“Gu Xiu?”

Nian Zhaoxi’s voice cut through the silence of the puppet workshop. “The things he gave you in the past?”

The question was so abrupt that He Mengyun froze, her carving knife hovering over the wood. Confusion clouded her eyes. “Senior Sister… is there a problem?”

“Answer me first,” Nian Zhaoxi pressed, her gaze intense. “Did you give them away? Yes or no?”

“I…” He Mengyun bit her lip, hemming and hawing. Her fingers nervously picked at the hem of her sleeve. Finally, she whispered, “Senior Sister… Junior Brother Jiang is a very good person. He… he didn’t ask for them! It was… it was I who willingly gave them to him. Please don’t blame Junior Brother Jiang…”

Nian Zhaoxi felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. “So, everything Gu Xiu gave you… you handed it all over to Jiang Xun?”

“Yes… yes…”

“Is there anything left?”

“This…”

“Not a single item?” Nian Zhaoxi’s brow furrowed, her voice dropping an octave.

Seeing her Senior Sister’s expression darken, He Mengyun panicked. The words tumbled out of her in a rush. “Senior Sister, you know I like to clean up clutter when I’m idle! Gu Xiu’s things… I had no use for them anymore. I was going to throw them away, and Little Junior Brother just happened to come by, so I… I asked him to help me dispose of them.”

She looked up, eyes pleading. “I know it was wrong. No matter what, Gu Xiu was once my Junior Brother. But… but this matter really has nothing to do with Jiang Xun…”

It was pathetic.

He Mengyun clearly thought Nian Zhaoxi had come to punish her, or worse, that she might hold a grudge against their precious Jiang Xun. So, she frantically shoveled all the blame onto herself.

For someone so timid, so socially anxious that she rarely spoke more than three sentences at a time, she was suddenly very articulate when defending him.

Nian Zhaoxi stared at her, her heart sinking. “Really? You threw everything away?”

“Well… not exactly…” He Mengyun shrank back.

“Explain.”

“Gu Xiu gave me a lot of things over the years,” He Mengyun stammered. “Many were related to puppetry. The Rain Ghost from Falling Rain Valley, rare ores, spirit woods… I used some of those materials to craft puppets. Those puppets remain in the valley.”

Nian Zhaoxi fell silent.

Puppetry, like Artificing, was a resource sink. It burned through rare treasures. Gu Xiu had always supported He Mengyun’s hobby, gifting her materials that fit her needs perfectly—even rare, complete constructs like the Rain Ghost.

It was impossible for He Mengyun to have physically given everything to Jiang Xun because she had consumed much of it in her craft. But the intent… the intent was clear.

Nian Zhaoxi didn’t press further. She simply stood there, lost in thought, while He Mengyun stood to the side, too terrified to breathe loudly.

“Has Junior Brother Jiang Xun ever given you anything?” Nian Zhaoxi asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes! Yes, he has!”

He Mengyun nodded vigorously. Her Storage Ring flashed, and she reverently produced several exquisite wooden carvings. “Little Junior Brother carved these for me himself.”

Nian Zhaoxi took one. It was a small, delicate bird, carved with undeniable skill. It was vivid, lifelike, and radiating a faint spiritual charm.

It was also identical to the one in Nian Zhaoxi’s own pocket.

“Does… every sister have one of these?” Nian Zhaoxi asked slowly.

He Mengyun nodded, oblivious to the implication. “I think so. Little Junior Sister has quite a lot of them. He gave her many spirit beast carvings.”

Nian Zhaoxi closed her eyes. Mass-produced sincerity.

“Senior Sister? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” Nian Zhaoxi handed the carving back, her face impassive. “Do you remember the day Jiang Xun was brought to the sect?”

“Of course,” He Mengyun smiled, relieved the interrogation seemed to be over. “Master brought him back right after she broke through to the Mahayana realm. Master said her smooth breakthrough into the Supreme stage was directly related to finding him.”

“And do you know his true origin?”

He Mengyun shook her head. “Not the details. But Master once mentioned that when Junior Brother Jiang descended into the void, he was accompanied by a thousand strange phenomena. He was born with a Companion Immortal Artifact. Master says… he might be an Immortal from the Upper Realm, descended to the mortal world.”

An Immortal descended to the mortal world.

That rumor had always clung to Jiang Xun like a golden halo. His Fate Pattern was obscure, his luck defied logic, and divination techniques slid off him like water off a duck’s back. Even Nian Zhaoxi couldn’t glimpse a single thread of his future.

In the past, she had simply accepted it. He was special. He was chosen.

But ever since Jiang Xun’s visit to the Heaven-Asking Pavilion—and his subsequent visit to her—a seed of doubt had sprouted in Nian Zhaoxi’s heart.

“Senior Sister…” He Mengyun hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I heard a rumor… you might get angry if I say it.”

“Speak.”

“People say… that the things Gu Xiu gave us in the past were cursed.”

Nian Zhaoxi’s eyes snapped open. “Cursed?”

“Yes,” He Mengyun mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “They say all the misfortunes we suffered… might have been caused by the things Gu Xiu gave us. That he planted dark methods on them.”

“What are you saying?” Nian Zhaoxi asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

“Everyone says so! And they say the wooden carvings Little Junior Brother gave us carry Immortal Qi. That they can neutralize those curses and protect us from disaster.”

Crack.

Something inside Nian Zhaoxi snapped.

“Are you telling me,” she hissed, her voice rising, “that you believe Gu Xiu—who gave you gifts out of kindness—was actually plotting to harm you? For five hundred years?”

“I…”

“Most of those gifts were given centuries ago! Are you suggesting that before he even entered the Forbidden Realm, Gu Xiu was plotting the death of his own martial sisters?”

“I… Senior Sister, I…” He Mengyun cowered, her face pale.

“You wouldn’t come up with such poison on your own,” Nian Zhaoxi stepped forward, looming over her. “Who told you this?”

He Mengyun clamped her mouth shut. Her body trembled, but her jaw set in a stubborn line. For all her cowardice, she was fiercely loyal to her delusions.

Nian Zhaoxi looked at this woman—this trembling, ungrateful wreck—and felt a chill that froze her to the bone.

“Junior Sister,” she asked softly, “how did Gu Xiu treat you back in Azure Mystic?”

“Junior Brother Gu… treated me very well…”

“Did he ever wrong you?”

“This…”

“You were introverted. You couldn’t speak to people. Gu Xiu protected you. He shielded you from mockery. When Master forbade you from studying puppetry and you cried for days, who knelt before the hall and begged for you? Have you forgotten?”

He Mengyun flinched as if struck. “I… I…”

“He called you Senior Sister, but he looked after you like a little sister!” Nian Zhaoxi’s voice cracked. “Before we entered the Forbidden Realm, he pulled us aside and begged us to watch over you. His biggest worry was you!”

“Senior Sister… stop…”

“And this is how you repay him? You suspect him of cursing you? You throw away his care like trash because of a baseless rumor?” Nian Zhaoxi roared, tears stinging her eyes. “He Mengyun, tell me! Does your conscience not hurt? Do you have no heart?”

He Mengyun collapsed.

She couldn’t speak. She could only stand there, shaking, tears streaming down her face like a broken dam. Panic and guilt consumed her features, making her look small and pathetic.

Seeing her like this, the fire in Nian Zhaoxi’s chest burned out, leaving only ash.

“I scream at you…” Nian Zhaoxi whispered, a bitter smile touching her lips. “But I am no better. I am not a good person either.”

“I’m sorry, Junior Sister.”

Nian Zhaoxi turned around. She couldn’t stand to look at this place anymore. She felt hollowed out, her spirit crushing under the weight of the sect’s collective betrayal.

She walked toward the exit, her steps heavy.

“It is useless, Senior Sister.”

Nian Zhaoxi stopped.

The voice was He Mengyun’s, but the tone was wrong. It wasn’t the stuttering, fearful whisper of the Sixth Junior Sister. It was calm. Eerily, perfectly calm.

Nian Zhaoxi turned back.

He Mengyun was still standing there. Tears still streamed down her face, staining her robes. But her expression…

The fear was gone. The cowardice had vanished.

Her eyes were clear. Terrifyingly clear. It was as if a stranger was looking out through He Mengyun’s weeping eyes—someone ancient, someone who saw the threads of fate.

“Senior Sister,” He Mengyun said softly, her voice echoing with a strange resonance. “It is useless.”

“The Heavens are high, and their Will is silent. Human hearts wither, and sorrow runs deep.”

She looked at Nian Zhaoxi, a ghost of a smile on her tear-streaked face.

“All your efforts are in vain.”

“No matter what you do, Senior Sister… this filthy place…”

“Is destined to burn.”