Xiao Menglan’s Compensation

Once, in the deep cave of the Peach Blossom Paradise, there was a dance of phoenix and luan to the sound of music.

Like a dream, like a dream, beneath the waning moon, with falling blossoms and heavy mist.

Tender buds, fragrant and delicate, butterflies feasted recklessly.

Startled and enchanted, half resisting, half yielding.

Was Qin Ximo’s flower wine really that potent, enough to make a Golden Core cultivator drunk for an entire night?

When the night grew deep, had Xiao Menglan truly not woken?

How could she not recognize that the one crying and singing in her arms was not the person she yearned for day and night?

But did she ever stop?

When emotions run deep, the body no longer obeys reason—what’s more, she was already trapped in her heart demon.

And when she heard that word, “Master,” whispered unconsciously again and again, a forbidden thrill surged through her spine.

Cultivating for hundreds of years, even when she had been intimate with Wen Ruyu, she had never felt such overwhelming stimulation.

Xiao Menglan, tasting marrow, forgot how to stop.

Though she had promised only once, she took her again and again.

If not for the fact that the girl in her arms was only in the Qi Refining stage, who knew how long that madness would have lasted.

By the end, Xiao Menglan could hear only crying, no longer breathing.

She “woke.”

A glance—morning sunlight seeped through the cracks of the window.

To Xiao Menglan, it felt piercing, cold.

She waved her hand, using spiritual power to dress Cao Xueyan, yet last night she had not been this gentle.

“What have I done?” Xiao Menglan questioned herself again and again.

Was she truly to blame her senior sister, the Sect Master, for brewing that flower wine?

Excuses. Some things, once done, are simply done.

Having lived hundreds of years, Xiao Menglan was not the type to cover things up.

Cao Xueyan, still asleep against her chest, bore tear-streaks on her cheeks.

Xiao Menglan’s heart clenched—she pulled out a handkerchief scented with her own fragrance to wipe them away.

But even this tiny movement startled Cao Xueyan.

The nightmare of last night had not faded.

She cried out, rolled, pulled down the blanket, and nearly fell to the icy floor.

A soft wave of spiritual force caught her, lifted her, and placed her gently back on the bed.

When Cao Xueyan saw Xiao Menglan’s unchanged face, resentment surged.

She wanted to slap her, but thought of the vast gap in cultivation and status—she held back.

The cultivation world was survival of the fittest; the strong could do as they pleased with the weak.

Cao Xueyan thought she had accepted this, but the peace of the outer sect had protected her too well.

She forgot—until she grew stronger, her Qi Refining cultivation was the lowest rung.

Xiao Menglan was Golden Core; in places where Foundation Establishment was already the peak, her words were law.

Unable to strike, unable to curse, Cao Xueyan’s anger had nowhere to go.

Her qi churned, blood surged, her throat tightened—she coughed blood.

Though she swallowed it back, a trace still leaked from her lips.

This terrified Xiao Menglan.

Had she been too rough, harmed her body?

She hurriedly pulled several porcelain bottles from her storage pouch.

Each bottle contained precious pills—so valuable that one alone would spark bloody conflict outside.

Qi Nourishing Pills, Blood Condensing Pills, Jade-Bone Pills…

Xiao Menglan dumped them all out; the room filled with pill fragrance, like an alchemy chamber.

But their potency was too strong—at least Foundation Establishment level.

For a Qi Refining disciple, they could do more harm than good.

Still, though not an alchemist, Xiao Menglan’s cultivation allowed her to improvise.

She pinched a pill, dissolved it with spiritual power, and diluted it into clear liquid medicine.

Such skill required great cultivation to achieve.

Guiding the liquid to Cao Xueyan’s lips, Xiao Menglan coaxed her to drink.

Cao Xueyan resisted slightly, but finally opened her mouth and swallowed.

It was bitter at first, but sweet aftertaste followed.

Warmth spread through her limbs as the medicine took effect.

She quickly sat cross-legged to stabilize her qi and blood.

When it was over, she looked at Xiao Menglan with complicated eyes—the one who had ruined her chastity across two lives.

Seeing her condition improve, Xiao Menglan didn’t put the rest away.

Instead, she refined each pill into liquid medicine, carefully storing them again.

“Keep these. Take them regularly; they will help your cultivation.”

Then she searched her pouch again.

Few things suited a Qi Refining cultivator—most required Foundation Establishment at least.

Talismans with divine force, for example, would backfire without strong enough spiritual sense.

After some thought, she sighed, drew out blank talisman papers, and began crafting talismans on the spot.

A third-rank talisman master working live—an unthinkable fortune—yet it unfolded intimately before Cao Xueyan’s eyes.

Knowing she shouldn’t, Cao Xueyan still whispered:

“Is Real Person compensating me… or paying for services?”

The words died halfway, for Xiao Menglan suddenly looked up.

Cao Xueyan braced for fury.

Instead, Xiao Menglan said quietly:

“Last night, I was in the wrong. This is compensation.”

Cao Xueyan paused.

She hadn’t expected her to be so… reasonable.

Curiosity stirred—what kind of white moonlight could make Xiao Menglan endure so much for her sake?

“No need. Between us there is no name, no bond. Carrying such treasures will only make me a target.”

She touched her tiny storage pouch—inside, just a few spirit stones, scraps, a copper mirror, and a wooden comb.

Her entire fortune.

Xiao Menglan’s gifts were too much, like trying to pour rivers into a thimble.

“True. Few in this world are kind. The saying goes, ‘an innocent man holding jade invites his own ruin.’”

Xiao Menglan sighed, then gazed at her seriously, words shocking:

“Would you… be willing to become my personal disciple?”

“Is it truly so easy? Just my consent?”

Cao Xueyan remembered—only days ago, at their first meeting, Xiao Menglan had demanded she master talisman arts within five years before acknowledging her.

Now, that vow seemed a joke.

Cao Xueyan answered:

“No need. If I fail in five years, I will leave. I won’t trouble you.”

“Are you worried about gossip?” Xiao Menglan asked.

Cao Xueyan said nothing.

While still crafting, Xiao Menglan spoke calmly:

“If I wish to teach, I will have a disciple. Talent is not the limit—saying so is only the master’s laziness.

That day, I merely wished to keep you longer… to see if you were her.”

Cao Xueyan had no words.

Xiao Menglan continued:

“My sect leader is my senior sister. If I plead with her, there will be no gossip.

Just focus on cultivation in my palace.”

As she spoke, the talismans in her hand took shape—ones even Qi Refining disciples could use.

Healing Talismans, to quickly mend non-lethal injuries, stronger with pills.

Swift Talismans, to run like flight, speed rivaling escape techniques.

Bone-Corrosion Talismans, for killing and silencing, leaving no trace.

Soul-Scattering Talismans, to shake the mind, disrupt spells, silence opponents.

And many more—low-grade, first-rank, yet abundant in her hands.

Cao Xueyan looked at talismans she’d never even seen before—her heart churned in chaos.

At the same time, the simulator stirred with a profound change.