A Sister’s Fury and a Poisoned Revelation

The cry, laden with shock, confusion, and disbelief, ‘A-jie’ (TL Note: An intimate term for an elder sister or respected female.), echoed in the frozen air, transforming into a chorus of sarcastic laughter in Ye Jinghuang’s own ears.

The blood drained completely from her face, leaving her even paler than Mo Tingbei at that moment.

She stared fixedly at the face of the white-robed female Daoist, a face that had appeared countless times in her tear-soaked memories, in her midnight dreams.

Now, it manifested before her with startling reality, bearing an unfamiliar detachment and majesty, as if gazing down upon the mortal world from the clouds.

Between her and her ‘A-jie’ now lay the chasm of the entire mortal realm, as vast as the distance between the brilliant moon and a flickering firefly.

The jade beads of her imperial crown clinked together, producing faint yet distinct sounds, a testament to her violent trembling.

Instinctively, she recoiled half a step, only to collide with the cold stone wall, barely managing to steady herself.

A sickening sweetness rose in her throat, and her vision swam with black spots.

The pride she had fiercely maintained for eight years, the very dignity of an empress, shattered completely with that single cry, leaving behind only the abject discomfiture of a puppet repeatedly toyed with by fate, and a profound, bone-deep sense of injustice.

Lin Xiaoxiao’s gaze darted between the two, and to her astonishment, she realized that these two peerless beauties, whose allure was no less than her own, shared a striking seventy percent resemblance.

Yet, before this moment of seeing them both, even Lin Xiaoxiao, who had often encountered Senior Aunt Jiang (TL Note: A respectful address for a senior in a sect, often translated as ‘Senior Uncle’ or ‘Senior Aunt’ depending on context and gender. Here, referring to Jiang Jinyue, a female Daoist.), had never connected the emperor of this mortal dynasty with the suspected pillar of the sect, hinting at a blood relation.

Perhaps a mere instant, or perhaps a prolonged moment, passed before Ye Jinghuang finally extricated herself from her overwhelming bewilderment.

She asked, her voice trembling, “Is that truly you?”

The white-robed female priest, now named Jiang Jinyue and known by the appellation ‘Sue’ (TL Note: Often used to describe a beautiful woman, especially one associated with the moon goddess.), seemed not to hear the call.

She didn’t even spare Ye Jinghuang a glance from the corner of her eye.

All her attention was fixed on Mo Tingbei.

Those eyes, usually alight with a gentle smile, were now as still as the cold waters of a deep abyss, with only an intensely suppressed emotion churning deep within them.

Carrying the peculiar, milky-white everlasting lamp, she moved silently to Mo Tingbei’s side.

As she drew near, the all-encompassing oppressive aura receded like a tide, replaced by a gentle spiritual energy, akin to moonlight, which finally allowed his labored breathing to ease.

Her gaze, her entire being, was fixated on the dying man.

That undisguised, almost palpable concern, felt like a handful of salt aggressively cast upon Ye Jinghuang’s raw, bleeding wounds.

Mo Tingbei opened his eyes, and within their depths remained the same tenderness Jiang Jinyue remembered.

Jiang Jinyue clearly saw a certain intimate nickname, one only he could call her, almost escape his throat.

Yet, he forcibly swallowed it, and what reached her ears was still that somewhat distant address, “Senior… Senior Sister Jiang…”

The faint voice emerged, laced with the weakness of one who had narrowly escaped death, and a hint of… reliance?

Jiang Jinyue’s eyes faltered slightly.

‘He had, after all, not uttered the more intimate endearment. However… this was enough. Her Senior Brother… he could no longer do without her.’

As this thought flashed through her mind, a barely perceptible smile flickered at the corner of Jiang Jinyue’s lips.

“Don’t speak,” Jiang Jinyue’s voice remained gentle, yet carried an undeniable command.

She leaned down, her movements so delicate it was as if she feared shattering a priceless treasure.

Jiang Jinyue’s cautious demeanor, coupled with Mo Tingbei’s trusting gaze, pierced Ye Jinghuang’s eyes like daggers.

‘Why?’ she thought. ‘Why can ‘A-jie’ be so gentle with him? Why must he be so dependent on ‘A-jie’? And I… I schemed relentlessly, exhausted every means, even transformed into a devil I loathed, all for nothing more than to keep a mere shadow of him!’

Her lips parted, as if to speak, but upon seeing Mo Tingbei’s injuries, she faltered again, unable to utter a sound.

Jiang Jinyue’s wide Daoist robe sleeve brushed past Mo Tingbei, stirring a familiar, faint, ethereal fragrance.

A ripple stirred in Mo Tingbei’s eyes, yet he quietly concealed it.

‘This familiar scent… it belonged to a special flower. A flower that bloomed only on that small peak, a place meant solely for him and her.’

The smile in Jiang Jinyue’s eyes deepened, only to be quickly overshadowed by intense worry.

She extended two slender, jade-like fingers, gently resting them on Mo Tingbei’s wrist.

Her fingertips were cool, but a wisp of incredibly pure, gentle True Essence (TL Note: Also known as ‘True Qi’ or ‘Spiritual Energy,’ it is a fundamental energy cultivated by practitioners in many Chinese fantasy settings.), imbued with unimaginable, surging power, cautiously flowed like a gentle stream into Mo Tingbei’s tattered meridians.

His Dantian (TL Note: The spiritual energy core located in the lower abdomen, crucial for cultivation.) was shattered, his meridians severed, and his spiritual power completely lost – all of this was within her expectations.

A cultivator who had already transcended that boundary didn’t need to actively use spiritual power to discern the state of those below it.

The moment her gaze fell upon Mo Tingbei, she had already “seen” everything that had transpired to him.

This naturally encompassed the injuries sustained due to Lin Xiaoxiao’s recklessness, and… everything Ye Jinghuang had done.

Whenever she faced Mo Tingbei, Jiang Jinyue would, consciously or unconsciously, tend to him and care for him with the utmost intimacy.

Just as now, she purposefully used her spiritual power to personally examine him, and while doing so, gently nourished his already gravely damaged internal state.

The instant her spiritual power touched a certain spot in his Dantian, Jiang Jinyue’s fingers, resting on his pulse, paused imperceptibly.

A crack finally appeared in her otherwise placid face.

It was not astonishment, but a rage so profound it had solidified.

Her gaze, like two tangible ice picks, finally turned towards Ye Jinghuang.

“You…” Her voice was not loud, yet it carried a chill that could pierce one’s very marrow. “What poison did you administer to him?”

This single question, like the final spark igniting a powder keg, set off an explosion.

“Poison?” Ye Jinghuang’s head snapped up, her face a chaotic mess of tears, rouge, and gold powder.

She looked at Jiang Jinyue, then at the faintly breathing Mo Tingbei in her arms.

The injustice accumulated over eight years, the anger of betrayal, the resentment of abandonment, and a nearly twisted, destructive glee, all erupted with a thunderous roar!

She let out a wretched laugh, sharp and grating, echoing through the empty prison cell, imbued with a hysterical madness.

“‘Spirit Devouring Core Rot’ ! A-jie, do you recognize this wonderful thing?” Her voice rose with excitement, carrying a morbid boastfulness and accusation. “A ‘kind person’ gave it to me! She said, with this, he would never be able to fly away again! He would forever be a cripple, forever… forced to stay by my side! Only if I transmit spiritual power to him daily, and even engage in dual cultivation (TL Note: ‘Yin-Yang Shuangxiu’ refers to a cultivation method involving two practitioners, typically a man and a woman, combining their energies to advance their cultivation, often implying sexual intimacy.), would he be able to continue living!”

She pointed at Jiang Jinyue, her finger trembling violently from the force, her eyes filled with an unyielding, thick venom.

“Because of you! It’s all because of you! Because of your unannounced departure, Imperial Grandfather grew suspicious, which led to the Nine Princes’ Succession War (TL Note: A historical or fictional event where multiple imperial princes contend for the throne.)! The princes fought a bloody war, and Father died early.

The Wu Yin bloodline was massacred until even a mere commandery princess (TL Note: ‘Jùnzhǔ’ is a title for a princess, usually a daughter of a prince or an emperor’s daughter of lower rank than a full empress-born princess.) like me could claim legitimacy! You left without a word, abandoning me alone in this man-eating place!

Do you know what kind of life I lived before Master Mo arrived? I slept less than half an hour a day, barely escaping countless assassins with my life! Did you ever truly care that you had a sister?!”

Her gaze then abruptly swung to Lin Xiaoxiao, her eyes now dangerously alluring, as if steeped in poison.

“And you!” she snarled. “By what right? By what right can you stand openly by his side? Call him Master (TL Note: ‘Shīzūn’ is a respectful term for one’s teacher or master, particularly in cultivation sects.)? Enjoy his guidance?

While I… I plotted every scheme, I sold my very conscience! All I wanted was to keep him by my side! Why do you all have to snatch him away?! Why do you all have to take away the last thing I have?!”

By the end of her furious tirade, Ye Jinghuang, completely disregarding her image, collapsed onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, occasionally interrupted by dry heaves.

Lin Xiaoxiao, who had been twisting her fingers to quell the flames of jealousy sparked by Jiang Jinyue’s intimate gestures with Mo Tingbei, found herself inexplicably receiving a torrent of abuse.

Instinctively, she reached for her sword, yet upon seeing Ye Jinghuang’s face, she involuntarily slowly sheathed her longsword.

‘That face, like a clown mocked by fate, was simply… identical to her own before she met her Master.’