The Bright Moon Was My Former Self, Part 2

The hibiscus curtains were warm, the lamplight flickering.

*Crack!*

Two maids stood watch outside the Lord’s Mansion’s sleeping pavilion. One, stifling a yawn, froze as a sharp sound—like a glass cup shattering on the floor—echoed from the inner chamber, through the outer hall.

“…That scared me.”
The yawning maid stiffened for a few breaths before cautiously glancing back toward the inner chamber.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” The other maid quickly yanked her back from peeking inside. “Behave, I’m not dying with you.”

“It’s fine. No matter how fierce the Lord is, he’s too busy tonight to notice us.”
The maid covered her mouth, giggling as she turned back. “To make such a commotion on his wedding night—truly worthy of our Lord.”

“Tch, didn’t you say a few days ago that the Lord, hiding behind that ugly bronze mask, must have a face fiercer than a beast? Now that he showed his face at the wedding, you’re switching sides already?”

“Switching sides? I’ve always been loyal to the Lord,” the maid said, puffing out her chest, then feigning shyness under her companion’s teasing gaze. “Though, I’ll admit, his beauty might have swayed me a bit… Come on, you saw his face. Didn’t your heart skip a beat?”

“I value my life more.”

“Hm?” The bolder maid tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

The older maid sighed softly, lowering her voice. “Do you know who our Lord’s Lady is?”

“Uh… I’ve heard some things. Qianmen’s Little Martial Ancestor, suppressed the demon realm with one sword three hundred years ago, the immortal realm’s top figure… And most impressively, she’s the Lord’s master. To teach someone like him—wow, incredible.”

“Compared to her past feats, teaching the Lord is nothing. You’re too young to understand those legends…”
The older maid recounted Yun Yao’s past glories before concluding, “Only someone like her could tangle with the Lord in such a web of love and hate. For people like us? One glance from the Lord, and we’d be reduced to nothing, swept away.”

Finally catching the hint, the younger maid scratched her forehead, sheepish. “I was just saying. I wouldn’t dare approach the Lord—”

Her words were cut off.
*Bang.*

A dull thud came from the chamber, as if something hit a pillar, startling the gossiping maids into bowing their heads.
A clatter of objects followed.

The younger maid, face flushed, muttered, “This doesn’t sound like a wedding night—it’s more like a brawl…”

—

Inside the chamber.

Yun Yao had fought countless battles in her life, from reckless youth challenging entire sects to their ancestral halls. But never had she imagined brawling with someone on a bed.
And that someone was her rebellious disciple.

*…Bang.*

Another muffled sound rang out as Mu Hanyuan pinned Yun Yao’s wrists to the bed. Her red gauze inner robe, already half-torn in their restrained spiritual skirmish, slipped from her neck, baring her shoulders. The vivid red against her snow-white skin was dazzling.
But her eyes, framed by cascading black hair, gleamed with unyielding sharpness.

Mu Hanyuan couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning down to kiss her lashes. “Master knows her immortal seal is damaged, her spiritual core shaken. You’re no match for me right now—why push yourself?”

“…”

Yun Yao turned her face away, catching a glimpse of faint, unnatural red on his pale earlobe.
A cold smile flickered in her eyes.

“Is that so?” The red-robed woman raised her brows lightly. “But you forgot—you drank my Seven Days’ Spring. The Venomous Demon Clan’s poison is called the Immortal’s Tomb for a reason. How dare you underestimate it?”

Mu Hanyuan studied her face, his voice tinged with lazy indifference. “Seven Days’ Spring eats away at the meridians over seven days, only fatal once it reaches the spiritual core. It won’t act so quickly…”

Suddenly, his grip on her wrists loosened.
His figure swayed slightly.

—It was time.

Yun Yao’s eyes lit up. Seizing the moment, she pulled free and shoved him without mercy.
*Bang.*
He stumbled back, defenseless, crashing into the bed’s railing with a hint of disarray.

Yun Yao sat up.
The bed was small, and wary of Mu Hanyuan feigning weakness to lure her, she knelt over his waist, pinning him to the corner with a commanding air.

“What’s wrong, Lord?” She smirked, leaning down lazily. “One moment a fierce tiger, the next a…”

“…”

Mu Hanyuan paused, lowering his hand. The woman straddling him, with her mocking yet aloof demeanor, sent a wave of unfamiliar dizziness through his mind.
He chuckled hoarsely, his voice bewitching. “Even a sick cat won’t let itself be bullied.”

“Oh?” Yun Yao, carrying the pent-up frustration of being pushed around all evening, lifted his chin with a provocative, disdainful air meant to rile him. “Then this defenseless state—is it part of your grand plan, Lord?”

“…”

Her fingers brushed his lips, teasingly light.
His eyes, shimmering like lamplit water, darkened with her touch, as if devouring every spark.
“Not defenseless to anyone—only to Master.”

With that, he lowered his chin, kissing her fingertip.

“—!”

It was as if a silent thunderbolt struck her consciousness.
Yun Yao froze, overwhelmed by the intimate, almost debauched scene, far more shocking than any prior closeness.
She could even feel the searing heat of his tongue brushing her fingertip.

Snapping back, she instinctively yanked her hand away and slapped him.

*Slap.*
The sound, light yet crisp in the silent lamplight, was almost jarring.

Regret hit her instantly. She glanced at the man who’d turned his face slightly from the blow.

His snow-white hair spilled over his dark robe, disheveled, his lips red as blood. A faint red mark from her slap marred his pale, refined profile.
As her gaze lingered, his throat bobbed slowly, a subtle flush creeping up his neck—like a deep, burning kiss.

His throat seemed to swallow a hoarse chuckle as he turned back to her.

Though he looked up at her, Yun Yao felt as if his invasive gaze was peeling away her defenses, sparking panic.

“If you don’t want to suffer,” she gritted out, forcing a smile, “I suggest you stop provoking me, Lord.”

“You’d even feel heartache over a slap…” Mu Hanyuan’s gaze fell, landing on her hand, now clenched uneasily at her side.

Noticing his look, Yun Yao quickly hid her hand behind her back.
Realizing the gesture confirmed his words, putting her at a disadvantage, she heard him turn his face slightly, letting out a bewitching chuckle.
“With such a soft heart, Master isn’t suited to playing the villain.”

“When it comes to villainy, no one outdoes you.” Whether it was his words or her resolve not to sink into trivialities, Yun Yao confirmed he was powerless to resist and climbed off him.

As the red-robed figure moved to leave, the charm faded from his face, replaced by a flicker of panic beneath his cold menace.
Mu Hanyuan forced himself up, grabbing her wrist. “Where are you going—”

His words cut off as his body swayed.

Yun Yao, now seated at the bedside, turned back, lazily prying off his sharp but weakened fingers. “The Lord still has the energy to worry about me? Better figure out how to cure yourself of that life-ending ‘Immortal’s Tomb.’”

“It’s not Seven Days’ Spring…” His figure wavered, her red silhouette blurring into countless layers before his eyes. Biting his tongue to stay lucid, he rasped, “What did you put in the cup…”

“Oh, that?”
Yun Yao summoned a glass vial, dangling it before the nearly collapsing Mu Hanyuan.
“It’s not Immortal’s Tomb. It’s Immortal’s Drunk, brewed by my eldest senior brother.”

“—”

He reached for her hand but grasped only air.
The motion threw off his precarious balance, and he collapsed into the soft bedding, disheveled.

“Yun Yao…” Veins pulsed violently at his pale forehead. “Don’t go… Come back… I won’t let… I won’t let you leave me again…”

Standing by the bed, Yun Yao couldn’t quite make out his drunken murmurs, but something about his weakened, tiger-like ferocity stirred a pang of pity in her.

Yet that pity, as soon as it surfaced, was ruthlessly suppressed.

Mu Hanyuan’s evil aspect was no ordinary threat, and the stakes were immense.
If left unchecked, Qianmen would soon face annihilation.
Having confirmed it was *him* from her past life, Yun Yao no longer dared bet everything on herself.
After much thought, only one person in Qianmen could possibly help her.

She sighed softly, gently prying his fingers from her skirt. “I only prepared one cup for you, but you insisted on drinking both. If you can’t handle a single drop and collapse at a whiff, don’t act tough next time.”

His last finger, clinging to her skirt, was mercilessly peeled away.

In his blurred, ferocious, yet pitiful gaze, the red figure drifted further away.

As his eyelids fell, before darkness claimed him, he heard what seemed like an illusionary final sentence.

“I saved you once, so I won’t just walk away. …Rest assured, in this life, I’ll take responsibility for you to the end.”

—

It took all her strength, but Yun Yao finally found Feng Qinglian in Vermilion Bird City’s prison, eighty miles away.

Though her immortal seal was damaged and her spiritual core shaken, her Ascension Realm cultivation meant few in the demon realm, save Mu Hanyuan, could threaten her.
Uncertain how long the Immortal’s Drunk would keep him under, she wasted no time after rescuing Feng Qinglian, sending him out of Vermilion Bird City’s bounds that same night.

At last, the faint outline of Two Realms Mountain emerged in the dawn’s first light.

Yun Yao stopped in the wilderness of Duantian Abyss. “This is as far as I go. Return to the immortal realm immediately, no delays, and find the great monk guarding the tower at Fanyin Temple—”

Before she finished, Feng Qinglian cut in, “You’re not leaving?”

The Phoenix Clan leader, usually resplendent in vibrant feathers, had never looked so bedraggled.
If the timing weren’t so dire, Yun Yao might’ve teased him.

“I’m not unwilling to leave—I can’t,” she said, reflecting on her deep understanding of Mu Hanyuan’s evil aspect. “His methods are still somewhat restrained now, but if I leave the demon realm for the immortal realm, within three days, he’ll rally the four divisions and march on Two Realms Mountain.”

Feng Qinglian frowned. “But his intent to bring calamity is clear. Even if you stay, how long can you hold him back?”

“Every day I delay him is another day of hope.”
Her tone was resolute. “Listen to every word I say. Once you cross Two Realms Mountain, go straight to Fanyin Ancient Temple in the Western Regions and find that monk.”

“He can help?”

“If anyone in Qianmen can help, it’s him,” Yun Yao said gravely. “When you see him, tell him one thing.”

“What?”

“Tell him that one of the immortal realm’s creation artifacts, the Wheel of Reincarnation, is in the demon realm.”

“…”

At the mention of the immortal realm, Feng Qinglian’s expression shifted.
But he knew the Mu Hanyuan who’d overpowered him was now the demon realm’s Lord, and Qianmen’s fate hung in the balance. There was no time for hesitation.
Memorizing her words, he glanced at her with complex emotions before turning to leave. “You really won’t return?”

“I will. When… all this is settled.”

Yun Yao spoke words she wasn’t sure she believed, watching Feng Qinglian’s figure fade into the horizon.

Her smile faded, her expression turning blank as she turned around.
The wilderness’s shadows dissolved like a fleeting illusion before her eyes.

The elite guards of the Qinglong, Vermilion Bird, and White Tiger divisions, clad in stern armor, broke through the lingering night.
Dawn was buried behind them.
At their head stood Yu Yan—or rather, Li Wuhuan from days past—smiling with unrestrained glee. “Qianmen’s Little Martial Ancestor, Yun Yao… or should I call you Lady of the Lord?”

“…”

The clear hum of Naihe’s sword pierced the dawn.
A streak of silver light tore through the darkness, halting at Yun Yao’s side.

At the same moment, the top cultivators of the three divisions, above the Harmony Realm, encircled her in the wilderness, their faces cold and wary.

As if blind to them, Yun Yao caressed her sword, her gaze icy as she fixed on Li Wuhuan. “I haven’t yet settled Qianmen’s grudge with you.”

“With the Lord’s backing, all but the Black Tortoise division’s fiercest cultivators are here, and you’re not lightly injured…”
Li Wuhuan shook his head, smiling. “You’re alone with one sword. You’ll tire eventually. Why force me to take advantage of your weakness and overwhelm you with numbers, Martial Aunt Yun? You know you have no chance of winning.”

“Someone like you, who only knows underhanded schemes and vents personal grudges on innocent lives, only cares about victory.”
Yun Yao flicked her wrist, her sword tip pointing down, Naihe’s light spilling like snow.
“But Qianmen never taught you what righteousness is, what it means to have a clear sword heart, unhindered by mountains.”

“…”

Sensing the terrifying sword intent stirring from Naihe, Li Wuhuan’s expression shifted.
He dropped his smile. “With the Lord here, we won’t kill you.”

“…Tch.”
Yun Yao sneered coldly. “Then, for Chen Jianxue’s sake, I’ll spare your life too.”

A sword’s cry shook the mountains.
The heavens roiled, and the demon realm’s dawn shattered under one blade.

—

*Plink.*
*Plink…*

When Yun Yao’s soul stirred from its haze, the first sound she heard was like water striking jade.
She struggled to open her eyes.

Her last memory was of Li Wuhuan, his dragon scales nearly stripped by her sword aura, being carried off in panic by the Qinglong guards.
After that, her own strength—depleted by her damaged immortal seal and the battle against the three divisions—gave out, and she lost consciousness.

Her recovery would be delayed again.

But the battle had crippled most of the three divisions’ core forces. Without a month or two, they’d struggle to recover.
This bought Feng Qinglian time to reach the great monk at Fanyin Temple’s Wheel of Reincarnation Tower, ensuring the demon realm wouldn’t provoke the immortal realm for now…

Finishing her thoughts, a sliver of her depleted spiritual energy returned.
But for some reason, it felt sluggish.

“Cough… Anyone there?”
Yun Yao propped her eyelids open, her voice weak.
“Your Lord’s Lady is dying of thirst.”

*—Whoosh.*

A sharp aura brushed past, and a dim candle flickered to life in the cave.

The darkness before Yun Yao parted slightly.
But seeing the lightless, subterranean cave, her expression faltered. “Where is this…?”

She raised her hand, instinctively reaching for the bed.
But…

*Clang.*

A crisp metallic sound froze her in place.

After a few breaths, she stiffly lowered her head, lifting her wrist—

A soul-binding chain, far thicker than her wrist, etched with countless runes, wrapped her wrists and ankles, anchoring deep into the boundless rock walls behind her.

Yun Yao’s mind went blank, her eyes blinking slowly.

“Master’s finally awake.”

A low, delighted voice drew near.
Yun Yao instinctively looked up.

“How is it?” Mu Hanyuan held the candle, his eyes dark and devouring, like a vision of the underworld. “Do you like the ‘bracelets’ I prepared for you, Master?”