Chapter 56

Chapter 56: Unhappy

She slept unexpectedly well.

Bai Meng Jin woke to a clean, empty mind. No dreams, no old echoes—just quiet.

She lay still for a moment and let the truth settle.

She had joined the Limitless Sect.

She smiled silently.

After all, a thousand years had passed. Even the deepest wounds eventually dulled into old scars.

She rose and changed.

Hearing movement, two maids slipped in and bowed. “Martial Uncle, let us comb your hair.”

Bai Meng Jin had planned to do it herself, but the girls looked so eager she handed over the comb. “All right.”

Once her hair was arranged and she was dressed in disciple robes, the attendant boy who served Ling Bu Fei came to invite her. “Martial Uncle, the Young Sect Master invites you to dine at Moon-Viewing Terrace.”

Startling Swan Reflections was built over water. Moon-Viewing Terrace sat at its center, a place for scenery, banquets, or sparring. Bai Meng Jin crossed Nine-Bend Bridge and saw Ling Bu Fei already there.

He was in disciple robes too, frowning as he flipped through a book.

With the change of clothes, he looked like a different person—less like a noble young master from the mortal world, more like an immortal lord of the mystic sect.

Bai Meng Jin sat across from him. “The Young Sect Master reads books too?”

Ling Bu Fei didn’t look up. “This is cramming at the last minute. What if Martial Uncle Ancestor tests me on my lessons—”

He stopped.

He lifted his head and stared at Bai Meng Jin, blinking as if he’d forgotten what he was about to say.

Bai Meng Jin took the plain porridge the attendant offered. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Ling Bu Fei snapped his gaze away and tried to sound casual. “Eat.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking: that before, he’d only known she was pretty. He hadn’t expected that in sect robes—hair neat, posture calm—she would look like she belonged to the clouds.

If she walked outside like this, who wouldn’t call her an immortal maiden?

Even Senior Sister Qiu… beside Bai Meng Jin, she seemed a bit worldly.

Of course, Young Sect Master Ling kept that thought locked behind his teeth.

They ate in silence.

Afterward, Bai Li Xu came to pick them up. He lived at Startling Swan Reflections too, though in a different courtyard. When Ling Bu Fei needed him, Bai Li Xu came at a call. When he didn’t, Bai Li Xu disappeared into cultivation.

Once they boarded the flying skiff, Ling Bu Fei warned Bai Meng Jin quickly, like someone reciting a survival manual. “Martial Uncle Ancestor has a straightforward temper. She hates it when people put on airs. Don’t do anything extra. Whatever she asks, answer. That’s all.”

Bai Meng Jin nodded.

So the tricks she’d used in Purple Sky Hall—the gentle helplessness, the careful shaping of impressions—would be useless with Hua Wu Sheng.

But Bai Meng Jin carried too many secrets.

She couldn’t answer everything, either.

She would have to hold the balance perfectly.

The skiff landed on the water and slipped into the depths of the fog.

Bai Li Xu raised a token and swept it through the mist. Far ahead, the outline of a small island appeared like a ghost.

They docked.

Ling Bu Fei jumped down first and held out his hand. “Come.”

Bai Meng Jin assumed it was simple courtesy, but after she stepped down he didn’t let go. His voice dropped, low and serious. “Stay close to me. Martial Uncle Ancestor’s formations are extremely advanced. It’s not easy to get out.”

Bai Meng Jin smiled. “All right.”

It was the first time they held hands without pretense. Ling Bu Fei’s face warmed with awkward color, and he didn’t dare look back.

Bai Li Xu walked ahead and vanished into fog in the blink of an eye.

Only then did Bai Meng Jin understand why Ling Bu Fei refused to let go. If he’d released her, she would have been separated immediately—just like Bai Li Xu.

Even the entrance to Hua Wu Sheng’s cave abode was a temper.

After a dozen steps, the world suddenly opened.

The fog vanished without a trace. Before them spread a garden bursting with color.

“The Flower Formation.” Ling Bu Fei exhaled, relaxing slightly. “Mirror Flower Water Moon has four formations. Flower is my favorite. If you take the right steps, you can get out quickly.”

Bai Meng Jin followed as he shifted left and right, feet precise.

The Flower Formation that had nearly exhausted Qiu Yi Nong looked peaceful now. Blossoms trembled gently in the breeze, quiet as painted ink.

But they walked and walked, and there was still only flowers—no exit, no change.

Ling Bu Fei stopped. His frown deepened as he looked around. “I didn’t take the wrong steps. This is the life gate.”

Bai Meng Jin nodded.

He hadn’t stepped wrong.

It was simply that the master of the formation didn’t want them to leave. Each time they found the way, the formation shifted and returned them to the beginning.

“Looks like we have to use force,” Bai Meng Jin said calmly.

She summoned the Yin-Yang Umbrella. The black-and-white canopy spread with a soft, ominous hush. “You call the positions. I’ll strike.”

Ling Bu Fei’s ears went red again.

He’d wanted to show off in front of her, at least a little. Instead, he was the one reduced to calling directions, useless in the one place he should have been sharpest.

Bai Meng Jin met his eyes. “Which one first?”

Ling Bu Fei steadied himself and began. “Great Possession.”

The Yin-Yang Umbrella spun. A streak of black qi shot out and struck the Great Possession position, blasting chrysanthemums into the air.

“Approach.”

Bai Meng Jin pivoted and struck to the left.

“Mountain.”

A peach tree in the lower right withered instantly under the black qi.

“Before Completion.”

A blooming peony was severed in one sweep.

“Wellspring—”

Ling Bu Fei’s voice broke. His brows knit hard. “No. Wait. Why is Great Possession showing up again?”

Bai Meng Jin glanced. At Great Possession, the chrysanthemums were blooming brilliantly again, as if nothing had happened.

Ling Bu Fei’s mouth tightened. “Is Martial Uncle Ancestor increasing the difficulty because she saw the two of us together?”

He barely finished before Bai Meng Jin yanked him backward.

The Yin-Yang Umbrella flew out and chopped down the tree beside him.

Ling Bu Fei’s face changed. “It attacked on its own…”

He lifted his head and shouted into the air, furious. “Martial Uncle Ancestor! This is the first time I’ve brought someone here. You’re really not giving your grandson any face, are you—hey!”

A vine shot out of nowhere, wrapped around his waist, and yanked him away.

Bai Meng Jin reached for him.

She was a breath too slow.

She could only watch Ling Bu Fei vanish into fog.

Now she stood alone among the flowers.

Hua Wu Sheng’s intent was obvious.

She was not merely testing Bai Meng Jin—she was isolating her. She wouldn’t even allow Ling Bu Fei to stay close enough to warn her or guide her. She took him away outright.

Bai Meng Jin stood still, umbrella in hand, and listened to the formation’s quiet breath.

Since her rebirth, she had worn harmlessness like a veil. She hid her edges, let others see only softness and innocence.

Why?

Because she didn’t want anyone looking too closely. Because she couldn’t be bothered to tangle with people who were beneath her future.

Her great-uncle used her as a stepping stone, and she didn’t burn with rage. That was the cultivation world—survival of the fittest. Whoever won took everything.

Those elders judged her from head to toe, and she didn’t burn with rage either. In the end it had been a deal. She used herself as a chip to earn a seat at the table.

But now…

Now Bai Meng Jin felt something sharp and hot under her ribs.

Anger.

She remembered her days at the Cinnabar Cloud Palace.

Back then, she fought and clawed and believed she had earned her place through her own strength. Then, with a single sentence from someone above, she realized she had never been anything but a piece on the board—moved at will, tested at whim.

What should she do now?

What she did in Purple Sky Hall—present herself as weak but hardworking, win approval with stubborn effort?

That might be the “right” approach.

But Bai Meng Jin was unhappy.

Reborn once, she didn’t want to stand in the same position again—waiting to be evaluated, waiting to be granted permission to exist.

She chose Ling Bu Fei.

She decided this road.

It wasn’t some qualification bestowed by anyone else.

Bai Meng Jin slowly opened her umbrella.

The black-and-white canopy began to spin—faster, faster—until the air around her stirred.

*