Green Mountains and Bright Moon Never Fade, Part 2

Yun Yao hadn’t anticipated that, before the Immortal Sect Competition, before Mu Hanyuan faced any trouble, it would be Wu Tianya who ran into a crisis—

On the second morning at Tianshan Palace, while Yun Yao was meditating in her room, she suddenly sensed a familiar aura rushing toward the courtyard.
Without stopping it, she flicked her fingers.

The door swung open with the wind, revealing Ding Xiao, frozen mid-knock, her face etched with urgency.

“What’s wrong? So frantic first thing in the morning.”

“Martial Aunt! Hurry to the disciples’ courtyard! Something’s wrong with Senior Brother Wu—he’s gone astray in his cultivation, on the verge of demonic possession!”

“?”

Yun Yao’s heart jolted.
Her mind flashed to the moment Wu Tianya had frozen under the Tianzhao Mirror’s light.

Her expression darkened as she stood. “I’m going now. Get Mu Hanyuan to come too.”

“Yes, Martial Aunt!”

Stepping into the disciples’ courtyard, Yun Yao’s face shifted.

From the northern room, faint black mist-like strands of energy seeped out, contained within the building.
Even with her divine sense, she wouldn’t have noticed without entering the courtyard.
With such cultivation, in the disciples’ quarters, it could only be him.

No time to waste. Yun Yao flashed forward, appearing inside the room in an instant. Scanning the interior, she strode to the inner chamber—
Several Qianmen disciples stood around a table-bed, where Wu Tianya sat cross-legged, face flushed, sweating profusely. His aura surged wildly, his robes rising and falling, spiritual energy coursing like a serpent, veins bulging across his body.
On his exposed neck, the pulsing veins faintly shimmered with black.

The sight confirmed it for Yun Yao.

The black mist, similar to but fainter than that of the black-mist figures, swirled around Wu Tianya.
For a moment, she couldn’t tell if it was being absorbed inward or struggling to break free.

“All disciples, retreat outside!” Yun Yao’s clear voice cut through the room’s clamor.

Hearing her, the disciples saluted and filed out as ordered.

The last was He Fengming.
Before Yun Yao approached the bed to check Wu Tianya’s condition, she recalled something and instructed, “Guard the courtyard entrance. Until I come out, let no one in except Lord Hanyuan.”

He Fengming paused, then lowered his head, clutching his sword. “I obey.”

“…”

When Mu Hanyuan entered, Yun Yao was behind Wu Tianya on the bed, regulating his breathing to suppress the chaos.

Seeing Mu Hanyuan arrive, Yun Yao exhaled in relief. “Soul-Soothing Melody.”

“Alright.”

Mu Hanyuan flicked his hand, and his zither floated before the table. His fingers brushed the strings, producing a clear, soothing sound like a flowing spring.

With Mu Hanyuan’s melody calming Wu Tianya’s soul and stabilizing his aura, Yun Yao’s burden eased significantly.
She sighed, finally able to spare a thought. “Did the Immortal Alliance try to stop you?”

“They did,” Mu Hanyuan said calmly.

“Hm? You didn’t fight them, did you?” Yun Yao’s heart tensed, but seeing his unruffled demeanor, she relaxed. “Never mind, with your temperament, you wouldn’t care about them…”

Her words trailed off as she caught, in her peripheral vision, Mu Hanyuan averting his gaze, his lashes lowering silently.

Yun Yao: “…”
“?”

At that moment, outside the courtyard wall, Qianmen disciples stood stunned, staring at the groaning Immortal Alliance officers sprawled on the ground.

Someone muttered, “First time I’ve seen Lord Hanyuan attack—no, injure someone with his zither…”
“It wasn’t Lord Hanyuan’s doing,” a male disciple snapped back, coming to his senses. “Those Fuyu Palace disciples tried to hurt Senior Sister Ding Xiao! They deserved it!”
“Right! Senior Brother Wu’s in demonic possession, and they wanted to barge in and hurt people. We’re in the right!”
“Still, I didn’t expect Lord Hanyuan to get angry.”
“Doesn’t it feel like Senior Brother Hanyuan seemed… more human just now?”
“Hey, you saying Lord Hanyuan wasn’t human before?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”

The chatter drifted clearly into Yun Yao’s ears.

With her and Mu Hanyuan’s combined efforts, Wu Tianya’s surging demonic aura was suppressed. Though confirming her Fifth Senior Brother’s demonic cultivation weighed on her heart, she kept it hidden.
Quietly stepping off the bed, she helped the now-unconscious Wu Tianya lie down to rest, then signaled Mu Hanyuan, and they moved to the outer room.

“Not bad, Lord Hanyuan, standing up for your disciples?” Yun Yao sat at the table, flipping a teacup and handing one to Mu Hanyuan.

The thin porcelain cup lifted, a faint ripple in the tea.

Mu Hanyuan, sitting opposite, looked up to see the red-clad woman propping her cheek, gazing at him playfully.

“…”

Her teasing gaze was too blatant, and Mu Hanyuan finally faltered, his lashes lowering. “Alright. I just wanted to try… the way of living you spoke of, Master.”

“And? How was it?”

“…”
Hearing the excited chatter outside about him, like sparrows chirping, Mu Hanyuan thought for a long time.
“Not bad.”

“Looks like my ‘Naihe Sword Technique’ wasn’t taught in vain.”
Yun Yao smiled, gazing at his refined profile, now touched with a hint of mortal warmth. In a fleeting moment, she recalled the Mu Hanyuan of her past life.

“If only I’d noticed sooner.”

“What?” Mu Hanyuan looked up.

Yun Yao snapped back, smiling faintly. “Nothing… Just a sudden regret. If I’d known you were so alone these three hundred years, I might’ve taken more disciples to keep you company, like my senior brothers and sisters did for me… so you wouldn’t live like a solitary island in the East Sea.”

Mu Hanyuan’s gaze softened. “This is fine too.”

“Yes, it’s good now, and it’ll get better,” Yun Yao exhaled. “You probably guessed Wu Tianya’s identity when you saw him at Jiushi Valley, didn’t you?”

Mu Hanyuan hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Then let me tell you about my senior brothers and sisters.”

Mu Hanyuan seemed surprised.
He turned fully, almost comically attentive, ready to listen.

“They’re childish, ridiculous stories. No need for that,” Yun Yao laughed at his reaction. “You can laugh at them, but not at me.”

“Alright,” Mu Hanyuan’s eyes gleamed. “I’m listening.”

“Hm… Let’s start with my sanctimonious, cold-posing Senior Brother…”

Wu Tianya woke near dusk.

Emerging from a recurring nightmare, he opened his eyes in the dark with a gasp.
His memory lingered on Yun Yao’s worried gaze, her spiritual energy flowing through his veins to regulate his breathing, and the faint fragrance unique to his little junior sister still lingering in the room…

This darkness was different from the despairing shadows of the past hundred years, when he clawed his way back from bones and blood, rebuilding a stranger’s body.
Mu Jiutian felt his heart brimming with warm spring water.
His gentle, kind, beloved little junior sister, his—

“…Mu Jiutian? He’s a peculiar one, the most dog-like person I’ve ever met.”

Mu Jiutian, half-moved, froze: “…?”

The voices from the outer room continued pouring in:
“Not quite a dog—more like a flashy one. Anything to look cool or heroic, he’d do it. Loved playing the dashing hero saving beauties, prancing around the mortal realm as a suave wanderer… tsk.”
“The guy’s shameless. I carried a mountain of blame for him growing up. The worst was when he got drunk one night, stumbled into Sixth Senior Brother’s treasure pavilion, and broke his beloved white jade hairpin. The next day, that shameless jerk dragged me to take the fall, claiming I held a knife to his throat to rob the rich for the poor…”
“What? How’d I get back at him? I didn’t—your kind little junior sister here.”
“…Alright, the next month, I teamed up with Second Senior Sister. While he was soaking in the cold spring, we stole his inner robes, outer robes, and storage artifact. He ran naked through the back mountains with just a leaf, scaring an outer sect sister, and got a thrashing from Master, haha!”
“Besides me, he got the most beatings from Fourth Senior Brother’s ruler.”
“…Why was I closer to him? Not really close, just that when I joined the sect, most senior brothers and sisters were off training. Unfortunately, I got stuck with him…”
“Climbing trees for eggs, fishing in rivers—he taught me every bad habit, never doing anything proper…”
“Thank goodness your Master’s talent kept me from going astray.”
“Later, Fourth Senior Brother returned, and our hell began.”
“Then there was the time a Phoenix Clan girl played him with a ‘fairy trap,’ luring him to save her, chasing him across the mountains to pledge herself. Scared him into hiding in the female disciples’ quarters, so I dressed him in hideous women’s clothes. Master and the elders saw, and the head elder was bedridden for three days from shock, haha!”
“After that, he reformed. He saved men or women on his travels, made it clear, and left immediately, giving no chance for pledges—pure experience, my disciple, you’ll find it useful…”

“…”

Before his “gentle, kind, adorable” junior sister could talk him to death, Mu Jiutian sat up on the bed and coughed.

In the outer room, Yun Yao abruptly shut her mouth, turning warily.

Moments later, from the dim inner doorway, a figure in inner robes and a loosely draped outer robe emerged.

As if recovering from a grave illness, the robe hung on his gaunt frame. Mu Jiutian leaned lazily against the doorframe, half his face in shadow.
His expression was unreadable, his voice languid.
“Accounts from four or five hundred years ago, Yun Yaojiu. Planning to dig them up when grass grows over my grave?”

“…”

Whether he’d hidden too well as “Wu Tianya” or three hundred years was simply too long, hearing that once-familiar voice made Yun Yao feel a surreal haze.

As if he’d never left.
As if he’d crossed three hundred years, from that summer day when he left the mountain, amid rosy clouds and dappled shade, stepping right to her side.

Sourness, resentment, and gratitude for his survival intertwined, surging within her.

Yun Yaojiu leaned against the table, sipping cold tea to calm her swirling emotions before speaking. “You mean Mu Jiutian’s grave? On the back mountain of Tianxuan Peak, the grass there’s probably sentient by now.”

“You actually built me a grave?” Mu Jiutian chuckled softly. “Not easy. From what you just said, I thought you’d ship me off to the Phoenix Clan for a ghost marriage.”

“…”

Her fleeting emotions vanished, replaced by an urge to roll her eyes.

Mu Jiutian, ever familiar, sat across the round table, raising his arm toward Mu Hanyuan. “Hey, little nephew.”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan seemed deaf to it, his slender fingers on the teapot tightening imperceptibly.

A freshly poured teacup slid before Mu Jiutian.
Only then did Mu Hanyuan lift his lashes, like frost scattering into his dark eyes, carrying a cool warmth.
“Martial Uncle, tea.”

Mu Jiutian drew a soft breath, turning to Yun Yao. “I’ve been wondering—where’d you pick up this disciple, born from Tianshan’s peak, like ice spring water?”

Yun Yao narrowed her eyes. “Speak human.”

“Like ice water,” Mu Jiutian swirled his cup. “Cold to the touch, bland to drink.”

“?”
Yun Yao’s hand, propping her cheek, hit the table. “The highest virtue is like water, benefiting all without contention—you think everyone’s as shallow as you?”

Mu Jiutian opened his mouth to retort.

“Shut it. In your current frail state, I could knock you out ten times. Be smart and answer,” Yun Yao paused, her voice sharp. “What happened back then? Were you never dead, or was there some twist?”

“I died.”
Mu Jiutian’s tone was casual, as if telling someone else’s tale. “But then, I lived again.”

Yun Yao: “How much later?”

“…” Mu Jiutian’s hand, holding the cup, paused. “Uh, seven or eight years.”

Yun Yao narrowed her eyes further.

Mu Hanyuan, gazing down, wiped his hands with a cloth, as if casually. “Seven or eight decades.”

Yun Yao turned: “?”
Mu Jiutian turned: “???”

To Mu Jiutian, Mu Hanyuan was unusually expressive, though restrained.
If it were just him, Mu Hanyuan might’ve preferred to choke him silently.
But not with Yun Yao.

“For the past century, I’ve had agents in the four main demonic cities. Over seventy years ago, a strategist appeared in Xuanwu City, deeply trusted by the city lord, and not a demon,” Mu Hanyuan glanced at Mu Jiutian. “At first, I only suspected he was an immortal sect disciple. Only in the last year did I connect him to Martial Uncle, though I wasn’t certain.”

Mu Jiutian: “…”
Calling him “Martial Uncle” so smoothly, yet where was the respect?

“Seven or eight years?” Yun Yao sneered, turning back. “Keep spinning.”

Mu Jiutian coughed lightly. “I was afraid if you knew your senior brother turned half-demonic, and it took decades to barely reach Unity stage, it’d ruin my heroic image in your heart.”

“Dream on—you were never heroic, even in my dreams.”
Yun Yao shot back. “So, you cultivated for decades and turned yourself into this wilted twig?”

Mu Jiutian: “…”
“?”
He turned earnestly to Mu Hanyuan. “Who taught your Master her vocabulary these past years?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Yun Yao’s words seemed squeezed through gritted teeth.

Mu Jiutian: “When did I—”

“Your black mist is different from theirs—don’t think I can’t tell!” Provoked by his flippant attitude, Yun Yao snapped.
The room fell silent.

After a few breaths, Mu Jiutian sighed, leaning back. “You’ve been this stubborn since you were little, and you still are.”

“Talk or don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’m scared of you,” Mu Jiutian sighed. “I was saved by a lesser blood demon I had ties with, barely kept alive for a century before waking. You’ve seen this broken body—to survive, I had to cultivate demonic arts.”

“…”
Yun Yao’s throat tightened, wanting to speak but unable to.

“But demonic cultivation is easier said than done. Immortal-demonic hybrid arts, as you now know, require refining living souls. It’s not that your senior brother was too proud—it’s that I feared if I did such heinous things, even in the underworld, Du Jin’s ruler would whip me into a crippled ghost. How pathetic would that be?”

Yun Yao bit her lip, struggling to speak stiffly. “So how did you cultivate?”

“Just… got by.”

Yun Yao gave up on his evasive mouth, turning to Mu Hanyuan. “You tell me.”

Mu Hanyuan’s gaze paused on her, hesitating.

Mu Jiutian cut in: “Come on, Yun Yaojiu, even if you cherish your disciple like the heavens, how could he know the specifics of my demonic cultivation? I—”

“Immortal-demonic hybrid arts require soul refinement,” Mu Hanyuan said calmly. “If not living souls, then lingering resentful souls.”

“…”
Mu Jiutian stared at him like he’d seen a ghost.

Yun Yao’s teeth ached at “resentful souls.” “Are you two obsessed with resentful souls?”

“Hm? Who else?” Mu Jiutian leaned forward curiously.

Ignoring him, Yun Yao looked at Mu Hanyuan. “Does refining resentful souls cause harm?”

Mu Jiutian’s expression finally shifted.
He glanced at Mu Hanyuan, sending a mental message: Even if you somehow know this, don’t say it. You don’t want to upset your Master over my affairs, do you?

“It damages one’s lifespan.”

Mu Hanyuan spoke evenly, then looked up at Mu Jiutian. “What did Martial Uncle just transmit? I didn’t catch it. I have nothing to hide from Master—everything requires her judgment. Speak plainly.”

Mu Jiutian: “…?”