Once Beheld Peach Blossoms Illuminating the Jade Saddle, Part 3

The immortal boat soared into the southern territory of Tianyin Sect, with Canglong Mountain now faintly visible on the horizon.

At the bow, Chen Jianxue stowed the talisman techniques she had been discussing with Mu Hanyuan, preparing for their arrival.

Mu Hanyuan rose, standing at the forefront, raising his sleeve. Golden runes materialized before his outstretched hand, intricate patterns brimming with spiritual energy, aligning vertically. With a point of his finger, they descended.

Hum—

The air vibrated silently with spiritual force, the runes merging under an invisible pressure.

Standing tall at the bow, his lotus crown steady, his snow-white robes fluttered in the spiritual current—a translucent shield enveloped the boat.

The boat’s form grew faint, blending almost seamlessly with the clouds from a distance.

Chen Jianxue sensed the boat’s speed slowing. She looked up at the figure a zhang ahead. The accompanying disciples might not know, but she understood: controlling such a vast immortal boat was no small feat, typically requiring at least three Nascent Soul cultivators working in unison, vigilantly monitoring both ends. Even with elders leading, most preferred sword flight over boats. Yet in Mu Hanyuan’s hands, the boat was like a child’s toy, effortlessly managed—answering her questions en route without delay.

To such a seemingly omnipotent Mu Hanyuan, Chen Jianxue was long accustomed.

From childhood, she had seen him flawless in all things, without error, convincing her young self he was truly a descended immortal. How else could he lack even a trace of mortal preference or mistake?

Never.

Until days ago, in the Tianxuan Secret Realm.

Her gaze drifted to the white silk ribbon nestled in his ink-cloud hair, her eyes growing distant.

The ferocious beast Tengshe might be an insurmountable terror to other cultivators of their realm, but Chen Jianxue, having followed Mu Hanyuan for years, knew how easily he could handle such a creature. Yet she was wrong—before the first flaw in his century of impeccable cultivation—

A sword hum startled every high-realm cultivator across the eight regions of the immortal domain. After the hum, the figure strumming the zither midair froze, the killing notes snapping silent.

Tengshe, cunning, its vertical pupils glinting coldly, seized the moment, its tail lashing like lightning, venomous mist spewing from its black tongue.

The zither’s notes ceased, the shield shattered, golden light raining down.

“…Lord Hanyuan!!”

Amid the chorus of shocked cries, Chen Jianxue looked up, catching only the sight of that figure struck to his knees.

Before him, Tengshe’s maw gaped like a bloody abyss, its dagger-like fangs glowing with venomous green. She could almost smell the stench of death. The others scattered in panic.

Only Chen Jianxue could still stand, and only she saw—

Before that bloodied, life-threatening maw, Mu Hanyuan lifted his head, not toward the beast threatening his life.

He turned southeast.

His long eyes half-closed, lashes like ink, blood tears streaked his jade-like face from Tengshe’s toxic mist.

He, already blind, still looked—

“Jianxue?”

Mu Hanyuan’s clear voice broke her reverie.

She snapped back, rising. “Senior Brother.”

“Why is your aura surging like an abyss?” He turned, the white silk ribbon drifting slowly over his shoulder.

“…Sorry, Senior Brother.” Chen Jianxue steadied her energy, pausing before asking, “Is your injury better?”

Mu Hanyuan’s sleeve lifted slightly, as if to touch the silk over his eyes, but it fell back. His voice betrayed nothing. “It’s fine.”

With Canglong Mountain near, Chen Jianxue hesitated, then seized their last moment alone. “Senior Brother, when you returned to the sect, did you see Little Martial Aunt?”

Mu Hanyuan didn’t move. “Why ask?”

Chen Jianxue faltered.

In those few breaths, the boat, under Mu Hanyuan’s control, descended steadily through the misty forest, landing in a valley.

The disciples disembarked, and Mu Hanyuan seemed to forget her question. His fingers traced intricate runes in the air, shrinking the boat to a peach-pit-sized light, which vanished into his sleeve.

His robe settled as he spoke. “The nearest village at Canglong Mountain’s base is a li away. Rest briefly, then we depart.”

The disciples saluted with their swords. “We obey.”

“…”

Chen Jianxue watched, lost in thought.

Among Qianmen’s disciples stood the ever-gentle, jade-like Lord Hanyuan, his elegance undimmed by blindness.

She had always believed this was the only him the world saw.

…If she hadn’t been half-conscious that day, hadn’t seen—

Tengshe’s massive body spanned dozens of zhang, its dying throes snapping ancient trees and crushing lesser beasts. Yet he sat behind his zither, eyes lowered, strumming, godlike in his indifference.

Until his slender hand pressed down, the final note halting, Tengshe’s body crashed lifelessly to the ground.

In the lingering dust and venomous mist, the ever-pristine figure seemed to fall into mortal dust for the first time. Robes tangled, sleeves bloodied, hair disheveled.

He cared not.

Blood seeped past his lashes, Mu Hanyuan motionless, pressing the zither strings. After a moment, he smiled faintly.

It was the first time Chen Jianxue saw an expression on that face, unimaginable to the world.

Blood streaked his jade face, his thin lips, as he murmured, laughing softly:

“‘Naihe’… It’s been a while, Master.”

Yun Yao spent the journey explaining to Wu Tianya she had no “ill intentions” toward Mu Hanyuan, to no avail. As the thick miasma of Canglong Mountain came into view, she accepted it with a blank expression.

“…Fine, Senior Brother, assume I’m set on forcing myself on him,” Yun Yao ground out her last shred of patience. “Just tell me, does Qianyuan Realm have such a contract technique?”

Wu Tianya gave her a pained look. “Fine. I won’t hide it—there’s absolutely no such shocking contract in the immortal domain.”

Yun Yao frowned. “Just control—is that so shocking?”

“Control techniques are evil arts. A spell leaving the target powerless, as you describe? Even high-realm cultivators can easily kill lower ones, but total control? Near impossible without soul possession.” Wu Tianya paused, smirking. “Especially since you want to control a higher realm with a lower one.”

Yun Yao, deep in thought, caught his glance. “…What’s that look?”

“Nothing. Just assuming you’re lovesick, daydreaming.”

Yun Yao: “…”

Letting his disdainful expression slide for now, she had bigger concerns—

Wu Tianya’s words sparked a memory. The tales said Mu Hanyuan, as the Demon Lord, wielded unfathomable cultivation and countless secret arts. The most terrifying was his ability to control immortal cultivators with zither notes, forcing them to slaughter each other, regardless of their realm.

No cultivator could resist.

By that logic, their secret techniques shared a near-identical origin.

Could it be…

After enduring her “abuse” for half a year, he learned it from his dear Master and used it to wreak havoc?

“…”

Yun Yao’s face turned green.

—Can you two, master and disciple, use your supreme talents for something worthwhile??

Perhaps her resentful glare was too intense. At the head of the expedition, Mu Hanyuan suddenly stopped. His left hand rose, his slender wrist half-exposed from his sleeve, signaling “silence” and “halt.”

This expedition was riskier than most. The chosen disciples, seasoned in outings, were no novices, instantly obeying—

At his gesture, they turned outward, backs together, swords drawn in defense.

Chen Jianxue, walking half a step behind Mu Hanyuan, paused. The dilapidated village entrance lay ten zhang ahead.

“Senior Brother, is something amiss in the village?”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan turned slightly, his expression calm under the silk ribbon, as if sensing something. After a moment, his sharp brow lifted.

“Except for a hut in the southwest, the village has no living aura.”

Chen Jianxue’s face paled.

He Fengming, close behind, gasped. “Impossible! Tianyin Sect sought aid two days ago, saying this village had over a hundred people! Are they all dead?”

Mu Hanyuan asked, “Observe the path. Is the village in disarray?”

He Fengming stepped forward, sword in hand, leaping to survey the village, then returned, his expression easing. “Yes, Lord Hanyuan. It’s chaotic, but no corpses. There are discarded items along the paths—the villagers likely fled.”

“…”

The disciples relaxed, lowering their swords.

Mu Hanyuan said nothing, lost in thought.

Without his word, no one moved. Chen Jianxue stepped closer, softly asking, “Senior Brother, anything else wrong?”

Mu Hanyuan’s fingers curled under his sleeve, a faint golden rune sinking into the ground. He paused, turning slightly, his voice as gentle as ever. “Enter. Have the disciples stay vigilant. Though we’re far from the mountain’s miasma, it’s strange—caution first.”

“Yes.”

The cultivators entered the village.

Yun Yao and Wu Tianya trailed at the rear. Before crossing the village gate, Yun Yao paused, casting a meaningful glance at the distant forest.

“Junior Sister, what’re you looking at? The beauty’s ahead, not behind,” Wu Tianya teased, joining her gaze.

Yun Yao was watching the stalker who vanished as they neared the village, but she couldn’t say that. Like Mu Hanyuan’s unspoken thoughts, unconfirmed issues shared with the unprepared only bred panic.

“Nothing.” As she turned, a large gourd was shoved under her nose.

The red-robed girl froze. “…What’s this?” She glared at Wu Tianya. “Trying to trap me like a demon?”

“It’s wine—fine wine!” Wu Tianya yanked the stopper, indignant. “Smell it! A rare mortal treasure, and you call it a demon-trapping gourd!?”

Yun Yao sidestepped, catching up to the group. “Are you here to train or sightsee?”

“Why not both? With Lord Hanyuan here, and him saying it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“He didn’t say that.”

Yun Yao shot him a half-smile.

Wu Tianya’s grin froze, and he leaned closer, whispering, “What’s that mean? You think something’s off in the village?”

“The village is fine.”

“Then why—oh, you’re messing with me?”

“…”

Not expecting Wu Tianya to catch on himself, Yun Yao beckoned him closer as the group moved ahead, unheard unless closely listened to.

Stepping over a broken lantern, Wu Tianya leaned in.

Yun Yao said lightly, “This village is centuries old. If generations lived here, what could make everyone flee so thoroughly, leaving almost none behind?”

Wu Tianya: “…”

His face paled. “Junior Sister, don’t scare me.” He steadied himself, scanning the desolate village, finding it eerie. “My divine sense finds nothing…”

Yun Yao blinked innocently. “Nothing by day. Night’s another story.”

Wu Tianya: “…!!”

The vigilant Qianmen disciples ahead heard a sudden wail. Wu Tianya, flailing his gourd, bolted forward, passing Mu Hanyuan and Chen Jianxue in a blink.

“Tch, running the wrong way,” Yun Yao eyed his fleeing figure sympathetically. “If something happens, you’re first.”

“…Master.”

A faint, helpless transmission sounded in her ear.

Yun Yao stiffened, guiltily avoiding the group’s head, pretending not to hear as she followed.

They reached the village’s southwest corner, the only place Mu Hanyuan’s divine sense detected life.

He had the disciples wait outside, sending He Fengming and another male disciple to investigate.

Soon, they returned. “Lord Hanyuan, only three elderly villagers remain, too sick or disabled to flee with the others.”

Mu Hanyuan asked, “Did you ask why they left?”

“Huh?” He Fengming blinked. “They didn’t say. Probably scared of the miasma spreading.”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan didn’t press further, pondering.

He turned. “Choose two nearby houses, clean them up. We’ll stay here tonight.”

“What??” Wu Tianya, pale, hugged his arms, glancing around and swallowing. “Lord Hanyuan, we’re really… staying here?”

He Fengming chimed in, “Yes, Lord Hanyuan. Since we’re here to investigate the miasma and the village is empty, why not head straight to the mountain?”

Before Mu Hanyuan could reply, Chen Jianxue turned, her voice gentle. “Brother He, I know your cultivation and swordsmanship are impressive, rarely matched among peers. But we’re new here, and the situation’s unclear. Caution first, don’t you think?”

“…Yes, Senior Sister.”

He Fengming, face red—whether from her words or her presence—mumbled and stepped back.

“Junior Sister.”

As the group dispersed to prepare the connected houses, Wu Tianya reappeared.

Yun Yao, scanning nearby houses with her divine sense, glanced lazily at him, acknowledging his presence.

He whispered, “Give it up. You’re not on their level.”

“?”

Yun Yao paused, baffled.

Wu Tianya stepped aside, revealing a scene a few zhang away—

Amid teasing or envious glances, Mu Hanyuan stood in the courtyard’s center, setting a barrier to withstand Nascent Soul-level attacks. Chen Jianxue guarded his side, clearing debris from the barrier’s anchor points, speaking softly with gentle warmth.

Yun Yao leaned lazily against a house’s railing, watching the idyllic scene.

Wu Tianya was here to sightsee.

Those two were here to flirt.

The rest were here for the show.

Was she the only one here to protect and purge evil?

Yun Yao scoffed, suppressing an inexplicable irritation.

With a flick of her red robes, her slender legs, bound in black boots, vaulted over the railing, her flower-adorned ribbon fluttering as she landed before the house.

“Junior Sister, look how gentle and caring their junior sister is to her senior brother, all soft-spoken… Even without the Daoist position awaiting, Lord Hanyuan wouldn’t abandon his childhood sweetheart for a half-baked fake like—”

A smiling, razor-sharp glance silenced Wu Tianya mid-sentence.

He shut up obediently.

But these disciples were like a stubborn pole—just when one end was pressed down, the other popped up.

Yun Yao planned to circle the village’s rear to flush out the vanished stalker. As she stepped forward, an insufferable, arrogant voice rang out behind her.

“Brother Wu’s got a point, Yun Yaojiu. Not happy to hear it?”

“…”

A few zhang away, Chen Jianxue, guarding Mu Hanyuan, paused, glancing hesitantly at him, then toward the courtyard’s corner. Had Senior Brother… just sent a divine sense that way?

Behind the rough railing, Yun Yao turned lazily, spotting the expected nuisance—He Fengming.

“What’d you call me?” Her mood was sour, and though she meant to ignore him, the name made her eyelid twitch, her gaze and voice cooling.

Her look struck like the world’s sharpest sword at his throat. He Fengming froze, a chill of sweat soaking his back. Face flushing, he snapped, “We’re outside Qianmen now. It’s might, not rank, that matters. Don’t pull seniority on me!”

“Might?” The red-robed girl gave a thin hum.

By might, she’d be his ancestor.

Even with her divine status limited and the original’s body weakened by possession, she might not match Qianyuan’s old monsters, but crushing these youngsters, not even a fraction of her age, needed just one finger.

Swallowing the retort, Yun Yao looked away, calming the restless irritation simmering since earlier.

It came again.

What was this master-disciple bond’s source, more unsettling to the mind than immortal forces?

“Speechless?” He Fengming sneered. “Know your place. This isn’t Qianmen, where you can act recklessly with your… status. Tomorrow in Canglong Mountain, you might beg me to save you.”

“Me, beg you?” Yun Yao laughed, glaring back.

“What else? Got a sword to fight with?”

Yun Yao: “…”

She had one, but inconveniently, it was sealed at the Alliance’s Tianshan peak.

“No sword, and you’re still acting tough. Say something soft, and I might save you in the mountain.”

Nearby, his allies joined the mockery. “She’s a Qianmen direct disciple, even if just in name. No sword? How about this fire stick—suits you?”

A blackened stick was kicked, rolling to Yun Yao’s feet. She stared, fingers twitching.

This He Fengming…

His master, Lu Chang’an, said she was dead in Mingde Hall. He himself had been a thorn since the sect gates.

Like master, like disciple—rotten to the core.

Just as she cursed inwardly, she thought of herself and Mu Hanyuan.

Yun Yaojiu: “…”

Guiltily, she glanced toward where Mu Hanyuan and Chen Jianxue were setting the barrier.

She met—

The silver lotus crown gleaming like mountain snow, the silk-veiled figure turned toward her.

Her faint annoyance faded. She tilted her head, puzzled.

—If he weren’t a celestial blind beauty, she’d think he was staring.

During their “stare” through the silk, Chen Jianxue snapped back first.

Having asked a disciple what happened, she looked helpless, untying her divine weapon pouch. “Junior Sister Yaojiu, if you don’t mind, I have a spare treasure sword—”

Her voice was overlaid by a clear, cold one:

“Yun Yaojiu.” Mu Hanyuan paused, fingers brushing Mercy. “Can you play the zither?”

“—?”

All eyes turned, stunned.

The courtyard fell deathly silent.