If the Deep Spring Holds Twin Fish, Part 1

The sudden appearance of the Red Dust Buddha caused a stir inside and outside the hall, with gazes toward the red-clad girl growing even more complex.

The demon monk didn’t linger long. He walked directly to Duan Songyue, the Fifth Palace Master of Fuyu Palace, and cast a silent Buddhist barrier, isolating all sound within a golden light.
In the hall, including Yun Yao, onlookers could only see the Red Dust Buddha smiling, offering a palms-together salute, and exchanging a few words with Duan Songyue.
Duan Songyue’s round face shifted through several expressions before settling back into a harmless, benevolent smile.

Moments later, the barrier lifted.

Duan Songyue clasped his hands, bowing to the monk. “Thank you, Master, for your guidance.”

“Amitabha.”
The Red Dust Buddha returned the gesture with a smile.

Duan Songyue turned to the crowd. “Thanks to Master Liaowu’s insight, though Wuyan bore the Naihe Sword aura, his death wasn’t caused by the sword wound. Thus, Qianmen’s members are cleared of suspicion. We’ll send the body to the Immortal Alliance for a thorough investigation, ensuring justice for all.”

“…”

Following him, the puppet-like Immortal Alliance steward rose, offering empty platitudes to the sects, finally ending the ill-intentioned assembly.
The sects began to disperse.

In the chaos, the demon monk approached Yun Yao unnoticed. “The matter Benefactor Yun entrusted has shown progress.”

Yun Yao’s eyes lit up. “The high monk you mentioned agreed?”

“Yes, but Benefactor must accompany me to Fantian Temple in the Western Realm.”

“To resolve this calamity, I’d follow you to the Western Paradise, let alone the Western Realm.”
Yun Yao didn’t hesitate.

“Then shall Benefactor Yun depart with this humble monk?”

“…Hold on, I need to speak with them first.”
Yun Yao turned, searching the hall for Mu Hanyuan.

Unnoticed, Duan Songyue had sidled up to Mu Hanyuan, feigning apologies with an overly deferential attitude, muttering, “My junior brother was thoughtless, please forgive him, Lord Hanyuan,” and “I’ll personally bring him to Qianmen to apologize.” As if he hadn’t been the one aggressively pressing in the hall.

Mu Hanyuan was indifferent, but Yun Yao had no patience for it.

With many sect elders and disciples waiting to console her dear disciple, Yun Yao figured Mu Hanyuan was too occupied to step away. Planning to send a sword signal later, she turned to leave.

Sensing something, Mu Hanyuan’s brows lifted slightly, but it was Duan Songyue who called out first. “Little friend, wait!”

Beaming jovially, Duan Songyue waddled his plump frame toward Yun Yao, who had turned back.
Mu Hanyuan followed, reaching her side in a breath or two.
Duan Songyue flattered her with a grin. “Who’d have thought, so young, yet you’ve inherited the true Naihe Sword Technique? Without Master Liaowu’s testimony, I’d hardly believe it—truly a young hero!”

“…”
Yun Yao shot a blank glance at the distant demon monk.

Duan Songyue continued, “This trip was rushed, leaving no time to spar with you, little friend. On the ninth of next month, the Immortal Sect Competition begins. I’ll await you all at Fuyu Palace then?”

“Palace Master is too kind.”
Mu Hanyuan’s cool reply brushed past Duan Songyue’s silhouette, blocking Yun Yao’s view.
His half-lowered gaze, deep and unreadable, fixed on the woman before him.
“Yun Yaojiu.”

“?”

Yun Yao looked up, puzzled, sensing Mu Hanyuan had a thousand words to say. But he only gazed at her with those deep, abyssal eyes, glanced at the demon monk behind her, then pressed his emotions back into a silent, icy calm.
Softly, he asked, “We’ve been away from the mountain long enough. Shall we return to Qianmen?”

Yun Yao nodded. “Of course we’ll return.”

Her Fifth Senior Brother’s death required answers from Sect Leader Chen Qingmu—she needed to know why, three hundred years ago, he claimed it was tied to Fuyu Palace.
But something more urgent loomed—

The Flame of Finality was the priority.

Without resolving that calamity, all plans were futile.

Yun Yao touched the blood butterfly at her brow, sighing. “But before returning, I must go with… Master Liaowu to Fantian Temple in the Western Realm to handle something.”

“What matter?”

His voice turned cold, almost heavy.
Yun Yao, thinking she misheard, looked up. “You just…?”

“Uncle Yun!”

A call interrupted as Yun Yao caught a fleeting, uncharacteristic sharpness on Mu Hanyuan’s refined face. Turning toward the voice, she looked back at him, only to find his usual cool, emotionless demeanor restored.

…Strange.
Had she seen wrong?

Some lingering effect, perhaps?

No time to dwell, Chen Jianxue reached her side. “You and Lord Hanyuan are alright? That scared me to death!”

“It’s fine, a minor scene.” Yun Yao waved dismissively, her gaze drifting back.

Not far behind Ding Xiao, Chen Jianxue stood close to Li Wuhuan.
Eyeing their intimacy, Yun Yao leaned toward Mu Hanyuan, whispering, “You worked so hard to protect that little cabbage Jianxue, and now you’re fine watching an outsider steal her?”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan followed her gaze, pausing briefly on Chen Jianxue and Li Wuhuan bidding farewell to the Red Dust Buddha, then lingering on the monk’s striking profile.
After a moment, he asked, “Is Master traveling alone with the Red Dust Buddha to the Western Realm?”

“Yes,” Yun Yao replied, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Lowering his eyes, emotions unreadable, Mu Hanyuan said faintly, “This disciple worries that if Master’s identity is exposed, rumors of traveling alone with the Buddha may harm your reputation.”

Yun Yao: “…”
Yun Yao: “?”

Tentatively, she probed, “So…?”

“This disciple wishes to accompany Master to the Western Realm.”

“—That’s even worse,” Yun Yao said without thinking. “If you do something with me, my reputation will be ruined.”

“…”
“…”

Dead silence.

Yun Yao, despairing, palmed her forehead, turning away, feigning amnesia to dodge Mu Hanyuan’s gaze.
Before she could find words, a low, faint chuckle sounded behind.

“Master, rest assured.”

“…Huh?”

“This disciple will protect himself well.”

“…?”

Yun Yao couldn’t outstubborn Mu Hanyuan.

The usually aloof, saintly Lord Hanyuan was unusually insistent on accompanying her.
Faced with her unyielding disciple, Yun Yao felt at a loss.
Even the Red Dust Buddha, whom she’d hoped would object, said nothing, leaving her no reason to refuse.

Thus, outside Fuyu Palace, at the foot of green mountains, Qianmen’s group split into two.

Yun Yao and Mu Hanyuan would travel with the demon monk to Fantian Temple in the Western Realm.
Chen Jianxue would lead the remaining disciples back to the sect to report. This group was smaller than when they arrived—disciples like Wu Fengming, under Elder Lu’s faction, had been taken back early by Lu Changan.

“Wu Tianya’s not in the group either?” Hearing Ding Xiao’s report, Yun Yao huffed. “That Wu Tianya—didn’t expect that thick-browed, big-eyed guy to be Elder Lu’s spy?”

Ding Xiao scratched her head. “I was surprised too. He’s an outer sect disciple—Elder Lu’s so lofty, I never heard he’d place trusted disciples in the outer sect.”

“Maybe he has some unique talent.”
Yun Yao lowered her voice. “I can’t return with the group, so I’m entrusting you with an important task.”

Ding Xiao’s eyes teared up. “Can’t you give it to someone else, Uncle?”

“Hm?”

“I want to go to the Western Realm with you and Lord Hanyuan. I’ve never been—”

“No, you don’t,” Yun Yao cut her off ruthlessly, patting her shoulder with a kind smile. “In this group, I trust few, and those I trust with ability are even fewer—just you. If you come along, who’ll handle my heavy responsibility?”

Ding Xiao sniffled, half-convinced. “Is it really that important?”

“Of course, it concerns Qianmen’s safety.”

“…”

Perhaps because Yun Yao sounded so serious for once, Ding Xiao, unused to her true face, was swayed, nodding firmly. “Tell me, Uncle—I won’t fail you.”

“That’s more like it,” Yun Yao beckoned. “Simple. Keep an eye on that Li Wuhuan following Chen Jianxue back to Qianmen. Report any odd behavior to me via sword signal, got it?”

Ding Xiao, half-understanding, grew wary. “Is something off about Li?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why watch him?”

“He rubs me the wrong way.”

“…” Ding Xiao: “?”

And so, after a few words, Ding Xiao, who’d clung to Yun Yao’s sleeve, was coaxed back to the group.

As their figures vanished into the horizon, Yun Yao waved with a grin.

Until the sunset cast long shadows on her skirt, Mu Hanyuan’s cool voice sounded beside her. “What’s Master thinking?”

“Wishing you were as easy to coax.”

“…”

Yun Yao turned, catching the twilight tinting Mu Hanyuan’s white robes with a rosy, golden glow.

His cool features softened under the light.
His gaze, fixed on her.

Meeting those eyes, Yun Yao felt an odd discomfort, shifting away, feigning interest in the surroundings. “Where’s the demon monk?”

“Master Liaowu said his mount wandered to the palace’s back mountain and got lost. He’s gone to retrieve it and asked us to wait.”

“Hm? The demon monk has a mount? Could it be those two jade lions at Fantian Temple’s gates?”

“Master saw them four hundred years ago?”

“Of course, I remember how majestic they were, guarding the temple gates, their aura solemn—”
Yun Yao froze.

…Four hundred years ago?

The monk’s ghostly words drifted back:
[Benefactor Yun forgot? Over four hundred years ago, with a peach blossom branch sword from Tianyuan Mountain, you broke Fantian Temple’s Twelve Heavenly Arhat Gates, beat the abbot to vomit blood, and insisted on taking me back to Qianmen to marry?]

Yun Yao: “…”

After a breath or two, she turned guiltily, avoiding Mu Hanyuan’s unusually quiet gaze. “How could I? I’ve never been to Fantian Temple or seen any jade lions. Just rambling, rambling.”

“Has Master heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?” Mu Hanyuan asked suddenly after a pause.

As night’s coolness seeped in, Yun Yao hesitated. “I have. Why?”

“Nothing.”
Mu Hanyuan smiled faintly. “Since Master says she hasn’t been, Hanyuan believes her.”

Yun Yao mulled, narrowing her eyes. “Why do I feel you’re threatening me?”

“Master overthinks.”

Before she could press, Mu Hanyuan raised his hand, revealing an object. “I forgot to return this to Master.”

Yun Yao focused—it was the tortoise shell from the secret realm. She shook her wrist, the gold bell ringing alone, and smiled. “No wonder I felt something missing since waking today.”
She reached for it.
But as her fingers neared his palm, he lowered his hand, his sleeve brushing hers naturally, as if unintentionally missing.

“I’ll fasten it for Master.”

“…Oh.”

Yun Yao felt something odd but couldn’t pinpoint it. A disciple helping their master with an accessory seemed normal, right?
Thinking so, she let Mu Hanyuan lift her wrist.
Until his spiritual energy brushed her gold bell bracelet.

Yun Yao, rarely shocked, looked up. “Your cultivation… you’re nearing the Unity Realm?”

She couldn’t help but be stunned.
The peak of Unity to Tribulation Realm was a chasm. Throughout history, countless geniuses entered Unity, but few crossed into Tribulation.
After the immortal-demon war, both realms’ powerhouses dwindled, leaving a gap.
When Yun Yao secluded herself, her cultivation falling, she was only half-step into Tribulation, not fully there.

Yet Mu Hanyuan, having glimpsed the threshold, was mere time away from Tribulation.
How old was he?

Yun Yao was speechless with awe.

Mu Hanyuan, eyes unraised, spoke as if it were trivial, focused on her bracelet. “A day after waking, I sensed the Unity peak’s barrier showing signs of breaking.”

As he fastened it, he noticed the hand in his palm curling its slender fingers into a fist under his gaze.

He looked up. “What’s Master calculating?”

“Of course, your age…” Yun Yao, counting on her other hand, paused mid-sentence, muttering with rare embarrassment. “You entered Golden Core later than me—how are you breaking into Tribulation faster? That’s unfair…”

Mu Hanyuan lowered his lashes, a smile flickering. “Perhaps because I have a good master?”

“Hm—huh?” Yun Yao nearly nodded. “No way, if Old Man Taiyi heard that, he’d beat me.”

“I’d shield you from Grandmaster.” Mu Hanyuan replied naturally.

Yun Yao blinked, realizing something. “I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my master to you. You know Old Man Taiyi?”
She shook the tortoise shell on her bracelet. “And this?”

“Portraits of Master Taiyi and five of Qianmen’s Seven Heroes hang in Tianqi Pavilion. I clean it yearly, so I’ve seen them often.”
Mu Hanyuan glanced at her jingling ornaments. “The divination tortoise shell belongs to Senior Brother Si Xuan. The gold bell bracelet to Second Senior Sister Su Mengyu. The square wooden hairpin to Third Senior Sister Xiu Xin. The floral ribbon to Sixth Senior Brother Jun Qian.”

“You’re observant,” Yun Yao’s voice grew hoarse, forcing a smile. “What about Fourth Senior Brother? His item isn’t in the portraits—you couldn’t guess that, right?”

“Naihe.”
Mu Hanyuan’s voice lowered. “I heard Fourth Senior Uncle had an iron ruler, never leaving his side. Master was disciplined with it as a child. The Naihe Sword came from that ruler, didn’t it?”

“…”

For the first time, Yun Yao felt utterly exposed, as if someone had peeled her open from head to toe, laying bare every thought she was too ashamed or pained to admit.
She’d thought Mu Hanyuan was merely a disciple she took but didn’t teach, with little closeness or understanding between them.
Now, it seemed only she didn’t know him.
He knew her deeply.

Perhaps more than she knew herself.

An inexplicable embarrassment rose, fleeting but enough to make her instinctively avoid his gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce her facade, striking the child who once had everything and lost it all.
She turned away hastily, her tone still smiling, though a faint tremor lingered if listened closely. “Qianmen’s truly fallen—three hundred years, and Lord Hanyuan himself sweeps the pavilion?”

“Because Sect Leader said Tianqi Pavilion was Master’s home for ten years alone.” Mu Hanyuan said, “I wanted to know what Master thought, alone upholding Qianmen, gazing at those portraits.”

Knowing it might be a trap, Yun Yao couldn’t help asking, “Did you figure it out?”

“I couldn’t.” Mu Hanyuan answered.

“Rare,” Yun Yao exhaled, chuckling. “Something stumping Lord Hanyuan…”

“I only realized one thing.”

“Hm?”
Hearing his voice grow hoarse, Yun Yao turned to him.

Just as Mu Hanyuan lifted his eyes, their depths an abyssal sea.

“From now on, I’ll never let Master be alone again.”

“…”

Yun Yao froze, caught in his gaze, until her figure was wholly consumed by his emotions.