The World’s Seasons Cycle in Reincarnation, Part 2

Yun Yao froze in the misty hot spring.

He said, just now?
What happened just now?

Despite everything—her surroundings, her memories—pointing to one inescapable possibility, Yun Yao still found it hard to believe.

Yet, as Mu Hanyuan’s words landed, the surging fragments of memory in her soul grew clearer. Each recalled scene aligned perfectly with the young man’s expression, reaction, and gaze before her.
Every piece screamed of the monstrous deed she’d committed not long ago.

A vivid flush swept across Yun Yao’s cheeks, indistinguishable in the steamy mist as shame or anger.

Mu Hanyuan’s gaze, so close, was too piercing, the golden mole at his eye’s corner tinged with an alluring hue.
His icy eyes contrasted starkly with his unresisting, vulnerable demeanor, the mist between them taut as a drawn bowstring.

[You’ve already made a grave mistake…]
[Once or a thousand times—what’s the difference?]

A bewitching whisper, its origin unknown, echoed in her soul, tearing at her reason with a sharp wail.

Pressing her brow, Yun Yao channeled spiritual energy to clear her mind. She lowered her hand, opening her mouth futilely.
Explain?
The sin was done—how could she explain?

That I shouldn’t have sealed your demonic seed, dragging you into this? Or that I regret saving you?

She was a dead woman walking, with at most half a year left. What did honor matter to her now?
Let him hate her.

It would aid her purpose for emerging from seclusion.

“What is Master still hesitating for?” His clear, unmistakable voice rang again.

“…”

Yun Yao instinctively met his eyes.

His skin was naturally pale, as it was three hundred years ago when she saved him. But now, his eye corners, stained by desire, were flushed red, like blood smudged by fingertips or a peacock’s vibrant tail.
Even the golden mole beneath his lashes gleamed with a demonic allure.
She hadn’t imagined, when she saved him, that the aloof Mu Hanyuan could have a side so captivating it drew even her in.

“—”

Snapping back, Yun Yao realized her fingertips had grazed his eye corner.

He seemed caught in the way she’d looked at him.

Only when she jolted awake, breaking free from the memories, did Mu Hanyuan snap out of it too. Frosty anger clouded his face; he turned sharply, almost savagely avoiding her touch.
“Master, have you humiliated me enough?”

A searing pain shot through her brow, an indescribable fury coursing through her veins, overtaking her senses.
Under near-possessed emotions, Yun Yao didn’t hesitate. Her fingers slid along his sharp cheekbone, then gripped his jaw unyieldingly, forcing his humiliated, ethereal face toward her.

“Humiliation? This counts as humiliation?”

Yun Yao leaned closer, pinning him against the stone. Her cruel laugh brushed his half-soaked white robe, grazing the collarbone that rose like a distant mountain.

Her red-tipped fingers released his jaw, trailing lightly down his neck, lingering maliciously at his prominent Adam’s apple, tracing slow, torturous circles in the dampness.
“And this—what’s this?”

“—”

Mu Hanyuan’s Adam’s apple shifted under her touch, clear and forceful.

Yun Yao raised her eyes in slight surprise, meeting his gaze—still cold, yet softened by the misty anger.

“Oh,” she laughed, “seems you don’t entirely hate my ‘humiliation.’”

His eyes burned with dark intensity.
As if scalded by his gaze, Yun Yao flinched, then turned back, annoyed. “What, am I wrong? Why not dodge?”

Mu Hanyuan seemed to hear the greatest joke in three hundred years.
His lips curved faintly, like a frost flower blooming in cold snow, sharp and distant.
“You control my body and soul with the master-disciple bond. How could I dodge, Master?”

“—”

Master-disciple bond.

Those four words jolted Yun Yao.

She’d almost forgotten—three hundred years ago, she’d lied to him, saying the demonic seed and the blood-red threads in his body were linked by a “master-disciple bond.”

In the silence, Mu Hanyuan’s smile faded.
The frost flower withered, its shards piercing someone’s heart like icy needles. “As expected, you control me through the master-disciple bond.”
His voice was hoarse.

“So what?” Yun Yao pressed closer, her body against his soaked robe, noticing the blood marks on his neck.

Likely her doing.
The blood-red threads, to her…
She didn’t know why Mu Hanyuan couldn’t dodge.

She leaned in, their necks nearly entwined.

The cool skin beneath her lips trembled, like an illusion.

“?” Yun Yao lifted her lashes, tilting her head carelessly. “Done?”

“—”

Before the stone, Mu Hanyuan’s figure stirred.

His white robe swept through the moonlit branches, casting shadows. His torn attire was restored, pristine save for a few rips, exuding his ethereal aura once more.

Yun Yao leaned on the stone he’d left, still warm, tinged with his faint incense.
She lowered her eyes uncomfortably but didn’t move.

She’d expected his zither or sword to strike the moment he regained freedom.

—But nothing came.

Instead, his solitary figure stood long under the moon, his voice low and hoarse. “When you saved me, did you never trust me? Did you believe I’d fulfill the demonic seed’s prophecy to destroy the world?”

“…”

Yun Yao lay on the stone.

Perhaps due to possession’s aftereffects or the price of her sin, she’d been groggy. His words came disjointedly, and she only shook her head sleepily, silent.

His words reminded her, though.
She clearly recalled, before her possession, the demonic seed in her brow was on the verge of erupting, uncontainable despite years of suppression, recently tormenting her worse.
Yet, after this “sleep,” though still potent, it seemed… milder?

“Yun Yao.”

It was the first time Mu Hanyuan called her name, his voice heavy with despair and coldness.
He turned to her. “You won’t even give me a false explanation?”

“No need.”
Yun Yao propped herself up, leaning lazily on the stone. “You’re so clever. If I spun a tale, you’d spot the flaws and press me. I’m too lazy for that… Whatever you think, let it be.”

“…”

[Don’t be afraid, I won’t abandon you.]
[Be my disciple.]
[I’m Yun Yao—cloud of the nine heavens, swaying on the verge of falling. And you?]
[Then you’ll be Mu—Mu Hanyuan.]
[From now on, Mu Hanyuan… trust me, not fate.]

Under his sleeve, Mu Hanyuan’s fingers clenched, veins bulging, trembling as if his bones might shatter.
Then, abruptly, he released them.

“Fine,” he turned away. “One last question.”

Yun Yao said nothing.

“What am I to you?”
His voice low, hoarse, he asked, “An untrustworthy ghost, a tool to command, or…”
His last shred of hope was clutched in his fingers, holding a zither with a strand of her hair.

“…”

What was he to her?
Her only disciple, the one she’d vowed to protect for life.
But after tonight, she’d lost that right. She’d failed as a master.

Still, it was a lifetime.
By her calculations in seclusion, she had six months left before the demonic seed’s flames consumed her.
After that, her essence would return to the heavens and earth.

When she died, he’d live on—how was that not protecting him for life?

Leaning back on the stone, Yun Yao laughed at her own shamelessness. “Does it matter, Lord Hanyuan? Three hundred years, and you’re still that naive boy, no growth at all?”
She mocked his childishness, turning to him.

In the water mirror before Mu Hanyuan, the spring bloomed with vivid, bewitching red. Her pale face smiled, her dark, reddened eyes brimming with coldness sharp enough to kill him a thousand times.

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“—”

The zither’s note was lethal.
The Mercy for Life zither let out an unbearable wail under his fingers.

Yet the spiritual force from that note stopped just before the stone—at her slender, pale neck.
A strand of her hair fell, severed by the wind, landing in the hollow of her collarbone.

She seemed oblivious, laughing clearly and wiping it away. “Not deeper?”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan said nothing more, leaving her cave mansion without looking back.

In the silence, the mist over the spring carried a bone-chilling cold.

As Mu Hanyuan’s presence left Tianxuan Peak, Yun Yao’s spiritual platform felt clearer. The demonic seed and the blood-red threads in him were indeed deeply entwined, inseparable.
Her failure to suppress it in seclusion had worsened its hold on her.

The curve of Yun Yao’s lips flattened.

A cold breeze made her shiver, her body chilled.

For someone of her cultivation to feel cold… her essence was truly depleted, her life nearing its end.

Yun Yao looked up mockingly at the clear moon through the branches.
“…Lost my honor in my twilight years.”

A ripple stirred the spring’s surface.
After a flow of clear clouds, a graceful figure in light red gauze stood on the stone.

Yun Yao probed her spiritual sea with little hope, but the result surprised her, raising her brow.

Her shaky half-step Transcendent realm hadn’t fallen—it had stabilized, even advancing slightly.

Even without the demonic seed’s interference, this inch of progress equaled decades of hard cultivation.
Yet, with her essence depleted and death imminent, how could her body advance now?

Yun Yao paused, pondering, then turned slowly, her expression complex—

Her gaze fixed on the spring behind her.
More precisely, through the mist, on the two shadowy figures who’d done reckless things there moments ago.
Blood-red threads flickered in their entwined forms.

—Rootless water, briefly sustained, must have been nourished by an external force.

“…No way.”

Yun Yao turned back, seasoned as she was by the ways of the world, unsure what expression to wear for the conclusion dawning on her.

Touching her brow, her emotions tangled, she donned the gauze and walked out.

Leaving the sealed hot spring domain on Tianxuan Peak, several sword messages circled her eagerly, like golden butterflies adorning her skirt in the night.
She found Chen Qingmu’s among them, flicking it open to see golden light unfurl.

[Little Martial Aunt, Tianyin Sect came asking if you’ve seen Lord Hanyuan recently.]

Yun Yao: “.”
Talk about bad timing.

Suppressing a faint guilt, she sent a quick reply. “Wasn’t he at the welcoming ceremony yesterday?”

Moments later, Chen Qingmu’s message returned.
[Yesterday? Little Martial Aunt, did you enter seclusion again? The ceremony was five days ago.]

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “?”
Five days?

In thunderstruck shock, she vaguely understood why her cultivation had advanced so significantly.

…Who was the bigger beast, her or Mu Hanyuan?

After that night’s parting on Tianxuan Peak, Mu Hanyuan hadn’t appeared before her again.

Chen Qingmu said he’d gone to Dragon Burial Mountain at Tianyin Sect’s request, where a mysterious miasma had spread over a hundred miles in days, causing havoc.
Given that night, Yun Yao worried.
Until news came—

A perilous secret realm in Dragon Burial Mountain nearly claimed all the immortal sect disciples.

Fortunately, the wandering Red Dust Buddha passed through, using his Reincarnation Eye to uncover the bone dragon city, joining Mu Hanyuan to save the sects.

Regrettably, Mu Hanyuan, slaying demons and exhausting himself, was gravely injured.
The disciples sent him back to Qianmen immediately.

A month ago, such matters would’ve gone to Chen Qingmu, but now, with Yun Yao out of seclusion, all knew Mu Hanyuan was her disciple.

Thus…

Yun Yao read Chen Qingmu’s message expressionlessly. She looked up at the trembling young disciples under her pressure.
“…You said you sent Mu Hanyuan where?”

“By the sect leader’s order,” Ding Xiao, the lead disciple, said cautiously, “Lord Hanyuan has been sent to your cave mansion, Martial Aunt.”

Yun Yao: “…”

No wonder she’d felt a sudden, familiar chaos in her spiritual platform.

Leaning back in her chair, eyes half-closed, her fingers pale, her voice languid, “I’m no good at healing. Send him to your sect leader.”

The disciples exchanged glances, not daring to argue. “Yes.”
“We take our leave.”
“…”

As they bowed and turned, Yun Yao’s eyelids twitched. “You just left an unconscious Mu Hanyuan outside my cave mansion?”

The disciples froze.
Ding Xiao, quickest to react, turned nervously. “We wouldn’t dare. Senior Sister Jianxue cared for Lord Hanyuan the whole way, ensuring no neglect.”

“Jian… xue?” Yun Yao repeated slowly, her tone questioning.

The disciples hesitated. A male disciple, He Fengming, raised his head slightly. “Martial Aunt, during your seclusion, Lord Hanyuan trained under the sect leader, calling Jianxue his junior sister. They’ve been close for a century. She’ll care for him well—you needn’t worry.”

“…Oh,” Yun Yao laughed lightly, her wrist’s golden bells chiming. Propping her pale jaw, her red lips curved. “So, Jianxue’s century with him trumps my three hundred years of absence as his master?”

“—!”

He Fengming hadn’t expected the aloof Martial Aunt to be so sharp, catching his subtle grievance.
Her lazy glance held a thousand sword lights, paling his face as he bowed in panic.
“I didn’t mean that.”

Yun Yao scoffed, rising. “Didn’t? I think you’re too used to idling under your master. You don’t even respect the sect leader—what wouldn’t you dare?”

“I misspoke, I know my fault! Please, Martial Aunt, don’t take offense—”
Led by He Fengming, the disciples, recalling three-hundred-year-old rumors, sweated and knelt in full courtesy.

Yun Yao ignored them, pulling Ding Xiao up with a flick of spiritual energy.
“No need for you to deliver him. My disciple, I’ll handle myself.”
“Otherwise, in a few days, my disciple might be stolen, leaving me a pitiful loner, right?”

“…”

Ding Xiao didn’t dare speak.
Only as she was pulled up, she glimpsed a fleeting, demonic red in Yun Yao’s glassy eyes.

Before she could see clearly, the figure vanished from the hall.

Meanwhile, at Tianxuan Peak, outside Yun Yao’s cave mansion.

A piercing red, like a sharp sword, cleaved the mountain’s mist under the clear sky.

The moment Yun Yao appeared, she saw the scene before the sea of clouds—

Clear skies, endless tree shadows.

Beneath a tree, two white-robed figures overlapped.
A lovestruck girl gently brushed aside the hair falling over Mu Hanyuan’s closed eyes.

Days ago, he’d been cold as ice before Yun Yao. Now, his lashes lowered, lips slightly pursed, he slept peacefully, as if lost in a dream he didn’t wish to wake from.

Truly…
A match made in heaven.

The red in Yun Yao’s eyes deepened.

A demonic whisper echoed in her ears.

[Do you remember how many you’ve lost?]
[Now, they’ll take even your last beloved from you.]
[The last one meant to be yours alone!]

“…No way,” Yun Yao repeated softly, her eyes swirling with black and red. “He can only be mine.”

As her words fell,
Her red robe flashed toward the tree.