I wonder how much longer this peaceful life can last...

Time, in times of waiting and suffering, always passes unbearably slow.

But the moment one tries to steal a moment of comfort, it slips through the fingers like sand, impossible to hold.

In the blink of an eye, three days had passed.

These past three days, Su Ji had been nothing short of obediently well-behaved.

He had practically grown roots into that intricately carved wooden bed.

His daily routine was simply lying there, occasionally teasing the little fox that still lay in deep slumber.

And whenever Yun Yao came by, he’d put on the perfect act—looking weak, but determined, playing the part of a man who was battered yet unbroken.

As for his injuries?

They hadn’t improved.

Or, more accurately, Su Ji didn’t dare let them show any sign of improvement.

The human heart was a thing hidden behind flesh and bone—impossible to see through.

Yun Yao was indeed a sweet and simple girl, with no ill intentions, but that girl had a loose tongue about ten times out of ten.

What if, one day, she had a few extra words with that junior disciple who clearly bore him hostility? And just happened to let slip that his recovery was alarmingly fast?

Better to make everyone think he was nothing but a useless cripple. That, in itself, would be the safest disguise.

“Isn’t that right, Junior Sister?”

“So... I’ll just have to stay in this form for now?”

...

At the top of Kongxuan Mountain stood the Lan Yue Pavilion.

This was a delicate tower built at the edge of a cliff, surrounded by drifting mist, as if it belonged in a celestial realm.

Deep inside the pavilion, sheer curtains danced softly in the breeze, and the air was heavy with moisture.

At the center of the room sat a massive rosewood bath barrel, its water surface covered in a thick layer of precious flower petals, rippling gently with the movement of the water and releasing a refreshing, soul-steeped fragrance.

"Splash—"

Water broke.

A slender arm, pale as lotus root, rose from the surface, followed by a graceful figure slowly standing up from the bath.

Water droplets ran down her skin, white and delicate as finest mutton fat jade, shimmering in the dim candlelight.

Time seemed to have been unusually kind to this woman. Not a trace of its passage marked her body.

Her skin was firm and smooth, her waist slender and supple. Her face bore no makeup, yet radiated a dazzling beauty. She looked no older than twenty.

Anyone who didn’t know better would have mistaken her for some young lady from a noble family.

Who would have guessed she was Yun Xi, the current Sect Master of Yin Yang Sect?

Yun Yao, who had been waiting outside the screen, hurried over upon hearing the noise, holding a soft drying cloth.

With practiced movements, she wrapped Yun Xi in the cloth, then took a fresh towel and began drying the Sect Master’s long, wet hair.

Yun Yao had been picked up from the mountain as a child by Yun Xi. Over the past decade, their relationship—though that of master and disciple—was as close as mother and daughter.

In moments like this, the strict formalities of the sect were all but forgotten.

Yun Xi narrowed her eyes contentedly, letting her disciple attend to her. Her stunningly beautiful face held a hint of lazy fatigue.

“Master...”

Yun Yao spoke carefully, still drying the hair, stealing furtive glances at Yun Xi’s expression as she toyed with her thoughts.

For the past three days, Su Ji’s half-dead state had truly tugged at her heart.

Though she had given him some ordinary healing pills, for injuries like his—crushed spiritual meridians—they were hardly more than a drop in the bucket.

“I’ve been reading an old medical text recently. Came across a puzzling case, and I can’t quite get the right diagnosis. I wanted to ask for your advice, Master.”

Yun Xi was enjoying the massage with her eyes closed. She didn’t even lift an eyelid at the question.

She stretched out a hand, picked a shimmering, crystal-clear grape from the fruit plate beside her, and delicately placed it between her ruby lips.

“Go on, where did this patient come from?”

“You? I’d be grateful if you spent less time reading storybooks, let alone medical texts?”

Yun Xi’s voice was lazy, carrying an air of worldly detachment that saw through everything.

Yun Yao’s movements froze, her heart skipped a beat.

She swallowed hard, her gaze shifting nervously. “It’s just… he was begging for help at the mountain gate…”

“The mountain gate?”

Kongxuan Mountain was so named because of its unique geographical position—it was literally a lone mountain suspended in midair, surrounded on all sides by a belt of fierce gales.

Let alone ordinary mortals, even most cultivators would die if they tried to force their way in without the sect’s invitation token.

So a patient would sooner go to a demon sect for help than to Kongxuan Mountain.

“Uh…”

Yun Xi slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze was not as clear and innocent as Yun Yao’s, but held a depth forged by years of experience.

She turned around, a wry smile playing on her lips as she looked at her unworthy disciple.

“What kind of place do you think Kongxuan Mountain is? A man on the verge of death, and he still managed to crawl to our gate to beg for help?”

“Do you think your master has gone senile, or are you just getting better at spinning tales?”

The lie exposed, Yun Yao’s face flushed bright red in an instant.

She lowered her head, twisting the hem of her robe with both hands, and mumbled, “It’s just… I went down the mountain without permission… and found him in the snow at the foot of the mountain…”

“Without permission?”

Yun Xi’s brows furrowed slightly, her tone turning a bit sharper. “If the elders find out, they’ll surely punish you with another session of wall-gazing repentance.”

“Master…” Yun Yao tugged at Yun Xi’s sleeve, starting to wheedle. “I just felt sorry for him, that’s all… and I didn’t go far, just to the foot of the mountain…”

“You’re incorrigibly deceitful. You deserve punishment.”

Yun Xi put on a stern face, but there was little real anger in her eyes. “Slap your own mouth.”

“Oh…”

Yun Yao replied, her voice full of grievance.

She raised her hand and gave her own fair cheek a light slap.

“Smack.”

The sound was crisp, but the force… it didn’t even leave a red mark.

Afterward, she snuck a glance at Yun Xi, and seeing that her master wasn’t truly angry, she let out a sigh of relief.

Yun Xi rolled her eyes at her in exasperation but didn’t press the matter further.

She walked over to the soft couch behind the screen and, with no sense of modesty, changed in front of her disciple into a loose, comfortable green nightgown.

Then, she went to the wicker chair by the window, sat down, and, under the cold, bright moonlight outside the window, poured herself a cup of hot tea.

“You’re the senior disciple.”

Yun Xi blew gently on the tea’s surface, her tone tinged with a frustration that came from wasted potential. “You should be a model for the other disciples—steady, composed, knowing your limits.”

“But you’re always so frivolous and wild, never behaving properly. How will you ever lead the younger disciples in the future?”

Yun Yao curled her lip and muttered under her breath, “Well, there’s still the junior brother…”

That wooden block of a man might be boring, but he was far more reliable than her at getting things done.

She left all the sect’s big and small affairs to him anyway. As the senior disciple, she was just a figurehead, a mascot.

“You do realize he’s your junior brother!” Yun Xi set down her teacup and glared at her. “He’s the junior, you’re the senior. Since when is it the senior’s job to rely on the junior to clean up her messes?”

“Yes, yes... this disciple knows she was wrong.”

Yun Yao shrank her neck, stuck out her tongue, and quickly changed the subject, fearing her master would start another lecture: “But Master... that illness...”

Yun Xi shook her head helplessly.

This girl—she was honest-hearted, and almost too kind.

In this cultivation world that devoured people whole without mercy, such a temperament, without the protection of overwhelming strength, would eventually lead her into grave trouble.

Yun Xi gazed at the moonlight outside the window, her eyes suddenly growing distant.

Once upon a time, she too had been as innocent and carefree as Yun Yao, believing that if one harbored kindness, the world would respond with gentle tenderness in return.

Until that rainy night...

And that sword which severed all her illusions.

Those scenes of the past clung to her like stubborn bone gangrene; no matter how many years passed, they would still jolt her awake in the dead of night, drenched in cold sweat.

That person was not yet dead.

Given that person’s methods and temperament, if they knew she was still alive in this world, and even had established Yinyang Sect...

They would most likely not let her off.

She didn’t know how much longer this kind of peaceful days could last...