◎But it seemed she had truly guessed who Little Wu was.◎
Out of the corner of her eye, Yan Luoyue caught the slight movement of Little Wu’s shoulder and quickly averted her gaze.
Sure enough, the next moment, Little Wu stole another glance at her.
Seeing that she was absorbed in eating, seemingly unaware of his earlier action, he quietly let out a relieved sigh.
Half of the plain cake remained in her hand, but Yan Luoyue had already lost her appetite.
For some reason, Little Wu’s gesture felt like someone had taken a blunt awl and gently pressed it against her softest spot. It left her heart aching and tender, even stirring a faint sense of melancholy.
Moreover, there was a trace of familiarity in this feeling.
As if, years ago, someone had also treated every morsel she offered with the same reverent care.
Before Yan Luoyue could recall anything concrete, Shen Jingxuan appeared before her and greeted them.
"Benefactors, Luoyue, have you both finished eating?"
As a monastic, Shen Jingxuan adhered to a disciplined routine, eating swiftly and with a clear mind.
Even Yan Gan, a true glutton by nature, couldn’t match her speed.
Yan Luoyue hurriedly packed away her remaining snacks. "I’m done. Let’s continue searching for the way out."
Little Wu turned his head, his white blindfold fluttering slightly as he glanced at Yan Luoyue. "I... I’m finished too."
"Then let’s set off," Shen Jingxuan declared, refreshed after her meal.
She pointed straight ahead, reciting a Buddhist chant. "Amitabha, let us journey together toward the Western Pure Land."
"—That’s the east," Yan Luoyue and Little Wu corrected her in unison.
Shen Jingxuan: "..."
After a brief rest, the trio resumed their search for an exit.
They walked for a while longer before Yan Luoyue noticed the murky purple swirls in the sky gradually shifting into streaks of bloody red.
She turned to Little Wu for an explanation. "Why is the vortex changing color?"
If it were merely a natural transition, like the hues of dawn or dusk, it wouldn’t be a concern.
But Yan Luoyue worried this shift might signal instability in the space itself.
She also feared the color change could herald extreme weather—torrential rains, bitter cold, or worse.
Little Wu lifted his gaze to the sky and, after a noticeable pause, finally answered slowly,
"The vortex turning red means night is approaching. In the demon realm, the entire sky turns red at night."
"That’s all?"
Yan Luoyue exhaled in relief but remained puzzled. "Then why did you hesitate for so long?"
It wasn’t an accusation, but Little Wu still lowered his head, as if chastising himself for his delay.
"I didn’t realize... time had passed so quickly."
In the past, his days were spent wandering desolate wilderness. When hungry, he hunted demonic beasts for food; when weary, he retreated to his cave to sleep.
Day after day, year after year.
A day held twelve hours, an hour held eight quarters, a quarter held half a cup of tea, and a cup of tea spanned sixteen hundred and sixty-six fleeting moments.
His damp, shadowed cave lacked a water clock or sundial.
Only by watching the creeping shift of stone shadows at the cave’s entrance, or listening to the north wind whistling through jagged rocks, could he measure time—each day stretching as long as the entire Demon Subjugation War, until the last embers of sunlight faded and the moon’s gentle glow took its place.
Thus, what had just happened felt almost unbelievable to Little Wu.
How had time, as if harnessed to a divine steed, galloped away so swiftly?
One moment, it seemed like a bright afternoon—him circling the remnants of a formation in frustration.
The next, dusk had already fallen.
He had only just met her, walked a short distance together, carefully stored away the treats she gave him, exchanged forty-eight sentences with her... and in the blink of an eye, the afternoon had slipped away like flowing water.
Behind his white blindfold, Little Wu blinked, feeling a touch bewildered.
Overhead, the vortex’s crimson deepened, merging with the darkening sky. The vast celestial pointer faded, replaced by an endless expanse of red, like a tide of blood.
With the vortex gone and their bearings lost, they decided to rest for the night and resume their search when the vortex reappeared the next day.
Shen Jingxuan, however, had a slightly different suggestion.
Her straightforward nature extended to her problem-solving.
She drew three lines in the dirt with a stick, each pointing in a different direction. "Why don’t we split up and explore separately? We can regroup here in two hours."
"...No, you can’t."
"Jingxuan, I’m a bit tired. Let’s just stay together for tonight."
Yan Luoyue thought her gentle refusal had been swift enough.
After all, it didn’t take a genius to predict that Shen Jingxuan would undoubtedly get lost within those two hours.
Yet Little Wu vetoed the idea even faster than she had.
Yan Luoyue would bet a "bashful mimosa quietly folding its leaves" that Shen Jingxuan didn’t recognize Little Wu—or at least, had no memory of him.
But Little Wu seemed to know more about Shen Jingxuan than a mere passing acquaintance.
That was... odd.
Yan Luoyue smiled faintly and asked casually, "By the way, did you know Jingxuan before this?"
The moment she spoke, Little Wu’s already rigid posture straightened further, as if by reflex.
Little Wu: "We don’t know each other."
Yan Luoyue nodded.
His response was within expectations.
After all, though they’d only spent an afternoon together, Shen Jingxuan’s sense of direction was notoriously unreliable.
If he’d cited that as his reason, it would’ve made sense.
But something in Little Wu’s demeanor piqued her curiosity.
Then, in the next breath, Little Wu added, "She doesn’t know me, but I’ve seen her often."
Yan Luoyue: "Huh?"
For the first time since they’d met, a note of incredulity crept into Little Wu’s otherwise calm tone.
"Marshes, tree hollows, mountainsides, meadows, even the middle of lakes... no matter where I went, I’d frequently see Master Jingxuan getting lost."
Over the years, he’d lived in seclusion, venturing only into the most desolate, least populated areas.
Yet one phenomenon remained utterly baffling.
Namely, this Master Jingxuan—where did she even come from?
Why did she appear like wild radishes sprouting everywhere, filling every nook and cranny?
No matter how remote or desolate the corner of the world he hid in, he would occasionally catch sight of this nun, Shen Jingxuan, wandering lost yet running freely with unbridled energy.
At this thought, even through layers of bandages and the white gauze shielding her eyes, Yan Luoyue felt she could perceive the profound bewilderment radiating from Little Wu.
Yan Luoyue: "..."
If she didn’t already know that Shen Jingxuan herself couldn’t explain it, Yan Luoyue would have genuinely wanted to shake the nun by the shoulders and demand: Where on earth have you been getting lost all these years?
And Shen Jingxuan’s tendency to get lost was strange enough.
Little Wu, you don’t even get lost, yet you still manage to run into her now and then… Just what kind of circumstances have been dragging you to these bizarre places???
At the center of their silent critiques, Shen Jingxuan tilted her head slightly, her serene demeanor tinged with a faint trace of surprise.
"Hm?" Her voice carried a carefully concealed hint of astonishment. "Have I ever gotten lost?"
Yan Luoyue: "..."
Little Wu: "..."
It’s hopeless. Give up. This little nun is beyond saving.
The three took turns keeping watch through a rather long night.
Though they were supposed to alternate shifts, before Little Wu’s turn came, Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan exchanged a knowing glance.
They took turns staying awake, quietly covering the time meant for him.
Whether Little Wu noticed their wariness or not, he said nothing about it.
During her watch, Yan Luoyue lowered her lashes as if dozing, peering through the narrow slits of her eyelids.
She saw Little Wu seated by the fire, his back turned to them the entire time.
He sat in utter silence—unlike Shen Jingxuan, who murmured sutras under her breath, or Yan Luoyue, who idly poked at the flames with a stick.
His figure, already caught between childhood and adolescence, seemed to shrink further as he curled into a half-sphere.
He looked all the more solitary and helpless, like a little mummy truly wandering alone.
The night passed peacefully, uneventful and calm.
By dawn, a pale purple vortex reappeared in the sky, and the three set off again after preparing.
Perhaps because this "nest" had been abandoned by demons for too long, they encountered no living fiends along the way.
At most, they came across a few non-aggressive plants native to the demon realm, all pointed out by Little Wu, who explained them to Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan.
After traveling further, Yan Luoyue suddenly spotted a peach blossom grove in the distance.
As the poem goes: "By the fourth month, all flowers in the mortal world fade."
Peach blossoms blooming in late autumn were naturally peculiar.
Coupled with the fact that they had been walking "along the vortex, heedless of distance," only to "suddenly come upon a peach grove," the scene carried strong echoes of The Peach Blossom Spring.
Thinking this, Yan Luoyue unconsciously fiddled with the grass-woven pendant at her waist.
Inside the vaguely shaped handicraft, the little pink flame, Fenfen, rested quietly.
As they drew closer, Little Wu recognized the true nature of the peach grove.
"They’re Illusion Shaking Trees."
If the legendary tree that rained coins was called a Money Shaking Tree, then in reality, a plant that shed illusions naturally earned the name Illusion Shaking Tree.
The moment he identified the trees, Little Wu decisively ducked his head.
A second later, Yan Luoyue understood why.
In the blink of an eye, the blossoms on the branches vanished, replaced by hundreds of demon-subduing Vajra statues, so numerous they bent the boughs under their weight.
Yan Luoyue gaped as each Vajra radiated a sacred golden light.
The wrathful deities bore four arms—one holding a purple-gold alms bowl, one gripping a demon-quelling pestle, one clutching a trident, and one wielding a ritual blade. Lightning coiled around them like dragons, an awe-inspiring sight that repelled all evil.
And upon closer inspection—every single Vajra had Shen Jingxuan’s face.
Shen Jingxuan seemed to realize this too. Her prayer beads slipped from her wrist to rest between her thumb and forefinger as she clasped her hands together and cautiously stepped back, shielding Yan Luoyue and Little Wu.
"Amitabha."
As she uttered the solemn invocation, the illusions shifted again.
Now, the branches bore countless crossroads.
Under Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan’s stunned gazes, these intersections gradually merged into one, with a clearly marked signpost standing at the center, pointing in all four directions!
Yan Luoyue: "..."
Shen Jingxuan: "..."
Now, even without Little Wu’s explanation, Yan Luoyue understood—the illusions conjured by the tree reflected the deepest desires of those who saw them.
If Shen Jingxuan’s wish was to attain enlightenment and for all winding paths to become one straight road…
Then what were her desires?
The thought flashed through Yan Luoyue’s mind in a fraction of a second.
Immediately, the visions transformed once more.
First, the branches rained countless spirit stones and rare materials, clattering to the ground in a dazzling display of wealth that nearly blinded onlookers.
Then the scene shifted to Yan Yu’s gentle, reassuring smile.
Each twig now held a window of illusion, like countless tiny screens playing simultaneously.
Countless "Yan Yu"s in the visions solemnly promised: "Even if you got lost for a night, now that you’re home, don’t worry—I won’t scold you."
This… this was too accurate, too attuned to her current worries, too eager to address her immediate concerns!
Yan Luoyue: "..."
Perhaps sensing her toe-curling embarrassment, the illusions changed again.
One moment, Yan Luoyue was slacking off in class with her two brothers, eyes alight with mischief.
The next, she was setting out with Shen Jingxuan—this time, the nun led the way unerringly, never once losing direction.
Then the scene shifted to Jiang Tingbai presenting her with a grass-woven trinket.
This time, he had finally crafted a flawless work of art. Teacher and student exchanged smiles, moved to tears of bittersweet triumph.
Finally, the illusions settled on one last image.
This vision stretched so long that even Little Wu, who had been resolutely keeping his head down, couldn’t avoid seeing it as the illusions fluttered toward him.
"...A red ribbon?" Little Wu ventured uncertainly.
"...A red hair tie?" Shen Jingxuan echoed, slightly puzzled.
Neither could fathom why a simple strip of crimson silk had become Yan Luoyue’s most deeply ingrained obsession.
Yan Luoyue: "..."
Staring at the "+100000, +100000, +100000" continuously flashing on the "red silk ribbon," Yan Luoyue understood everything.
She took a deep breath and buried her face in her palms, utterly embarrassed.
"This is actually a misunderstanding."
It really was a misunderstanding.
What grew on the Illusory Shaking Tree was neither a red silk ribbon nor a red hair tie.
It was the health bar Yan Luoyue had been dreaming of!
The moment her gaze broke away, the countless illusions on the Illusory Shaking Tree vanished without a trace, reverting to the original blooming peach blossom grove.
Yan Luoyue and the other two turned their backs, attentively listening as Little Wu began his mini science lesson.
Though Little Wu’s allegiances remained unclear and his identity still a mystery, his knowledge of demonic realm flora and fauna was undeniably profound and well-reasoned.
—Though this very fact made his allegiances seem even murkier and his identity even more enigmatic…
"This grove of Illusory Shaking Trees must have been planted less than thirty years ago."
According to Little Wu’s explanation, the Illusory Shaking Tree was a plant that grew more formidable with age (Yan Luoyue: Sounds a bit like me).
For example, the grove they had just witnessed could conjure thousands of illusions simultaneously—an impressive spectacle, but obviously fake, with no real power to deceive.
A truly ancient and flourishing Illusory Shaking Tree, however, would never be so amateurish.
It would manifest only a single illusion, one that could even unearth the deepest longings and desires people didn’t know they harbored.
By Little Wu’s account, the visions conjured by this grove barely qualified as illusions.
An Illusory Shaking Tree under a century old could only weave an illusion for one person at a time.
Earlier, when the tree dropped a demon-subduing guardian, Yan Gan and Yan Yu had disappeared.
And when the illusion shifted to Jiang Tingbai and his woven grass creations, the tree stopped showing Shen Jingxuan the crossroads illusion.
But an older Illusory Shaking Tree could weave an elaborate shared illusion.
Everyone within it would see and hear the same flawless reality until they were utterly lost—only then would the tree reveal its true, monstrous nature.
"...Wait, monstrous nature? What do you mean?"
Yan Luoyue raised her hand, interrupting Little Wu.
Little Wu blinked. "Didn’t I mention it? The Illusory Shaking Tree is a carnivorous plant."
Yan Luoyue: "...No, you didn’t!"
She whirled around in shock.
Behind her, the peach blossom grove still swayed dreamily, its delicate branches tenderly undulating, showing no hint of its predatory instincts.
This instantly reminded Yan Luoyue of those legends—"flowers bloom so vibrantly because corpses are buried beneath them."
"It’s a carnivorous plant that slowly ensnares its prey, strangling them to death," Little Wu hastily added. "But precisely because it lacks offensive power, it relies on illusions to lure victims in."
In other words, even if they strolled boldly through the grove, the trees couldn’t harm them.
Still, the label of "carnivorous plant" cast an eerie shadow over the dazzling beauty of the blossoms.
Yan Luoyue felt that, as a turtle, caution was paramount—no need to court danger unnecessarily.
After discussion, the trio decided against venturing deeper into the illusory grove for now.
One glaring question remained:
The demonic race had retreated from the human realm over a millennium ago. Yet this grove of Illusory Shaking Trees was less than thirty years old.
So, who had planted them?
Even if seeds from older trees had scattered and taken root over centuries, it would mean that deep within the grove, at least one ancient Illusory Shaking Tree had thrived for nearly a thousand years.
Yan Luoyue and her companions merely wanted to find the exit from this lair—not challenge a millennia-old BOSS head-on.
So, after deliberation, they unanimously agreed to explore other parts of the lair first.
If they found no clues to the exit, they could always return to the grove later.
With their decision made, the three retreated from the Illusory Shaking Trees in an orderly fashion.
The choice seemed wise.
After walking some distance in the opposite direction, they finally encountered the first living soul in the lair besides themselves.
It was a scholar-like cultivator—tall, refined, dressed in pristine jade-green robes, holding a wooden-slip-shaped artifact.
Sensing each other’s presence, both parties advanced cautiously, meeting face-to-face after a while.
The moment he saw the trio, the scholar defensively raised the wooden slips.
Admittedly, their group was an odd sight:
A young nun, a girl not yet a woman, and a bandage-wrapped figure of middling height.
Human imagination being what it was, it was hard to fathom how they’d teamed up.
The most suspicious one was undoubtedly Little Wu.
To outsiders, his bizarre attire—completely swathed in bandages—gave him the air of a mystic from Xiangxi’s corpse-driving folklore.
(Of course, Little Wu was no corpse-driver. If anything, he looked more like the corpse being driven.)
"Might I ask…"
The scholar hesitated before opting for the most straightforward, least suspicious phrasing.
He boldly inquired, "Might I ask if you fellow cultivators are… human?"
Truly, who wouldn’t praise such diplomatic phrasing?
Little Wu: "..."
Shen Jingxuan: "This humble nun is."
Yan Luoyue: "...Sorry, no."
She was a little turtle demon, after all.
Scholar: "!!!"
After a frank exchange, they reached a tentative understanding.
Finally, the scholar—still hesitant—joined their group.
Yan Luoyue observed him closely: his hair tied with a wooden pin, a polished wooden bracelet on his wrist, wooden sandals on his feet, and a finely carved wooden Buddha pendant hanging from a red string around his neck.
Either he had a deep love for wooden artifacts or, like Jiang Tingbai, he was simply poor.
"This one is Wu Chunhui," the scholar introduced himself courteously.
"Today, I was merely conducting a routine search of the area when I encountered fellow cultivators lost here… Please, follow me. I’ll explain in detail as we walk."
Compared to Yan Luoyue’s trio, still mapping the unknown, Wu Chunhui clearly knew this lair like the back of his hand.
He pointed out landmarks—where to go straight, where to turn, where a massive rock served as a guide—for their benefit.
As they walked, Wu Chunhui’s account gradually pieced together his story for the three of them.
According to Wu Chunhui's account, he and the other cultivators who accidentally stumbled into this place had established a settlement together in their makeshift dwellings.
Among all the cultivators in the settlement, Wu Chunhui and his wife were the first to wander into this strange space.
So far, they had been trapped here for four months.
During this time, Wu Chunhui and his wife actively explored their surroundings, covering almost every corner of the bizarre space, and gradually encountered over a dozen other cultivators who had also lost their way here.
Thus, they joined forces and built a peaceful haven in a safe location.
Perhaps proud of this accomplishment, Wu Chunhui enthusiastically introduced the settlement to the trio.
"Since we’re all Qi Refining cultivators, we can’t go without food. After several attempts, we discovered an underground tuber that resembles a human head—it’s edible."
…Wait, from his description, isn’t that just a love apple?
Yan Luoyue’s expression twisted slightly.
What kind of profound insight must the first person who recognized it as food have had?
Wu Chunhui continued proudly, "We also chopped down some harmless trees for firewood and used the wood to craft tables, chairs, beds, and other daily necessities."
As for why they had to handcraft everything instead of storing pre-made items in a storage pouch—
Well, let’s just say they’d always been too strapped for cash to afford one.
Yan Luoyue: "…"
The more she listened, the more Wu Chunhui’s hobbies and financial struggles reminded her of Jiang Tingbai.
The only difference was that Wu Chunhui was far weaker in terms of cultivation.
Wu Chunhui painted a rosy picture of life in the settlement, full of harmony and cooperation.
Shen Jingxuan, the most straightforward of the group, nodded approvingly.
"As the saying goes, 'Many hands make light work.' With such optimism and effort, your results will surely meet expectations."
Flattered by the young nun’s praise, the scholar smiled bashfully and lowered his head.
His fingers unconsciously brushed against the wooden Buddha pendant hanging around his neck, caressing it gently as his expression softened with quiet tenderness.
There’s a tradition that men wear Guanyin pendants while women wear Buddha pendants.
Yet Wu Chunhui, a scholar, wore a Buddha pendant—likely a gift from his beloved wife.
Cradling the pendant in his palm for a moment, Wu Chunhui smiled and spoke.
"To be honest, when I first fell into this mysterious space, I was far from as composed as I am now. I searched every corner I could find without meeting a single fellow cultivator. Fortunately, my wife never left my side."
The moment he mentioned his wife, Wu Chunhui’s eyes lit up.
His voice grew softer, more affectionate, and his delicate features took on a dreamy warmth.
With a fond smile, he added, "Though this place was desolate and empty, we shared unforgettable moments here… and it was during this strange journey that she became pregnant with our child."
At this point, Yan Luoyue froze for a second before blinking rapidly.
Hold on, stop right there! No more dog food, please!
Among the three of them, one was a nun, one was a little turtle, and the last—though her identity was unclear—was probably underage.
Was this really a topic they should be hearing for free?
Wu Chunhui opened his mouth to continue but abruptly caught himself, slamming on the brakes at the last moment.
"Ahem… my apologies, I got carried away. My wife is with child now, and I can’t help thinking of her constantly."
"No need to apologize," Shen Jingxuan said serenely. "Compassion knows no bounds. A loving marriage is a righteous path, even in the eyes of Buddha."
Yan Luoyue glanced sideways, suspecting the little nun hadn’t caught the suggestive undertones in Wu Chunhui’s words.
Little Wu nodded too. "A harmonious marriage lasts a hundred years—this is a good thing."
Though his words were warm, his tone was flat, as if reciting from memory.
Given that the little mummy once described the two strokes in the character for "Wu" as "two forks"…
Yan Luoyue strongly suspected he’d copied this line verbatim from a book without understanding its meaning.
Well, alright. It seemed Little Wu hadn’t taken any improper interpretations either.
Yan Luoyue reflected inwardly—perhaps she was the only one with a dirty mind.
As the group walked and talked, they soon arrived at the "settlement" Wu Chunhui had described.
True to his words, the stranded cultivators had fashioned tables and chairs from wood.
Upon entering, the trio first saw four or five tables and a dozen long benches.
A dozen or so cultivators sat scattered across the benches, chatting animatedly in small groups.
The rough, homely style of the furniture reminded Yan Luoyue of the food stalls at the Moonlit Market.
Thinking of the Moonlit Market made the scene before her feel even more familiar, and she relaxed with a faint smile.
Spotting an empty table, Wu Chunhui invited the three to take a seat before excusing himself to find his wife in a curtained-off stone cave.
The moment he left, the atmosphere in the settlement grew still.
Not only were Yan Luoyue and her companions discreetly observing the other cultivators, but the settlers were also sizing up the newcomers.
After a brief pause, as if deciding the trio—comprising a child, a weakling, a youth, and a nun—posed no threat, the tension eased.
Someone stepped forward to greet them.
His face looked vaguely familiar to Yan Luoyue, as if she’d seen him somewhere before.
"Hey, did you guys also take a wrong step and fall in here?"
As he spoke, he cast a wary glance at Little Wu’s face.
The trio had already prepared their cover story on the way.
That was why, since meeting Wu Chunhui, Yan Luoyue and Little Wu had remained mostly silent, leaving Shen Jingxuan to do the talking.
Drawing from her rich experience in crafting personas, Yan Luoyue had assigned each of them a role.
Shen Jingxuan’s character was that of a kind-hearted, straightforward young nun, fresh out of training and inexperienced.
She had never ripped apart a flower thief with her bare hands nor relentlessly beaten a demon to death.
—A nun of compassion would never resort to violence without cause, let alone insult an opponent’s ancestors or mock a demon’s mother.
She was simply a good-hearted nun who happened upon two lost children and wanted to help them find their way home.
As for Little Wu, he was a pitiable boy afflicted with a strange condition—he couldn’t be exposed to sunlight.
Because of this illness, he was taciturn and struggled with communication, barely uttering a word even under duress.
—And no, don’t argue that there’s no sunlight in the demon realm. Ultraviolet rays count as sunlight too.
As for Yan Luoyue? She was just an ordinary, sweet-smiling little beast-girl.
Faced with the unfamiliar cultivator's question, Yan Luoyue responded with a shy smile, while Little Wu remained silent.
Only Shen Jingxuan, her fingers moving over her prayer beads, lowered her gaze with a compassionate expression. "Amitabha, indeed so. This humble nun encountered these two young benefactors on the road, and my sole wish now is to escort them safely back to their hometown."
The cultivator across from them spat in frustration. "Ugh, this damned place." Then, turning to Shen Jingxuan, he added, "The Dharma Master truly embodies great compassion."
Shen Jingxuan fixed him with a piercing stare. "This humble nun just heard Fellow Daoist Wu mention that you’ve thoroughly explored this space. If so, why are you all still trapped here? Could there truly be no exit?"
As she spoke, she subtly turned her body, positioning herself between Little Wu and the male cultivator.
To an outsider, it might seem like Shen Jingxuan, as a monastic, was merely observing decorum—much like how a monk might slightly avert his gaze when speaking to a female layperson.
But Yan Luoyue knew better.
The little nun hadn’t turned to avoid the male cultivator—she’d turned to face Little Wu.
If the man had answered with something like, "This damned place has no exit," or "The way we came is the only way out," contradicting Little Wu’s earlier explanation…
Well, Shen Jingxuan might have just knocked Little Wu’s head clean off his shoulders right then and there.
Shen Jingxuan: Don’t think I’ll let my guard down just because we’ve traveled together for a while. A reliable nun never forgets how suspicious you were at the start.
Honestly, Jingxuan’s short temper never wavers.
Fortunately, the male cultivator hesitated for only a moment before scratching his head.
"There is an exit, but we can’t reach it."
Good. That single sentence saved Little Wu’s head.
Shen Jingxuan raised an eyebrow. "Benefactor, what do you mean by that?"
The cultivator sighed and gestured toward the illusory flower forest they had just left behind.
"To be frank, we didn’t choose this place as our settlement by chance. A senior cultivator who once escaped this place left us instructions—first, pointing out that this is the safest area, and second, revealing the method to leave."
"But the exit the senior described lies deep within that treacherous flower forest."
"We’ve organized several expeditions, but not only did we fail to make progress, we even lost track of a few fellow Daoists along the way."
At this point, the cultivator’s voice grew heavy with emotion, and he let out a long sigh.
"We had no choice but to stay here for now and plan slowly. But Fellow Daoist Wu’s wife is nearing childbirth, and time is running out. We’re truly caught between a rock and a hard place."
The cultivator spoke with deep sincerity and helplessness.
Yet, beneath his notice, Yan Luoyue and the other two swiftly exchanged a glance.
Though Little Wu’s eyes were hidden behind white gauze, he seemed to share their thoughts, tracing a line on the table with his finger.
According to Wu Chunhui, he had stumbled into this place four months ago, and his wife had conceived their child during that time.
But how was she already on the verge of giving birth?
While the cultivator explained the situation, the three of them also took in their surroundings.
Their eyes darted left and right, absorbing every detail of the settlement and its inhabitants.
After exchanging a few more words, the cultivator was called back by his group. Yan Luoyue and the others didn’t stop him.
Once the man rejoined the others and began pointing in their direction while sharing something with his companions, the three of them leaned in closer.
"Let me ask the first question," Yan Luoyue whispered. "Have all three of us been to the Moonlit Market before?"
Her own answer was naturally "yes," and Shen Jingxuan had gone with her.
As for Little Wu, he hesitated briefly before nodding. "I’ve been."
"Good. I had a theory, and now it’s one step closer to being confirmed."
Yan Luoyue exhaled, her finger subtly tilting toward a certain direction. "This is my second question."
Shen Jingxuan flicked a prayer bead. "This humble nun suspects that what Luoyue wants to say aligns with my own thoughts."
Between the three of them, two were deliberately drawing out the suspense.
Only Little Wu, ever the straightforward one, cut to the chase and voiced the question outright.
His gaze involuntarily drifted toward the table farthest from them.
Little Wu: "Why is there a little girl here?"
Having been robbed of her line, Shen Jingxuan shook her head, embodying the serene patience of a Buddhist practitioner.
Shen Jingxuan: "Why does this little girl look so much like Luoyue when she was young?"
Yan Luoyue glanced between them, realizing her teammates had already claimed their questions, leaving her with the last one.
"And why is this little girl dressed like this?"
Honestly, she’d been burning with curiosity about this since the moment she spotted the child.
Because this little girl—who appeared no older than two and bore an uncanny resemblance to Yan Luoyue in her infancy—was dressed in the most outrageous way possible!
The two fluffy white hair ornaments on her head? Fine, no issue there.
The snowy fox-fur wristbands wrapped around each of her tiny wrists? Adorable, just a personal style choice.
But the fact that this child was completely bundled up in a thick, white, round, and overwhelmingly fuzzy fox-fur coat? That was where Yan Luoyue drew the line.
It was barely autumn! What kind of clueless parent would dress their kid in a full-body fur suit?!
Upon closer inspection, the little girl’s aura was even more saintly than Shen Jingxuan’s—her face seemed to glow softly, and when she smiled, it was like the moon casting gentle light upon the mortal world.
"—Now, I have a third question."
Yan Luoyue turned to Little Wu with a leisurely smile, propping her chin on one hand.
"Thank you for explaining the properties of the illusory trees earlier—so, tell me, did we meet when I was little?"
Thousand-year-old illusory trees could weave shared illusions that ensnared multiple people at once, or manifest desires buried so deep in one’s heart that even the dreamer remained unaware of them.
Not to sound vain, but…
She was starting to have a pretty good guess about who Little Wu really was.
"…"
Little Wu, seated stiffly on the stool, twitched slightly.
He mentally retraced their conversation, and suddenly, a realization struck him.
Regret flashing across his face, he bit down hard on his tongue.
