you were comforting me or trying to kill me."
Ji Ci burst out laughing. "Crying nonstop? I never knew Fifth Brother had such a past!"
"Shut it." The two quickly devolved into bickering.
Bai Roushuang couldn’t help but chuckle. "If Master enjoys it, I’ll cook for you every day."
Elder Changyu, finally remembering his role as a master, shook his head. "No need. Focus on your cultivation."
Having emerged from seclusion, after the meal, Elder Changyu began instructing his disciples.
Xu Shoulou was last. When her turn came, she stood at the edge of Bright Moon Peak’s rear cliff, the mountain wind whipping around her. Her crimson dress and ink-black hair streamed behind her like an immortal ready to ride the wind and depart.
A willow leaf shot toward her. Xu Shoulou caught it effortlessly and turned with a smile. "Master."
With Elder Changyu’s power, even a petal or leaf could become a weapon.
He regarded her with pride, stepping to the cliffside to stand beside her. "There’s nothing left for me to teach you."
Xu Shoulou lowered her gaze. "This disciple will never forget your guidance."
"Truthfully, I didn’t teach you much. Your talent carried you." He paused, then changed the subject. "I won’t take any more disciples after this. Your junior sister is my last. Her potential is good, though her temperament is a bit fragile."
Xu Shoulou smiled. "Young ones need room to grow."
Elder Changyu laughed. "You’ve grown more patient with time."
"Everyone stumbles and needs guidance," Xu Shoulou said wryly. "Wasn’t I far worse in my youth? I even dared to meddle with a soul-summoning banner."
"True," Elder Changyu said solemnly. "Back then, I only saw your exceptional talent and quick comprehension. But you were drowning in hatred and rage—I feared you’d never walk far on this path."
Xu Shoulou tilted her head. "And now?"
"Now, you are exactly as you should be."
A hundred years had passed in the blink of an eye.
She had grown from a vengeful, wrathful fallen princess who once wished to drown the world in blood, into the Xu Shoulou of today—playful, smiling, her blade rarely unsheathed.
Xu Shoulou’s smile lingered. "I think so too."
Elder Changyu followed her gaze into the distance. Once, hatred had fueled her rapid advancement, making her a genius among cultivators. But heaven was fair—while her power soared, her heart lagged behind. For years, he had feared his disciple would one day descend into darkness.
Later, it was she herself who came to enlightenment and let go, her state of mind advancing by leaps and bounds.
He did not know what person or event she had encountered during her solitary journey in the mortal world after leaving seclusion, the one that had ultimately led her to this awakening.
Yet that harrowing past, once so cruel, had not twisted her into a scourge upon the world.
Xu Shulou possessed extraordinary talent and unwavering diligence, and now, tempered by such indomitable resolve, she would surely draw envious cries of "Heaven's favor!" from other cultivators if word spread.
Elder Changyu spoke again, "The person you brought back—I’ve heard of it. From hating mortals to protecting them, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you—how does it feel?"
Xu Shulou thought for a moment before giving a simple answer: "It’s nice."
That day, when her junior martial sister and Lu Beichen mentioned that Senior Sister Xu had once been a princess of the imperial family, even she had paused in surprise.
A princess, yes—but of a fallen kingdom.
Those days of nobility, that hatred born of dynastic upheaval—it all now seemed like a lifetime ago.
Now, as she wandered the mortal world, subduing demons that brought calamity upon humanity, there were moments when she’d catch herself remembering how close she had once come to becoming one of them.
Elder Changyu stood with her in the breeze for a while longer before asking, "By the way, the secret realm is opening again this year. Will you go?"
Xu Shulou answered casually, "I could go or not."
Changyu sighed. This disciple was flawless in every way—except for her lack of obsession with attaining immortality. "Then go," he said. "Keep an eye on those unruly brats for me."
Xu Shulou agreed just as offhandedly, "Sure."
Elder Changyu patted her shoulder and left, leaving Xu Shulou alone atop the mountain peak. She stretched lazily and leaned against the pine tree behind her.
The motion was a bit too rough, and the pine branches shook loose a shower of dew onto her.
This, too, was one of the reasons she didn’t believe in dreams—the Xu Shulou in her dreams wasn’t her.
She had walked through the fires of vengeance, through the loss of her kingdom and kin, to stand where she was now. She would never turn back, never become that hate-filled version of herself again—not for any man.
