I Seek the Path Through Flowers, Part 3

It wasn’t until those words slipped out that Yun Yao realized she harbored resentment toward Mu Hanyuan.

After reliving three hundred years ago as if it were her own life, this world was no longer just a story to her.
They were flesh and blood, breathing, comforting, and jesting—living people. She was Yun Yao, who bled and hurt, who grieved. To see the boy she brought back from the Demon Realm through a bloody path, only to end in betrayal and enmity, was unbearable.

Since waking, she’d avoided thinking about it.
They’d faced life and death together; she’d shielded him, and he’d fought for her. He was the only one who walked with her through the darkest days of Yun Yao’s life.
So why did it end like that?
Did he truly hate her so much?

When the sect was slaughtered, the immortal realm bled rivers, and she died before him—did that truly bring him a lifetime of satisfaction?

But these questions couldn’t be voiced.

His “I’d die for you” unleashed her pent-up questions into that single sentence.
It was calm, if you ignored the tremor in her voice.

Mu Hanyuan froze, then looked up after a long pause.
“…What?”

Yun Yao gazed at the lone sparrow carved on the wooden table, silent.

It was the first time he’d been so unguarded before her.
He stepped forward, seizing her wrist from the table’s edge, pulling her from the chair.
The motion was so fierce it shook his silver lotus crown.

Their eyes met.
His youthful, handsome face was streaked with blood-red at the eye corners, his dark eyes blazing, emotions raw.
His voice was low, hoarse, each word deliberate: “What did you mean, Master?”

Yun Yao tilted her neck, quietly studying him.

Three hundred years had passed. The frail boy, once prey to others, had grown taller than her.
His looming presence now held her down.

Up close, his dark eyes shimmered with frost and snow, like moonlight over a misty river, piercing her heart.

She saw clearly.
Her words had sparked his anger, his trembling—more pained than she was.

Suddenly, she felt a release.

Indeed.
The Mu Hanyuan who slaughtered Qianmen was the one from the story, not this youth who’d upheld Qianmen for three hundred years over her single word.

This Mu Hanyuan knew nothing of the future. Like the boy pinned to the execution rack three hundred years ago, he shouldn’t bear guilt for what he hadn’t done.
From the moment she awoke in Qianyuan, everything had changed.
She could alter the ending… couldn’t she?

“Nothing,” she said, slipping her hand free. “I just meant I’ll die before you… I’m your master, after all. Sending off a younger one is too tragic. I don’t want to end up like Elder Taiyi, alone and miserable.”

In a few words, the red-robed girl reverted to her lazy demeanor.

But her earlier words had pierced like daggers, no pretense.

Mu Hanyuan wanted to press further.

*Knock, knock.*

The door sounded.
Ding Xiao’s cautious voice came through: “Hanyuan, Uncle-Master Yun, the disciples are ready. When do we leave?”

“—Now, immediately, no delay.”

Yun Yao sidestepped, dodging Mu Hanyuan’s robe, leaving him no chance to question, and headed out.

—

Days after their last visit, Yun Yao and her group returned to Hidden Dragon Mountain.

Unlike its prior desolation, the area now bustled.
Major immortal sects had sent disciples, with Fuyu Palace the grandest, erecting a temporary palace for the Immortal Alliance’s use.
Jade steps and tiled roofs gleamed, spiritual energy swirling, visible from three hundred li away with cranes circling and auspicious clouds rising.

By comparison…

“Is Qianmen always this shabby?” Yun Yao sincerely asked Ding Xiao, glued to her side.

“Uncle-Master, don’t say that,” Ding Xiao waved. “Cultivators embrace hardship. Such extravagance hinders practice.”

Yun Yao nodded. “If you weren’t whispering so no one hears, I might’ve believed you.”

“…”
Ding Xiao leaned in. “Fuyu Palace has the Immortal Alliance’s backing, vast wealth. How can Qianmen compare?”

Yun Yao toyed with her golden bell bracelet, her tone cool. “Oh, so the Alliance is their backbone. No wonder they’ve won over the realm’s cultivators, securing the top sect’s seat for three hundred years.”

“Uncle-Master! You’re under Uncle-Master Yun’s lineage—don’t betray the sect for petty gains!” Ding Xiao grabbed her arm, as if fearing her defection.

Yun Yao snapped back, lifting her hand—

Ding Xiao beamed. “I knew you wouldn’t—”

Yun Yao drawled, “After all, the future Qianyuan Daoist is my dis—Senior Brother. When he ascends, what’s Fuyu Palace? My good days are ahead, right?”

Ding Xiao: “…”
Ding Xiao: “?”

Noticing their gaze, Mu Hanyuan, speaking with Alliance officials outside the palace, turned back.

Why did Ding Xiao feel, despite his usual refined demeanor, his eyes lingered a breath longer on her holding Yun Yaojiu’s arm?
…An illusion, surely?

A figure intervened—a young Fuyu Palace disciple, smiling warmly, blocked Qianmen’s group, gesturing to the palace’s side. “Today’s secret realm quota is full. Please rest in the palace tonight. Lodgings are prepared; follow me.”

A disciple asked, “What about Hanyuan?”

“Hanyuan, as Qianyuan’s successor, resides in the top-floor Lingxiao Pavilion,” the disciple said proudly. “Our first honored guest.”

Some disciples envied, others felt pride, but Yun Yao exhaled.
Not staying together was best.

One, she feared Mu Hanyuan probing her earlier slip.
Two, after leaving the Sea of Seven Emotions, the demon seed’s flare-up nearly caused disaster, and her brow’s seal showed signs of loosening. Knowing the master-disciple bond’s nature, dissolving it was hard. For safety, she needed distance from him…

But before she finished, the demon seed stirred.

Her eyelids twitched. Looking up, sure enough—
Mu Hanyuan approached.

…Even the realm’s tracking butterflies weren’t this precise.

“Yun Yaojiu.” He stopped a zhang away, his presence profound and serene.

The Fuyu Palace disciple turned, bowing. “Greetings, Hanyuan.”

“Rise.”
Mu Hanyuan waved, lifting him, then looked at Yun Yao. “Please, Junior Sister, join me at Lingxiao Pavilion.”

“?” Yun Yao grabbed Ding Xiao’s loosening hand. “I just promised Ding Xiao to practice swordplay with her later.”

Ding Xiao: “??”
Which was worse—lying to Hanyuan or defying Uncle-Master?

He didn’t question, only glanced at her. “Not personal. Chen Jianxue is in the palace. A Divine Transformation rogue cultivator was injured saving her soul. Please assist me in treating him.”

Yun Yao choked.
She wanted to dodge, but soul injuries required high-realm cultivators. With a life at stake, she couldn’t refuse.

Moments later, she walked through the palace’s highest pavilion.

Ahead, Mu Hanyuan’s lotus crown bound his silky hair, his wide robes flowing, his tall figure jade-like, framed by misty immortal mountains, resembling a divine lord.

Halfway, she concluded, “So you rushed to Hidden Dragon Mountain to save Jianxue’s savior?”

“?”
The leading Alliance official nearly turned but restrained himself, ears perked.

Mu Hanyuan said lightly, “I said, I have only one junior sister.”

Yun Yao ignored him, toying with the flower on her hairband. “And she and her savior are staying in your pavilion’s wing?”

“…”

“Tonight, she’s caring for him?”

“…”

“You’re okay with that?”

“…”

He endured, but the official ahead seemed to struggle, half-turning before yanking himself back.

Before Yun Yao spoke again, Mu Hanyuan stopped, turning coolly.

She grinned up at him.
Annoyed? If so, let her go and find someone else.
With his status, rallying support against the Alliance’s scheming was easy—finding a Divine Transformation cultivator to heal wasn’t hard.

A gentleman could be swayed by reason, and she bet he couldn’t do much to her.

She smirked, but he lowered his gaze, his fingers brushing the jade zither ornament on his belt.
“The white silk you gave me—how about using it as its tassel?”

…White silk?

Uncontrollably, she recalled her recent misdeed with it.
Her smile froze.

He lowered his hand, looking up. “Anything else, Junior Sister?”

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “?”
You win.

—

Only after the healing session in Mu Hanyuan’s pavilion did Yun Yao realize she’d been “tricked.”
With his zither mastery, her help was unnecessary.

But since she was there, leaving abruptly felt wrong, so she stood bored in the inner hall’s corner by a jade screen, listening to his zither or glancing at Chen Jianxue and the young man’s silhouette behind the gauze curtain.

Earlier, they’d exchanged introductions.
The rogue cultivator who saved Chen Jianxue, without sect or kin, was named Li Wuhuan—a name laced with menace.

The name startled her.
Perhaps because of it, she found the pale, frail, yet casually smiling youth vaguely familiar.

But as Mu Hanyuan’s zither played, she racked her memories and found no trace of him.

Maybe he was just too handsome.
Beautiful people always seemed familiar.

Unlike Mu Hanyuan, whose snow-white robes and inky hair evoked mountain snow and moonlit rivers, Li Wuhuan’s wild charm was untamed, hard to read.
Even coughing blood, he smiled thinly, his thoughts opaque.

*—Zheng.*

The zither’s note settled, the melody ceasing.

Yun Yao snapped back, turning to Mu Hanyuan.
At the zither, he lifted his fingers, sleeve sweeping. The Minsheng zither turned into silver light, returning to his belt.

He said gently, “Rest three days. No soul use during that time.”

“Thanks, Hanyuan,” Li Wuhuan’s voice carried a muffled cough. “Sharing a room with the renowned Hanyuan and owing Jianxue Fairy—quite the fate.”

Jianxue murmured something, and though Yun Yao couldn’t see, she guessed the girl was blushing.

Hmph.
Rogue cultivator’s sweet talk, fooling naive disciples.

Mu Hanyuan smoothed the zither’s tassel. “Jianxue, stay outside the realm to care for him. When Elder Lu arrives, report the mountain’s situation.”

“Yes, Senior Brother. I’ll remember.”

“We’ll leave you then.” He turned. “…Yun Yaojiu?”

Pretending not to see his cue to leave, she stepped forward, smiling. “Li, such cultivation at your age—why no sect?”

A muffled cough came from the curtain, tinged with amusement. “Does this Qianmen friend suspect I’m scheming?”

She paused.
His frankness made further questions awkward.

Before Li spoke again, Jianxue said softly, “Your injuries aren’t healed. Rest.”
Moments later, she emerged, her gentle expression tinged with annoyance. “Junior Sister Yaojiu, I know you mean well, but Li nearly died saving me. Please don’t trouble him.”

“I’m not troubling, just curious,” Yun Yao said. “If your Hanyuan risked his life for you, I’d believe it. But Li, barely knowing you—why?”

Before she finished, Jianxue’s cheeks reddened.
Yun Yao’s heart sank.

As expected, Li laughed openly from the curtain. “Naturally, I fell for Jianxue Fairy at first sight.”

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “Huh?”

The air froze.

Guiltily, she glanced at Mu Hanyuan.
His expression was cold, almost indifferent.

Her gaze rose to his lotus crown.

No reaction even from his expressive crown.
Not jealous at all?
What saintly heart?

Further questioning was impossible.

She followed him out quietly, leaving the inner hall.
Passing the outer hall’s moon gate, realizing he wasn’t heading to Lingxiao Pavilion, she stopped, turning. “You’re not… staying with the disciples tonight?”

He said calmly, “I’ll stay with Qianmen disciples.”

She choked, pointing to the inner hall. “You’re fine with them alone together?”

He didn’t react. “I don’t know what you mean, Master, or why it concerns me.”

Trying to sound earnest, she said, “Pursuing a partner requires warmth. Against someone like Li Wuhuan, a girl like Jianxue will fall easily. She barely looked at you today—”

“Master.” His clear voice cut her off.

“Yes?”

His dark eyes lifted, calm. “Within ten years, I’ll ascend as Qianyuan’s Daoist. Then, I’ll uphold the sect, protect the people, and right the world’s wrongs—all for your wishes.”

“Huh?” Yun Yao blinked, dazed.
Did she have such grand aspirations?

Now, she only wanted survival: purge the demon seed, uncover Mu Jiutian’s death, and preserve Qianmen’s legacy. A minor immortal, she lacked such ambition.

He continued, “Thus, I’ll never break the vow of chastity or do anything unworthy of a Daoist.”

“…”

She recalled Wu Tianya’s words: a Daoist breaking vows faced thunder punishment for three days and nights, excruciating, before abdicating.

That sounded painful.

She hesitated. “Fair enough, stay a lone wolf then.”

Leaving Lingxiao Pavilion, she asked, puzzled, “Why bring me if you could’ve handled it alone?”

“Did the zither calm your soul?”

She paused. “A bit, why?”

“Your recent possession likely injured your soul, even if not obvious. Hidden risks remain,” he said. “I brought you to heal potential damage.”

“…”
Her next steps faltered.

She’d wronged him, fled with a vague “possession” excuse, yet he believed her, held no grudge, and considered her well-being.
No wonder she’d “taken” him so thoroughly before.

Her guilt deepened.

Nearing the disciples’ lodging, hearing their chatter, she couldn’t resist advising, “Soul-soothing techniques drain your cultivation for each person covered. It helps me little, so don’t waste it.”

“Not a waste.”

“How not? It costs you greatly for my minor gain.”

He didn’t answer.

As she stepped toward the hall, his faint voice came, like a breeze over a thousand mountains’ sunset.

“Back on Fuling Mountain, in life-and-death peril, you exhausted your spiritual energy to play a soul-soothing tune for me all night. Was that a waste?”

“…”

She fell silent.

As she turned to see his expression, Ding Xiao’s cry rang from the hall—
“Uncle-Master’s back? Oh, Hanyuan too!”

The hall quieted, disciples greeting them.

Under the corridor, a distant breeze swept away all memories and thoughts.

Snapping back, Yun Yao stepped in. “What’s the chatter about?”

“…”

Lacking a grandmaster’s self-awareness, especially avoiding Mu Hanyuan, she casually sat among the disciples.

He Fengming led them, his gaze flickering between her and Mu Hanyuan before dropping. “A Fuyu Palace disciple came, saying the realm opens again tonight, asking if Qianmen wants to enter Buried Dragon Valley.”

Yun Yao half-smiled. “What, Buried Dragon Valley’s theirs now? They decide when it opens or closes?”

He Fengming stayed silent.
The others exchanged glances, mute.

After a pause, Mu Hanyuan asked, “How would you arrange it, Junior Sister?”

She said, “Me? Obviously, don’t rush. With the palace here, observe a day for safety.”

“Uncle-Master’s right!” Wu Tianya, the only supporter, raised his hand eagerly. “I heard in the palace that Fantian Temple’s wandering Red Dust Buddhist arrives tomorrow. Entering with him would be safest!”

Yun Yao nodded. “Good plan—”
She paused, turning. “…Wait, who?”

Wu Tianya leaned in, whispering, “Forgot? I told you about the Red Dust Buddhist from Fantian Temple, pursued by Uncle-Master Yun!”

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “?”

In the hall, Mu Hanyuan’s lashes lifted, glancing at her.

Silent for three breaths, she shot up, resolute. “I suddenly think we can’t miss this chance. To slay evil, we must act—let’s enter the valley tonight!”