Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Prologue
The Zi Wei Ruins had been open for several days, and the crowd at the entrance only swelled.
Every so often, a cultivator would come sprinting up, eyes bright with excitement—only to be caught by someone quick enough to grab their sleeve.
“Fellow Daoist, stop. You can’t go in right now.”
The newcomer stiffened. “What? Why not?”
“The major sects are joining forces to hunt down Yu Mo—Bai Meng Jin. If you rush in, you’ll get swept up and die for nothing.”
The young cultivator’s face drained of color. “Yu Mo is here too? What rotten thing is that devil fiend planning this time?”
“What else? Treasure.” The speaker’s voice dropped, as if afraid the ruins themselves might hear. “They say the Zi Wei Ruins hide an ancient supreme treasure—the Reincarnation Mirror. It can move mountains and seas. It can defy fate.”
A ripple of unease spread through the listeners.
“If someone with wicked intentions gets their hands on it,” the cultivator continued, “there’ll be corpses everywhere. The world will burn.”
The young cultivator swallowed hard. “If that devil fiend takes it… won’t the Cultivation World fall into chaos again?”
“Exactly.” The speaker’s expression tightened. “That’s why the major sects have stationed people at the entrance. They’re determined to kill Bai Meng Jin inside the ruins.”
The cultivators who didn’t dare enter the secret realm but couldn’t bear to leave pressed closer, each eager to add a brushstroke to the portrait of evil.
“She’s done every sin imaginable. She should’ve been killed long ago.”
“Tell me about it. They say she lost her parents young and only survived because her clan took her in. But the moment she mastered her technique, she went back and wiped out the whole clan. She didn’t even spare their dog.”
“Do you remember Zhou Yue Huai from the Seven Stars Sect? Back when that devil fiend was still in the Cinnabar Cloud Palace, she treated Zhou Yue Huai like her closest friend. Who knows what offended her later—she wiped out Zhou Yue Huai’s entire family.”
“And Immortal Lord Ning…” someone said, voice dropping into reverence even as it shook with anger. “That’s the worst of it. She latched onto him for no reason. When he wouldn’t give in, she set him up—his meridians ran backward and he nearly went into qi deviation. Even now the injury hasn’t been cured. He suffers every single day.”
So many crimes piled up that no ledger could hold them.
An older cultivator let out a long, tired sigh. “Back then, when she was still the Jade Immortal Maiden, I saw her once.”
People quieted without meaning to.
“She was Sect Master Cen’s beloved disciple—gifted beyond words, and stunningly beautiful. The ‘jade’ in her title suited her perfectly. Who could’ve guessed what came later…”
After the Jade Immortal Maiden became Yu Mo, the endless admirers who once trailed her like shadows no longer dared speak of their past devotion. Their awe curdled into hatred. They spoke her name like it tasted foul, and each story ended the same way—with someone wishing they could be the one to drive a sword through her throat.
How had it come to this?
It likely began the day Bai Meng Jin entered the Cinnabar Cloud Palace.
“She made it through the Heaven-Reaching Path and caught Sect Master Cen’s eye,” an informed cultivator said. “He took her as his closed-door disciple. She was the talk of the world back then.”
Someone scoffed softly. “The Heaven-Reaching Path only produces one success every 10 years. Each of those disciples is a rare talent—gifted and upright. Every one of them becomes a pillar of the sect.”
“Just as expected, Bai Meng Jin reached the Foundation Establishment Stage the moment she entered,” the storyteller went on. “And 20 years later, she reached the Golden Core Stage. She nearly matched Immortal Lord Ning’s record. Everyone thought she’d become the Cinnabar Cloud Palace’s next chosen genius.”
A young cultivator blurted, unable to hold it in. “Then how did she fall into the devil path?”
The question hung there, sharp and disbelieving.
The Cinnabar Cloud Palace was one of the Upper Three Sects. Bai Meng Jin had been Sect Master Cen’s closed-door disciple. Her future should have been bright enough to blind anyone. What reason could she possibly have for stepping off the righteous path?
The older cultivator sighed again, as if the answer was a bruise that never stopped aching. “All you can call it is cursed fate. She just had to run into Immortal Lord Ning.”
“So the rumor was true?” Another cultivator leaned in, eyes glinting with the thrill of scandal. “That devil fiend and Immortal Lord Ning once…”
Before he could finish, someone shouted, voice sharp with outrage. “Immortal Lord Ning has nothing to do with her! It was all her one-sided obsession!”
“That’s right!” another snapped. “She was the shameless one who set her sights on Immortal Lord Ning—what does that have to do with him? Don’t drag him into it!”
Ning Yan Zhi, the Cinnabar Cloud Palace’s current sect master, had been born with the Innate Sword Bone and was known as the number one sword cultivator of this age. Since his youth, he’d been the genius everyone in the Cultivation World admired.
Countless men and women respected him, envied him, worshiped him. How could they tolerate even a hint of disrespect?
“Hey, don’t get worked up. We didn’t mean anything by it—we’re just talking about old stories.”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone knows Immortal Lord Ning carries himself with honor. No one’s trying to smear him.”
The tension eased, and gossip flowed back into its familiar grooves.
“After Bai Meng Jin entered Sect Master Cen’s line, she became Immortal Lord Ning’s junior sister,” someone said. “Immortal Lord Ning was dazzling. Living around him day and night stirred her mortal desires. She chased him relentlessly.”
“And he never looked at her,” someone else added, almost satisfied by it. “He only cared about the Great Dao.”
“In the end, Bai Meng Jin grew a devil in her heart and even placed a love gu on Immortal Lord Ning.”
A murmur rose—half disgust, half fascination.
“Luckily, Immortal Lord Ning stayed alert. He exposed her disgrace and asked Sect Master Cen to expel her from the sect.”
The storyteller’s mouth twisted as if tasting bitterness. “Bai Meng Jin went mad. She pretended to repent, then used the chance to strike Immortal Lord Ning with a palm. That blow hit his sword heart. The injury never healed.”
The air felt colder, as if the word sword heart carried its own chill.
“After that, Immortal Lord Ning’s sword heart shattered, and he nearly went into qi deviation. Bai Meng Jin used the chaos to escape and became a traitor. Sect Master Cen almost lost two beloved disciples at once.” The speaker paused, then finished quietly, “Heartbroken, he passed away not long after.”
For a moment, even the most eager tongues fell silent.
Then someone spat into the dust. “Love really ruins people. If Bai Meng Jin had never indulged those wild thoughts, what glory would the Cinnabar Cloud Palace have today? Immortal Lord Ning wouldn’t have that sword-heart injury—his cultivation would be even higher. The Cinnabar Cloud Palace would be the head of the Upper Three Sects.”
“And if they’d loved each other…” another sighed, half dreamy. “One a once-in-a-lifetime genius, the other as beautiful as a celestial—a perfect immortal couple. Too bad she had feelings, and he had none.”
“Pah! Pah! Pah!” someone barked. “Don’t talk nonsense. With that devil fiend’s nature, how could she ever be worthy?!”
“Then doesn’t that make her even more hateful? She nearly ruined the Cinnabar Cloud Palace’s foundation with her own hands.”
A man snorted, loud enough to be heard. “Women can’t get anything done. All they think about is love. She even fell into the devil path over it—shameless.”
Several female cultivators snapped back at once.
“Bai Meng Jin’s character is rotten—what does that have to do with women?”
“Even if Bai Meng Jin is the leader of the devil path, what great thing have you ever accomplished?”
“As if you men never think with your lower half. I’ve seen plenty of you fight over women and beat each other senseless!”
The argument swelled—
—and then the ground shook.
For an instant, it felt like the earth had taken a deep breath.
“Oh no,” someone cried. “The restriction is breaking!”
Bickering died like a candle snuffed by wind. Cultivators scattered, scrambling back in panic as sect disciples stationed at the entrance rushed forward. Under their elders’ shouted commands, they poured spiritual power into the light barrier above the ruins.
It didn’t matter.
The barrier shuddered, spiderwebbed with cracks, and then shattered with a thunderous boom.
A streak of purple escaping light shot into the sky.
Several figures intercepted it in a blink.
The light burst apart—and a woman in purple appeared, suspended in midair.
She was slender and graceful, her face like jade. With her hands tucked behind her back and her robes fluttering in the high wind, she looked like a celestial descending into the mortal world.
With that poise, she didn’t resemble a devil fiend at all.
She resembled her old title.
The Jade Immortal Maiden.
“Bai Meng Jin,” a handsome young man in a green robe and bamboo hat said, blocking her path. His voice rang with righteous authority. “Traitor to the sect. Surrender now, and return to the Cinnabar Cloud Palace with me to atone.”
The woman’s gaze slid over him as if she were bored. There were faint stains of blood at her cuffs, but they only made her look more languid—more carefree, as if she’d stepped out of a fight without ever truly stepping in.
Her lips curved. “Senior Brother Huo. So you’re leading today.”
Then, softly, like a blade drawn from silk: “Where’s Senior Brother Ning? Isn’t he coming to kill me with his own hands?”
The man’s expression tightened. “Yu Mo, Your Excellency, I can’t afford you calling me ‘Senior Brother.'”
Hall Dean Huo Chong Xiao’s voice turned low. “Why would Senior Brother Ning need to lift a hand to kill you? Besides… he doesn’t want to see you.”
Bai Meng Jin laughed once, quiet and bright, as if the sound itself amused her. “I figured he wouldn’t.”
Before anyone could catch the meaning behind that smile, she flicked her sleeve.
Spiritual light erupted outward. A blazing ancient mirror—golden, radiant, arrogant—shot from her sleeve and floated before her like a second sun.
“In the end,” she said, voice light as if discussing the weather, “isn’t this what you’re all here for?”
Her gaze swept across the crowd below.
“It’s right here. If you can, come and take it.”
The instant her words fell, the air filled with drifting shards of white—snowflakes in shape, knives in spirit. Shattered Jade spun and danced through the sky, and for a heartbeat it felt as if a blizzard had erupted between heaven and earth.
“The Qiong Jade Art!” someone screamed. “It’s the Qiong Jade Art—get out of the way!”
Wherever the “snowflakes” touched, color drained. Grass, trees, stone—everything turned gray-white, hardening into lifeless jade.
The Qiong Jade Art turned the living into stone and severed life at its root.
An elder from an immortal sect flew into a rage. “Demoness! Stop! How dare you slaughter the innocent!”
Sword in hand, he surged upward. A beam of sword light howled through the air, carrying crushing pressure as it cleaved toward Bai Meng Jin’s throat.
As if that were a signal, the sect disciples surged with him. Spells flared; sword light crossed the sky in a blinding net.
Bai Meng Jin had always been brutally strong—and worse, she was cunning. If rumor was true, then this time sheer chance had left her injured. If they let her escape, there might not be another chance.
Independent cultivators who lacked the strength to join a battle at this level couldn’t even see clearly what was happening. They threw themselves behind boulders and into cracks in the earth, scrambling for cover as jade-white death glittered across the air.
For a time, the sky was nothing but light and roar—
—and then a bored voice drifted out, almost a sigh.
“I’m done playing.”
Bai Meng Jin’s eyes were half-lidded, as if the fight had been an annoyance rather than a threat. “You people are unbearably dull…”
The Reincarnation Mirror flared.
Radiance washed across the world.
Everything froze.
Huo Chong Xiao’s sword light hung mid-flight, a blade of brightness trapped in air. Below, the formation the disciples had begun to set lit up halfway—and stopped. Faces caught mid-scream, mid-fear, mid-fury. Even the wind paused.
Then the sky seemed to turn backward.
Clouds reversed their flow. The shattered restriction stitched itself whole. Broken stone reformed. Scars vanished as if rubbed away by an invisible hand.
It was as if a brush swept across the scene, erasing time itself, stroke by stroke, until even the people were gone.
Only the Zi Wei Ruins remained, silent beneath the restored barrier.
It spoke of immortals. It wrote of ordinary people. It cultivated the Great Dao—and still walked through the mortal world, soaked in greed and rage, obsession and grudges, and love.
Not very “immortal” at all.