The Demon Lord's wounds had finally healed, and three months had passed. Today was the day Mu Xuan would leave the Celestial Summit. The disciples of Cang Lan Sect were in high spirits. As I accompanied Mu Xuan back to his small courtyard on the mountain, many greeted him warmly. Unlike the respectful but distant manner from before, their tone now carried a hint of familiarity.
Mu Xuan seemed slightly uncomfortable, but I was delighted. “The pamphlet worked!”
He glanced at me. “What pamphlet?”
“The one I compiled with Uncle Mu Jue. It's a collection of funny anecdotes about you, Master. Based on Uncle Mu Jue’s tips, I documented amusing stories about your daily life. The idea was to break the lofty image of ‘Senior Brother’ and bring you down from the pedestal of being the successor to the Zhen Ren. Now, when people see you, they think of those stories instead of being intimidated. They feel more comfortable around you.”
Mu Xuan fell silent.
That afternoon, as I prepared a feast to welcome him home, I heard that Mu Xuan had sparred with Mu Jue in the rear mountains. Mu Jue was defeated so thoroughly that he fled on his sword.
By nightfall, the courtyard grew quiet. I finished setting a table of dishes to celebrate his return.
I pointed to each plate, listing the names of the dishes. Every one of them was something I had learned about from the Demon Lord. After finishing my explanation, I looked up to meet Mu Xuan’s gaze and smiled. “Do you like it, Master?”
He sat down, picked up a piece of greens with his chopsticks, and tasted it. “You used sugar instead of salt.”
“What?” I exclaimed in shock. “That’s impossible!” I had personally tasted everything before serving it.
I reached for the dish with my chopsticks to confirm, but before I could, Mu Xuan hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me forward. His lips brushed against mine as he transferred the piece of greens from his mouth to mine.
Stepping back nonchalantly, he wiped the corner of my lips and said, “It tastes sweet, doesn’t it?”
I choked on the greens in my throat, unable to tell whether I had truly used sugar or salt.
He patted my head and said, “With your level of skill, you still dare say you want me? Keep trying.”
His words and tone were uncannily similar to those of the Demon Lord. But then again, they were the same person.
Thinking of the Demon Lord, I forced myself to focus. He was preparing to leave, and so was I. In three hundred years, Cang Lan Sect would execute a demon prisoner—my father. I had originally ventured to steal the key to his prison cell but was discovered and fled in panic, diving into the Ling Jing Lake.
Everything else was secondary. Returning was my ultimate goal.
I finished the feast with a heavy heart and told Mu Xuan, “Master, I’ve prepared hot water for you in the room.”
He nodded and went to bathe. A screen divided the room, and Mu Xuan placed his clothing in a tray nearby. Entering the room, I called out, “Master, I’ll take your clothes to wash.”
He gave a quiet acknowledgment. I picked up his clothes and, as expected, found the Ling Jing among them.
“Master, why do you carry a mirror around? It’s so beautiful. May I borrow it for a few days?” I asked casually, though I had no intention of using such a flimsy excuse to take it. Mu Xuan, now aware of his identity, surely understood the mirror’s importance and wouldn’t give it up easily.
“Take it if you like,” he said.
His words left me in stunned silence.
“The mirror… you’re giving it to me?”
“If you like it, take it.”
I froze for a moment, gritted my teeth, and left with his clothes and the Ling Jing in hand. The sound of water still echoed from his room as I stepped out. Overwhelmed, I sprinted to the rear mountains, where the Demon Lord and I had agreed to meet near the cold spring rock.
Under the bright moonlight, I spotted the Demon Lord from afar. Waving the Ling Jing, I shouted, “I got it!”
The Demon Lord, as stoic as ever, remained silent. When I was five steps away from him, he suddenly raised his hand in a claw-like gesture. A powerful force pulled the Ling Jing from my grasp.
“What’s the rush—” I began, but before I could finish, the Demon Lord retreated a step. Standing above the cold spring, a glowing array activated beneath his feet. Alarmed, I shouted, “Demon Lord! What are you doing?”
“The world three hundred years from now is too chaotic,” he said. “You’ll stay here.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “What are you saying—”
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