Chapter 62: Spring Tide Brings Rain
So this was what love felt like. It was what Hu Si had spoken of—something that couldn’t be severed with swordsmanship, obtained with spiritual powers, calculated through formation disks, or distinguished using Daoist methods.
Ji Xiao thought, But Meng Xueli said he didn’t like me, that he only wanted to repay kindness. So this situation now… must be called “one-sided affection,” right? Ferrets were truly hard to understand. Compared to that, cultivation was the easiest thing in the world. After Minor Ascension came Major Ascension, then Nascent Soul, and then Sainthood. As long as one followed the steps, progress would come steadily…
Meng Xueli wiped clean the Hundred Generations of Time. Seeing his disciple looking puzzled, he waved a hand in front of his eyes. “What are you thinking about? We’re about to head out.”
“You,” Ji Xiao replied honestly. “I’m thinking about why you don’t like me.”
Meng Xueli paused, his mind flashing back to that night by the stone pool, to Xiao Tingyun’s confession. His cheeks flushed like fire, and he snapped, “Nonsense!”
“I’m telling the truth.”
Meng Xueli’s eyes widened. “You dare say that?! Apologize right now, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it!”
“Sorry. That was rude of me.”
His apology came too quickly, leaving Meng Xueli with no outlet for his anger and making him feel quite at a loss.
Ji Xiao added, “I’ve already apologized, so you can’t just ignore me over it. You’re the master—how can you hold grudges with your disciple?”
Meng Xueli could only nod. “…Then let’s go.”
The chaotic battlefield had been washed clean by last night’s rain. The bloodstains, the claw marks of beasts, and the circular sword scars on the ground had all vanished without a trace. The dead spirit beasts had been consumed by the mining team’s mounts, and the living ones had scattered and fled. Only broken trees on the cliffs and six deep pits at the valley’s bottom remained to prove that a one-sided slaughter had occurred here.
The mining team chatted cheerfully with Meng Xueli, praising his bravery and unmatched strength. But they were visibly wary of Xiao Tingyun, rarely speaking to him and avoiding any mention of the circle or severed limbs from the night before, as if deliberately trying to forget that scene.
When it rained outside the realm, it was simply nature at work. But when it rained within the secret realm, it meant the mirage beast was turning over, swishing its tail—or just in a bad mood.
For the mining team, this had been a fortuitous spring rain. It drove away a fearsome enemy, washed away their dread and anxiety. After the rain, the sky cleared, the vegetation glistened with freshness, and under the protection of the Han Shan cultivators, they continued toward the teleportation array.
But the same spring rain, for the Jing Di squad on the other side of the secret realm who had just lost a teammate, felt like misfortune piling on top of misfortune.
“We were teammates. And just like that, she left?” Jing Di couldn’t wrap his head around it.
There were many young medical cultivators, but those who could heal and also fight were hard to come by. After losing Song Qianyi, the team’s morale dipped noticeably. On their way to Central City, they had engaged in two listless skirmishes and collected eight jade talismans. Although they clearly outmatched their opponents and could have ended the fights quickly, they instead dragged them out into exhausting battles, slowly wearing the other side down.
Night fell across the wilderness, and the team followed a stream.
The murmuring stream was a tributary of the Heishui River. The current was gentle, trickling over pebbles with a soft, soothing sound, like a lullaby. The four of them, listening to it, felt even more fatigued. Jing Di stepped into the forest by the stream and decided to let his teammates rest for the night.
“Let’s stop here. I’ll keep watch. You all get some rest—we’ll head out in the morning.”
He picked a tall tree whose top couldn’t be seen and used his spiritual energy to leap up into its branches.
Liu Jing, the formation master, said, “Fine, I’m too tired to walk anyway.”
Xu Sanshan’s white tiger, with its golden eyes, lay under the tree lazily swishing its tail.
Jing Di lay flat on a thick branch, hands behind his head, one leg propped up, and a sweetgrass stick in his mouth.
Through the gaps in the leaves, the starlit night sky twinkled. The wind rustled the forest, the stream babbled not far away. It was a spring night made for contemplating life—or longing for someone dear.
The other three lay under the tree, heads resting on the soft belly of the white tiger, casually chatting as they began their nightly review—or rather, blame-shifting—session.
Liu Jing, “Do you think Junior Sister Song will come back?”
Xu Sanshan, “Who knows. Let’s worry about tomorrow’s fight. Your explosive talisman missed today—it almost blew me up!”
“Why did I miss? You didn’t follow my formation path! And Old Zheng—why did you run out of my spirit-gathering array? Might as well have drawn it for a blind man!” Liu Jing grumbled.
Zheng Mu, “Amitabha, I don’t lie. Your array was in the wrong spot…”
Every one of these nightly discussions ended the same way—with the conclusion: It was all Jing Di’s fault.
Because Jing Di never joined the argument, and he was the team leader. And leaders, of course, were made to take the blame.
They hadn’t settled in for long when the wind in the forest suddenly picked up. Branches thrashed and cracked, the night sky filled with dark clouds rolling in, obscuring the bright moonlight.
A cold wind stirred a thousand fallen leaves, sending them whirling wildly through the trees.
Drizzle began to fall. Zheng Mu touched his cheek and stood. “Is it raining?”
Xu Sanshan buried his face in the white tiger’s thick fur, trying to ignore it. But the rain quickly grew stronger. The white tiger whimpered softly.
Liu Jing looked up into the tree and shouted, “Come down—we need to find shelter!”
The four of them had expended too much spiritual energy during the day and suffered minor injuries. Without a healer, they hadn’t fully recovered and were reluctant to burn spiritual power just to keep warm and dry.
Jing Di leapt down from the tree. “Let’s go.” He sounded a bit annoyed. Lately, nothing seemed to be going right, as if luck had abandoned him.
Trying to lighten the mood, Liu Jing told two ghost stories about “rainy nights and hauntings,” but no one laughed. If anything, it made the cold rain feel colder.
The team forced themselves to keep going. Earlier, the path had been lined with gentle breezes and grassy banks, the stream softly murmuring.
Now, the cold wind howled, and the stream swelled with rain, roaring as it swept over sand and stone.
Under the ink-black sky, wind and rain lashed through the forest. Jing Di led the way when suddenly he drew his sword horizontally, stopping the others behind him.
Liu Jing squinted ahead. Ten or so yards away, a shadowy figure stood silently between the trees, ghostlike. He gasped, “There really is a ghost!”
All three, except Jing Di, were startled. The white tiger’s fur bristled, and it let out a low growl, ready to fight.
In the tense silence, Jing Di frowned slightly—the figure looked familiar. Then the shadow spoke: “Where are you headed, Nephew?”
“You?” Jing Di was surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Xu Sanshan, always impatient, asked, “What’s going on? Is this one of Mingyue Lake’s elders?”
“No,” Jing Di coughed awkwardly. “That’s… my junior uncle, I guess.”
This person had once called him “Senior Sister,” then “Senior Brother,” and now “Nephew.” Though younger and having joined later, he had been taken in by Gui Qing Zhenren—now the Saint of Mingyue Lake—which made his rank a generation above Jing Di’s.
The others relaxed a bit upon hearing that, but then Jing Di called out:
“Junior Uncle, it was wrong of me to trick you back then. I owe you an apology. If you still resent me, we can settle it after we leave the secret realm!”
The shadow seemed amused, letting out a faint chuckle. “I’m here on the Saint’s orders. I have no intention of quarreling with you. You’ve been following Meng Xueli—where is he now?”
As he stepped forward, his blue robe billowed, and a powerful, invisible force radiated from his body.
Under this pressure, the wind and rain in the forest grew thin and cold, leaves scattered all around, and yet the silence was suffocating.
By the rushing stream, the spring tide came with rain, fierce and fast—almost terrifyingly so.
Jing Di’s expression changed instantly.
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
