A Thousand Miles of Old Friends, A Thousand Miles of Moonlight, Part 1

Even after spending the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Yun Yao still struggled to accept that the Golden Lotus, which sealed the Seed of the End, had transformed into a little monk barely reaching her knees.
And what’s more…

“Great Mon—” Catching the Great Monk’s benevolent gaze, Yun Yao quickly corrected herself, “Master, how could a perfectly fine Golden Lotus turn into a little monk?”

“The Golden Lotus before the Buddha is sentient. When it encounters an immortal destiny, transformation is only a matter of time,” the Great Monk said unhurriedly.

“Immortal destiny?”

The Great Monk didn’t reply, merely raising a long eyebrow, glancing meaningfully at Yun Yao’s brow.

Yun Yao paused.

She nearly forgot—she had followed the Great Monk’s instruction, drawing a wisp of divine pattern power from her immortal grid to seal into the Golden Lotus, aiding in suppressing the Seed of the End.
Could a mere wisp of her immortal grid’s power truly spark such a transformation in the Golden Lotus? Was her immortal grid really so different from others?

“Naturally, the wonders of worldly karma are profound. The Golden Lotus’s transformation also owes a debt to the Seed of the End,” the Great Monk added, as if reading her thoughts.

“…”

Yun Yao asked, “Even so, why would it call me and Mu Hanyuan like that?”

“The Golden Lotus is sentient, naturally able to perceive the hearts and natures of people. The Seed of the End, now an inseparable part of the lotus, once resided long in both your seas of consciousness. Now merged with the lotus, it naturally feels an innate closeness to you both.”

Yun Yao: “…That’s not nurturing; it’s sealing.”

The Great Monk smiled faintly, as if he hadn’t heard. “I’ve done all I can for you, Benefactor. The Golden Lotus’s path forward is for you to decide. But a word of caution about the lotus.”
“Yes?”
“The Golden Lotus, the Seed of the End, and even the wisp of your immortal grid’s power are unparalleled treasures in Qianyuan. Bearing such triple radiance, the lotus’s entry into the world will surely attract the covetous eyes of demonic cultivators.”

“…”

Yun Yao tried one last struggle. “Does the Golden Lotus have to follow me?”

“From your cause, it bears your fruit,” the Great Monk said, lowering his eyes and forming a hand seal. “You cannot escape it, nor should you try.”

“…”

The Great Monk’s dismissal was practically written on his forehead.
Yun Yao sighed, sincerely returning a bow before turning to leave the bamboo hut.

Outside, under the nearby bamboo grove.

The little Golden Lotus, far from acting like a monk, was impishly climbing Mu Hanyuan’s robe despite being shorter than his knees. The usually pristine Lord Hanyuan’s snow-white robe was now marked with tiny claw-like prints.
And what struck Yun Yao as most miraculous…

For the first time, she saw unmistakable fluster on Mu Hanyuan, who had been calm and composed since his youth.

Finally, when the little Golden Lotus slapped a palm across Mu Hanyuan’s nose bridge, Yun Yao, standing before the hut, couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle.

“…”

Mu Hanyuan heard it and turned.
A few strands of his dark hair, loosened by the lotus’s tugging, hung half-disheveled over his pale forehead.
His usual refined demeanor carried a rare hint of disarray.

Seeing Yun Yao at the hut, watching his predicament for who-knows-how-long, his throat bobbed faintly, his voice tinged with quiet helplessness. “Master.”

“Mother!”

The little monk’s childish cry froze Yun Yao’s smile.
Snapping back, she hurried over. “Don’t call me that!”

“Master’s done talking?” Mu Hanyuan set the little lotus on the ground, glancing subtly at the bamboo hut behind her as he stood.

“Yes, the Great Monk’s washing his hands of this. This little trouble’s on us to take back,” Yun Yao said, then hesitated. “Can you sense what it is?”

“So, Master moved our master-disciple bond to give me this surprise?”

“?”
Yun Yao, bending to tease the child, paused. Why did Mu Hanyuan’s tone carry a teasing, almost amused edge?
But when she turned, his expression was as normal as ever.
…Just closer than before.

Yun Yao subtly stepped back half a pace, coughing to mask her awkwardness. “A slip-up, and it transformed.”

Mu Hanyuan lowered his gaze to the little lotus, who was craning its neck, staring eagerly at them both.
For some reason, he gave a faint smile. “It’s fine.”

“?”

Yun Yao, mid-step, thought she misheard. She turned back. “What’s fine? If I take it back to the sect, they’ll think we stole a little monk from Fantian Temple.”

Mu Hanyuan smiled without answering. “The spirit ritual sword—shall we retrieve it and return to Qianmen directly, Master?”

“That’s the plan,” Yun Yao said, watching him casually pick up the little lotus. She paused, turning her face. “You have other matters?”

“The other day, while you were in seclusion, I—”

At the mention of “Immortal Alliance,” Yun Yao’s brow furrowed. “What are they up to?”

“The Alliance’s message said Jiushi Valley prepared a mysterious treasure for this year’s Immortal Sect Competition’s top three. Arrays and escape techniques don’t affect it, nor can storage artifacts contain it. It requires personal transport.”

The little lotus reached for Yun Yao’s swaying hair as she walked but was swatted away mercilessly when she turned, ignoring its pouting, about-to-cry face. She looked at Mu Hanyuan. “What kind of treasure is so mysterious, and what’s it to you? Are they trying to ask you for a treasure as a prize too?”

Then, with a mischievous glance at the lotus in his arms, she added, “Well, we do have a rather troublesome ‘treasure’ here.”

“…?”
The little lotus’s half-pouting mouth snapped shut.
It turned, looking over Mu Hanyuan’s shoulder at the bamboo leaves.

Yun Yao laughed, amused and exasperated. “What a clever little thing.”

Mu Hanyuan watched her tease the lotus without offering help, his eyes lowering with a faint smile. “A few days ago, there was movement in the demonic realm. The past decade has been Jiushi Valley’s turn to guard the Two Realms Mountain, so they’ve sent more people. Their disciple selection is strict, leaving few available to escort this mysterious treasure to Fuyu Palace.”

At “demonic realm movement,” Yun Yao’s expression cooled.

In the Tower of Reincarnation, her experiences—without her immortal grid’s protection and controlled by her heart demon—felt distant yet forced her to stay vigilant.
The image of Mu Hanyuan’s fall to the demonic sent a chill through her bones.
She glanced at him, her gaze complex.

Sensing it, he looked up. “Does Master not want me to go?”

Yun Yao snapped back, silently repeating to herself, This isn’t the past life; he won’t become that Mu Hanyuan.

Then she turned back. “The Immortal Alliance wants you to help Jiushi Valley escort the treasure?”

“As the successor to the Dao Child, I must appear at each Immortal Sect Competition. From Fantian Temple eastward, we pass Jiushi Valley anyway—it’s on the way.” His tone was calm, almost detached, as if a saint untouched by worldly concerns.
Without her past life’s memories, she might’ve believed him.

“Then go. Jiushi Valley, huh,” Yun Yao’s tone dipped, though still casual. “A bunch of pedantic scholars, but my Fourth Senior Brother had some master-disciple bond with their valley master. For the sake of not sharing the same ruler’s lash, I’ll go along.”

Mu Hanyuan lowered his eyes, giving a faint smile.

“What’re you smiling at?”

“You can’t let it go, can you?”

“?” Yun Yao turned.

“Its spiritual power is vast, surpassing Qianyuan’s greatest treasures, making it a prime target. Yet it’s just a frail child. Taking it to Jiushi Valley could be risky.” Gesturing to the now-dozing lotus in his arms, he smiled gently. “Why does Master always mask your kindness with excuses?”

“…Nonsense, I don’t,” Yun Yao said flatly, turning away. “Go get your sword. Meet me at the temple gate. I’ll say goodbye to the demon monk first.”

“And keep an eye on it—make sure you fix its habit of calling people randomly before I’m back.”

“…”

Within moments, the red-clad figure vanished into the bamboo grove.

Mu Hanyuan lowered his gaze, a refined smile curving his lips. He gently pried the little lotus’s grip from his hair, pulling it to his front.
“Clearly craving closeness, yet most afraid of true intimacy.”
He tapped the lotus mark on its brow. “Mother’s strange, isn’t she?”

With only Mu Hanyuan present, the little lotus was noticeably better behaved, nodding silently with puffed cheeks.

Yun Yao sneaked into the zen room of the Red Dust Buddha.

She’d asked a young monk beforehand and learned the demon monk had woken yesterday and was meditating in his room. By masking her aura, she should avoid detection.

Her visit wasn’t really to bid farewell.
Though she’d wrongly blamed him for her Third Senior Sister’s death, and she was grateful for the century of life he’d given her, he hadn’t visited her sister at the Two Realms Mountain when she died. She still held that grudge.
No need for a special goodbye.

Her true purpose—
One thing only.

To steal a donkey.

“Shh, shh…”

Yun Yao slipped through three side rooms, finally finding one temporarily turned into a stable.

The donkey was inside, chewing hay.
At her entrance, it raised its head, ready to bray.

Yun Yao rushed forward, clamping its mouth. “Senior Sister—shh, don’t make noise. I’m here to save you.”

“…………!!!” The donkey, clearly not understanding, struggled in panic, kicking out.

Afraid to use spiritual power lest the demon monk notice, and unwilling to harm this mortal donkey, Yun Yao dodged clumsily, tugging its reins to lead it out.
“Hiss… Senior Sister! Stop kicking. What’s so great about this monk’s temple? We’re still…”

“Amitabha.”

A Buddhist chant came from the door.
The “thief” holding the reins froze in the stable, slowly turning.

At the doorway, against the light, stood a bald, gleaming head and a unmistakable blood-red kasaya—

The Red Dust Buddha, Liao Wu.

“…”

Yun Yao quietly released the reins, gently patting the donkey’s back. “I was just… about to leave and came to say goodbye to you and this… donkey brother, yes.”

“A fine farewell.”
The demon monk’s smile was ambiguous. “But since when did Qianmen’s Little Martial Aunt develop a fondness for bonding with donkeys?”

Yun Yao: “…?”