From the time Cai Zhao was eight years old, when the silk shop across the street changed hands because the heir had a gambling addiction, she understood that everything in this world—from humble eateries and inns to the lofty throne of the Jade Emperor—required someone to inherit it.
The rule of the Azure Tower Sect was that the capable should lead. If one lacked both martial prowess and scholarly talent, even being the sect leader’s own child wouldn’t guarantee succession—a seemingly fair and selfless principle born from bitter lessons.
After all, the Azure Tower Sect stood as the foremost among the six major sects. Externally, the Demonic Cult watched like a tiger eyeing its prey, while internally, the so-called brother sects smiled amiably but harbored dubious intentions. Should the sect leader weaken and fail to command respect, the Demonic Cult would sharpen its blades and come charging up the mountain overnight.
Even if the Demonic Cult suddenly turned vegetarian, one need only ask the other descendants of the North Star whether they fancied the splendid scenery of Myriad Waters, Thousand Mountains Cliff or preferred relocating to Dusk Micro Palace. Others might not know, but Cai Zhao was certain that the dazzling Sect Leader Song would be more than happy to oblige.
In contrast, Fallen Blossom Valley was far more relaxed—sons could inherit, daughters could inherit, and if neither was suitable, sons-in-law or daughters-in-law would do. Heaven never seals all exits; fate favors the simple-minded.
Vast Heaven Gate, Four Stallions Gate, and Jade Pendant Mountain Manor all adhered to bloodline succession, yet each developed its own distinctive inheritance methods tailored to their circumstances.
Every leader of Vast Heaven Gate had two clear life goals: to elevate the sect’s prestige and to take multiple wives and concubines to produce as many sons as possible—since with enough sons, at least one would surely excel enough to inherit the leadership.
Of course, if a wife’s family was influential and noble, subtlety was advisable.
Take Song Shijun, for example. He fathered three sons in one go—not only enough for himself but even an extra to send to the Azure Tower Sect to vie for power.
Though Song Maozhi had a temper, his martial skills and decisiveness were commendable. In the midst of bloody battles where others lost limbs, he emerged with only a toe injury.
Given the sect’s circumstances, even someone as proud and intelligent as Qinglian Furen had to grit her teeth and tolerate her husband’s premarital indiscretions—even raising Song Xiuzhi with a facade of virtuous acceptance.
For this reason, the strife among wives and concubines in Vast Heaven Gate had been exceptionally fierce over the past two centuries, with schemes of every imaginable variety.
Every woman wanted her own son to inherit. Since larger numbers increased the odds, wives and concubines naturally sought to bear more sons, leaving successive Vast Heaven Gate leaders inevitably "overwhelmed with duties."
And "overwhelmed" was no exaggeration.
—The ladies, young and old, were like wolves and tigers, eyes gleaming. Who had time for romantic poetry or philosophical ideals? The only real priority was lying down and putting in the effort.
Song Yuzhi’s grandfather, Old Sect Leader Song, began his carnal pursuits with maids at thirteen. Over the years, he lost over a dozen children, with Song Shijun being the sole survivor.
In two centuries, the Azure Tower Sect saw ten generations of leaders, while Vast Heaven Gate cycled through ten leaders in rapid succession.
Too much plowing wears out the ox.
If the chronicles of Vast Heaven Gate read like a farcical tale of domestic drama, then the records of Four Stallions Gate were a blood-soaked ledger of madness and death. At worst, Vast Heaven Gate’s conflicts were among wives and concubines—so long as the leader upheld basic principles, everyone played by the rules, competing fairly based on fertility. There was at least some bottom line. After all, Vast Heaven Gate had abundant wealth and branches, ensuring even the unsuccessful descendants had somewhere to go.
Four Stallions Gate was an entirely different matter.The Vast Heaven Gate believed in the adage "Father and son fight tigers together, brothers stand united," while the Four Stallions Gate adhered to the principle "If you don’t uproot the weeds, they’ll grow back with the spring breeze." Brothers turning on each other would either be expelled and disowned or, in severe cases, resort to murder and arson—ultimately, only one would remain to wield the authority of the Four Stallions Gate.
Compared to these two factions, the Jade Pendant Mountain Manor was far more refined.
From the first generation onward, the family rules explicitly stated that as long as one was of the Zhou lineage’s direct bloodline and of upright character, they could compete for the position of Manor Lord.
At first glance, this seemed unproblematic, but minor issues abounded.
The Vast Heaven Gate fought over wives and concubines, the Four Stallions Gate killed brothers, and the Jade Pendant Mountain Manor was plagued by sister-in-law rivalries—as the saying goes, "The first thirty years depend on the husband, the next thirty on the son." After spending half a lifetime as the dignified Manor Lady, one might find herself replaced by a previously overlooked sister-in-law upon her husband’s death. Who could endure such a fate?
Yet, bizarrely, the Zhou family had inexplicably produced only one son for three consecutive generations. The most outstanding brothers of their time, Zhou Yuqian and Zhou Yukun, were already three generations removed from the main lineage, posing no real threat.
Then there was the Grand Beginning Temple.
Back then, when Cai Changfeng returned from his wanderings in the Martial World, he found his elder brother and sister-in-law’s graves overgrown with weeds. Only after inquiring did he learn that his niece and nephew had been adopted by the Zhou family. He couldn’t help but sigh, remarking that the Grand Beginning Temple’s succession method was the most harmonious—neither overly demanding perfection nor descending into bloody strife, avoiding both excessive zeal and desolate decline, balancing cultivation and virtue.
However, judging by the tragic spectacle at Old Ancestor Bei Chen’s bicentennial memorial ceremony, the Grand Beginning Temple was far from peaceful.
"If you want to talk about the Demonic Cult, then talk about the Demonic Cult! Why keep dragging our North Star into it?!" Cai Zhao lifted her head from the steaming bath bucket, revealing delicate, jade-like shoulders.
She was furious: "And what are you doing in my room while I’m bathing?!"
The handsome youth seated at the table frowned slightly. "There’s such a large screen in the middle—it’s not like I can see anything."
—The room was divided by an exquisite four-paneled embroidery screen. To the left, mist swirled in the warm, humid air; to the right, sunlight streamed through spotless windows, illuminating only a table, a chair, and a lone figure.
Cai Zhao was so angry she nearly spat fire. "Do you even understand basic decency? Don’t you know men and women should be kept apart? Whether you can see me or not, you shouldn’t be here while I’m bathing! When I barged into Third Senior Brother’s room once, he was still in his undergarments, yet he hurriedly threw on an outer robe—look at his manners and propriety! You’re really—"
"What did you say?" Mu Qingyan’s face darkened instantly. "A grown man not properly dressed, and you dared to charge right in? Don’t you know men and women should be kept apart? At your age, shouldn’t you know to avoid impropriety?!"
Cai Zhao nearly collapsed into the bath bucket.
"You’re a man! Why aren’t you avoiding impropriety?" she shrieked.
"I’m different," Mu Qingyan declared righteously. "My mind is pure. Hmph, people like Song Yuzhi—already betrothed yet still entangled with other women—who knows what’s going on in his head?"
Grateful for Song Yuzhi’s past help, Cai Zhao couldn’t help but defend him: "Third Senior Brother doesn’t like Senior Sister Lingbo."
"If he doesn’t like her, why not break off the engagement sooner? Waiting until another option appears before backing out—hmph, what a coward."
Mu Qingyan’s jade-like fingers pressed down slightly, leaving a clear palm print on the yellow pearwood table. "I’ll let it slide this time, but if I hear of you failing to avoid impropriety with other men again, don’t blame me for losing my temper!"
Cai Zhao weakly rested her chin on the edge of the bath bucket, so exasperated she wanted to howl at the sky.Early this morning at the foot of Nine Conch Mountain, she had originally intended to ignore him upon their encounter.
Knowing he was unwelcome, Young Master Qian silently followed until they passed the fork in the road beyond Qingque Town. Only then did he suggest inviting Cai Zhao to bathe, change clothes, and rest briefly.
As for Young Master Qian, needless to say, although the slop bucket had been empty, lying in it all night had left him with an utterly soul-stirring stench.
Cai Zhao was covered in blood and sweat, utterly exhausted. To ease her wariness, Mu Qingyan even offered to take poison from Fallen Blossom Valley as a guarantee.
"Perfectly fine as things are, why would I need to give you poison?" Cai Zhao was completely baffled.
Mu Qingyan patiently explained, "If I were to attack while you're resting or secretly whisk Young Master Qian away, what would you do? So you should make me take a specially prepared poison, then give me the antidote once we're safe. That would be more secure."
Seeing the woman's bewildered gaze, he expressed surprise, "What? Doesn't Fallen Blossom Valley have such poison? With your mother's talents, surely she could make it."
Cai Zhao looked ashamed. "...I'll remind Mother when we return."
It was an elegant Bamboo Grove Hermitage, cool and secluded, surrounded only by birdsong.
A spry, white-haired old servant waited quietly there. Cai Zhao heard Mu Qingyan address him as 'Cheng Bo' with rare warmth and respect.
Young Master Qian had wanted to rush straight to the main quarters to wash up, but Mu Qingyan knocked him down with an air palm, after which Cheng Bo dragged him off to the woodshed for scrubbing.
Cai Zhao received far better treatment.
In the warm inner chamber stood a massive lidded tung wood tub filled with hot water, reaching halfway up a person's height. A complete set of clean, new clothes and shoes had been perfumed, along with a cloud-soft bed.
—The only annoyance was Mu Qingyan's absolute refusal to leave.
"Alright, alright, go on with your Demonic Cult family gossip then," Cai Zhao waved helplessly, sinking back into the bath to rest.
Actually, the first leader of the Demonic Cult had been surnamed Mu, as were most leaders over the past two hundred years.
To put it bluntly, much like the wonton shop Cai Zhao frequented, the Demonic Cult was essentially a family business.
Yet Demonic Cult leaders were human, and humans inevitably produce unworthy descendants.
Problems emerged as early as the third leader's reign—his only son was frail and bookish from childhood, visibly unfit for responsibility. Making him leader would have had the Big Dipper Six Sects laughing their molars out.
Passing leadership to someone else made the Mu leader physically uncomfortable and guilty toward his ancestors, so this particular leader creatively devised the 'adopted son system.'
He meticulously selected an orphan boy of outstanding talent and loyal temperament, nurturing him while constantly emphasizing the weight of gratitude. After his death, the adopted son would assist his biological son as Guardian King until a capable grandson came of age for smooth succession.
"How did he know the grandson would definitely be capable? What if the grandson was also frail and bookish?" Cai Zhao found this leader rather presumptuous.
A strange expression crossed Mu Qingyan's face: "The Mu family never produced two generations of outstanding descendants in a row—that is, until Nie Hengcheng."
Cai Zhao started. "Nie Hengcheng was a Mu family adopted son?"
"Correct."
Before Nie Hengcheng, the Mu family had produced three supremely powerful adopted sons as Guardian Kings.Among them, two were utterly loyal. Though they may have clung to power for a while, they dutifully handed over authority once their foster brothers' sons came of age. One was slightly reluctant, but after marrying his daughter to the new sect leader, he swiftly retired. It's said he spent his later years happily dandling his grandchildren on his knees.
But Nie Hengcheng was different.
Nie Hengcheng was the adopted son of Mu Qingyan's great-grandfather. Exceptionally capable from childhood, he began assisting his indecisive foster father at just fifteen.
After his foster father passed, he continued supporting his sickly foster brother—Mu Qingyan's grandfather.
Unexpectedly, Mu Qingyan's grandparents died prematurely, leaving his father Mu Zhengming not yet ten years old.
The Demonic Cult was vast in influence and formidable in strength, far surpassing any single sect among the Big Dipper Six Sects. Thus, its leader needed to be iron-fisted and authoritative—those with slightly softer methods couldn't suppress the wolves and tigers beneath them, let alone a mere child.
Thus, Nie Hengcheng, the Mu family's adopted son, first took up the reins of power as acting sect leader.
Cai Zhao listened in astonishment: "Then what about your father? Where is he now?"
"Four years ago, he passed away."
Cai Zhao immediately shrank back into the bathtub. After a moment, she said, "Your father died four years ago, so he wasn't killed by Nie Hengcheng? I thought Nie Hengcheng was unwilling to return the sect leadership to your father and had him killed."
Mu Qingyan: "Nie Hengcheng was indeed unwilling to return the position, but he never harmed my father."
Cai Zhao blinked, not understanding.
Mu Qingyan: "Because my father had no desire to take over as sect leader."
Cai Zhao gasped softly, whispering, "Was your father in poor health?"
"No, my father was healthy, highly skilled in cultivation, and not weak in temperament. He simply preferred a life of carefree wandering—scheming for power and slaughter held no appeal for him."
One year, Chang Haosheng followed the heroes of the Big Dipper Six Sects in storming the Nether Bamboo Path. After half a day of chaotic battle, he stumbled upon Mu Zhengming, who was raising cranes and eagles in the mountains.
Mu Zhengming made no fuss, silently pointing Chang Haosheng to a path out and leaving a bottle of medicine on the ground before quietly departing.
"Later, Great Hero Chang likely met my father a few more times," Mu Qingyan said.
"So that's how it was," Cai Zhao realized. "No wonder Great Hero Chang was willing to trust you."
"Yes, Great Hero Chang always remembered my father's kindness. My father once said that if I ever faced dire straits, I could seek Great Hero Chang's help. Though before his death, Great Hero Chang insisted the Chang family's massacre had nothing to do with me. I know it was I who brought disaster upon them—when I return to the sect, I will gouge out the eyes, cut out the tongues, and flay the skins of those responsible."
Mu Qingyan's tone was calm, yet each word carried a chilling edge.
Cai Zhao knew that when ordinary people swore to "gouge eyes and flay skins," it might just be talk—but Mu Qingyan would undoubtedly follow through.
She shrank her neck in slightly, sighing after a moment. "Your great-grandfather was weak in temperament, your grandfather weak in health, and your father indifferent to fame and fortune. That means Nie Hengcheng held power for three generations. Such a long reign—even without ambition, it would cultivate ambition."
Mu Qingyan tilted his head back, his neck long and elegant. "...Sometimes I wonder, had my father not clung to his tranquil ideals but instead fought for the sect leadership, how many lives might have been different.""If Nie Hengcheng hadn't practiced that evil technique, Wu Yuanying wouldn't have suffered for over a decade, Luo Yuanrong might have stayed by her beloved's side, the Three Elders of Qingfeng would still be alive and keeping each other in check—at the very least, Heroine Cai Pingshu wouldn't have died so young."
A pang of pain struck Cai Zhao's heart. After a moment, she said softly, "I actually don't think it's your father's fault. It wasn't his wrongdoing—he simply couldn't betray his true nature."
Mu Qingyan stared at the screen in surprise, as if trying to see Cai Zhao's expression through it—he had expected her to agree.
The girl continued, "Just like my aunt. Madam Min always criticized her for not knowing cooking or needlework, for lacking gentleness and virtue, for refusing to wait quietly at home for her fiancé's return, insisting instead on competing and leading everywhere."
"But the truth is, my aunt could cook and sew. She tried staying obediently at home—it didn't work. She said that even though she'd been bold and fearless since childhood, the mere thought of living that kind of life made her break out in cold sweat, gave her nightmares. So she stole Lei Shibo's clothes and ran away in the middle of the night. Fortunately, Uncle Zhou later understood her feelings and accepted her."
"Perhaps for your father, becoming the leader of the Demonic Cult was like forcing my aunt to become a virtuous homemaker—something so terrifying it would wake him in the night."
"So don't blame your father. I believe he must have been a good man. Great Hero Chang wouldn't trust you based on just one act of kindness. It must have been your father who made him believe you're not a bad person."
The girl's voice was gentle and serene, lingering in the air.
Mu Qingyan suddenly said, "Zhao Zhao, may I remove this screen and come to your side?" He suddenly wanted to see the girl's face, to read her expression, to soothe the lingering resentment in his heart.
A loud splash of hot water struck the embroidered screen, accompanied by the girl's furious rage—
"Get out!"
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