How Can a Lone Pillow Bear the Dreams of a Border City, Part 3

Yun Yao shot Wu Tianya a faint glance. “If I recall correctly…”

“Hm?” Wu Tianya responded.

“You left Canglong Mountain before me at Fuyu Palace’s temporary residence. How did you know I went to Fantian Temple afterward?”

“…”

The grass blade Wu Tianya was twirling paused.

Under the puzzled gazes of Ding Xiao and the others, Wu Tianya flashed a bright smile. “Well, don’t I just have great connections in the sect? Some disciples told me early on.”

Yun Yao gave a soft scoff, flicking him a glance before looking away, ignoring his silent sweat.

She lowered her eyes to the little Golden Lotus, now obediently silenced in her grip. “Call out again, and I’ll plant you in the dirt. Got it?”

The little Golden Lotus nodded vigorously.

Satisfied with the “silencing,” Yun Yao released its collar, tossing it back to Mu Hanyuan’s side.

Ding Xiao, curiosity piqued, stepped forward. “Martial Aunt, did you really steal a little monk from Fantian Temple? It looks like it’s barely learned to walk.”

Yun Yao let go of the lotus’s monk robes.
Hesitating, she noticed Xiao Zhong, the lead Jiushi Valley elder, casting a cold, wary glance. “This thing Fellow Daoist Yun brought… it’s not human, is it? Quite an extraordinary spiritual object.”

“—Huh?” Ding Xiao, surprised, crouched to get a closer look at the lotus.

But the little Golden Lotus, which had faced her moments ago, twisted away and clung to Mu Hanyuan’s leg.

The Jiushi Valley elders were clearly intrigued, their white and black beards twitching as they likely discussed it via mental transmission. Bound to guard the box with the Tianzhao Mirror, they could only steal curious glances, unable to leave their posts.

“It’s a naturally born spiritual essence,” Yun Yao said, spinning a casual lie. “Disobedient, noisy, and a hassle to manage. Anyone who thinks they can handle it is welcome to take it.”

“—!”

The little Golden Lotus, overhearing, buried its face in Mu Hanyuan’s robes, clinging tighter, wrinkling his wide sleeves.

Ding Xiao gasped, stepping back. “It dares to tug at Lord Hanyuan’s robes? I wouldn’t dare take something that bold.”

“…”

Everyone knew Yun Yao was joking, and no one took it seriously. Only Wu Tianya, lazily propped on his arm, gave the lotus a few extra glances before everyone’s attention returned to their surroundings, their senses on high alert.

The night curtain fell, stars scattered across the sky.

The wind howled through the wilderness.
Someone in the darkness suddenly looked up.

“…They’re here.”

Through their scattered senses, figures of varying cultivation levels approached their camp on the gentle slope.

Yun Yao and her group had anticipated this.
Carrying a Tianzhao Mirror that couldn’t be stored in artifacts or transported by spells meant traveling by foot. Even hastening their pace, they couldn’t rush to Tianshan without rest.
Moreover, exhaustion would leave them vulnerable to ambushes.
Thus, they chose this open grassland to rest, waiting for potential demonic cultivators lurking in the shadows.

But—

“These demonic cultivators’ levels are this low?” Ding Xiao muttered, sensing the strangers entering their range.
He Fengming, gripping his sword warily, frowned. “And why so many? Moving so openly this close to Fuyu Palace’s territory—are they that brazen?”
Ding Xiao racked her brains. “Maybe they think they can overwhelm us with numbers?”

“…”

The moonlight was cold, casting a stern edge on Yun Yao’s profile.
She closed her eyes, sensing for a moment. “Five groups, over a hundred cultivators, keeping cautious distances. The highest are two at Return to Void stage, fewer than ten at Spirit Transformation, and the lowest barely at Foundation Building.”
Her tone grew heavier.

“Martial Aunt, your perception is terrifying…” Ding Xiao, half in awe, suddenly paled. “They’re not demonic cultivators?!”

Among them, only Wu Tianya, lounging against a streamside rock, chewing a grass blade, chuckled. “With their level, if they’re demonic cultivators, world peace is just around the corner.”

Ding Xiao, unconvinced, turned. “Senior Brother Wu, your cultivation isn’t exactly stellar either.”

Wu Tianya, as if he hadn’t heard, tilted his grass blade toward a direction. “Besides, when have you seen demonic cultivators ambush so sneakily and so blatantly?”

“?”

Ding Xiao followed his gesture.
The nearest group in Yun Yao’s perception was now dozens of meters away.
They moved cautiously, their intentions unclear.

Ding Xiao: “…”
Indeed, sneaky and blatant.

Among the regular disciples, Xiao Zhong led the team on the surface.
“Maintain vigilance,” he ordered.
“Yes.”

Under their watch, the approaching group stopped a dozen meters away.

The leader, a middle-aged man in dark green robes with a mustache, wore a fawning smile. “May I ask if you are the Fellow Daoists of Jiushi Valley?”

Xiao Zhong signaled, and a disciple stepped forward, demanding sharply, “This is indeed Jiushi Valley’s temporary camp. Who are you, and why approach so boldly?”

“Fellow Daoists—no, Seniors, please don’t misunderstand! We’re from a minor sect on Qinghua Mountain, here to bring our disciples to the Immortal Sect Competition for experience. Crossing paths with you, we’d never dare disturb you.”

Xiao Zhong and the others frowned.
The Qianmen Realm’s immortal domain was vast, with countless minor sects and rogue cultivators. Neither Jiushi Valley, one of the four major sects, nor Qianmen, once the realm’s leading sect, had heard of Qinghua Mountain. Their disciples, all prodigies, found the name unfamiliar.

As they hesitated, a clear voice spoke, like frost falling on moonlit steps. “Qinghua Mountain lies in the northwest of the immortal domain, home to thirteen sects, each with fewer than a hundred members. Though hard to verify, it’s not baseless.”

“…”

Jiushi Valley disciples and Ding Xiao looked at Mu Hanyuan with awe and admiration.
Ding Xiao exclaimed, “Lord Hanyuan, you even know this?”

“Lord… Lord Hanyuan is here too?” The middle-aged cultivator’s face shifted, but he quickly resumed his smile. “We’ve traveled far and are exhausted. With recent unrest in the immortal domain, we dare not camp alone. Please, Seniors, allow us to rest nearby for the night.”

“…”

Their humble demeanor left Jiushi Valley, not known for bullying, with little reason to drive them off, especially since this wasn’t their territory.

Within half an hour, several minor sects and rogue cultivators had gathered around the camp.

Jiushi Valley’s expressions grew graver.
“Someone likely spread word of our presence, revealing the treasure that’s sparked contention between realms.”
“What use are these rabble without even Unity-stage cultivators?”
“We don’t know their plan, but we must stay vigilant tonight.”
“Elder Wan, let’s split into three teams tonight, rotating rest and watch.”
“No other choice…”

Xiao Zhong sent a disciple to inform Yun Yao’s group.

“Senior Brother Xiao said,” the disciple addressed Mu Hanyuan respectfully, “Qianmen’s Fellow Daoists are honored guests. It’s already a burden to travel with us, so we won’t trouble you further. Rest or meditate tonight, and we’ll alert you if anything happens.”

He Fengming, speaking for Mu Hanyuan, dismissed the disciple.
Returning to the campfire, he heard Ding Xiao ask, “Martial Aunt, should we listen to them?”

“Your life is yours—no one’s guarantee can save it.” Yun Yao’s face was grim, her gaze sweeping the scattered campfires and uneven cultivator auras in the wilderness. Her eyes reflected the firelight, yet carried the chill of the night.

Ding Xiao paled. “Martial Aunt, you think something will happen tonight?”

“It will. They created this chaos for a reason,” Yun Yao paused, frowning slightly. “But I haven’t figured it out.”

“Hm? Figured what out?”

“These demonic cultivators, hiding in the immortal domain for three hundred years, practice soul-sacrificing arts to boost cultivation and extend life. Even if some hold high positions and need to show face at Tianshan, I don’t believe they lack high-realm cultivators who’ve never shown themselves.”

Ding Xiao caught on slowly. “If they sent a team of Unity-stage cultivators, it’d be a complete rout against us…”

“So why go to such lengths when they could just attack directly?”

He Fengming pondered. “Maybe they think we’re hiding a trump card and don’t dare act rashly.”

“A trump card?” Yun Yao sighed. “Possible, but after three hundred years of erosion, is there any sect left in the immortal domain that’s an impenetrable wall to them?”

“—”

Recalling his master, He Fengming’s face changed, and he fell silent.

“Forget it. Others can scheme all they want, but we’re not omniscient. For now, stay cautious and adapt as needed.”
Yun Yao clapped her hands, standing. “We’ll take shifts tonight.”

Around the campfire, the others looked at her.

She paused, pretending not to notice their heavy gazes. “I’ll take Ding Xiao and He Fengming. Lord Hanyuan, you’re with Senior Brother Wu. Split the other disciples evenly. That work?”

Ding Xiao’s face fell. “Martial Aunt, you think He Fengming and I together can’t match Senior Brother Wu alone?”

“Who said that?”
As she walked, Yun Yao nudged Mu Hanyuan’s sleeve with her red boot, revealing half the hidden Golden Lotus. “Their team has it too, don’t they?”

“?”

The little Golden Lotus, forced back to flower form when the minor sects approached, perked up its petals, quivering with a hint of proud defiance.

Yun Yao chuckled, walking off. “Of course, it’s a liability.”

Little Golden Lotus: “…?”
Whimper.

Jiushi Valley and Qianmen’s disciples stayed vigilant all night, but the anticipated midnight ambush never came.
As dawn approached, a faint light glimmered on the horizon.

The last two shifts of Jiushi Valley disciples, exhausted, handed over duty, yawning. “I need a good sleep before we move.”
“My head’s aching from scanning.”
“Those petty crooks…”
“Wait, am I hallucinating? Why’s the ground moving?”
“No, I feel it too—”
“The ground’s shaking!!”

Yun Yao’s group sensed it first.

The moment the ground surged with overwhelming spiritual force, Yun Yao snapped awake.
“Wake up!”

“What—what’s happening? An ambush?!” A disciple jolted up from the extinguished campfire, his sword flashing before him.

If the timing weren’t so dire, Yun Yao would’ve smacked him with her scabbard. “Not an ambush—it’s a formation!”

“—?”

No need for her to explain—anyone with sense could feel the ground shift from subtle tremors to earth-shaking quakes.

Before Mu Hanyuan, his Minsheng Zither floated, strings pressed to release invisible spiritual pressure into the ground.
Two breaths later, he opened his eyes coldly. “Seven Gates Immortal-Slaying Formation.”

Ding Xiao, barely steady, gasped. “Seven Gates what… never mind, sounds deadly, forget I asked…”

“Rest, Injury, Block, Scene, Death, Shock, Open.” Yun Yao rattled off quickly, summoning a sword light that trailed a faint glow from the tail of Mu Hanyuan’s zither.

Wu Tianya glanced at the sword light.

Ding Xiao, confused: “Isn’t that eight gates?”

“The Life Gate is gone, leaving seven.” Yun Yao drove her sword into the ground, seeking the formation’s nexus. “This array is perilous, an ancient lost art, incomplete. I don’t know how they restored it, but its power can level mountains and fill seas…”

Her words were drowned by the chaos outside—cries for help and screams.

It was the rogue cultivators and minor sects from last night.

Wu Tianya’s face darkened, veins pulsing at his temple. “…Thousand Faces Technique.”

“What?” Yun Yao turned.

“A demonic art—trapping living souls to mimic their faces and auras, fooling even close allies. I haven’t practiced it—” Wu Tianya paused, then rushed on, avoiding her gaze. “So I forgot yesterday. They must’ve hidden disciples among the rogue cultivators, setting up the seven formation nexuses overnight!”

Yun Yao: “Ding Xiao, He Fengming, take the disciples and get all unrelated cultivators out of a hundred-meter radius!”

He Fengming hesitated. “But some might be hiding enemies! Why save them?!”
“You can’t help here and will only hinder—go!”
“…Yes.”

Gritting his teeth, He Fengming followed Ding Xiao toward the crying low-level cultivators.

Meanwhile, Yun Yao’s trio reached the heart of Jiushi Valley’s battle—

As expected, dozens of cultivators cloaked in black mist stood before them.

The box with the Tianzhao Mirror was being wrested from a blood-spitting Jiushi Valley elder by two black-mist figures.

Yun Yao shot forward, her sword forcing them back, but she couldn’t pursue the box. Instead, she parried a venomous sneak attack aimed at the elder’s heart from behind.
The black-mist figure sneered, retreating.
Yun Yao steadied the hot-tempered elder, handing him to a Jiushi Valley disciple. “Get your elder out of the array!”

“Yun—Yun Yaojiu!” The white-bearded elder, catching his breath after coughing blood, trembled with rage. “Why save me? Chase the treasure!!”

Yun Yao, half-laughing, half-exasperated, chased the remaining black-mist figures with her sword.

Simultaneously, her clear voice rang through the array: “This is the Seven Gates Immortal-Slaying Formation, spanning a hundred meters with world-turning power. Those below Unity stage have no hope of survival—retreat beyond a hundred meters now.”

“Unity-stage and above, heed this: the formation gathers the killing force of ten thousand mountains, but it can focus on one person. When the energy manifests, everyone stay clear!”

Though she didn’t understand how these demonic cultivators restored an ancient, incomplete array Qianmen couldn’t even fully comprehend, Yun Yao had no time to ponder.
Once activated, the formation was unstoppable.
One could die, but not the whole group.

Perhaps her shout drew too much attention, or her earlier slaughter-like strikes against the mirror-snatchers stood out. Half the black-mist figures now targeted her.
“…Always the one who stands out gets shot.”
Clutching the mirror’s box, Yun Yao didn’t linger, darting toward the Jiushi Valley disciples.

“Xiao Zhong!” She tossed the box to Xiao Zhong, fighting bloodily among them. “Take it and get out. We’ll hold them off.”

Xiao Zhong shook off a black-mist corpse from his sword, caught the box, and retreated swiftly.
“Yes, Martial Aunt Yun.”

As soon as Yun Yao threw the box, killing intent surged behind her. Without thinking, she parried, clashing with three black-mist figures in ten moves within moments.
Then, a dark, meteor-like flash streaked through her mind.

Xiao Zhong… since when did he call her “Martial Aunt” so respectfully?

“No—”
Yun Yao spun, eyes wide with fury. “A demonic cultivator used the Thousand Faces Technique to impersonate Xiao Zhong!”

Across the distance, Mu Hanyuan and Wu Tianya’s expressions shifted.

Where Yun Yao’s gaze followed, the “Xiao Zhong” transformed, merging into thick, rolling black mist.

“Such a pity you noticed.” The black-mist figure sneered, raising the box.

In that instant, all black-mist figures fighting the immortal disciples halted, retreating outward in unison.

“The array’s activating! Run!” He Fengming’s frantic yell echoed, aimed at someone unknown.

Yun Yao gritted her teeth, glaring at the black-mist figure above.
For some reason, he stood unmoving, brimming with confidence.

He slowly lowered his head, looking at the red-clad girl, and snapped his fingers. Click.

With that snap, countless silver thread shadows shot skyward within a hundred meters, revealing the Seven Gates Immortal-Slaying Formation’s silhouette.
At the threads’ end, they all tethered to one person—

Yun Yao looked down.

Seeing the dense silver threads wrapping her like a cocoon, she laughed bitterly. “…You really think highly of me.”

“The sole heir of the Naihe Sword Technique deserves such a grand gesture,” the black-mist figure sneered. “Especially since you’re Lord Hanyuan’s beloved little junior sister.”

“?”

Yun Yao wanted to swing her sword at him, but her spiritual veins felt locked by the array’s countless threads. She couldn’t move, let alone channel spiritual energy.

The Seven Gates Immortal-Slaying Formation was a killing array, yet this felt like a trapping array…

In her peripheral vision, Mu Hanyuan and Wu Tianya rushed toward her.
At the same time, as dawn’s first light peeked over the horizon, something reflected a piercing glint into Yun Yao’s eyes.

Instinctively, she closed them.
In that moment of darkness, her heart sank.

Above the array’s heart, the black-mist figure held the Tianzhao Mirror, its surface aimed at Yun Yao’s position.

An incomplete array… this wasn’t the full Seven Gates Immortal-Slaying Formation.
They’d turned it into a Seven Gates Immortal-Trapping Formation!

Yun Yao, eyes shut, forced out a hoarse cry: “Don’t come!!”

“—”

Midair, two figures shot toward the center from opposite directions.

Mu Hanyuan and Wu Tianya saw the mirror’s reflection and heard Yun Yao’s trembling voice.

The dark-green-robed figure trembled, pausing.

But the white-robed shadow didn’t hesitate, slicing through countless silver threads in an instant, entering the array’s heart.

“Master.”
Mu Hanyuan gripped Yun Yao’s wrist.

Her heart sank endlessly.

…It’s over.
Too late.

In that moment, she realized.
The black-mist figures wanted the Tianzhao Mirror, but their goal was far greater.
Before their sordid deeds were exposed, they aimed to ruin Qianmen’s most revered saint—Lord Hanyuan—in front of the world.

“Especially since you’re Lord Hanyuan’s beloved little junior sister.”

Perhaps that day at the southwest inn, Mu Hanyuan’s devotion to her and his drawn black-and-white sword had sparked this calamity.

From the start, they’d meant to trap her alone with the incomplete Seven Gates array.
Using the killing array as a smokescreen, they lured Mu Hanyuan to “throw himself into the net,” ensuring he’d face the Tianzhao Mirror with no escape.

The Tianzhao Mirror’s silver light fell, like snow and frost, coating Mu Hanyuan’s silver crown and dark hair, as if dyeing it white.

The array’s seven killing forces halted, the silver threads around Yun Yao falling, dissolving into the earth.
The killing intent vanished.

Yun Yao could barely bear to open her eyes.

But in her senses, the Tianzhao Mirror stirred the heavens, converging energy into one point.

Across the sky, exclamations rose.

In the mirror, thick, unyielding mist swirled, its clear glow stained ink-black. After surging, it erupted into a tangible mist pillar, piercing the heavens—

In the dark sky, the mirror projected a vision of rivers and desolation.

Blood seas stained the heavens, corpses and bones blanketed verdant mountains, stretching endlessly.
Above the blood sea, a black-crowned, white-haired youth in robes slowly raised his eyes, blood-red demonic patterns seeping from their corners.
Gazing down at the world, he gave a cold smile, like a world-destroying demon god.

But that face…

In the sky, countless panicked cultivators, trembling, turned to the white-robed figure at the array’s heart.

“Lord Hanyuan.”
“—Mu Hanyuan.”

Everyone froze, breathless.

Save for his robe color, hair, and lotus crown, the demon in the sky was identical to Mu Hanyuan’s ethereal features.

The black-mist figure’s voice boomed through the wilderness.

“Lord Hanyuan, who’d have thought—not even I imagined—you’re the true seed of world destruction, the culprit who’ll prevent all Qianmen Realm cultivators from ascending for a millennium, doomed to die and fade!”

Amid the suffocating silence of immortal cultivators and the black-mist figure’s sneering, a faint sound emerged—

Crack.

Yun Yao’s eyelids twitched. She looked up.

The black-mist figure froze, turning.

The supposedly indestructible Tianzhao Mirror, unable to withstand the apocalyptic flames in the rolling black mist, cracked in his hands.

Above the wilderness, the blood-sea and bone-mountain vision shattered, scattering into starry dust.