Stone’s Fire, Dream’s Body, Part 3

After Wu Tianya’s explanation, Yun Yao pieced together the cause of Mu Hanyuan’s injury and blindness—

Chen Jianxue, the Sect Leader’s daughter.
Also widely regarded as Mu Hanyuan’s junior sister.

“…At the critical moment, Lord Hanyuan, to save his junior sister, single-handedly battled the ferocious beast Tengshe! As the beast, in its death throes, spewed venomous mist, he shielded her with his zither’s wind and his own body!”
“Amid the toxic fog, Lord Hanyuan’s white robes fluttered, like an immortal descending…”

“Enough.”

Yun Yao cut off Wu Tianya’s dramatic retelling.
“So, Mu Hanyuan was injured and blinded by poison to save his junior sister?”

Wu Tianya nodded, still savoring the tale.

Yun Yao’s mood grew complex, and she changed the subject.
“How did he earn the title ‘Lord Hanyuan’?”

“Which backwater mountain did you crawl out of, Junior Sister?” Wu Tianya stared.
“Lord Hanyuan was named the successor to the Qianyuan Daoist a century ago. Everyone in the realm knows this—how don’t you?”

“Qianyuan… Daoist?”

“Exactly. The Daoist position has been vacant for a millennium. That silver lotus crown he wears is the symbol of the future Daoist—only they can don it.”

Yun Yao nodded, a faint memory stirring in her soul.

Wu Tianya continued, “The lotus signifies purity. Once worn, the wearer treads no mortal path, untouched by worldly desires, to become the Daoist.”

“…Didn’t you just say he deeply cherishes his junior sister?”

“Uh, the silver lotus crown remains pure, so Lord Hanyuan likely hasn’t succumbed to desire,” Wu Tianya said.
“But after their return, disciples have been buzzing. They say, since he risked his life for Chen Jianxue, he might one day choose to become her dao companion and accept the penalty.”

“Penalty for falling in love and removing the crown?” Yun Yao’s eyelid twitched.

Wu Tianya replied casually, “The Qianyuan Daoist is the immortal realm’s supreme title. Heart, talent, foundation, and destiny—none can be lacking. Only Lord Hanyuan has qualified in a millennium. Once he reaches the Unity Realm and passes the Purification Pool, he’ll ascend to the position, above even the Alliance of Immortals. Such honor comes with heavy responsibility.”

“And if he breaks the rules?”

“The Thunder Punishment—three days and nights of bone-searing pain to shed the crown and title.”

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “???”

—Is this dao companion worth it??

Frowning, Yun Yao turned away.
After a pause, she pressed her chest, her expression odd.

…What was this? Why did hearing Mu Hanyuan risk himself for another stir such nameless anger?

Who he liked had nothing to do with her.

[*If not for me, he’d have fallen to darkness…*]
[*I saved him—he should belong to me!*]

A vicious inner voice surged again.
This time, it was fiercer, making the spiritual energy in her veins roil violently.

Yun Yao paled, quickly closing her eyes to regulate her breathing.

Moments later, the girl opened her eyes.
Her gaze cleared, but doubts lingered.

Was this the aftermath of possession or that wretched master-disciple bond? Whatever it was, she needed answers, or trouble would follow.

“They’re about to fall in love, so behave. If you want to die, don’t drag me down,” Yun Yao muttered, poking her chest in warning.

“Huh? What’d you say, Junior Sister?” Wu Tianya turned, confused.

“Nothing,” Yun Yao glanced toward the hall.
“Just marveling that even saints have moments of bias and suffering.”

Losing interest, Yun Yao turned to leave.

At that moment, a divine sense transmission rang in her mind: “Little Martial Aunt, have you really emerged?”

“!”
Yun Yao froze.

Before she could send a “Who?” in response, exclamations erupted from the plaza before Mingde Hall.

“Welcome back, Sect Leader!”
“Welcome back, Sect Leader!”
“Welcome back…”

Disciples bowed in waves, like a tide rippling outward.

Standing among them, Yun Yao stood out like a crane among chickens.

Wu Tianya, mid-bow, leaned over, whispering, “Junior Sister! That’s the Sect Leader—bow already!”

Several divine senses swept toward her.
Yun Yao paused, then bowed.
“…Welcome back, Sect Leader.”

Before Mingde Hall’s entrance, Sect Leader Chen Qingmu sensed a familiar aura, his face stiffening. His hand half-raised under his sleeve, but he didn’t dare call her out publicly, letting it drop.

A few breaths later, Yun Yao straightened, hearing Chen Qingmu’s resigned transmission: “Little Martial Aunt, my cultivation’s hard-earned. Are you trying to shave years off my life?”

Yun Yao stood impassive, eyes on her nose, nose on her heart, pretending not to hear.

Wu Tianya whispered, “Junior Sister, look—that’s Lord Hanyuan’s junior sister, Chen Jianxue, behind the Sect Leader.”

Following his words, Yun Yao glanced over. The woman lifted a handkerchief to her lips, coughing softly before answering someone with a delicate, water-lily smile.
Truly a sight to evoke pity.

Yun Yao raised an eyebrow.
“She’s injured too?”

“Not injured. Lord Hanyuan’s junior sister is Qianmen’s famous frail beauty. She has a rare innate spirit body but some defect, sickly since childhood.”

“…”

Yun Yao’s expression grew solemn.
She hadn’t read those tales for nothing—such frail beauties were trouble, especially as the cherished of a future Daoist and potential Demon Lord. If she accidentally made this one cough blood, wouldn’t Mu Hanyuan turn demonic on the spot and flay her alive?

Great, another name for her “avoid at all costs” list.

Watching the group enter Mingde Hall, Yun Yao asked Wu Tianya for the library’s location and left.

****

You can dodge for a moment, but not for a day.

After half a day in the library with no answers, Yun Yao stepped out, stretching irritably.
Descending the steps, she spotted Mu Hanyuan under a tree nearby.

Who knew how long he’d waited.

Yun Yao paused her stretch.
“Waiting for me?”

Her words drew the gazes and divine senses of nearby Qianmen disciples, seemingly just passing by.

Despite her diminished cultivation, her divine sense was sharp, catching their hushed whispers.

“She dares address Lord Hanyuan so casually?”
“Lord Hanyuan waited outside the library for her? Which elder’s disciple gets such treatment?”
“She looks unfamiliar, no cultivation to speak of—probably a new disciple.”
“Did the Sect Leader take another student?”

Yun Yao: …Almost forgot.

The carefree girl instantly reined herself in, tucking her flower-adorned ribbon behind her shoulder, adopting a meek demeanor.
“Senior Brother, is something up?”

Sensing her fear of exposure, Mu Hanyuan switched to transmission.
“The Sect Leader requests Master’s presence at Mingde Hall for the elders’ council.”

“Elders’ council?” Yun Yao transmitted back.
“Did you tell him I don’t want my emergence known?”
“The Sect Leader said Master may act as a Qianmen disciple but must attend.”
“Why do I have to go…”

Yun Yao loathed such gatherings.
But she’d found nothing on the master-disciple bond in the library. After some thought, she’d have to ask Chen Qingmu.

“Fine, lead the way.”

“Master, please.” Mu Hanyuan stepped aside.

Passing him, Yun Yao’s gaze caught a jade zither ornament hanging from his waistband, its silver tassels swaying.

“Is that Mercy?” Yun Yao stared curiously at the zither-shaped jade.

It felt oddly familiar. Instinctively, she reached to touch the tassels.
An inch from them, her fingers froze.

She suddenly recalled—

The tales said Mu Hanyuan, before his fall, was saintly, his emotions and desires hidden, with one taboo: his zither.
Neither its body nor its tassels could be touched.

Her vivid memory came from a passage in the tales:

*“…

‘Just one night of indulgence, and you won’t even look at your master?’ The red-robed woman circled the jade bed, her figure butterfly-like, her eyes burning like red lotus flames as she gazed at Mu Hanyuan, his lotus crown undone, his robes disheveled.
No matter how she teased, he refused to open his eyes.

Yun Yao leaned against the bed, pinning his robe, resting her chin languidly.

After a moment’s thought, she smiled, shaking her wrist to summon his zither.
She propped it before the bed, her fingers lazily plucking the strings:
*Zheng…*
The clear zither sang a sultry note under her touch.

‘—’
Mu Hanyuan’s eyes snapped open.

His features were picturesque, effortlessly captivating.
His drug-flushed eyes lowered in restraint, refusing to meet hers, his trembling lashes cool as frost.
‘Put it down.’

‘They say your zither’s tassels are untouchable, that “the zither is as your body.” Is it true?’

Yun Yao hugged the zither, her eyes smiling seductively.
Under his reddening, furious gaze, she tilted her head, her fingers twirling the tassels through her hair—

‘And… like this?’
Her eyes flowing, unrelenting, she pressed her red lips to the zither’s body, kissing it.

‘Yun Yao!’

…”*

“!”

That suppressed, husky cry seemed to echo through endless voids, exploding in Yun Yao’s ears.

The red-robed girl shuddered, her fingers, an inch from the tassels, snapping back into a fist against her chest.

…Thank heavens.
Almost touched it—touching meant death!

“—Master?”

“Huh?” Yun Yao, guilty, stepped back.
“You… called me?”

Mu Hanyuan’s lashes swept down, faintly exasperated.
“Yes.”

“…”
Apparently, several times.

Yun Yao steadied herself.
“I was lost in thought.”

“What troubles Master so?”

“Oh, uh,” Yun Yao’s gaze darted, unavoidably landing on the zither at his waist.
The tassels swayed, as if twirling around fingers.

Before that terrifying scene resurfaced, she blurted, “I just thought, Mercy’s fame is tied to you, but it’s no match for ‘Crane Feather.’ Since Tianyin Sect offered it, why not switch?”

…So I don’t lose years off my life looking at it.
Yun Yao stole a glance and hurried forward.

Mu Hanyuan’s robe paused.
“As Master commands.”

The girl’s skirt brushed past the zither’s tassels.

Yun Yao, lost in her thoughts, didn’t notice his voice dip for some reason.

Only after a few steps, realizing he hadn’t followed, did she turn, puzzled.
“Not coming?”

“…Yes.”

Mu Hanyuan’s hand brushed under his waistband.
The jade zither vanished.

Long after, a low murmur, missed by all, scattered in the wind—

“‘Mercy,’ she’s likely long forgotten.”
“…It was she who gave you to me.”

****

At Mingde Hall, led by Mu Hanyuan, Yun Yao slipped in quietly.
The hall was embroiled in debate, and no one noticed them.

Seated beside Mu Hanyuan, Yun Yao half-listened, piecing together the situation.

Tianyin Sect’s “gift” was a pretext. Under the guise of gratitude, they sought help for a strange miasma plaguing their territory, harming nearby villages.
They’d sent elders and disciples, but none returned.

Tianyin Sect, focused on musical cultivation, was ill-suited for combat. Desperate, they used Mu Hanyuan’s aid to their disciples as leverage to request assistance.

Inside, elders argued fiercely over intervening.

“…Fuyu Palace claims to lead the four great sects—let them handle it! They take the glory but dodge the hardship. Why should we step in?”
“Fuyu Palace is busy with the sect competition and can’t spare anyone. The miasma’s strange—one day uninvestigated is another day of calamity!”
“Exactly. With the demonic seed prophecy’s deadline nearing and the seed still unfound, we can’t ignore this!”
“The prophecy threatens the entire cultivation world—why must Qianmen bear the burden? Even if Fuyu Palace is occupied, what about the other three sects? Centuries ago, when Qianmen thrived, we led demon-slaying efforts, only for our seven heroes to fall, leaving us diminished!”
“Hiss, Elder Lu, watch your words. Little Martial Aunt still guards our sect—how can you say they all fell?”
“Three hundred years in seclusion! What difference is there between her presence and absence!?”

The hall fell silent.

In the corner, Yun Yao had just taken a teacup from Mu Hanyuan, wondering if it was too unkind to let a blind beauty serve her, when the topic landed on her.

On the main seat, Chen Qingmu glanced at her corner—

Mu Hanyuan tilted his face, his dark brows slightly raised, a hint of sharpness in his gentle demeanor.
Beside him, Yun Yao didn’t blink, focused on blowing on her tea, as if the talk wasn’t about her.

Chen Qingmu turned back helplessly.
“Elder Chu, don’t disrespect Little Martial Aunt.”

At the head of the elders, Chu Tianchen’s angry words had silenced the hall, but he now spoke calmly.
“Sect Leader, where am I wrong?”

“No need to recount Little Martial Aunt’s past,” Chen Qingmu smiled mildly, ever the pushover.
“Even after three hundred years in seclusion, ‘Naihe’s’ stir has unsettled both realms. Countless sects sent sword messages inquiring—her lingering might is clear.”

“Lingering might?” Chu Tianchen’s voice was cold.
“Three hundred years ago, without consulting the sect, she stormed the Demon Realm for her own thrill, nearly sparking another war! She returned, sealed her sword, and secluded herself without a word. Three hundred years of absence let Qianmen decline—has she ever cared for our sect’s safety? How can such a figure ‘guard Qianmen’?”

Chen Qingmu’s face grew awkward.
“Elder Chu, you weren’t here then and don’t know…”

*Bang!*

A loud crash echoed.
An ancient wooden chair’s armrest split, grievously wounded.

Yun Yao, startled, nearly scalded her tongue, looking up in shock.

From the elders’ seats, a female elder, her back to Yun Yao’s corner, rose in fury.
“Chu Tianchen! We’re mere third-generation disciples—how dare you judge Little Martial Aunt? Have you no respect for your masters?”

Chu Tianchen raised a brow, seemingly angered but silent.

“Enough, Elder Tang, sit down,” Chen Qingmu soothed.

As the female elder sat, Yun Yao relaxed, lifting her teacup to her lips.

Chen Qingmu said, “No need to rush. Since ‘Naihe’ stirred, Little Martial Aunt’s emergence can’t be far off.”

Yun Yao pretended not to hear.
The hall’s tension eased slightly, faces softening.

But then, someone spoke.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Elder Lu, what do you mean?”

Lu Chang’an stroked his beard.
“‘Naihe’s’ stir could mean Little Martial Aunt is… dead.”

*Pfft.*
*Cough, cough, cough—*

In the corner, Yun Yao choked on her tea, coughing earth-shatteringly.

“…”

Mu Hanyuan rose, his sightless eyes frosted.
“Mas… are you alright?”
Yun Yao, leaning on the table, coughed and waved him off.

The hall grew chaotic.

*Bang!!!*
“Lu! Chang! An!”
Another chair met its demise.

“Elder Tang—”
“Tang Yin! You dare strike me?!”
“I’m striking you, you disrespectful fool!”
“Elders, fighting before disciples—what decorum is this? Stop!”
“…”

After the commotion settled, the hall fell into awkward silence.

Someone seized the chance to shift focus.
“Lord Hanyuan, who’s the disciple beside you, and why is she at the elders’ council?”

“…”
Mu Hanyuan gently righted Yun Yao’s teacup, wiping the last water stain from the table.
He straightened, his dark eyes silent beneath his lashes, as if he hadn’t heard.

The elder frowned, about to speak.

Chen Qingmu interjected, “My oversight—beside Hanyuan is Yun Yaojiu, a new disciple I took on Little Martial Aunt’s behalf during my travels.”

Yun Yao: “…?”

The elders looked surprised, the hall falling silent.

A few breaths later, Yun Yao understood why Chen Qingmu insisted she attend.

The truth emerged.

“For the Daoist succession, I ask the Sect Leader to rule—” Elder Chu Tianchen rose, bowing solemnly.
“Sever the master-disciple bond between Little Martial Aunt and Lord Hanyuan!”

His clear voice rang out.
Yun Yao’s lashes flicked, her eyes flashing like a silver vase shattering.

Huh?

…There’s such a good thing?