Chang Yao, the Mistress of Yunshan, was a demon.
Before the cultivation world had time to process the shock and take action, she died at the Golden Luan Terrace in the West Sea due to her failure to transcend the tribulation.
More than three thousand bolts of the Great Heavenly Tribulation Thunder struck in succession, shattering her soul and obliterating her body. Her spiritual essence dissipated into the world. While others watched from a distance at the edge of the terrace, only Lord Yunshan remained at the very center, standing in the spot closest to his wife.
Though the cultivation world was stunned by her failure, they were more concerned with whether the Earth Ghost Gate beneath the terrace had been forced open. Once the thunder subsided, Immortal Leader Fu Ji led the crowd forward. They found Zhigui still supporting the array, maintaining the fusion of the Crimson Golden Crow fragments. Lord Yunshan had endured the great demon's tribulation thunder single-handedly while sealing the gate. Having also taken a sword strike from Chang Yao, he fell into a deep coma that lasted for months.
Song Jixue’s sea of consciousness was silent and cold. Across the endless snowy plains, fierce winds howled, yet not a sound could be heard. The sky was gloomy, and thunder flickered amidst the rolling black clouds.
This vast world was empty and lonely; only his sword remained.
Zhigui was thrust diagonally into the ice. A small whirlwind swept past, catching the hem of a black robe and making it flutter. The whirlwind grew larger, and the dark shadow behind the sword became more distinct—tall and lean like its master, but with a face that could not be seen.
Song Jixue lay beside Zhigui, staring expressionlessly at the leaden sky.
The sword’s voice shifted between that of a child and a young man: "You will never get what you want."
"Why not abandon them before they abandon you?"
Song Jixue closed his eyes. He thought of the first time he met Chang Yao, and the last time he saw her.
The voice of Zhigui was cold: "Memories are lies. Love is a lie. You are not someone who indulges in illusions."
It was right. Song Jixue would not allow himself to drown in a world of pretenses.
The wind brought snowflakes that settled on his brow. Beneath him, the ice was so thick that only countless frozen ridges were visible. Song Jixue seemed to be asleep. Occasionally, Zhigui would speak a few words to him, but received no response.
The wind stopped; the snow ceased.
Zhigui asked him: "Who will be the next to abandon you?"
"Me." Song Jixue opened his eyes. As he stood up, he gripped the hilt and drew Zhigui from the ice. Amidst the flickering lightning, the gale rose again, blowing his hair and robes into a frenzy.
Lord Yunshan woke up three months later.
At this time, the mortal world was being turned upside down by the appearance of the two Fei. Plague and war were everywhere, and the matter of the Mistress of Yunshan had long been forgotten.
His master, True Lord Chengjing, returned. Upon meeting Lord Yunshan, he offered an item: "This is the Water of Forgetfulness from the River Sanzu. Chang Yao used demonic arts to bewitch you, making you a laughingstock in the cultivation world. If this bond is not severed, it will be hard to appease the masses."
The bottle of Water of Forgetfulness was tiny—smaller even than the medicine bottles he used to carry for Chang Yao.
Song Jixue sat behind his desk, silently toying with it. His master did not force him to drink it immediately, giving him time to consider.
From dawn to dusk, Lord Yunshan went down the mountain to slay the Fei.
That tiny bottle of Water of Forgetfulness was left on the corner of the table, shattered into pieces.
Ten years later.
Upper Court, Southern County, Mount Changtuo.
Shibang Village sat at the foot of Mount Changtuo, right beside the Wubing River. For generations, the villagers had lived off the pearls in the river and the herbs on the mountain. Ten years ago, when the two Fei appeared and the plague spread, the vegetation on half of Mount Changtuo nearly withered away. However, the plague stopped before the Wubing River, even bypassing it to continue its path.
The Wubing River remained unpolluted. The villagers survived by eating the fish from the river; not a single person fell ill or died. Afterward, the villagers were convinced that the river was protected by a god. Every year on the seventh day of the first lunar month, they held a sacrificial ceremony by the river to thank the River God for another year of protection.
The villagers tied paper lanterns to long ropes stretched along the banks. After nightfall, the lanterns glowed like a fiery dragon. Young women dressed in finery danced to the music. Tables were set by the water where the village head and the wealthy sat together, raising their glasses in celebration.
After the banquet, the villagers placed items they hoped to exchange for blessings into prayer bags and cast them into the water. Closing their eyes with palms joined, they chanted: "Your believer Song Zhi prays for the River God's protection."
Song Zhi had a smile on her face as she turned to her sister: "Song Ya, why haven't you prayed yet? Brother Chen is waiting for us up ahead!"
Song Ya held her prayer bag with both hands and said weakly: "You go first, I'll be there in a moment."
"Alright, I won't wait for you then!" Song Zhi couldn't wait and had already turned to walk away.
Song Ya looked left and right. Most of the people praying were in this section because it usually had the most fish and clams—it was a place of auspiciousness. But she squeezed out of the crowd and walked in the opposite direction from her sister, arriving at a stretch of the river where there were no sacrificial lanterns at all.
By the river stood a withered pear tree, its branches black and ugly. Though it was spring, it didn't have a single leaf. Song Ya had heard her father say they would cut it down soon to use as firewood.
Song Ya grabbed the tree and carefully navigated the slope to the water's edge. She was quite far from the noisy lanterns, but fortunately, the moonlight was magnificent. Very few people came here because this stretch of water was famous for being devoid of life; not even small shrimp or crabs appeared. The villagers could get nothing from here, so over time, they stopped coming.
The river reflected the girl's still-youthful face. Her long hair was tied into two small buns at the back of her head, with long ribbons hanging over her shoulders. Compared to her beautiful sister with her graceful curves, she was like a newly sprouted leaf—no virtues other than being "tender."
Song Ya held her prayer bag in both hands, slowly squatted down, and placed it in the water. She stared intently at the rippling surface and whispered: "Your believer Song Ya prays for the River God's protection."
The prayer bag, which had been floating on the surface, suddenly sank underwater the moment her words fell. Song Ya covered her mouth, her bright eyes shimmering with a joyful smile.
Since her failure to transcend the tribulation, Chang Yao had been in darkness and chaos. It was only much later that she gradually regained consciousness.
Reflecting on her failure, she concluded it was still the fault of the white-clad sword cultivator. The murderous sword array he had left behind in her young, ignorant days had etched fear into her marrow. Failing to find a way to break that sword array meant she couldn't cross that threshold.
But why did Song Jixue also know that black sword array? Wasn't it said that her mother had wiped out her father's entire sect? Or had she seen it wrong in her delirious state?
At first, Chang Yao focused intensely on these questions. Later, because time was too long for someone who was only a consciousness, she shifted from questioning everything to focusing on her cultivation.
Dying in a lightning tribulation, body destroyed, spiritual essence dissipated—this was the truth.
But her mother had once told her: "Our bloodline is inherently powerful, yet because you are mixed with human blood, you cannot master that power from birth. But with loss comes gain."
Now, she finally knew what she had lost and gained as a half-demon. She lost the ability to master innate power, but gained a second life.
The flesh dissipated, the consciousness gathered, and the spiritual essence returned. A brand-new her was slowly returning to this world.
Initially, Chang Yao’s consciousness remained in chaos. After a long time, she could finally sense her surroundings. River water, summer winds, sunlight, cold moonlight, the scent of flowers, and human speech. From this river to the entire mountain, the great demon’s consciousness and spiritual essence spread further and further.
In the Wubing River, Chang Yao heard the sound of instruments and the villagers shouting toward her for the River God's protection. But there was no River God here. The reason the river wasn't touched by the Fei's plague was that the end of this river connected to Wujiu Mountain in the demon realm. The Mountain Fei didn't want to release a plague on its own hometown; otherwise, it would be beaten into the ground by the other great demons of Wujiu Mountain.
Chang Yao first perceived her surroundings three years ago. Seeing the villagers worshiping a "River God" and holding festivals, she found them ignorant. Living creatures didn't dare disturb the stretch of water where she resided, but on the night of a festival, a little girl accidentally fell into the river.
The person and the demon had a brief encounter in the deep water illuminated by moonlight. In the dizzying underwater scene, the girl saw a being with a human torso and a long tail. Its scales reflected a light so dazzling she couldn't look directly at it. Long black hair floated on the gentle waves, some of it resting on black wings.
This was the "River God" in Song Ya's eyes.
Chang Yao had not yet reshaped her body and could not take form; she could only exist as a consciousness. She was somewhat surprised that this girl could catch a glimpse of her true form amidst extreme terror.
Afterward, this stretch of water gained a strange girl. Song Ya believed she had seen the River God. In the silence of the night, she often sneaked out of the house to the pear tree to kneel and pray to the Wubing River, rambling on.
"She dislikes me more and more; last time she actually pushed me into the water."
"I told Mother, but I was beaten instead. She scolded me for being ungrateful and threatened me not to mention it again, even though she clearly saw it too."
Song Ya whispered: "I hate her more and more."
Having nothing else to do, Chang Yao listened to the girl's complaints against her sister, Song Zhi. The resentment in her words grew heavier and more obvious over the years.
Last year, Song Ya said by the river: "It rained yesterday. I saw Brother Chen busy gathering the rice and went to help. She didn't want to get wet, so she went home without a second look. Afterward, Brother Chen gave me two candies and helped wipe the rain from my face. But when I went back, she snatched the candies away. I hate her to death."
"She’s going to Mount Changtuo tomorrow to pick herbs. I hope she falls and dies."
The next day, Song Zhi did indeed fall down a slope while picking herbs. She didn't die, but her face was badly scratched, and she caused a fuss for a long time. This was truly an accident—at least, Chang Yao could say it certainly wasn't her doing.
However, Song Ya felt the River God had manifested, and she came to the river more frequently.
"When we came back from the market in town, she pushed all the things onto me to carry, while she pretended to trip so Brother Chen would carry her. Brother Chen was actually fooled by her sweet talk and really carried her all the way back. Everyone saw it and said Brother Chen would marry her in the future. How disgusting!"
"River God protect me, don't let her marry Brother Chen."
Chang Yao thought to herself: Never mind that there’s no River God here; even if there were, it couldn't help you. It doesn't govern marriages.
A few months later, Song Ya came to worship with a bruised and swollen face. Her eyes, red from crying, were full of resentment. She said with a sob: "Why should I be the one to marry that old man on East Street because the family is in debt? She’s the one at the marriageable age. Why is it me and not her!"
A few days later: "Brother Chen knew my family was in debt and was going to use me to pay it, so he lent us money so I wouldn't have to marry that man. He is truly good. But why does he want to marry that wicked woman? I really don't want Brother Chen to marry her!"
Three days ago: "A woman came to the village, a very beautiful woman. The men, including my father, have all sorts of thoughts about her. Every time she comes out, they can't look away. Even Brother Chen..."
Tonight: "These past few days, Brother Chen’s eyes have been on that strange woman. My sister is completely unaware, thinking she’ll be marrying into the Chen family soon... She probably won't have the chance. Last night, I saw with my own eyes Brother Chen enter that woman’s room and didn't come out for a long time."
Chang Yao was a bit surprised. Song Ya had once again gotten her wish. She didn't believe there was actually a River God here. Driven by a bit of boredom and curiosity, Chang Yao expanded her consciousness to the village to see what this "beautiful strange woman" looked like.
The woman didn't participate in today’s sacrifice. Instead, she was bathing in her room. Brother Chen, whom Song Zhi was waiting for, was standing behind a screen, holding the woman’s undergarments. His throat moved; his eyes darted away but couldn't help glancing behind the screen.
The woman in the tub had skin like cream. She raised her hand to smooth her wet hair, her eyes charming and her red lips curved in a smile that wasn't quite a smile: "Brother Chen, you mustn't leave. I'm scared all by myself."
Chang Yao didn't watch further. What had arrived wasn't a River God, but a fox spirit.
This fox demon was living a wild life in Shibang Village, bewitching the men and making the women burn with jealousy and hatred. She charmed men into approaching her for "thunder and fire" encounters, using them to absorb their yang essence. Her greed had already killed several village men, yet she hid it well, and no one found anything amiss.
Chang Yao focused on her cultivation and didn't care much.
Song Ya’s visits became less frequent; every time she came, she was worried about her Brother Chen.
"She and Brother Chen have finally fallen out, and the marriage is canceled. I should be happy, but seeing Brother Chen run to that woman’s house every day, I can't be happy."
"She is a bad woman."
"Many people have died in the village lately. Some fell off the mountain and died, some died of illness, and some were hit in the head while fighting... but I always feel something is wrong."
"Brother Chen has looked very tired lately, as if he hasn't rested much."
Several days later, on the night of the full moon, Song Ya sneaked out to the river after her family had fallen asleep, holding a prayer bag even though it wasn't a festival.
"Many people came to the village today. The village head said they are cultivators from immortal sects. They’re about the same age as Brother Chen, but much better looking. One of the cultivators is surnamed Meng. This Brother Meng says he is from Kunlun, a disciple of Kunlun Yunshan."
The calm water surface rippled. Since Chang Yao regained consciousness, she had not heard anyone mention "Kunlun Yunshan."
"My sister is making moves on this Brother Meng again, sticking to him all day. But there is a female cultivator in that group who is even prettier than her. She can't compete at all."
Song Ya placed the prayer bag in the water and joined her palms to make a wish, but heard voices coming from behind. Startled, she immediately crawled to the side of the pear tree to hide.
"Meng Linjiang, are you sick?! Why did you drag me to the river to blow cold wind in the middle of the night instead of sleeping!" a young man’s exasperated voice came through.
The handsome youth walking in front was only eighteen or nineteen. His eyes scanned the surroundings as he held a thin cloth lantern for light: "There’s demonic energy in this village. Really, believe me!"
Guo Yi rolled his eyes and snorted: "Even Senior Brother Zhan, who is in the Void Transformation realm, hasn't said there’s demonic energy. You, in the Fixed Void realm, say there is, so there is?"
Meng Linjiang pointed at him angrily: "Is that not just one realm of cultivation difference? Why is it that when he says there is, there is, but when I say there is, you don't believe me? You judge people by their cultivation—how vulgar!"
Guo Yi waved his hand away and yawned: "A dignified direct disciple of Lord Yunshan, yet after eight years of cultivation, you've only managed the Fixed Void realm. You can't even compare to someone who has been in the sect for three years. It’s not that I'm vulgar—it’s that you’re an embarrassment."
Meng Linjiang's face darkened: "That is not my master's fault!"
Guo Yi said irritably: "Of course it's not Lord Yunshan's fault, it's yours—"
"Shh." Meng Linjiang looked at the flowering tree ahead. "There's someone."
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