I silently patted myself on the back for my bold leap to “save” my Master. It had been a simple yet brilliantly effective move.
The next morning, Mu Jue cheerfully informed me that Mu Xuan had indeed been confined. “Wait a few days,” he advised, “until the elders are less focused on him, and then I’ll help you sneak in to see him.”
I wasn’t in a rush, but in the days that followed, the female disciple tending to me mentioned something troubling.
The demon clan responsible for the ambush at Jing Mountain was the Fu Mountain clan, located about a hundred miles away. Two or three days ago, their entire clan had been wiped out in a massacre. It hadn’t been the Cang Lan Sect or any other sect; the rumors said the attacker had used demon magic, suggesting an internal conflict within the demon clan.
The female disciple seemed satisfied with this outcome, calling it karmic justice. But I couldn’t share her sentiment. Doing the math, I suspected this was the Demon Lord’s handiwork.
Taking on an entire demon clan alone—even for someone as powerful as the Demon Lord—must have been grueling. Whether he succeeded or not, the toll would have been immense.
Unable to shake my worry, I released a few enchanted birds in the quiet of night, sending them to search for the Demon Lord’s whereabouts.
Two days passed with no news from the birds. Instead, Mu Jue came to tell me it was time—I could now sneak in to deliver food to Mu Xuan.
Composing myself, I packed a basket and headed to the snow-covered summit where Mu Xuan was being confined.
There were no guards at the entrance to the icy cave, evidence of Mu Jue’s skillful negotiations.
Inside, the cold was bone-chilling. I dared not use magic to shield myself from it and instead wrapped my arms tightly around myself, shivering as I ventured deeper into the cave. After walking for what felt like half an incense stick’s time, I finally reached an icy chamber.
The air inside was even colder. Mu Xuan sat alone, leaning against the frozen wall, his eyes closed. He looked just as he had when I first saw him encased in ice. Yet, this time, there was a strange air of desolation about him.
Though he hadn’t been confined for three centuries, he carried a heavy solitude that felt centuries old. Compared to just a few days ago, he seemed thinner, more worn.
“Master,” I called softly.
Mu Xuan opened his eyes, his deep gaze meeting mine. He stared at me for a long moment before his hoarse voice broke the silence. “Why are you here again?”
The word “again” confused me, but I chose to ignore it. Setting down the basket beside him, I smiled. “I brought you some food.”
He glanced at the basket and closed his eyes again. “Take it away. I don’t need it.”
I frowned, puzzled. I had stopped him, he had saved the disciples of the Cang Lan Sect, and now everyone revered him as a hero. Even though he was being punished, he should at least feel some satisfaction. So why did he look so defeated, like a rooster beaten in a fight?
“Master, if you don’t want to eat, then let me chat with you.”
“No need.”
“Then you can chat with me instead.”
“…”
Without waiting for his permission, I sat down beside him. The cold immediately seeped into me, so I scooted closer, leaning against his arm for warmth. Finally, Mu Xuan glanced at me. As I shifted, the medicine on my back came loose, and I instinctively patted the area to adjust it.
Noticing this, Mu Xuan turned his head away. After a long silence, he asked, “How is your injury?”
His words betrayed a hint of concern, though he seemed reluctant to express it outright. Feeling encouraged, I beamed at him. “Uncle Master Mu Jue said it didn’t hit any vital points, so I should recover soon. He even asked one of his junior sisters to change my bandages. She keeps telling me how heroic you were at Jing Mountain, Master! You’ve become everyone’s hero—so much so that even Uncle Master Nan’s disciples have stopped complaining.”
At this, Mu Xuan’s expression darkened further. “Hero…” he muttered, letting out a cold laugh.
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