“Mas… Master?” The hand being held grew stiff, his palm breaking out in sweat, almost cramping.
What was Master doing? What secret was he going to say?
Why suddenly hold his hand? Master never liked physical contact with him while awake.
Should he hold back? Or… should he return the grip?
Maybe… just a little…
Mo Xuanli’s fingers had only just twitched—
When Gu Baiqing said, “Your God Nine Transformations…”
Mo Xuanli froze. Looking down, he realized that yes, his master was holding his wrist, but mainly, his grip was on the God Nine Transformations itself. The weapon had happily extended a red cord to wrap around Gu Baiqing’s fingers.
“…is a fragment of the Godslayer Sword.”
Mo Xuanli’s pupils shrank. His head buzzed loudly, as if frozen on the spot. His gaze stiffly shifted from the God Nine Transformations to Gu Baiqing.
“M-Master… what did you say?” His voice grew hoarse with excitement, almost unable to form proper tones.
“On Ten Thousand Sword Island, that mysterious stone you found—wasn’t it what you used to forge the God Nine Transformations? That mysterious stone was a fragment of the Godslayer Sword,” Gu Baiqing said slowly.
Mo Xuanli was stunned, his breath all but stopped. He immediately looked down at the God Nine Transformations on his wrist. Gu Baiqing released his hand, tapping lightly with his long fingers. The God Nine Transformations swayed as if ticklish, with no trace of a divine artifact’s aloofness.
Mo Xuanli stared in disbelief, touching it again and again. That piece of stone—he had only thought it an exceptionally good mineral for forging, better than any other material, so he had used it as the base of the God Nine Transformations. He had never imagined that such an unremarkable stone was in fact a fragment of the Godslayer Sword.
Of the eight fragments, one was already in his possession.
For a long moment he couldn’t speak, only raised his head to Gu Baiqing in a daze. “It… it really is a fragment of the Godslayer Sword?”
The very fragment he had just vowed to search heaven and earth for, to change his fate? The legendary Godslayer Sword?
Gu Baiqing nodded. “I’m certain of it. I think you may have a fated bond with the Godslayer Sword. Perhaps you’ll gather more fragments. So you’re no less than Li Xiuran.”
His words were meant to comfort. After all, Mo Xuanli truly would gather several more later, though in the original text they served little purpose other than to keep them out of the hands of the cultivation world.
Strictly speaking, Li Xiuran only gained a sword intent. In terms of fortune, they were equals.
“To possess a fragment of the Godslayer Sword, and one that has already recognized you as its master—your future is limitless. From now on, train diligently, do not let your state of mind be disturbed, and you will soon…”
Before Gu Baiqing could finish his counsel, Mo Xuanli suddenly grew overwhelmed, seizing his master’s hand and yanking him into his arms.
“Master! Master! I have a fragment of the Godslayer Sword! It’s… it’s right here, in my hands, I…”
Mo Xuanli, usually so composed, was now babbling like a fool in his joy.
Before, learning the fragments truly existed was the beginning of a dream. But now, owning the very first fragment meant that dream had stepped into reality—he had taken the first step.
Such good fortune—he had never thought it would fall to him.
He didn’t know if he could withstand so many joys all at once. He feared happiness would turn to sorrow, feared he was unworthy of so much luck.
It all felt like a dream, too unreal.
But now, holding his master in his arms, he could feel his master’s warmth and stiffness, and that faint cold plum fragrance—so vivid, so real.
So it was real—everything was real.
“Cough, cough… must you be this worked up?” Gu Baiqing’s tone was stiff as he patted Mo Xuanli. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand Mo Xuanli’s exhilaration at suddenly discovering he held a divine weapon, but physical contact with him still made Gu Baiqing uneasy—in fact, even more so now.
Mo Xuanli paused slightly. The old man had once said his fate was ill-starred, yet he had always felt that ever since meeting his master, everything had begun to turn for the better.
And now, it was proven once again.
Mo Xuanli was reluctant to let go of his master. Like a child, he acted willfully and clung for a while, coquettish. “Master, thank you…” He buried his face at his master’s neck, taking in another breath of that cold plum fragrance.
As long as he collected all eight pieces of the Godslayer Sword, as long as his cultivation reached the Tribulation stage, even without attempting the hardest path of ascension, he could become a normal person and stay by his master’s side. He could… he could do whatever he wished, with no more need to hold back.
He had once thought about telling Gu Baiqing the truth of his bloodline, since that was his heart demon. But in this moment, he wanted to be selfish—he wanted to wait until he could stand clean and untainted, and only then tell his master everything from beginning to end.
“Master, just give your disciple a little more time. Soon… soon I will succeed in cultivation and not bring shame upon you.” Mo Xuanli swore in a muffled voice, though perhaps even he himself didn’t fully understand the meaning of his words, let alone Gu Baiqing.
Gu Baiqing only felt that no matter how he pushed, this child wouldn’t budge, and instead hugged him tighter and tighter.
Suddenly there was noise at the door. “Honored guest, your dishes—ah! Forgive me, honored guests, I’ll let you be!”
It turned out the door hadn’t been closed. The waiter had pushed it open to serve food, only to be met with…
Gu Baiqing instantly felt utterly embarrassed, hastily shoving Mo Xuanli aside to take the dishes.
By then, Three Bean had also woken up, and the two of them with one cat shared a warm meal together.
The next day, they went into the streets. Having learned that the people of Star-Stepping City were holding a funeral for Zhuo Ling, they went to see for themselves.
Watching the grand procession pass by the inn’s entrance, almost everyone around them wore expressions of grief, some even dressed in mourning garb for Zhuo Ling.
Nearby shopkeepers and waiters sighed with sorrow as well.
After the procession passed, someone came looking for them.
It was one of Zhuo Ling’s brothers, whom they had met once at the City Lord’s residence.
The man had come under orders to thank them, though it was clear that Lin Ningshuang, now in power, had little desire to see them.
After offering his thanks, the man said respectfully, “We only hope you will show benevolence and not reveal the truth, so that our Star-Stepping City may have peace.”
Naturally, they wouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs. In truth, up to this point, they didn’t even count as knowing the full truth themselves.
Ji Chuling couldn’t help asking some questions about the past. The man, however, spoke without concealment—after all, the deceased were gone, and for those who already knew part of the truth, there was little left to hide. Adding what they had heard in the illusion, they could now piece together a nearly complete truth.
It all began when Zhuo Ling was wounded from afar by Gu Baiqing back in the Zixiao Sect.
The injury was not light. Propped up only by pride, he left behind bold words and soaring ambition, then rode his sword homeward.
But halfway through, he fell. What followed was a familiar tale: the wounded man met a woman skilled in medicine; she saved him, and with her gentle daily care, affection quietly grew between them. Yet they never confessed, and simply lived as friends.
When Zhuo Ling learned that Zhu Si was a wandering physician, he earnestly suggested she settle in Star-Stepping City with him. Since she was his benefactor, it would be easier to look after her nearby.
So Zhu Si followed Zhuo Ling to Star-Stepping City.
At that time, it was the first year of the city being affected by the wild spiritual vein. In that first year, they only thought it coincided with a bad harvest year. Everyone had some stores, and with aid from nearby towns, they could barely pull through.
Thus, when Zhuo Ling returned, he didn’t treat it as a grave matter, continuing to throw himself into his world of bold ventures.
As a spirited youth, much of what he did was known by his companions. His pursuit of the fairy was a tale much gossiped about. His brothers all wanted to hear how far he had gotten. It was only then Zhuo Ling suddenly realized he hadn’t thought of Ruiyao in a long while. Every day he only thought of accompanying Zhu Si to gather herbs, helping her set up a medical hut. In the name of helping a new citizen settle down, in truth his mind revolved entirely around her.
But those around him—even his closest brothers—did not believe their young city lord could like Zhu Si. After all, Zhuo Ling had sworn to marry a celestial maiden. He had disdained even his childhood fiancée, the match arranged by his family. How could he possibly like Zhu Si, an outsider physician—
And moreover… a mute.
Yes, Zhu Si was not only an orphan, but also mute. Her looks were merely delicate and clear. Though she was gentle, virtuous, kind, and amiable, she… was not worthy of the young city lord.
So when his brothers joked, one of them, more serious, reminded him about Zhu Si. She was, after all, an unmarried maiden. If the young city lord helped her too much, rumors would spread.
It was as if Zhuo Ling had been startled awake. How could it be Zhu Si? He, who aspired to pursue a celestial maiden, how could he be with someone like Zhu Si? He decided he must have lost his head. He restrained himself for a while and stopped seeking her out.
Yet only a few days later, Zhuo Ling couldn’t resist going to her again. Zhu Si never asked why he hadn’t come before, nor why he now avoided others when visiting her. She simply accepted his every kindness with gentle warmth.
By then, it was already the second year of Star-Stepping City’s troubles. Plague had begun to spread, and as a physician, Zhu Si became extremely busy.
With the plague, the young city lord also had to fight at the frontlines to protect the people. Zhu Si volunteered to stay at the front with him to tend the sick.
Day by day together, Zhuo Ling finally realized he had truly fallen for her. Beneath the moonlight, he kissed Zhu Si and asked for her hand. She agreed.
That night, Zhuo Ling was so excited he couldn’t sleep. But the next day, when he went to see Zhu Si, he was turned away. It turned out she had heard that the young city lord had been betrothed since childhood. So she refused to see him again.
In truth, hardly anyone ever mentioned that old engagement anymore. It was only a verbal promise between their fathers in childhood, and few would take it seriously. Whoever told Zhu Si must have done so with intent.
Zhuo Ling could only explain desperately: there was nothing between him and Lin Ningshuang, his parents were dead, and no one could control him. Whoever he wished to marry would be his choice.
Zhu Si hesitated. She still hoped that Zhuo Ling could settle everything clearly before coming to her. She would never agree to a marriage muddied and unclear.
Zhuo Ling had never taken the engagement with the Lin family seriously, but now he had no choice but to formally resolve it—only then could he properly marry Zhu Si.
But just at that moment, disaster struck Star-Stepping City. By the third year, widespread calamity and plague had left Zhuo Ling overwhelmed. Discovering that the source of the problem might lie outside the city, Zhuo Ling was forced to set aside everything and lead people to investigate day and night beyond the walls. Before leaving, he promised Zhu Si that once he returned, he would marry her.
But by then, several waves of half-true, half-false Daoists had already come to fleece the city. Each time, Zhuo Ling had driven them away. This time, with him gone, a Daoist began stirring unrest, claiming the people of Star-Stepping City had angered the mountain god and must offer sacrifice.
Tormented for three years, the citizens could no longer place their trust in the City Lord’s household. They clung to the Daoist’s words. At first, they sacrificed fake statues, chickens, ducks, fish, and meat—but when nothing changed, the Daoist insisted only a real person would do.
A person’s blood was to be used to draw a formation for Star-Stepping City, their blood poured into stone statues, and then the body burned. And the victim had to be an unmarried woman of Star-Stepping City.
Panic swept the city. No one wanted to give up their daughter. Families hastily betrothed their girls, even holding weddings overnight, everyone terrified of being chosen.
Some kind souls advised Zhu Si to find a husband, but Zhu Si was determined to wait for Zhuo Ling’s return. How could she marry another? Besides, she believed the other officials of Star-Stepping City would never allow such a senseless thing.
But then Lin Ningshuang’s father seized the chance. With Zhuo Ling absent and the old city lord gravely ill, he proposed Zhu Si for the sacrifice. He had already sent someone to calculate her birth chart—and it was deemed the most suitable.
Yet in the three years she had lived there, Zhu Si had been kind to all around her. During the plague, she had saved many lives. So the people were torn.
But when death began to spread through the city, rumors arose. They said something was wrong with Zhu Si—that since the day she joined their city, it had been cursed. It must be her presence that had brought ruin.
Gradually, all sympathy died. Zhu Si had no kin in the city. Zhuo Ling, out of pride, had never admitted his relationship with her, so no one knew she was the young city lord’s beloved. Better an outsider die than one of their own daughters. And the deputy city lord had said her birth chart was the best match.
The first stone hurled at Zhu Si’s gate began the spiral. Within three days, masked townsfolk broke into her home by night, dragged her out, and strung her up in the city square.
Mute, she could only gaze tearfully at the crowd below. She didn’t understand how it had come to this. The uncles and aunts, the elders she had known as good people—now they all demanded her death.
The man she loved was not there. With no voice, no plea, no refuge, she could only submit.
Her wrists were slit. Death was not so painful—once enough blood flowed, the body simply failed. But she never lived to see the man who had promised to wed her return.
When her blood had been drained, and they prepared to burn her body—
Zhuo Ling returned.
He returned with the truth.
The sudden appearance of a wild spiritual vein nearby had ruined the environment. It was irreversible, and things would only worsen. The only solution was for the entire city to relocate.
But what he saw upon returning was a mob in masks, torches raised, encircling the sacrificial altar.
And upon that altar was Zhu Si, bound, her body already bled dry. They were about to burn her.
They had killed her—the future young city lord’s wife, the woman he had vowed to marry, the one he loved most.
And they foolishly believed that by killing her, they could save Star-Stepping City.
Zhuo Ling went mad. He charged onto the altar, slew the presiding Daoist, and roared at the crowd in fury. But he had no time for vengeance. He had to save her. Her body was still warm. Clutching Zhu Si’s corpse, he flew away.
Because on his way back, he had encountered Ruiyao, already demonized. He did not know why Ruiyao had appeared there, only that she had grown more powerful. He could not save Zhu Si—not by Daoist means. Then what about demonic ones? He did not know. But he could not stand by and do nothing. He could not face the terror in his heart. Zhu Si had to live. She must live. So he could only beg Ruiyao.
Ruiyao deceived him, claiming she could help revive her, and that she would stay temporarily, searching for something. As for the worsening environment, she told him not to worry: the deterioration had already stopped, and soon the city would reap the benefits of the maturing spiritual vein.
But to the devastated Zhuo Ling, this was no blessing. His heart was consumed with hatred.
So began a deception steeped in vengeance. The first incident was Xue Bin’s wedding. Zhuo Ling had not yet devised a full plan—he had only stumbled upon the matter. But remembering Zhu Si’s death, he had Ruiyao turn Xue Bin into a demon, controlled to kill, thus creating the Bride’s Curse. Even if powerful Daoists from outside discovered it, this could keep suspicion away from them.
However many souls Zhu Si’s body required to sustain itself, that was how many Xue Bin killed. And each time, the chosen victims were girls from families once saved by Zhu Si, but who later took part in her death.
After the second incident, fear swept the city. By then, people realized they had been duped about the mountain god’s wrath. But the Daoist was dead, Deputy City Lord Lin who had demanded Zhu Si’s sacrifice was dead too—so they all chose to wash their hands of it. Until the Bride’s Curse struck, and guilt took root. They thought Zhu Si had returned for vengeance.
They turned to Zhuo Ling, now city lord, to find a way. Zhuo Ling staged a performance: he let the people discover that Zhu Si’s body had not decayed. Panic grew. So Zhuo Ling made a ghostly marriage with her, declaring it would dissolve her resentment. He openly installed Zhu Si as his city lord’s wife and moved her into the City Lord’s residence. The people saw his health worsening and assumed he had sacrificed himself. In truth, Zhuo Ling was consuming his spiritual power to preserve Zhu Si’s body.
But the bride-death incident still happened once every year. In the eyes of the townspeople, it was completely random, impossible to predict or stop, without any discernible pattern. Everyone told themselves they would just wait a few more years—perhaps with the City Lord’s help, Zhu Si’s resentment would gradually lessen. But then Little Yan became pregnant. Her family thought that with a child already on the way, surely things would be different. Unexpectedly, disaster still struck.
After that, Gu Baiqing and Mo Xuanli came to investigate. Yet the townsfolk inside the city were extremely uncooperative. In truth, all the older generation knew exactly what the Bride’s Curse was, but not a single one dared to speak. They concealed it tightly from the younger generation, and even more so from outsiders. After all, they were guilty at heart and could not face it—they only wished to cover it up.
Until today, with Zhuo Ling dead and Zhu Si gone, perhaps the townspeople truly believed that the City Lord had taken the Bride’s Curse away with him, disappearing together.
This was the past belonging to Zhuo Ling and Zhu Si—a story filled everywhere with regret and remorse.
