Moonlight Mystique

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Junior Brother!" Er Yun, who had been waiting outside the cave, hurried forward as soon as Chong Zhao emerged.

She paused mid-step, her face lighting up with joy. "Congratulations, Junior Brother! You’ve successfully advanced past the Early Stage of the Immortal Lord Realm and stepped into the Mid-Stage."

Since the formation of the Three Realms, the Yao Race and the Immortals had established a strict hierarchy of cultivation Realms. Half-immortals were not considered true Immortals—they merely lived longer than mortals. Only by becoming an Immortal Lord could one truly be called an Immortal. The Immortal Lord Realm was further divided into Early, Mid, and Peak Stages. Above the Immortal Lord was the High Lord, which also had three tiers. Once one surpassed the Peak Stage of the High Lord, they would become a Demigod. Only by crossing the threshold of godhood could one glimpse the Dao of the Divine.

The same applied to the Yao Race. Fu Ling had trained in the Heavenly Palace since childhood, inheriting Jin Yao’s teachings. Though she had her immortal bones removed, she inherited her mother’s Flaming Cloud Bow and received guidance from Zhen Yu. Now, she had reached the Mid-Stage of the High Yao Realm—a full major Realm above Chong Zhao. Meanwhile, the Piaomiao Sect had long been in decline. Even their Sect Leader, Song Yun, after centuries of arduous cultivation, had only reached the Early Stage of the High Lord Realm.

For Chong Zhao to achieve the Mid-Stage of the Immortal Lord Realm in just three years since his ascension was nothing short of prodigious.

Chong Zhao remained composed, nodding slightly to Er Yun. "Thank you, Senior Sister, for guarding me."

Er Yun’s face flushed. Though she had kept watch outside the cave these past days, she hadn’t been able to enter and could only fret helplessly. Today was the day of the sect’s disciple competition, and she quickly relayed the news that Zhe Sang had returned to the island, advanced to the Immortal Lord Realm, and challenged him to a duel.

"Since Senior Brother has also advanced to the Immortal Lord Realm, a fair duel is only fitting," Chong Zhao said calmly, stepping forward to head toward the main hall. But Er Yun suddenly spoke again.

"Junior Brother…" She hesitated before continuing, "Bai Shuo stole the Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip and has been imprisoned in the Profound Ice Cave by Second Uncle. But don’t worry—he said if she can endure three days inside, she’ll be released. Today is the third day."

She expected Chong Zhao to rush to the Profound Ice Cave immediately upon hearing the news, but his expression remained unchanged. He merely replied, "Thank you for informing me, Senior Sister."

Seeing that Chong Zhao had no intention of going to rescue Bai Shuo, Er Yun sighed in relief but couldn’t hide her surprise. "You… you’re not going to save her?"

Rumors had spread across the island these past two days—Bai Shuo’s theft of the Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip served no purpose. It was widely believed she had committed such a reckless act for Chong Zhao’s sake.

"The Sect Leader’s decree is fair. Let’s go, Senior Sister." Without further explanation, Chong Zhao transformed into a streak of light, heading straight for the main hall.

Meanwhile, outside the Piaomiao Sect’s grand hall, Song Yun stood atop the stone steps with Zhe Sang at his side.

On a cloud platform below the steps, sword flashes flickered as Inner Sect Disciples sparred.

One disciple knocked another’s sword aside and stood victorious, earning cheers from the crowd.

The defeated disciple took it in stride, sheathing his sword as both turned to Song Yun.

"Well done. Both of you have made progress. This round goes to Yi Xiu," Song Yun announced approvingly.

"Yes, Sect Leader." The two disciples bowed before flying down from the platform.

It was nearly noon, and all Inner Sect Disciples had finished their matches, yet there was still no movement from the back mountain. The disciples glanced at Zhe Sang on the steps, murmuring among themselves.

Tomorrow, the Sect Leader would lead the Piaomiao Sect to the Phoenix Tree Island. If Junior Brother Chong Zhao still hadn’t emerged from seclusion, the responsibility of representing Piaomiao would fall to the Eldest Senior Brother.

Zhe Sang, however, remained patient. "Master," he said to Song Yun, "Junior Sister has been guarding the back mountain and hasn’t returned yet. It’s likely Junior Brother hasn’t finished his closed-door cultivation. Today’s duel—"

Just then, a streak of light shot toward them from the back mountain."Junior Brother Chong Zhao has emerged from seclusion!" Someone among the disciples shouted excitedly. The prospect of witnessing a duel between the two top disciples of Piaomiao Sect had everyone itching with anticipation.

Zhe Sang paused mid-sentence and smiled faintly. "It seems this battle between us cannot be avoided."

Without waiting for Song Yun to speak, Zhe Sang leaped toward the Cloud Platform.

Just as Zhe Sang landed, Chong Zhao's figure appeared on the platform. Born into extreme nobility in the mortal realm and now imbued with Immortal Qi, his immortal robes fluttered majestically, truly embodying the ethereal grace of an immortal. The female disciples gazed at Chong Zhao with longing in their eyes.

Er Yun landed beside Song Yun, her gaze also fixed on Chong Zhao.

Chong Zhao's entrance stole everyone's attention, fueling Zhe Sang's jealousy and resentment. Though his expression remained composed, his words were sharp: "After years apart, Junior Brother's elegance surpasses even before. Truly worthy of being Piaomiao's number one."

"Chong Zhao greets Senior Brother," Chong Zhao replied, bowing to Zhe Sang. "We are glad for your return. Junior Martial Uncle and our fellow disciples have missed you dearly. Now that you're back, I wish to assist you in revitalizing our sect."

After all, Zhe Sang was Song Yun's direct disciple, their bond as close as father and son. Unless Zhe Sang pressed him relentlessly, Chong Zhao had no desire to disrupt the sect's harmony.

"Junior Brother, let's skip the pleasantries between us. You know exactly how I lost to you two years ago. Today, I've returned to Piaomiao to reclaim what is rightfully mine. There's no need for your pretentious concessions."

Zhe Sang snorted coldly, summoning his immortal sword to point directly at Chong Zhao. "Let this Senior Brother see how much you've improved these past two years. This time, that medicine cultivator won't be here to help you!"

As soon as the words fell, Zhe Sang's sword shot toward Chong Zhao's forehead. Without another word, Chong Zhao manifested his own immortal sword to meet the attack.

The two immortal swords clashed mid-air above the Cloud Platform, their sword light piercingly cold. Both came from the same sect and possessed comparable immortal power, making it initially hard to distinguish superiority. However, Zhe Sang's sword techniques were noticeably more seasoned and ruthless. Chong Zhao focused solely on defense, and after the time it took to burn an incense stick, he was clearly at a disadvantage.

Seeing Zhe Sang's sword aiming relentlessly at Chong Zhao's vital points, leaving numerous wounds from sword Qi on his body, Er Yun's voice trembled as she grabbed Song Yun's sleeve. "Uncle, you must stop them..."

Song Yun shook his head. "Unless this battle reaches its conclusion today, Piaomiao will inevitably fall into chaos."

Er Yun froze, just as Zhe Sang's sword pierced Chong Zhao's shoulder. Blood instantly stained Chong Zhao's robe, drawing gasps from the disciples.

"Junior Brother!"

Even Zhe Sang hadn't expected such an easy victory and couldn't help gloating. "Junior Brother, if you're this fragile, how can you shoulder Piaomiao's great responsibilities?"

"That battle two years ago left me ashamed before Senior Brother. Today, I return this sword strike to you."

Chong Zhao looked up, his expression suddenly turning stern. His palm sword blazed with radiant light as it deflected Zhe Sang's immortal sword. "Senior Brother, after you!"

Zhe Sang was forced back three steps by the shockwave. As the disciples below the platform exchanged bewildered glances, Zhe Sang's face flushed crimson with humiliation. "Chong Zhao! How dare you insult me! Fine! Very well!"

The two immortal swords clashed again. This time, Chong Zhao unleashed strike after strike without holding back, quickly driving Zhe Sang into continuous retreat until he could only barely parry.

"Magnificent!" The lower-ranking disciples rarely had opportunities to witness Immortal Lords spar. Enthralled by Chong Zhao's exquisite swordsmanship, they couldn't help cheering. Compared to the overbearing Zhe Sang, their sympathies leaned more toward the humble Chong Zhao.

Pushed to the edge of the Cloud Platform by Chong Zhao's sword and hearing the disciples' cheers, Zhe Sang felt as if he were reliving his defeat to Chong Zhao two years prior.His face was filled with resentment. Though both he and Chong Zhao possessed the physique of an Immortal Lord, after cultivating the Ethereal Sword Technique for a hundred years, he still couldn't surpass a disciple who had only trained for three years. How unfair Heaven was!

No, this time he couldn't lose!

A strange red light flashed in Zhe Sang's eyes as his sword trembled, and a red pearl brimming with Spiritual Qi suddenly appeared on its hilt. With the pearl's emergence, his spiritual power surged dramatically. He swung his sword fiercely, the strike sending Chong Zhao—who had been evenly matched with him—flying back. Chong Zhao spat out a mouthful of blood, kneeling on the cloud platform.

"Junior Brother!" Er Yun was about to rush onto the platform but was stopped by Song Yun.

"Uncle, what kind of Spiritual Artifact is that?" Er Yun asked anxiously. She had clearly seen the strange red pearl and sensed its extraordinary Spiritual Qi, realizing it was no ordinary object. The energy it contained might even rival the Ethereal Sect's Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip.

Song Yun's expression changed, his body swaying as he coughed violently. Er Yun quickly steadied him. "Uncle, what's wrong?"

Song Yun shook his head, his gaze fixed intently on the cloud platform.

Everyone had expected Zhe Sang to lose to Chong Zhao again, but the situation had reversed in an instant. Chong Zhao couldn't withstand even a single strike from Zhe Sang. The disciples exchanged bewildered glances, and the area below the platform fell into stunned silence.

Zhe Sang's face darkened as he slowly approached Chong Zhao, who was still kneeling on the ground.

"Junior Brother, I wasn't using my full strength earlier. Did you really think you could defeat me this time? If you kowtow and admit defeat, repenting for that battle years ago, I might let bygones be bygones for the sake of our shared sect and allow you to remain as an Outer Sect Disciple!"

"I've already repaid my debt from that battle," Chong Zhao said firmly, lifting his head. "Senior Brother, I haven't lost yet."

"You're asking for death!" Seeing Chong Zhao's defiance, Zhe Sang's expression darkened further as he raised his immortal sword and struck again.

This strike was even more powerful than the last.

"Senior Brother, stop!" On the stone steps, Er Yun's face paled as she cried out.

In the Profound Ice Cave, Fan Yue, who had been unconscious for two days, awoke in confusion. Bai Shuo, still cradled in her arms, remained motionless with closed eyes.

"Mas... Master..." Fan Yue called out to Bai Shuo, his voice still that of a dazed youth. It seemed Bai Shuo's blood had only restored his consciousness and strength temporarily.

Bai Shuo lay curled in Fan Yue's arms, unresponsive. Her cheeks were flushed, a faint smile on her lips, but her breathing was dangerously weak.

Though Fu Ling had left, the "Drunken Dream" curse on Bai Shuo remained unbroken. She had been trapped in an illusion for two days, and if she didn't wake soon, her Spiritual Qi would be completely depleted, leading to her death.

Though Fan Yue didn't understand what had happened to Bai Shuo, he could sense her dwindling Spiritual Qi. Vaguely, he realized that if he didn't wake her now, she might never open her eyes again.

"Wake... up..." Fan Yue spoke haltingly, his voice filled with confusion and fear.

In Fan Yue's world, there was only Bai Shuo—simple and absolute. He couldn't lose her.

Fan Yue knew nothing else but to hold her tightly, calling out to her with desperate effort.

In the illusion, Bai Shuo sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring at a figure.

The man wore a flowing purple robe, his long hair loosely tied. He leaned lazily against a bookshelf, flipping through a book, a small wine gourd hanging at his waist.

Bai Shuo sat quietly at a wooden table nearby, her gaze fixed intently on his back.This was a library, outside of which stood a grand hall. She had never seen such a resplendent and extravagant palace. Ever since she awoke from the bone-chilling ice, she had found herself in this place. She tried to leave the hall, but it was as if the area was sealed off by a barrier. Every time she stepped toward the entrance, she would reappear behind this person again.

She knew who this figure was. She had searched for him for ten years. She couldn’t recall his face, couldn’t call out his name, but she knew—he was the one who had saved her in the imperial mausoleum of the human capital a decade ago.

When Bai Shuo first saw this figure from behind, she was overjoyed, wondering if the heavens had heard her prayers and brought her before him. But soon, she learned the meaning of "extreme joy begets sorrow."

Not only could she not leave this cursed place or approach him, but he also couldn’t see her or hear her voice.

Am I dead? Is this the heavens granting my wish?

Bai Shuo was an eternal optimist. With her limited knowledge, she truly had no idea what kind of predicament this "ghost wall" was. Fortunately, her obsession over the past decade made even just a glimpse of his back enough to keep her trailing after him for two whole days.

This person did nothing but sleep when idle and drink when awake—living quite the carefree life.

Honestly, staying with him in this isolated place wasn’t so bad. Bai Shuo rested her chin in her hand and suddenly felt drowsy.

Slowly, her eyes closed. She didn’t notice her body gradually fading away, nor did she see the hall collapsing around her.

Bai Shuo didn’t know—she was trapped in the spell of drunken dreams and illusions. This was merely her own fantasy. She couldn’t remember his face, which was why she could never see his features or approach him.

"M-Master!" A young man’s frantic voice rang in her ears. Bai Shuo jolted, her nearly shut eyes snapping open.

Who?

"W-Wake up… wake up…"

Wake up? What wake up?

"P-Please…"

Please me? A nobody like me, a drifting weed in the Three Realms, a down-and-out minor immortal—who would beg me?

Bai Shuo was utterly bewildered when suddenly, she saw the entire ceiling of the hall collapse, crashing down toward her. Her pupils contracted—she wanted to dodge, but her body wouldn’t move.

Why can’t I move? Damn it! What kind of cursed place is this?!

"Bai Shuo! Wake the hell up!"

Finally, the young man roared a complete sentence, his voice hoarse and desperate. Bai Shuo’s spirit trembled, and her eyes flew open.