As Stars Shift with the Merchant, Part 4

Yun Yao lay on the stone bench, gazing at the ceiling of the Sword Prison, her eyes trembling faintly.

Her raised hand nearly brushed Mu Hanyuan’s hair, but at the last moment, she clenched her fist, forcing herself to lower it.

“Mu Hanyuan,” her voice was flat and cold, “don’t push your luck.”

“…” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The man at her neck paused, his breath quivering.

It struck Yun Yao’s heartstrings, pulling them taut.

But knowing this was a fruitless endeavor, the gentler she was, the crueler it became. With tomorrow’s trial set, she had to sever ties now to keep him from clinging to her.

With that, Yun Yao steeled herself, pushing him away.

“Rest early for tomorrow’s public trial.”

Her figure flickered, breaking through the prison’s restrictions without a ripple, stepping into the cold, dark corridor outside.

Not far off, a Sword Sect guard turned the corner and froze upon seeing her. “How did you get out?” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Yun Yao stiffened slightly.

Annoyed at her hasty exit, she’d forgotten to mask herself. She turned, casting a concealment spell. “I learned some array-breaking techniques. My apologies. I’ll leave now.”

“Alright, alright.”

The guard inspected her, finding nothing amiss, and nodded. “Go on. By the way, the disciple who came with you was summoned by your sect’s elder. She asked me to inform you.”

“Thank you.”

Yun Yao passed him.

At a deserted corner, she lifted her left wrist, pulling back her sleeve—

A fleeting ice-white cicada mark flashed at her wrist’s pulse.

“…Good, it worked.”

Yun Yao exhaled in relief.

Lowering her sleeve to hide the mark, she stepped into the night beyond the prison.

—

The next day’s trial was set at the “Qianyuan Abyss,” a towering peak.

When Yun Yao arrived, nearly all the immortal sects, great and small, were present.

Fanyin Temple was absent, and Fuyu Palace had been eradicated. The once-dominant structure of the four great sects was shattered.

In just two months, the cause traced back to a small Tianzhao Mirror entering the Immortal Realm from Two Realms Mountain. That mirror stirred chaos, drawing in Nine Abyss Valley, Qianmen, Fuyu Palace, and Sword Sect, even implicating an ancient true dragon hidden in Qianmen and the Phoenix Immortal Mountain of the East Sea.

Now, the Immortal Alliance teetered on collapse. After today, the realm’s power structure would be reshuffled.

All hinged on the trial’s outcome.

“…Qianmen’s Little Martial Uncle has arrived!”

As Yun Yao stepped into the trial plaza, a voice broke the hushed murmurs. Instantly, all eyes turned to her.

She paused briefly.

Not from the sudden attention, but because she saw, on the execution platform, a lean figure with snow-white hair.

Mu Hanyuan stood encircled by layered light arrays, a golden cage rising from the ground. The peak’s endless wind and snow chilled the air, and with his spiritual power sealed, he was nearly mortal. Though the Sword Sect was rigid in demon-slaying, they hadn’t mistreated him, draping a black crane cloak over his thin robes.

His ink-black cloak and white hair accentuated his sharp features, like a crane among pines.

Yun Yao paused for two breaths, lowered her lashes, and moved to Qianmen’s seating.

Whispers flooded her ears.

“What will Qianmen’s Little Martial Uncle choose today?”

“I hope Senior Yun Yao doesn’t shield that demon, or Qianmen’s thousand-year reputation will crumble in her hands.”

“How could she not? That demon was her disciple…”

“If justice falters and the demon is spared, the Immortal Realm will live in fear. Can Qianmen bear that?”

“Exactly…”

Yun Yao drew her Naihe Sword, its clear hum piercing the void.

The plaza fell silent.

The crowd hushed instinctively.

Finally finding quiet, Yun Yao’s gaze caught Ding Xiao’s annoyed expression behind her.

Trying not to look at Mu Hanyuan, she seized the chance to transmit, “Why do you look betrayed?”

“I’m thinking of the Immortal Sect Tournament at Tianshan. They attacked Brother Hanyuan then, too. I don’t get it—back then, they stood with us. Why do they want him dead now?!”

Yun Yao hadn’t expected Ding Xiao’s question. She paused, then said, “At the tournament, were they young disciples or sect elders?”

“The tournament’s every five years, open to new disciples, so naturally—”

“Then look at today.”

“…”

Yun Yao’s gaze swept the crowd.

At the trial, only sect leaders and authoritative elders represented the sects. Save for a few major sects, all were stern-faced elders.

“Indeed, sect elders,” Ding Xiao said. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“When young, one judges right and wrong, driven by passion, questioning heaven’s injustice. But the older one gets, the more conflicts arise. Before right or wrong, they weigh benefits, losses, and consequences, acting to maximize gain and avoid harm…”

Yun Yao’s eyes flicked up, mocking yet bitter. “In that sense, human life’s limit is the root of all survival.”

Ding Xiao was dazed. “Martial Uncle, you mean Brother Hanyuan’s existence is—”

“Yes. At Tianshan, the elders didn’t stop the young from siding with us because they faced Fuyu Palace, the realm’s dominant power…”

Yun Yao froze. “Until today, it’s the same story.”

“Story?” Ding Xiao turned, confused.

“The dragon-slayer becomes the dragon.”

Yun Yao mocked herself. “Months ago, Fuyu Palace was the dragon. Now, those who slew it sit on its throne, lording over all. To them, Mu Hanyuan is the next potential dragon.”

“But it’s just a possibility!” Ding Xiao raged.

“To them, a possibility tied to life and death must be crushed in its cradle.”

Yun Yao met Ding Xiao’s eyes, her gaze briefly divine and indifferent. “If you were them, facing a prophesied world-destroying demon with no ties, would you let him live or die?”

“—”

Ding Xiao froze.

“Citizens of Wancheng plead! Slay the demon!”

An old mortal, trembling in the cold, led women and children, holding a petition, kneeling beneath the Sword Sect’s platform.

“The demon brings calamity! He must be eradicated!”

“The demon brings calamity—”

The Sword Sect hadn’t anticipated this, their disciples scrambling to escort the mortals away.

“How could mortals climb here? Some sect planned this!” Ding Xiao’s angry voice was drowned in the clamor—

The once-quiet peak erupted, the mortal petition sparking louder calls, waves of anger rising like wildfire across a plain, ignited by a single spark.

The peak became a sacrificial pyre, and Mu Hanyuan, the white-haired figure on the platform, was its chosen offering.

Amid the uproar, Yun Yao’s mind drifted, as if seeing three hundred years ago, a boy in Phoenix City, pierced by eighty-one nails.

Why, why always him?

Her fists clenched under her sleeves, eyes reddening.

The end’s power, the end’s spark—or what she least wanted to admit—his fated role as the end itself.

“The demon came from Qianmen! Centuries ago, Qianmen’s seven heroes fell to demons! Such a blood debt—has Qianmen forgotten?”

“Exactly! Has Qianmen forgotten its legacy? To shield a world-destroying demon?”

“Even the prophecy of the demon’s chaos came from Qianmen’s ancestor Sixuan! Will Senior Yun Yao ignore her master’s words?”

“Senior Yun Yao! If your master and seniors’ spirits remain, can you face them—”

*Buzz!!*

The Naihe Sword’s clear cry pierced the heavens, shredding the roiling clouds, silencing the plaza.

The crowd hushed, wary eyes on Qianmen.

Each sect’s elders shifted, some readying attacks, prepared to fight if Qianmen protected Mu Hanyuan, evoking the ancient war between immortals and demons. A tragic, solemn air filled the platform. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

If the “dragon” wasn’t Mu Hanyuan and Qianmen, Yun Yao might have laughed.

But thinking of what came next, no smile came.

In the silence, she looked toward the Sword Sect.

Today, the Sword Sect’s leader was present, and Yun Yao sensed their secretive Transcendence Realm ancestor nearby, close enough to arrive instantly.

Unfazed, she asked coldly, “How does the Sword Sect propose to handle this?”

“By the consensus of the sects: death or crippling,” the leader said, his iron face showing faint regret. “If Qianmen agrees to strip Mu Hanyuan’s cultivation, the Sword Sect’s prison can hold him indefinitely.”

The red-robed woman lowered her brows, wiping her sword, her smile sharp. “Such mercy.”

“Pity the seat of Fanyin Temple’s abbot wasn’t given to you.”

“…”

The plaza’s elders’ faces shifted.

“Senior Yun Yao, speaking for Qianmen, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does Qianmen truly intend to sacrifice its reputation to fall with the demon?”

“Senior Yun, think thrice!”

“Odd, I’m praising you, yet you think I’m mocking?” Yun Yao flickered, reappearing at the cliff’s edge, steps from Mu Hanyuan’s golden cage.

Her faint, shadowed smile dissolved like moonlight on water when she met his eyes.

“Master.”

“…”

Yun Yao’s lashes trembled, dropping.

“Remember your words,” she transmitted, voice shaking. “A dragon’s claws can’t change its heart.”

Mu Hanyuan froze. “Master, you heard—”

Before he finished, Yun Yao turned, facing the crowd, her voice icy. “Qianmen’s thousand-year honor, my sect’s losses in the immortal-demon war, allows no demonic disciple.”

“Today, I, Yun Yao, expel my disciple Mu Hanyuan from Qianmen! Henceforth, he is no longer of our sect!”

“—”

The world fell silent.

The crowd gaped, stunned.

“…Master?”

The cage trembled, Mu Hanyuan’s quivering voice breaking free.

Amid gasps, the cage shattered, dissolving into light, blending with the cliff’s snow.

Mu Hanyuan stepped toward Yun Yao, lips trembling. “Master…”

“Silence.”

Yun Yao didn’t meet his eyes, her Naihe Sword humming faintly. “The Sword Sect’s leader would cripple and imprison you. To me, that’s too lenient… If you live, the world won’t rest.”

The platform’s crushing restrictions descended again.

Blood stained his white robes and hair.

Unfeeling, Mu Hanyuan stepped through blood, stubbornly approaching. “Master… kill me, but don’t abandon me…”

“Shut up!!”

Yun Yao’s Transcendence Realm aura erupted—

Forcing Mu Hanyuan to spit blood, stumbling to one knee.

Propping himself up, he knelt upright in the blood. “Master…”

“Seal your spirit,” Yun Yao’s voice shook, “and face execution.”

“—”

Atop Qianyuan Abyss, snow veiled the heavens, the world silent.

The sects’ elders never forgot this day.

The white-haired demon, blood-soaked, knelt, gazing at his red-robed master, who, as she commanded, drained every wisp of spiritual energy from his veins.

Unseen, his spirit palace locked blood-red threads, not a trace escaping.

In his mind’s depths, another soul watched the void.

The woman he gazed at never looked back.

“Hate me alone,” she said coldly.

“Three hundred years ago, I shouldn’t have brought you to the Immortal Realm.”

“Mas…”

*Swish.*

The Naihe Sword pierced his heart.

The crowd’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The demon’s aura faded, collapsing into the blood.

“…Martial Uncle!!!”

A heart-wrenching cry came from Qianmen.

Yun Yao, unmoved, held her bloodied sword, expressionless, not glancing at the body.

She turned to the Sword Sect and Nine Abyss Valley. “Yin Chen, Xiao Jiugu, come verify the body.”

“…”

Elders who’d started forward halted.

Yin Chen knelt to check, then looked at Yun Yao, shaken. “…He’s dead.”

Xiao Jiugu scanned with divine sense, facing the frost-faced woman.

He sighed. “Even a god couldn’t save him. Qianmen, collect his body.”

Qianmen disciples, eyes red, stumbled toward the platform.

But Yun Yao raised her hand, a sword wind carrying spiritual power sweeping the corpse away—

“I said, from today, Qianmen has no such disciple.”

His white hair fluttered in the snow.

The lifeless figure, like a fallen leaf, was cast into the abyss below.

“—”

The peak fell silent.

Until a cry from Qianmen: “Senior Sister Ding fainted!”

“Quick, take her away…”

Red-eyed Qianmen disciples fled, their confused, resentful glances brushing the unmoving red figure.

The demon dead, the trial ended.

Shocked elders murmured, descending the peak.

Yun Yao stood still, engulfed by gazes and voices, sinking like into a lake.

She didn’t move.

After an unknown time, the last Sword Sect disciple left under Yin Chen’s signal.

Yin Chen hesitated, then approached, distant yet shaken. “Martial Uncle Yun, my condolences.”

He left.

Xiao Jiugu stood aside, watching Yun Yao’s stillness.

As night fell, snow blinding, he sighed. “Planning to mourn him here for three years?”

“…”

Yun Yao’s eyes finally moved.

She turned her stiff neck, as if to curse, but blood sprayed from her lips, staining the snow like blooming plum blossoms.

Unable to hold on, she collapsed.

Xiao Jiugu’s face changed.

He rushed forward, catching her frail body. Lifting her, he saw deeper blood seeping through her red robes.

His expression darkened, pulling up her sleeve.

He caught the fading ice-white cicada mark on her wrist.

“You—!”

His face hardened, shedding his refined facade. Veins bulged as he gripped her wrist, growling, “The Cold Cicada Ancestor’s death-substitution technique?”

“…”

After a long silence, Yun Yao gathered a wisp of energy.

Weakly, she shook off his hand, standing. “I don’t know what you mean, Valley Master Xiao.”

“A thousand years ago, the Cold Cicada clan, nearly extinct, faced a life-or-death tribulation every hundred cycles. To survive, their ancestor created a substitution technique, faking death to deceive heaven’s will, hiding for a century, undetectable even by immortals!”

Snow swirled, Yun Yao unsteady.

She wiped blood from her lips, lifting her fallen sword. “I don’t understand.”

“Fine, you don’t—then why can’t you hold your sword?” Xiao Jiugu’s voice trembled with suppressed anger. “If you don’t, why were you in the North Border’s depths three days ago, seeking a dead cicada?”

“…”

After endless probing, Yun Yao finally met his gaze.

She sneered. “Otherwise, Valley Master Xiao, jump into the abyss and check if my disciple is dead or alive?”

Xiao Jiugu’s voice was cold. “Disciple?”

Yun Yao paused.

Realizing he meant her disownment, she turned, stumbling through the snow. “Just a habit.”

Xiao Jiugu stayed, snow hiding his expression and tone.

“I’m curious. You sacrificed your lifespan to let him escape the Immortal Realm. Was he really just a disciple?”

“…”

Her red robes paused in the snow.

After a moment, she walked on without answering, vanishing into the storm.

—

Three days later.

Beneath the abyss, among white bones.

A fierce wind stirred, tearing a tattered black crane cloak. The “corpse” beneath twitched.

Under blood-stained brows, a pair of pitch-black eyes opened.

—

*Volume Three: Calamity from Fuyu, Complete.*