When Qiu Shi followed Song Chengshu back to the main city, the evening smoke was rising, white birds were returning to the forest, and the drifting sunset in the sky was the color of blood.
The journey passed in silence. Upon returning to the main city's estate, Qiu Shi had already calculated the time and even prepared herself for Song Chengshu’s words—whether they would be sighs or reproaches. But strangely, even as they reached the fork in the path separating Baitang Courtyard and the main residence, Song Chengshu remained silent.
Qiu Shi was never one to hold back her words. After restraining herself the entire way, she finally took the initiative to ask, "Father, what did Aunt Ruan say? What is Liugi Mountain’s stance?"
The elder council of Liugi Mountain was composed of shrewd old foxes who had lived for countless years. When weighing pros and cons, they acted decisively, ruthlessly discarding anything that might tarnish Liugi Mountain’s reputation.
Qiu Shi’s status was noble, comparable even to Qin Donglin’s. Even if she had acted improperly, neither the main city nor Song Chengshu would ever tolerate Liugi Mountain publicly disparaging her to quell the controversy. The only possibility was that both sides had reached some kind of agreement.
Though she had already braced herself for the outcome, Qiu Shi still wanted a clear answer.
"What was true before remains true now."
Song Chengshu finally spoke, his hands clasped behind his back as he regarded his beloved youngest daughter with a meaningful look. "Your Aunt Ruan cares for you as if you were her own. Consider this incident a lesson—a chance to sharpen your wits. Next time you face something similar, you’ll know how to handle it."
Qiu Shi paused, then asked belatedly, "So the engagement still stands?"
"And what about the public explanation for this incident?"
Song Chengshu motioned for her to sit with him at a pavilion near the fork in the path before explaining the plan he had discussed with Ruan Yuan that day: "At the end of next month, the main city will host a longevity banquet. An old friend of mine is arriving from the Outer Heavens—a master of combat arts who has spent the last millennium searching for a worthy disciple. He’s repeatedly asked me to scout talented youths for him."
"Your brother mentioned that Cheng Yi shows promise. So, on that day, I’ll take advantage of the situation and present him as someone who once did you a great favor—a way to repay his kindness."
No matter what explanation they offered, there would always be skeptics.
Their goal wasn’t to convince everyone—just to provide a plausible story.
Qiu Shi had always been sharp-witted, and she grasped the intricacies of the matter with little need for further elaboration. She nodded, refraining from pressing for details.
"Let this matter rest. Don’t dwell on it too much."
Song Chengshu’s tone was gentle. After a moment of contemplation, he shifted the topic: "Your mother told me you’ve reached the peak of the third layer in the Demonic Moon Zither score."
"Yes."
Qiu Shi nodded, her delicate brows unconsciously furrowing.
As the only Heaven-grade musical cultivation technique in the Six Realms, the Demonic Moon Zither score was a sacred text to all practitioners of musical arts. Among countless musicians, Qiu Shi was the luckiest—while others scrambled for increasingly scarce musical techniques, she had already begun comprehending the Demonic Moon Zither score.
The score was divided into seven layers, with each tier presenting a chasm-like leap in difficulty.
For someone of Qiu Shi’s age, reaching the peak of the third layer was already an extraordinary achievement.
But the Demonic Moon Zither score, for all its renown, had one well-known flaw.
Without the recognition of the Demonic Moon Zither itself, cultivation could not progress beyond the third layer.
Qiu Shi had been stuck at the third layer for a long time before finally breaking through to its peak in recent months.
Yet, whenever she tried to advance further, she found herself hitting an invisible barrier. After repeated attempts, she gradually understood—she was missing something essential.
That "something" was self-evident.
It meant that unless the Demonic Moon Zither acknowledged her as its master, she had essentially reached the end of her path in this art.
But there was no forcing such a thing. The Demonic Moon Zither had lain dormant in the main city’s ancient pavilion for tens of thousands of years. Countless prodigies had stood before it, awaiting its judgment, yet none had met its standards.
Whenever the topic arose, Song Chengshu and Tang Ru could only smile bitterly.
When Qiu Shi was born, the Demonic Moon Zither—silent for hundreds of millennia—had descended with sacred light, its music resonating with the Great Dao, illuminating the entire sky in shimmering radiance.
Even they had believed then that the zither had chosen her.
And indeed, Qiu Shi became the only one capable of summoning the ancient zither’s spirit.
But that was all.
"Both my brother and mother have asked for my thoughts on this."
Qiu Shi’s eyes were clear, her voice crisp like pearls falling onto a jade plate. "I still want to wait a little longer."
"I understand your decision."
Song Chengshu seemed to have anticipated her reply. In many ways, he was a lenient father—strict with Song Yunhe but indulgent toward Qiu Shi. Yet, in matters like these, he always granted them the greatest possible freedom.
"My point is, one shouldn’t fixate on a single path. After all, the Demonic Moon Zither is no ordinary artifact."
"We can study the Demonic Moon Zither score while also reviewing other celestial-grade techniques."
Song Chengshu stood up, gently patting her head. "One must always prepare for the worst—anticipate the storms before they arrive, so as not to be caught helpless when they do."
“In three months, the Luyuan Secret Realm will open. This trial will last three years and is fraught with danger. Five hundred of our demon race elites, led by your brother and Qin Donglin, will enter. For now, don’t go wandering or causing trouble. Stay home, stabilize your cultivation, and be ready to assist your brother when the time comes.”
With every word he spoke, Qiu Shi nodded obediently, her demeanor so sweet it softened Song Chengshu’s heart.
He didn’t elaborate further. Next month, the main city would host a grand birthday banquet, followed by the high-profile auction in Lin’an. The streets were already teeming with all sorts of figures, and there was much to prepare. He couldn’t leave everything to Song Yunhe.
After he left, Qiu Shi turned and headed for Dongheng Courtyard.
Qin Donglin’s two sword strikes had flattened everything within several miles of Dongheng Courtyard. When Song Yunhe handled the aftermath, he arranged for Cheng Yi to stay in a small pavilion nearby.
Lu Jue and the Flying Fish Guards stood watch outside with unwavering diligence.
As Qiu Shi stepped into the pavilion, Ming Yue announced her arrival. Soon after, Qing Feng emerged to open the door.
"Miss Qiu Shi."
Qing Feng bowed slightly and gestured for her to enter. "The young master just took his medicine and is now reading inside."
The sky in the main city darkened swiftly at night—one moment it was painted with crimson clouds, the next already aglow with stars and moonlight.
Inside, the crystal lamps flickered to life, their soft flames casting a glow that filled the entire room.
In such an atmosphere, even the fiercest of tempers would mellow, let alone someone as serene and unblemished as snow.
Cheng Yi had been seated, but at Qing Feng’s voice, he set down the book in his hands and rose.
His features were refined, not as striking as Qin Donglin’s captivating beauty, which carried an imposing intensity. Instead, his presence was like a gentle breeze, warm and soothing, especially when he smiled.
Even after being ambushed and stranded far from home, every time Qiu Shi saw him, his eyes always held a quiet, unwavering warmth.
Qiu Shi had never been guarded against a man with such a face—one who had also saved her life.
At least, not before that dream.
But after learning how tragically her fate would unfold because of him, she couldn’t help but feel a subtle wariness, an instinct for self-preservation.
Repay the kindness, but keep distance—that had been her resolve these past few days.
"Has Cheng Yi’s condition improved?" Qiu Shi’s gaze lingered on his pale face. "Were you injured by the sword?"
Cheng Yi smiled faintly, his voice soft and steady. "With such a treasure as the Meteor Bracelet gifted to me for protection, how could I be harmed?"
Recalling that night’s events, Qiu Shi lowered her lashes, dark as raven feathers, and murmured apologetically, "He practices the Annihilation Sword Art—his temper isn’t the best. The rumors had led to misunderstandings, so he acted rashly."
"There’s no need for you to apologize, Miss."
Cheng Yi waited until her last word faded before replying earnestly. "If not for last night, I would never have had the chance to witness the true form of the Prana Sword."
His expression was so solemn that Qiu Shi faltered.
She couldn’t quite grasp the fervent admiration swordsmen held for the Prana Sword. Ever since news spread that the sword had chosen Qin Donglin as its master, swordsmen had been losing their minds in waves—even the three celestial princes, who weren’t swordsmen themselves, had reportedly shattered several teacups upon hearing the news.
Her eyes swept the room briefly before she offered a small smile. "This was hastily arranged, so it’s rather simple. I’ve already asked my brother to purchase an estate within the main city. Once it’s furnished, you may move in to recuperate properly."
"For medicines, treasures, or anything else you lack, don’t hesitate to ask. The main city’s resources are at your disposal."
When Cheng Yi had been unconscious, burning with fever and near death from his wounds, Qiu Shi hadn’t trusted anywhere else to care for him—hence why she’d brought him to the main city’s residence. But now that he was recovering and the situation had escalated, it was no longer appropriate for him to stay.
Cheng Yi was perceptive. With those words, he understood her intent.
This arrangement would be better—for her, and for him.
"You have my gratitude, Miss."
He cupped his hands slightly, his voice as mellow as aged wine. "If fate permits, I shall repay your kindness in full."
Qiu Shi didn’t linger. After exchanging pleasantries, she exited through the rear door. Ming Yue led the way with a lantern, her slender silhouette stretching long behind her, like a butterfly dancing through the night.
Cheng Yi stood by the window, gazing at the faint, indistinct figure in the distance. Qing Feng draped a thick cloak over his shoulders, and the gesture seemed to trigger something—Cheng Yi bent forward, coughing heavily, his voice restrained yet trembling.
"Young Master."
Qing Feng deftly smoothed his back, and once he had steadied himself, couldn’t help but follow his line of sight. "Are you looking at Miss Qiu Shi?"
Cheng Yi withdrew his gaze and smiled faintly. "I’m simply curious about the kind of temperament a woman must have to calculate the Young Master of Liugi Mountain so precisely."
He had assumed she was naive and sheltered, a pampered young lady with no defenses, indulged by her family.
But now, it seemed he wasn’t entirely correct.
