“What exactly is the deep-seated enmity between you and my Master, Senior?” Li Meng asked calmly, leaning against the railing of the pavilion. “Is it truly as simple as my Master killing your descendant?”

Li Meng felt there had to be more to the story. The hatred in Wen Huanhuan’s eyes ran too deep for a mere familial grievance in a sect where blood ties were often severed upon entry.

A trace of melancholy flickered through Wen Huanhuan’s beautiful eyes. She turned away from him, her gaze drifting over the picturesque mountains and waters of Mirror Lake.

“Since the day I ascended the mountain and became a disciple of the Joyous Union Sect, Senior Sister has always pressed me down by a head,” her voice floated through the air, faint and filled with sorrow. “Both she and I possessed Water Spirit Root aptitude. Yet, the Ancestor of Masked Moon Peak only had eyes for her, accepting her as a True Disciple while never once glancing at me.”

Her grip on the railing tightened, her knuckles whitening. “Meanwhile, I was noticed by a Nascent Soul Ancestor approaching his Sitting Death. He sought a vessel to comfort his final days. To avoid offending a dying powerhouse, I had no choice but to sacrifice my Pure Yin Body early, ruining my reputation and moral integrity. But even after such debasement, I still ended up merely as his concubine!”

Wen Huanhuan let out a cold, bitter laugh. Resentment and mockery swirled in her gaze.

“I was jealous. I envied everything Senior Sister possessed. I hated that she had it all—talent, favor, status—yet didn’t know how to cherish it! She let a mere man affect her Dao Heart, ruining her chances of forming a Nascent Soul. If it were me… how could I possibly waste such a heavenly opportunity for romantic entanglements?”

Understanding dawned on Li Meng’s face. He studied the beautiful, tragic profile of Senior Wen.

So that is the root of it, he thought. Jealousy born of inferiority and shared tragedy.

As for the descendant killed by Ruoshui? That was likely just a convenient excuse for Wen Huanhuan to openly display her hostility without violating sect rules.

Li Meng finally understood the nature of Wen Huanhuan’s madness. His Master’s Dao Heart had shattered because of a man, halting her cultivation. Senior Wen was no different; her Dao Heart had shattered long ago, but the consequences were far more severe. While his Master merely stagnated, Senior Wen’s soul had suffered catastrophic damage, leading to her fractured psyche.

He recalled their encounter at the Qian Family Fortress. Senior Wen had likely discovered his Master’s presence long before revealing herself. Her threat to kill him back then was merely a petty attempt to disgust Ruoshui.

“Don’t look at me with those disgusting eyes!” Wen Huanhuan suddenly snapped, catching the pity in Li Meng’s gaze. “A mere Foundation Establishment cultivator dares to pity me? Hmph!”

Li Meng chuckled, his expression shifting to one of indifferent generosity. He stroked his beard, embodying the persona of a wealthy sage who viewed material wealth as dirt.

“It is just a mere Longevity Pill, Senior. Why go to such trouble and worry? On the day the pill is completed, this Nephew will naturally gift Senior a Longevity Pill, free of charge.”

Delight instantly replaced the anger on Wen Huanhuan’s face. The mood swing was jarring, yet characteristic of her instability. She gave Li Meng a charming, almost girlish smile.

“Disciple-Nephew Li, your Senior will remember those words. Don’t try to renege on your debt when the time comes!”

Li Meng flicked his sleeve, his posture upright and radiating righteousness. “This Nephew’s word is his bond. I do not joke about alchemy.”

Wen Huanhuan pursed her lips in a smile, looking Li Meng up and down with renewed interest. She didn’t know why this junior had suddenly relented—not bargaining, not demanding protection, but simply offering a priceless pill as a gift. But she didn’t care about the reasons. The result was all that mattered.

She gave a bewitching smile, her graceful, alluring body twirling in a circle, robes fluttering like a dancing butterfly. With a sudden movement, she threw herself into Li Meng’s arms for a brief, suffocating hug.

“Then this Senior won’t disturb Disciple-Nephew’s lake tour anymore!”

Before Li Meng could react, she transformed into a water-blue streak of light, sweeping past the corridor and flying toward the landing platform in the distance.

Standing by the railing, Li Meng smoothed his robes and gave an awkward smile.

He turned his head, his gaze landing on a figure leaning against the railing not far away. The man wore a set of black martial attire, his presence almost blending into the shadows as he stared deeply at the scenery of Mirror Lake.

Li Meng walked over casually. He stopped beside the man and bowed with clasped hands.

“Disciple Li Meng pays his respects to Senior Han!”

A flicker of surprise passed through the man’s eyes. He reached up and wiped a hand across his face. The features twisted and shifted like melting wax, instantly returning to their original appearance—the stoic face of Han Li.

Han Li looked at Li Meng with genuine curiosity. “How did you discover me?”

Li Meng gave an embarrassed smile, scratching his nose.

“I have a Junior Sister on my peak. The Disguise Art she cultivates is somewhat similar to the one Senior Han uses. Once you know the trick, the flaws become apparent.”

Understanding dawned on Han Li’s face. A Disguise Art was only perfect until its roots were exposed; once the method was known, spotting the discrepancies was simple for a keen observer.