The World’s Seasons Cycle in Reincarnation, Part 4

“Lord Hanyuan, will you be my cauldron?”

In the dim lamplight, her words drifted into his ears, finally stirring a tremor in Mu Hanyuan’s frost-laden lashes.
With a trace of disbelief, he lifted his dark eyes to meet hers.

“When you saved me all those years ago, was it for this?”

“…If you want to think so, then so be it.” Yun Yao laughed softly, pressing closer.

In the flickering light, his jade-like figure stiffened slightly.

“I said before, you can use me however you wish,” Mu Hanyuan grasped her mischievous hand slipping into his robe, “except for matters of romance.”

“Why not? Keeping yourself pure for your little junior sister?” Yun Yao chuckled, her breath like orchids against his ear. “What then? It seems, in those first days after I emerged, the purity you meant to guard was already taken by me.”

“—”

In the dimness, his dark eyes hid unreadable emotions.
But pressed so close, Yun Yao could feel the violent rise and fall of his chest beneath his pristine robe.

Inappropriately, yet sincerely, a glint of amusement flickered in her dark-red eyes.
To reduce the saintly Lord Hanyuan, famed for three hundred years as emotionless and desireless, to this state—she almost admired her own shamelessness.
And she’d never realized how wickedly delightful it was—the angrier he got, the more it pleased her.

“By my count, your beloved junior sister should be at Sect Leader Nephew’s Fengtian Peak by now,” Yun Yao teased, brushing the bite mark on his neck, half-kissing, half-smiling. “What if I summon her back now, letting her see the immaculate Lord Hanyuan being so defiled by me? What would you do?”

She thought her words would enrage him most.
She was wrong.

“On this journey, I met the Red Dust Buddha at Dragon Burial Mountain,” Mu Hanyuan said, calming his emotions before she could push further, his breathing steadying. “Aren’t you curious what he told me, Master?”

“…”

At the mention of the Red Dust Buddha, Yun Yao’s expression turned cold.
Some long-buried memory stirred, a flash of malice crossing her dark-red eyes.
“Why mention that bald donkey?”

“Master Liaowu spoke of past events and, before parting, warned me,” Mu Hanyuan said, his emotions complex as he looked at the woman resting almost docilely against his chest. “Master and I share a karmic bond from past lives. If not severed, it will brew calamity, plunging us into eternal damnation.”

The room fell silent for a long moment.
Yun Yao let out a mocking laugh, lifting her eyes to him. “You believe that monk’s nonsense?”

His gaze was icy. “What if I don’t want Master to take that risk?”

“For me?” Yun Yao laughed as if hearing a joke, leaning closer, her red lips nearly brushing his jaw.
He stiffened, turning slightly to avoid her.
She smiled. “Look, you can’t even stand my touch. For me? Do you believe yourself?”

“…”

A faint, mournful mockery curved his lips.
His half-turned face, shadowed in the dim light, was sharp and untainted by worldly dust.
“Of course Master doesn’t believe me.”

His dark eyes glanced over. “From the day you forged the master-disciple bond, when have you ever trusted me?”

“…”

Perhaps his gaze was too painful. A burst of spiritual energy shot from her fingers, extinguishing the room’s flickering lamps in an instant.

In the pitch-black cave mansion, robes rustled.
The demonic flame in her brow flared, seeping through his neck wound. The blood-red threads in his body, under her control, bound his every move.
Once again, he’d given her the chance.

“You neither guard against me nor strike first,” Yun Yao said, kissing him while hearing his suppressed, muffled breaths. “Mu Hanyuan, where have three hundred years of cultivation gone?”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan closed his eyes, his long lashes trembling as the restless blood-red threads stirred his spiritual energy into a frenzy. His suppressed breaths churned in his spiritual sea, the pain threatening to shatter his meridians.
Yet, he restrained himself utterly, not letting a wisp of energy leak to harm the woman before him.

Seeing him silent, his face turned away in apparent disgust, his lashes trembling, Yun Yao laughed softly.
She climbed closer, kissing his soft, feather-like lashes, her fingers finally undoing his waistband.

The zither pendant slid from his belt, clinking as it fell onto the bed through his draped robe.

She kissed his nose, lips, jaw.
Then paused.

“Mu Hanyuan, hate me.”

She said softly.

Let him hate her—it was best.
Better than guarding the lonely graves behind the mountain, tearing his heart and soul, unable to seek death.

…

Breaths intertwined, souls entwined.
In a moment Mu Hanyuan couldn’t discern as divine or demonic, as her burning tears fell to his lips, she kissed him, murmuring.

“Don’t be afraid… stay with me until the end.”
“Eternal damnation will be mine alone.”

Time blurred in the mountains.
On Tianxuan Peak, flowers bloomed and fell, countless moments of reckless abandon passing.

What puzzled Yun Yao most was that, after that day, Mu Hanyuan still concealed their affair perfectly. She’d thought, even if he hid his shame, he’d at least distance himself publicly or expose her to Chen Qingmu to stop her with the sect leader’s authority.

She’d imagined waking to swords and outrage a thousand times.
None came.

Her preparations were unused, leaving her faintly disappointed.

But more so, regretful.

—To endure such humiliation as a cauldron, silently protecting both Qianmen’s and her reputation—what a fine immortal seedling, ruined by her.

No arrow returns once loosed.
He must hate her. Only then could she pave his future. When he stood atop a thousand-layered pagoda, her tarnished legacy as dust beneath would be repayment.

As for herself…

The wicked Yun Yao propped her cheek, touching her brow, sighing at the window.

“Only three months left.”

Three months, and all the world’s splendor and clamor would no longer concern her.

At least, the culprit behind Fifth Senior Brother’s death was confirmed, though evidence was lacking. But as a dying woman, acting recklessly, even possessed, she needed no proof.
The blood-red threads in Mu Hanyuan’s body were nearly all extracted, only a trace remaining.
Something felt unfinished.

Before the immortal sect competition, she’d build a cenotaph by the seven graves behind her cave mansion.

Otherwise, when she died under his sword, who’d even collect her body or raise a stone for her? How pitiful would that be?

Lost in thought, a breeze carried a cold pine fragrance through the hall.

Yun Yao paused, looking up.

Only Mu Hanyuan would enter her Tianxuan Peak so freely.

Indeed, a refined figure emerged from behind the screen. Still in his timeless white robe, his silver lotus crown pristine, untouched by dust.
No trace of their reckless encounters showed.
His resolve impressed even her.

But…

He approached, lighting incense and pouring tea as he’d done countless times, stopping by her chair. “My peak has a Lotus Pool where the lotuses bloomed today. Would Master like to see them?”

“…”

Yun Yao’s gaze grew stranger, her brows lifting slightly.
She felt Mu Hanyuan had changed, though she couldn’t pinpoint how.
For instance, she dragged him into debauchery by night, and by day, he shielded her, even acting as if unburdened when alone, obeying her without grudge.
In matters of passion, though never initiating, he grew more compliant, sometimes seeming to lose himself, his ferocity overwhelming her until she pleaded mercy.

Especially the previous night. Fleeing the bed, she was caught, his grip like iron on her waist. She thought he’d drag her back to the curtains for more.
But his fingers loosened one by one, only holding her lightly.

“Tired, Master?”
His voice, thick with desire, was dangerously alluring. “Then sleep.”

“…”

And she, shamefully, fell asleep in his arms.

She was lucky her head was still on her neck when she woke.

“Master?” His voice pulled her back.

“Hm—?”
She stopped tapping her brow, looking up. “Oh, the Lotus Pool? Sure, I’m free today and feel like a walk. I’ve never been to your peak—lead the way.”

She rose with him.

Glancing at his silver lotus crown as they left, its cold purity unchanged, as if untouched before her.

Following him, she left Tianxuan Peak.

Whether by design or chance, Mu Hanyuan’s peak was close to hers. She’d heard it was a celestial mountain gifted by the Immortal Alliance to Qianyuan’s future Daoist.

At the Lotus Pool, the lotuses bloomed vibrantly—white, pink, and occasional purples, rippling the spring water enchantingly.
But Yun Yao’s interest waned. After scanning the mountain with her spiritual sense, she smirked mockingly. “Such grand gestures—who’s trying to win you over, the so-called Immortal Alliance or Fuyu Palace, reigning over the sects for three hundred years?”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan, bending to pluck a pink-white lotus without magic, let the water drip off before offering it to her.

Its sudden beauty startled her, making her forget her words.

He spoke first. “When Qianmen waned, Fuyu Palace rallied the sects to form the Immortal Alliance, now deeply rooted after three hundred years.”

Seeing he said no more, Yun Yao took the lotus, its edges faintly purple, lovelier than the rest. She tucked it into her arms. “I heard you’re close with Fuyu Palace’s Master Wen?”

“A passing acquaintance,” he said coolly.

“Really?” She spun the lotus, its purple edge blurring into the white core. “Rumors say Master Wen admires you greatly—more than just acquaintances.”

“…”

He lifted his eyes silently, their gazes locking briefly before he lowered his lashes. “If Master has questions about me, just ask. Is there anything we can’t speak of openly?”

Yun Yao choked, turning away as if to climb the mountain. “Just a casual remark, don’t overthink…”

Her words cut off.

She stopped, turning slightly—her wrist was in his grasp.

“Not just about me. Regarding Fuyu Palace, please don’t risk investigating, Master. If there’s something to be done, command me.”

“…” Her smile faded. “You know something.”

“You’re investigating an old matter from three hundred years ago, involving immortal sects colluding with the demonic realm, implicating Combined Path cultivators and high-ranking sect leaders. The mastermind was Fuyu Palace’s Supreme Elder, Bixiao—”

A sudden gust from her skirt rippled the Lotus Pool.

Mu Hanyuan staggered back, a muffled thud as he hit the fish-patterned jade bricks by the pool. Her pale hand silenced his words.

Red overlay white in vivid contrast.
Yun Yao, disheveled, leaned over him, her breath trembling, her face sharp with rare severity.
“You’re not to meddle in this.”

“Why not?”
He pushed her hand away, asking calmly.

After months of intimacy and reckless acts, he looked at her clinging to him with near calm.
His voice was steady, unshaken.

She pressed closer, her hairpin loosening, dark hair spilling and tangling into his collar.

“No means no, and no questions,” she said sharply.

“If Master forbids it and won’t tell me your plans, I’ll investigate myself,” he replied.

“?”

She’d noticed his growing audacity. Did he think she’d run out of ways to control him?

She bit her lip, resolve hardening.

On the surface, the red-clad woman sat atop the white-robed man, untying her sash after a moment’s pause.

“…!”

His eyes twitched, hands swiftly pinning her wrists and waist.
Even the saintly Lord Hanyuan showed faint anger, his voice low. “Yun Yao, this is an open poolside… Are you mad?”

“You insist on investigating,” she said, not struggling but leaning into his restraint, pushing him against the cold jade bricks. “So I insist on doing something here—what can you do?”

His gaze darkened. “Just to stop me from your sect’s affairs?”

“Don’t ask why,” she said, glancing at the lotus fallen by her skirt, her lips curving coldly. Leaning closer, as if to kiss, she teased by his ear. “Have I been too kind lately, making you forget, Lord Hanyuan? You’re just my cauldron. Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”

A rustle.

The gold-threaded belt on his robe gave way under her grip, snapping as he faltered.
His robe loosened, and she pressed closer.

Seeing him freeze, unmoving, his lashes lowered, his face cold as frost, her heart trembled. But she suppressed the reluctance.

One day you’ll understand, Mu Hanyuan.
Love torments more than hate.
Hate me—it’s my choice, so I deserve the sin and soul’s destruction.

The wind rippled the pool.

She deliberately disheveled his robe and hair, disliking his pristine, otherworldly air.
She meant only a small lesson.

But lost in passion, she didn’t notice the approaching sword aura.

Until a shocked female voice rang out.

“…Senior Brother!”

“—!”

Yun Yao froze, instinctively turning.

Before her, Mu Hanyuan lifted his eyes, glancing at the horrified Chen Jianxue nearby. His first move was to sweep his sleeve, steadying Yun Yao’s neck and pulling her firmly into his embrace.

His white robe hid her entirely.
Her flowing red skirt vanished into his arms.

Ensuring not a strand of her hair was visible, he looked at Chen Jianxue, who hadn’t left.

From start to finish, his expression was calm. Were it not for his focus on the woman in his arms, neglecting his own disheveled robe and the vivid red marks on his neck—
He’d still be the refined, unblemished Lord Hanyuan.

Chen Jianxue stared, disbelieving. “Senior Brother, you…”

“You saw no one but me today.”

He cut her off gently, his demeanor as serene as ever.

Only his eyes held a chilling coldness, piercing to the heart.