Moonlight Mystique

Chapter Thirty-Seven

At the entrance of the Profound Ice Cave on the misty back mountain, two disciples shoved Bai Shuo inside and activated the barrier at the cave’s entrance. In an instant, a layer of ice sealed the opening.

"Senior Brother Yi Fan, do you think she might actually freeze to death in there?" The speaker was Chang Xu, the youngest Inner Sect Disciple.

Yi Fan, ever composed, remained silent.

"Ah, I hope she can endure it. Whenever I went to the medicine hut to fetch herbs, Bai Shuo was always kind to me. Honestly, I find it hard to believe she’d steal a Jade Slip to cultivate Spiritual Qi using forbidden methods," Chang Xu said, unable to hide his reluctance.

"She admitted it herself, and so many of us witnessed it. What good does your disbelief do?"

"Senior Brother!"

Yi Fan stared at the cave entrance for a moment before suddenly producing a small bundle of flint and firewood. With a flicker of spiritual light in his palm, the items vanished from his hand.

"Senior Brother?"

"Last time I was injured, she secretly slipped me a Spirit Pill." Yi Fan coughed lightly and turned away expressionlessly.

"Thank you, Senior Brothers!"

Bai Shuo’s voice drifted through the icy barrier, distant yet full of vigor.

Chang Xu and Yi Fan glanced into the cave. Chang Xu muttered, "Look at her, so carefree and shameless. Even if we were to ascend to immortality, she’d probably still be living just fine."

Yi Fan, however, said nothing, sighing inwardly.

The Profound Ice Cave was a place even Inner Sect Disciples couldn’t endure for more than three days, let alone Bai Shuo, who was only a half-immortal. He could only hope that Junior Brother Chong Zhao would emerge from seclusion soon—perhaps then, Bai Shuo might have a sliver of hope.

Inside the cave, Bai Shuo huddled behind a rock, happily setting up her firewood.

The Profound Ice Cave was a Secret Realm refined by the founding Grandmaster of Misty Mountain specifically to punish Inner Sect Disciples. Below the Immortal Lord Realm, Spiritual Qi was unusable here. Though Bai Shuo was a half-immortal, entering this place was no different from a mortal stepping onto a frozen tundra—turning into an icicle was only a matter of time. Fortunately, she had always been generous with her offerings to the Inner Sect Disciples and wore a perpetually cheerful smile. Aside from the disciples of Flowing Cloud Peak, most of the other Inner Sect brothers treated her with relative kindness.

"Who knew these Senior Brothers could be so warm-hearted?" Bai Shuo chuckled, blowing on her hands as she warmed herself by the fire. She glanced around at the jagged ice walls of the cave and began reflecting on the night’s events. "That Zhe Sang wasn’t this cunning back then. How did he become so shrewd after just two years away? An Immortal Lord’s physique? What kind of fortuitous encounter did he have to ascend to such a high Realm? Tsk..."

She smacked her forehead. "So stupid. At least I didn’t drag A-Zhao into this. The paper puppet delivered the message to Old Black—that big monster should have left the island by now."

Before being locked away, Bai Shuo had sent the paper puppet to find the old turtle, instructing it to seize the opportunity to escort Fan Yue out of Misty Mountain. Though Zhe Sang had cast the Shadow-Tracking Curse on Fan Yue, since he was set to compete with A-Zhao, he would undoubtedly enter seclusion to cultivate over the next three days. This was the best chance to get Fan Yue away.

In the medicine hut on the outer island, the old turtle, previously deep in slumber, was abruptly awakened by the paper puppet’s tapping. The puppet danced animatedly before it, and the old turtle instantly transformed into human form, his grizzled beard trembling.

"You’re saying she stole the Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip?! And was caught by the Sect Leader?!"

The paper puppet nodded frantically, then resumed its frantic gesturing.

"What?! Locked in the Profound Ice Cave on the back mountain?!"

The paper puppet mimed wiping its eyes, as though crying.

"No, I must go plead with the Sect Leader..."The old turtle, leaning on his cane, was about to rush to the inner island in a frenzy when the little paper figure tugged at him. The paper figure transformed into a small piece of wood, snapped into two with a crack, then reverted to its paper form, whimpering pitifully.

“She wants me to get that little tree spirit off the island, otherwise that kid will die?”

The little paper figure nodded vigorously.

Though the old turtle didn’t understand why Piaomiao would trouble a mere tree spirit, Bai Shuo was clever. If she was in such a hurry to send the paper figure with this message, the little tree spirit’s identity must be unusual.

The old turtle immediately dashed toward the small thatched hut behind the medicine cottage, shouting as he pushed open the door.

“Kid! Wood!”

The hut was eerily silent. The little tree spirit who usually lounged around inside, lost in thought, was nowhere to be seen.

“Uncle, are you really going to let Senior Brother and Junior Brother Chong Zhao compete?” Inside the inner hall, Er Yun looked worried and disapproved of Song Feng’s decision.

“Now that your senior brother has also ascended to the rank of Immortal Lord, he has proposed a fair duel. I cannot stop him,” Song Feng said gravely.

“Junior Brother A-Zhao’s entry into the Phoenix Island of the Wutong Tree was decreed by the Heavenly Palace. How can we change participants at the last moment?”

“How do you know A-Zhao will definitely lose?”

Er Yun hesitated. “Junior Brother is injured…”

“If his injuries haven’t healed by the time he emerges from seclusion in three days, even if he replaces Piaomiao in entering the Phoenix Island, he might not stand out and defeat the disciples of other immortal sects,” Song Feng said coolly, glancing at him.

“Uncle!”

“Enough, Er Yun. The Wutong Martial Banquet is our only chance for Piaomiao to reclaim its place among the Three Mountains and Six Sects. Whoever has the highest immortal power will represent Piaomiao—that is fairness.”

Song Feng sighed wearily. “Go rest and recover. Stay out of this competition.”

Er Yun stomped his foot and left.

Outside the hall, Zhe Sang’s eyes gleamed, a smug smile curling his lips. No wonder Er Yun opposed the duel in three days—it turned out that kid was injured.

Inside the hall, Song Feng coughed lightly, and Zhe Sang knocked before entering.

“Master.”

Song Feng looked surprised. “Ah, Sang’er. It’s so late—why aren’t you resting?”

“I came to see you, Master.” Zhe Sang wore a concerned expression. “I heard from the junior disciples that evil spirits recently appeared on the island, not only killing twelve Liuyun Disciples but also injuring you, Master. What kind of evil spirits could breach our sect’s Heaven-Shaking Array?”

Song Feng fell silent, then waved a hand. “Just some malevolent beings coveting the Spiritual Qi of the East Sea. This time, Piaomiao survived the calamity thanks to your Junior Brother Chong Zhao.”

Zhe Sang’s expression stiffened momentarily, but he remained composed. “Junior Brother is a blessing to our sect.”

Song Feng studied Zhe Sang and suddenly said, “Sang’er, the duel in three days is meant to select the representative for the Phoenix Island of the Wutong Tree. But both of you are the foundation of Piaomiao. No matter who wins or loses, do not let it harm your camaraderie.”

“Yes, Master.”

Suddenly, Song Feng waved his hand, and a jade slip materialized in his palm. He handed it to Zhe Sang. “Sang’er, the Mountain-Suppressing Jade Slip contains the immortal essence left behind by past Sect Leaders. Take it and cultivate diligently these three days. You are my disciple. Though I value Chong Zhao, I most hope for you to represent Piaomiao.”

Zhe Sang was taken aback, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. Yet he didn’t take the jade slip, instead cupping his hands respectfully. “Master, two years ago, I lost to Junior Brother. This time, I wish to defeat him fairly.”

He had advanced rapidly under Fu Ling’s guidance, even ascending to the rank of Immortal Lord. But he had also practiced the Yao Race’s cultivation methods. The Mountain-Suppressing Jade Slip was infused with immortal essence—if he used it to cultivate, his demonic arts might be exposed.Song Feng gazed at him steadily for a long while before finally withdrawing the jade slip and waving his hand. "It comforts this Master's heart that you think this way. The night is deep. Your Junior Brother has made remarkable progress in spiritual cultivation these years. Though you've ascended to Immortal Lord, victory over him isn't assured. Go and meditate properly."

"Yes." Zhe Sang nodded and turned to leave.

"Sang'er." Just as Zhe Sang reached the doorway, Song Feng suddenly spoke again. "The path of Immortal Dao is arduous, but you must always maintain your true heart. Never covet temporary ease and forget the mission of our immortal lineage."

Zhe Sang paused mid-step and turned back hesitantly. "Why does Master give such advice?"

Song Feng smiled kindly. "This Master grows old and knows not how much longer I can watch over Piaomiao. Your Junior Brother is devoted to cultivation with no mind to inherit Piaomiao's legacy. The mountain must eventually pass to you and Er Yun. My Heavenly Tribulation approaches—should I fall suddenly, there may be no chance for final instructions."

"Master's immortal lifespan stretches long. Even if the Lightning Tribulation comes, I will surely protect you through it." Hearing these words, genuine concern finally surfaced on Zhe Sang's face. After all, he'd been raised by Song Feng and remained filial toward him.

"The Dao follows its own Karma. Go now." Song Feng shook his head and waved.

"Yes." Zhe Sang said no more, bowing deeply to Song Feng before withdrawing.

Only when the footsteps outside the hall had faded did Song Feng sigh softly. "Old Black, I watched that child grow up. How is it I can't see him clearly now?"

The ancient turtle shuffled out from behind the hall with his cane, his slit-like eyes brimming with worldly wisdom. "The Sect Leader already knows his measure. Years ago I said Zhe Sang wasn't fit to inherit Piaomiao."

Had others witnessed the medicine-refining turtle's casual manner before the Piaomiao Sect Leader, they'd have been astonished. The Medicine Pavilion held low status in Piaomiao—even its keeper, Old Black, normally lacked credentials to enter the inner isles. But Piaomiao Island, once ranked among the Three Peaks and Six Sects, retained hidden foundations and supports unknown to most. The island's true form was this thousand-year-old cloud turtle.

A millennium ago, Piaomiao's founding ancestor rescued the cloud turtle from the Eastern Sea as it nearly perished in a Lightning Tribulation. In gratitude, the turtle transformed into an island for a thousand years, coexisting with Piaomiao. Thus bound, the cloud turtle could never leave the Eastern Sea, forever confined to this island.

"You also claimed my Senior Brother was unfit to inherit Piaomiao. He took it as a challenge, secluded himself for a century, and forcibly cultivated an Immortal Lord's form. Were it not so, his Heavenly Tribulation wouldn't have been so severe as to breed wicked thoughts." Song Feng sighed.

The old turtle gave him a sidelong glance, unperturbed. "This turtle never speaks idly. Unfit means unfit. Your biased Master favored his own son and ignored me. Had those two children not come to Piaomiao, your Senior Brother would have drained this island dry by now."

Song Feng choked. "Then tell me—can these two reverse Piaomiao's fate?"

Cloud turtles excel at divination. For a thousand years, Piaomiao avoided many calamities through the old turtle's guidance. Yet even such foresight couldn't halt the sect's waning fortunes. Three years ago, Bai Shuo wasn't kept out of Song He's momentary mercy—the old turtle had claimed the girl for himself.

"I don't know." The turtle fell uncharacteristically silent. "Their destinies are shrouded in mist—I cannot see clearly."

"Not even Bai Shuo's?" Song Yun exclaimed in surprise. Three years prior, Bai Shuo had been but a mortal. He'd questioned why the cloud turtle would intervene for someone with no evident immortal affinity."She bears no immortal fate," the old turtle shook its head. "All I could divine was that this child could safeguard Piaomiao. Otherwise, I wouldn't have sent a half-immortal like her to Fire-Ice Island to deal with your corrupted Senior Brother."

That night, Bai Shuo had assumed the books in the library were prepared for her by Song Feng. But there was one who knew her better than Song Feng—Old Black, the cloud turtle who had lived with her day and night. Though capable of divining fortunes, the turtle couldn't leave the island. It could only sense that Piaomiao's great calamity was imminent, with Bai Shuo being the sole variable.

Between Piaomiao's safety and Bai Shuo's fortune, it could only choose one. The Heavenly Dao's decree had at least left Piaomiao a thread of hope.

As for the strange youth who had suddenly appeared, the turtle didn't inform the Sect Leader. It sensed an immense power from him, so vast that even its thousand-year Dao Heart couldn't fathom it. Since Bai Shuo was Piaomiao's hope, it would protect those around her as much as possible.

"What about Zhao'er? If Zhesang cannot inherit Piaomiao, can Chong Zhao shoulder its future?"

The cloud turtle fell silent again, waving a dismissive hand. "You're the Sect Leader. Decide the succession yourself—why ask me?" As it turned to leave, its steps faltered. "As for Wutong Island... avoid it if you can."

"Ancestor?" Song Feng was startled—the turtle never spoke idly.

"After tonight, I'll enter slumber. I'd hoped to bid farewell to that girl, but it seems there's no chance. Though Bai Shuo brings fortune to Piaomiao, this sect cannot keep her. After this matter, let her walk her own path."

Before Song Feng could inquire further, the turtle dissolved into a wisp of smoke, leaving behind a final word before vanishing from the hall.

To counter Song Feng, the turtle had sacrificed a century of its lifespan to divine a prophecy. The divination pointed only to Bai Shuo as the one who could reverse the Qiankun. By averting Piaomiao's disaster, it now paid the price of a century-long slumber. For the next hundred years, Piaomiao's fortunes would no longer concern it.

The hall fell quiet. Song Feng glanced at the jade slips left by past ancestors and sighed deeply.

The great Dao of the Three Realms, the fortunes of immortal sects—how long could he endure?

He could only hope Zhesang would repent, and that Er Yun and Chong Zhao could restore their mountain sect.

Night deepened. The sea wind howled, chilling the island to the bone. The two disciples guarding the Profound Ice Cave rubbed their hands for warmth.

Unnoticed, a sapling crept along the cave's edge under cover of darkness.

Suddenly, shadows seemed to shift nearby.

"Who's there?" Chang Xu tensed, shouting. He and Yi Fan rushed forward, only to find the movement was just branches swaying in the wind.

Yi Fan shot him a withering look. "With everything that's happened, I'm just jumpy," Chang Xu muttered sheepishly.

As they turned back, Chang Xu glimpsed a sapling crawling near the cave's barrier.

"Senior Brother! A tree is moving!"

Yi Fan spun around, but the cave mouth lay undisturbed. "This island is full of trees—they move in the wind. What are you yelling about?"

Chang Xu blinked—the sapling was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he chuckled awkwardly. "Must've imagined it."

Yi Fan rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Inside the cave, the fire had dwindled to embers. Bai Shuo rubbed her hands together, shivering. "Why is this damned place so cold? I'm freezing to death..."She had thought that with these fires, she could hold out until Chong Zhao emerged from seclusion in three days. But she hadn't anticipated that the Ice Cavern would be far colder than she imagined. The firewood wouldn't last long—forget three days, she might not even make it through one.

Bai Shuo hugged her knees, trying to get as close to the fire as possible. But the Ice Cavern was too cold, and after a night of fright, she was utterly exhausted. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drifted into a daze.

In her dream, she seemed to find herself in a peach grove, where the blossoms were in full bloom. By a murmuring stream, someone lounged lazily against a stone table. The figure wore white robes, with black hair cascading loosely. She seemed to have been drinking, her voice tinged with a tipsy lilt.

"Ah, Yue Mi, next month is your grand birthday. This time, don't go emptying all the treasures from my palace—go make trouble in the other three palaces instead. My treasures... I still have great use for them..."