Chapter 90: So It Was You
After Ji Xiao Zhenren’s immortal passing, the first Hanhai Grand Competition ended unexpectedly with the collapse of the secret realm.
The disciples from various sects returned to their sects using flying devices, still shaken. This incident shocked the cultivation world—how could it go unnoticed?
Except for Han Shan, the sect masters and high-ranking elders of the major sects had heard early reports from Mingyue Lake and suspected that the secret realm’s collapse was connected to Gui Qing Zhenren, though none dared say it openly. After all, the disaster occurred after all participating disciples had already left; no lives had been lost. Who would dare question the saint?
Not long before, the incident at Han Shan’s Jingsi Valley had seemed like a grim warning.
Daoist Revered Tai Heng, the highest-ranking cultivator of Han Shan, along with his disciples, had left the sect and returned to the Zhou family by the Huai River, reprimanding the Han Shan Sect Leader and peak lords for sheltering demons—Meng Xueli was supposedly a scheming demon.
They quickly declared that it was Meng Xueli’s refusal to be captured, combined with a sudden surge of demonic power, that caused the collapse of the secret realm. If the demon survived, they insisted it must be forced to reveal its true form.
Yet Meng Xueli did not emerge even when the secret realm exploded. The participating disciples whom he had helped closely monitored Han Shan Sword Sect, but they never heard news of Elder Meng or Daoist Xiao returning safely.
Because the Hanhai secret realm Grand Competition had caused such a stir in the cultivation world, Meng Xueli disappeared afterward, his background became a mystery, and his life or death remained unknown.
Why had the secret realm collapsed? Where had Meng Xueli gone? Was he still alive?
Overnight, countless questions arose. Some young disciples who dared question the sect or suspect conspiracies were confined by their elders, who claimed they were merely in secluded cultivation.
Compared to the division and energy loss in Han Shan Sword Sect, Mingyue Lake now appeared at its peak. Gui Qing Zhenren operated behind the scenes, Yun Xuzi, the sect leader, handled the affairs, and young prodigies breaking into the Hinayana realm reinforced its prestige as a leader in the cultivation world.
On the surface, it certainly looked that way.
The cloud ship of Han Shan returned home, the atmosphere heavy.
When they had departed, the disciples had been spirited and loud, determined to make a name in the Hanhai. On return, the sect had split, the sect leader was injured, and Elder Meng was missing. The only good news: the sect leader’s eldest disciple, Cui Jing, had broken through.
The sect felt like a trapped beast, surrounded by enemies. Suppressed anger instead made the disciples more united, more determined.
News of the secret realm’s collapse reached Hanmen City. The old shopkeeper of “Hengtong Juyuan” worried: “Elder Meng is missing… what about the Sword Sovereign’s private treasury?”
Qian Yuzhi, composed, said, “He’s missing, but no one can prove he’s dead. The Sword Sovereign’s treasury is still his.”
“If Hanmen City relies on Han Shan, and Han Shan faces trouble, our main store’s business will be affected…”
Qian Yuzhi waved his “Harmony Begets Wealth” fan calmly: “Han Shan purges by cutting to the bone; Mingyue Lake gathers a fire under the ashes. Whether it’s good or bad, time will tell.”
…
At Changchun Peak, the waters ran deep and still, the spring breeze as gentle as ever.
Meng Xueli, beneath the moonlight, examined Ji Xiao’s features carefully. He blew gently on Ji Xiao’s eyelids. Seeing no reaction, as if asleep, he dared to lightly lick Ji Xiao’s jaw.
Since becoming human, he had never done this. Reliving the intimacy of being a ferret, he felt content. Yet he noticed the one beside him breathing slightly unevenly.
Ji Xiao had opened his eyes without warning. His gaze was clear and steady, not a hint of sleepiness.
Caught in the act, Meng Xueli awkwardly withdrew, sitting at the edge of the bed, unsure whether to apologize.
Their eyes met. Ji Xiao’s voice, slightly hoarse, asked, “What is it?”
Meng Xueli replied, “I feared you weren’t real, or that I was dreaming.” Hence the lick, to confirm.
The warm wind was intoxicating, the night beautiful. Mischievous thoughts in Meng Xueli’s mind vanished quickly; he cared more about Ji Xiao’s injuries.
“How do you feel now? Where were you hurt before?”
Ji Xiao waved his hand, “It’s fine.”
Meng Xueli shook his head. “You always say it’s fine and tell me nothing.”
Ji Xiao sat up, leaning against the wall, smiling. “What do you want to know?”
Meng Xueli hesitated, wanting to ask if Ji Xiao knew who had attacked him, whether there were clues—but feared Ji Xiao would not want to recall “death,” just as Meng Xueli himself avoided remembering betrayal. So he first asked about Ji Xiao’s life after rebirth.
As long as he was alive, there was hope.
If Ji Xiao had not survived, Meng Xueli would have been willing to risk everything for revenge. Since Ji Xiao lived, he chose to respect Ji Xiao’s wishes.
Ji Xiao then recounted his experience of being forcibly reincarnated, up to returning to Han Shan and their late-night encounter in the library. From there, the story needed no further telling, as Meng Xueli had experienced it alongside him.
Meng Xueli listened quietly, a faint joy flowing through his heart. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and his expression shifted slightly:
“You absorbed the secret realm’s power. Would Gui Qing know you weren’t dead?”
Ji Xiao, “Gui Qing failed to refine the secret realm and suffered backlash. He has to hurry to heal, and he doesn’t dare let anyone know he was injured. Before he recovers, he can’t worry about me.”
Meng Xueli, “Was he more seriously injured than you?”
Ji Xiao, “It was the spatial fragment I opened, stamped first with my divine sense. If he tries to refine it, it’s like competing over a sword. I hold the hilt, he holds the blade—who’s more likely to get hurt?”
Meng Xueli suddenly understood. “You anticipated it? You went into the secret realm to absorb its power and wait for this chance to seriously injure him?”
Ji Xiao said, “Half of it, yes.”
“And the other half?”
Ji Xiao smiled faintly. “Was for you.”
Meng Xueli froze, his earlobes suddenly flushed. He whispered, “Me too.”
Ji Xiao sighed lightly, his voice gentle: “I wish it were for me, not just to repay a debt.”
Meng Xueli hurriedly said, “Before you saved me, we had met—you just didn’t know!”
The first time he saw Ji Xiao, a light snow had fallen over Hanmen City.
Snow clung to bare branches, flocks of crows flew about, and plum blossoms drifted down.
The city’s river had not yet frozen. Meng Xueli had taken the form of a boatman under a stone bridge, pushing a long pole, ferrying people and goods.
He felt a little embarrassed now, and did not dare speak too directly: “It was many years ago. That year, I wasn’t yet the Snow Mountain King, and you hadn’t become a saint… I ferried boats in Hanmen City and caught a glimpse of you from afar.”
Ji Xiao had walked across the bridge. Raising his eyes, Meng Xueli saw through the drifting snow and scattered plum blossoms, and glimpsed Ji Xiao’s face, pale and serene as ice and snow.
He thought that his centuries of cultivation had been for this single glance.
Ji Xiao murmured, “So it was you.”
The demon ferrying boats beneath the bridge was none other than Meng Xueli.
Meng Xueli exclaimed, “You remembered?”
Ji Xiao nodded. “I had never seen a demon ferrying boats. Curious, I looked again. Fate had long been set, and a storm in the lands beyond blew you back to me.”
His tone was calm, but to Meng Xueli it felt like a spilled honey jar, sweet overflowing from his heart—his fate with Ji Xiao ran far deeper than that of the ferret or the three jiao.
He said joyfully, “We are meant to be Dao companions.”
Ji Xiao teased, “And master and disciple too.”
Meng Xueli’s joy faded in a flash, his face flushing red. “No… I had thought… you were Ji Xiao’s…”
He could not finish the sentence.
Ji Xiao grew curious. “What?”
“I thought you were… Ji Xiao’s son.” He had imagined treating him well, being a good stepfather.
Ji Xiao froze, struck as if by lightning. The ambiguous tension between them vanished.
Seeing his expression, Meng Xueli immediately pulled the covers over his head.
He recalled all the absurd things he had done—treating Ji Xiao like a son or disciple, forming a “Pro-Ji Party” to get Ji Xiao to write articles, boasting about Ji Xiao in front of him… Each memory suffocated him.
Shame flooded him belatedly, instantly overwhelming Meng Xueli.
He began to avoid responsibility: It’s partly Ji Xiao’s fault for not telling me sooner, so maybe it counts as his fault?
I am embarrassing, but isn’t Ji Xiao? Isn’t Xiao Yu? If we are to be embarrassed, let’s be embarrassed together—no one should despise anyone.
A small mound rose beneath the covers. Ji Xiao reached out, lightly patting the “little mound”:
“Come out. I don’t blame you.”
From deep under the covers came Meng Xueli’s muffled voice: “Don’t look at me! You go first—I want to be alone for a while!”
Ji Xiao honestly said, “This is my room.”
Meng Xueli: “…”
He suddenly threw off the covers, ran to the window in two strides, leapt out, and vanished in a flash.
Ji Xiao faced the empty bed, still warm, and was forced to begin the life of being separated from his Dao companion.
Once again, the Sword Sovereign vaguely felt that somewhere, he had not handled things properly.
Ciacia/N:
“Ji Xiao had walked across the bridge. Raising his eyes, Meng Xueli saw through the drifting snow and scattered plum blossoms, and glimpsed Ji Xiao’s face, pale and serene as ice and snow.
He thought that his centuries of cultivation had been for this single glance.”
Real reaction: AGSJHFDFKJFHWF!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!! the definition of love at first sight!! *nosebleeds aggressively*
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
