Chapter 343: Years Are Just Right

Yesterday, two chapters were uploaded consecutively. However, some readers reported that the app automatically skipped to the second chapter, and my backend data also showed that a number of readers seemed to have missed one of the chapters. This is a special reminder for them.

The death of the White Deer Longevity Star caused little stir in Myriad Demon City.

Spring brought constant rain, falling ceaselessly. The raindrops slanted and swayed in the wind. On the mountainside, the sprawling stone camellias had withered and fallen like ash, stirring up a wind that seemed to signify death.

As Ning Changjiu passed the mountainside, the stone camellias had completely withered, leaving only neat bundles of dried stalks that etched jagged lines against the slanting wind and fine rain.

On the quiet, deserted mountain path, Siming removed her fox demon mask and tucked it gently into her waist. She turned her head, gazing at the light and rain filtering through the dense forest. She felt as if she had touched something profound there, yet simultaneously, everything in the mundane world seemed detached from her, even after she had just slain a powerful five-path demon.

The scent of blood was long behind them, and the cries of the small white deer demons were now distant.

The ginseng fruit sprite, bound by the Golden Rope, was temporarily held within the void.

Thus, in the silence, Myriad Demon City, nestled away in its remote corner, seemed to recede with them.

Siming rarely experienced such emotions.

She looked up, allowing the fine rain to softly brush her cheeks, without using her spiritual power to shield herself. The cool drops danced on her already porcelain-white face, creating a shimmering moisture.

“What’s wrong?”

Ning Changjiu turned his head, sensing her unusual mood.

Siming stood on the flat stone platform on the mountainside, gazing at the hazy mist and rain among the peaks. Suddenly, she remarked, “The human world is truly delicate.”

However, this unusual emotion made Siming feel as though she was diverging from the grand Dao she pursued.

She gently shook her head, once again shielding herself from the silent spring rain and extinguishing the delicate emotion that humanity had bestowed upon her.

Ning Changjiu remained silent. He suddenly realized that, at some point, the ‘mortal world’ in Siming’s speech had subtly shifted to ‘the human world.’

Siming looked at Ning Changjiu's sudden smile, feeling a surge of inexplicable annoyance.

“What are you looking at?” Siming asked.

Ning Changjiu replied, “I’m looking at my ostensible master, teacher, and divine official.”

The implication, of course, was that there were hidden implications.

Siming chose not to respond. She said dismissively, “With such a petty mind, how can you reach the pinnacle of the Great Dao?”

Ning Changjiu retorted, “Are you already walking the Great Dao?”

Siming nodded. Gazing at the intertwined clouds in the sky, she declared proudly, “I was originally beyond the highest clouds. Now that I begin anew, the path I tread is naturally the supreme divine way. Its profound insights are all old friends; its scenery, all familiar faces.”

Her words, dampened by the rain, carried a biting chill.

Ning Changjiu stood beside her and softly said, “Then I’ll walk with you.”

Siming’s expression remained unperturbed. She stood in the fine rain, gazing at the delicate demon city. After a long pause, she slowly turned, her face impassive and her true emotions hidden, letting out an exasperated snort.

“The Great Dao is solitary, walked alone since ancient times. Who wants to accompany you?” Siming said, turning toward the mountain path.

Ning Changjiu silently followed, smiling innocently. “I’m afraid of going astray myself,” he said.

Siming’s red lips parted slightly. “You’re already on a path of evil and crooked ways,” she said. “There’s no ‘going astray’ for you. Immortals and Buddhas can’t save you, and I’m too lazy to bother.”

With that, Siming lightly closed her eyes to rest, walking towards the ginseng fruit tree.

However, Siming felt a faint confusion in her heart. Killing a powerful five-path demon was not a significant event, and she believed it shouldn't stir any emotions in her.

But what was that ripple she felt within?

Many years later, upon reflection, she found the incredible answer: it was simply because of a spring rain.

This was what people called 'sentimental reflection,' an emotion unique to humans—a joy and sorrow for all things, without reason, merely a mutual stirring between the heart and the world. This was a stirring she should not have experienced.

At the foot of the mountain, Ning Changjiu explained the situation to the goblins still guarding the ginseng fruit tree, then dispersed them.

The ginseng fruit tree’s trunk, like cast iron, stretched towards the sky. It was incredibly thick, resembling a colossal rock, covered in crisscrossing thorns that reached densely upwards. On its highest branches, the ginseng fruit hung upside down, its face smiling, with a small, tender flower bud already forming on its head.

It was like a Bodhisattva in an inverted pose.

Ning Changjiu looked at the still-immature ginseng fruit and asked, “Is a being born of sin still considered a living being?”

Siming replied, “In my eyes, all are living beings.”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Why?”

Siming’s voice held a cool arrogance. “Because the divine realm must eradicate evil from the human world,” she said. “If it were not a living being, how could I declare its sin, and how could I then kill it?”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Are you first assigning it the name ‘living being’ so that you can then turn it into a dead spirit?”

Siming replied, “They are destined to die anyway.”

Ning Changjiu asked again, “Is what the divine realm enforces truly justice?”

Siming replied, “No, we uphold the laws of heaven.”

Ning Changjiu pondered the meaning of her words and asked no further questions.

The fine rain, blowing near the ginseng fruit tree, turned the translucent raindrops black.

It was watering the ginseng fruit tree.

Ning Changjiu’s gaze moved downward, following the ancient patterns on the tree trunk.

Beside the monstrous tree’s massive roots, exposed on the surface, sticky blood and stark white bones still clung. They had cooled, decaying rapidly, and were slowly sinking into the earth to become nourishment for the dying tree.

“Was it once a divine tree?” Ning Changjiu sighed softly, asking, “Before a divine tree dies, is it willing to accept such sinful sustenance and cling to life ignobly? Would humans… do the same?”

“There’s no point in thinking about that,” Siming said, looking up at the ancient tree, her gaze seemingly condescending. “Plants are emotionless; they grow towards the sun when the sky is clear and bright, and they strive for survival amidst storms and thunder during smoky, gloomy days. They follow the path of least resistance and have no choice. But humans… are different.”

As Siming spoke, she extended her hand towards the ginseng fruit tree.

The nearby rainwater instantly dispersed, and a tidal mist rose from the base of the mountain.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Ning Changjiu vaguely heard the clang of a sword.

Siming had already reached the ginseng fruit tree. Her figure appeared stark against the backdrop of scattered white bones, yet the defilement that permeated hell could not stain even a single thread of her robe.

Siming’s hand pressed against the divine tree. Her expression was serene, and silver patterns, like tattoos, outlined her black robe.

The ginseng fruit tree began to tremble and sway.

High on the branches, the ginseng fruit’s inverted smiling face suddenly contorted. It seemed to age a hundred years, its features becoming painful and distorted. It, too, shook, emitting cries like a baby.

Ning Changjiu opened his sword-eyes.

He could clearly see that beneath the soil at the base of the ginseng fruit tree, there seemed to be countless rats scurrying ceaselessly, burrowing upwards. They screamed incessantly, like vengeful spirits desperately pounding on the gates of hell, leaving bloody imprints and handprints.

“Stand back!” Siming commanded.

Ning Changjiu retreated several steps, forming a hand seal to calm his body, ensuring no spirits could approach.

The tree wailed mournfully, as if pleading, and the ginseng fruit cried out, as if trying to stop her.

Siming remained unmoved. Her slender fingers suddenly moved as if clutching something invisible, drawing it from the tree’s trunk.

Countless gusts of yin wind, accumulated over hundreds of years, rushed out from the trunk, parting to either side in front of them.

Ning Changjiu looked up. In a state between real and illusory, he vaguely saw the tree laden with abundant fruits. These fruits were like sentient imps, angrily venting their emotions, wanting to tear this woman, who dared to seize the divine tree’s last vitality, into a thousand pieces.

Meanwhile, within Ning Changjiu’s body, the Golden Crow chirped joyfully, struggling to fly out, eager to feast.

“Found it…” Siming suddenly spoke.

The seemingly indestructible tree trunk was torn open, and something flowed out, clashing together with a sound like ringing swords.

Siming touched her own forehead with her left hand.

Her silver hair gently undulated, and her figure, though small beneath the black tree, seemed like a faintly rising moon, poised to hang on the branches.

After a long time, the darkness dissipated, and the ginseng fruit tree, which had clung to life for centuries, seemed to finally perish.

The last ginseng fruit fell, sinking into the muddy, decaying earth filled with white bones, its distorted smile stained with blood.

Before Siming, a sword—or rather, a saber—hovered.

That blade was also slender, its style similar to Shentu, with a layer of smoky netherworld energy covering its edge.

It was Yulei.

It was more severely damaged, its edge riddled with nicks and cracks.

“It truly is it,” Siming said, exhaling in relief, her face slightly pale.

Ning Changjiu didn’t look at the blade, but first said to Siming, “You’ve worked hard.”

Siming looked at Yulei and said, displeased, “I’ve gone around the human world, saved Jajia, saved Xiaoling, and ended up with your whole family. What bad luck.”

Ning Changjiu said, “Good deeds will be rewarded.”

Siming replied, “I am no good person.”

She couldn’t be bothered with Ning Changjiu’s feigned pleasantries and asked straightforwardly, “How do we take this sword away?”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Can we hire other demons to transport it out?”

“Even if the demon race agreed to us taking a sword from Myriad Demon City without permission, only a handful of people could possibly take this sword away.”

With that, Siming picked a leaf and gently placed it beside the blade. The leaf instantly lost its green color and turned into a piece of ash.

This broken Yulei sword emitted an extremely strong corrosive aura; cultivators below the Purple Court realm couldn’t even grasp it.

And those above the Purple Court realm… might not be willing to help them.

After all, the geomancy map still contained a dark area, where four demons who called themselves ‘Heavenly Kings’ reportedly resided. Their attitude was paramount.

Siming was confident she could remain undefeated against any one of them.

But if they angered the demon horde and were besieged… Ning Changjiu would likely be annihilated.

Ning Changjiu said, “What if it’s no longer a sword?”

Siming asked, “What do you mean?”

Ning Changjiu said, “That old king back then wanted to refine it into a pill, using over a thousand hearts.”

Siming mused, “Are you saying those young boys and girls will finally be put to use?”

“I won’t refine it,” Ning Changjiu said, unable to commit such cruelty. He added, “In short, as long as it’s refined into something that no longer resembles a sword, it’ll be fine.”

Siming said, “Do you take the people of Myriad Demon City for fools, thinking you can fool them with this trick?”

Ning Changjiu replied, “Of course not. However, I’m sure those old demons will sense the commotion here. If they want to exchange this sword for something, someone should come to negotiate with us in the coming days.”

Siming asked, “What if they besiege us?”

Ning Changjiu replied, “They shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Siming asked.

Ning Changjiu said, “Myriad Demon City already struggles to protect itself, and the great demons are not necessarily united. Furthermore, what the White Deer Flower Demon did has long been a thorn in the side for many in the demon race. Of course, the most crucial factor is that the divine official is strong enough; they must be wary. It’s not worth incurring your enmity over a heinous demon.”

Siming was quite satisfied with the last reason, nodding gently. “Then let’s go to Bhikkhu Peak,” she said, “retrieve that Supreme Pill Furnace, and slowly melt it down, waiting for them to come negotiate.”

Ning Changjiu nodded. “Good,” he said, “we can also have these ginseng fruits guard the furnace and fan the flames.”

Siming sneered, “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“You flatter me,” Ning Changjiu smiled. “But we should still prepare for the worst.”

“Hmm?” Siming asked, puzzled.

“I’m not confident if there’s anything about us that would make those demon kings take such risks,” Ning Changjiu said.

The damaged floor of Longevity Tower was completely burned away. Beneath it, Siming found the legendary Supreme Pill Furnace.

The pill furnace stood three people high, with two connected furnace bodies, top and bottom, resembling a gourd. It had four bronze dragon legs, and its top was shaped like an octagonal pavilion.

The flames within the furnace had already extinguished.

Siming walked gracefully to the furnace, extended a finger, and lifted it with surprising ease.

With a twist of her wrist, the furnace flew up. She stepped onto its top, as if riding a flying sword, and soared out of the damaged Longevity Tower, sweeping past Bhikkhu Peak to arrive beneath the ginseng fruit tree.

Siming recognized this relic of the Immortal Court.

She paused to recall the instructions for using the furnace, then activated it by following precise steps.

All eight openings simultaneously flared open, and flames erupted from the dark furnace chamber.

Ning Changjiu watched her delicate manipulations and praised, “Miss Siming is truly learned.”

Siming said, “This furnace was once the magic treasure of Grand Supreme True Monarch. Its flames can melt anything, but someone once practiced divine cultivation within it.”

Ning Changjiu said, “That person was truly amazing.”

Siming said, “If you ever dare to speak so presumptuously to me again, I’ll force you into it for cultivation.”

Ning Changjiu was accustomed to such threats and even accepted it with a smile.

Once the furnace was opened, it behaved like a starved glutton finally released from its cage, greedily absorbing everything around it.

“No wonder this furnace was abandoned; it seems it, too, went mad like that fallen immortal,” Siming sighed, shaking her head.

No fine object lasts forever. Even the most precisely crafted magic treasures eventually break down.

This furnace could no longer concoct any elixirs, and the White Deer Flower Demon’s idea was almost a gamble. But fortunately, she didn’t care what Yulei was refined into; as long as it wasn’t a sword, it was fine.

After Yulei was absorbed, Siming closed the furnace.

Ning Changjiu arranged the hundreds of ginseng fruits around the fire pit. He distributed plantain leaves to them and said, “From now on, you’ll be responsible for fanning the fire. If anything unusual happens, inform us immediately.”

In truth, the divine fire’s intensity was far beyond what plantain leaves could fan, and Siming knew exactly what was happening inside the furnace without needing their reports.

Ning Changjiu’s action was merely to temper their disposition.

One of the child girls, the one who first greeted Ning Changjiu, also raised an objection. She looked at Ning Changjiu with pitiful eyes, as if hoping he would remember their past acquaintance. “We… we are delicate and naturally afraid of fire,” she said. “What kind of wind can we fan with these plantain leaves?”

Siming asked coldly, “Then do you want to be fans, or firewood?”

The child boys and girls, aware of her power, retreated, silencing themselves. They picked up their plantain leaves, knelt by the fire pit, and began to fan.

They traversed the muddy, difficult mountain path in the rain.

Ning Changjiu involuntarily thought of that little monkey demon.

On a stormy night, the monkey demon risked its life to deliver a message, then vanished without a trace. Who exactly was it?

Ning Changjiu circled the forest again, still finding no trace.

He returned to the peak with Siming, entering the exquisitely decorated house.

Siming surveyed the room’s decor—the ornaments carved from deer antlers, the sliced deer antler served in small bowls beside the tea leaves. Only then did she realize that everything had been revealed in these details.

If she were still a divine official, she would have seen through everything with just one glance.

Now… she was simply too immersed to see clearly.

Ning Changjiu lay down on the couch as if familiar with it, stretching his body.

Evening had not yet arrived, but Ning Changjiu’s face was already etched with weariness.

“How much effort did you expend?” Siming asked. “Why are you so tired already?”

Ning Changjiu said self-deprecatingly, “It’s all because your disciple isn’t strong enough.”

Siming didn’t respond. In private, she dared not use the title of master and disciple with Ning Changjiu, knowing that with his temperament, he might not be able to restrain himself and commit acts of grave disrespect.

Ning Changjiu made the bed and pulled the red thread.

Siming said, “Don’t pull the red thread.”

Ning Changjiu’s eyes brightened slightly. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Siming poured cold water on his hopes. “It means I’m not sleeping tonight,” she said. “I’m continuing my cultivation.”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Is your body made of iron?”

Siming snorted coldly, “You, with your mortal eyes, naturally cannot understand me.”

Ning Changjiu argued, “Even the most exquisite porcelain is made of earth, isn’t it? According to legend, humans were molded from earth by Empress Nüwa. What’s the difference?”

Siming retorted, “The difference is that Empress Nüwa and the Nüwa people who created you are long dead, while my divine realm still exists.”

Ning Changjiu stopped bickering with her. “I’ll rest for a bit,” he said. “If anything happens, remember to wake me.”

Siming nodded faintly.

Ning Changjiu closed his eyes.

He quickly drifted into a dream.

The scenery in his dream was a vivid replica of reality.

Ning Changjiu appeared in the courtyard, with the divine hall and towering mountains majestically before him. Continuous clouds rolled past the courtyard, and from this vantage point, Dahe Town was but a distant, miniature silhouette.

Ning Changjiu looked for Xiang’er as usual for a while, but couldn’t find her.

Finally, he returned to the table and continued reading the scroll he hadn’t finished last time.

He immersed himself in the profound Dao within the book.

When Ning Changjiu looked up again, he saw the pure and beautiful face of a young girl. She had a neat ponytail, cheeks like snow, and eyes like a painting. She sat opposite him, her gaze gently tracing the pages, sometimes pondering, sometimes puzzled, and sometimes smiling.

It was Zhao Xiang’er.

Today, she had slain another demon. She sat cross-legged as usual and entered her dream. She saw Ning Changjiu, watched him reading, and nodded in satisfaction. She didn’t disturb him, simply sat down with him and earnestly began to read.

After a long time, the absorption of knowledge seemed to reach the limit of their consciousness, and they stopped. They put down their books almost simultaneously.

“Xiang’er, long time no see.”

Although only a day had passed, Ning Changjiu truly felt as if it had been ages.

Zhao Xiang’er looked at his face, which seemed refined by knowledge, and found it much more pleasing. “Long time no see,” she said. “Hmm… you also like to read?”

Ning Changjiu, wanting to leave a good impression on little Xiang’er, smiled and said, “I’ve been well-read since childhood, and I love to copy and ponder over unusual texts and scrolls, let alone articles bestowed by the Master.”

Zhao Xiang’er nodded lightly. She suddenly thought of something, held out her hand, and said, “Let me see your book.”

Ning Changjiu handed her the book. “Shall we exchange and read?” he suggested.

“Mm.” Zhao Xiang’er was happy to share knowledge, and she handed him her own book.

They opened each other’s scriptures, but both frowned simultaneously.

“Huh? Why are there no words on the book? Is this a wordless scripture… Oh, right… it’s just a dream. What was I thinking? Mother must have been afraid I’d be lonely reading alone, so she let him come and keep me company.” Zhao Xiang’er thought.

“Hmm? Why is the book blank? Oh, right… it’s just a dream. How could there be two such profound secret texts in this world? Master must have been afraid I couldn’t sit still reading alone, so he let little Xiang’er accompany me.” Ning Changjiu thought.

“Mm, your book is also good,” they both said genuinely and simultaneously, looking up.

They handed each other’s books back.

“Mm, you must study hard and not disappoint Mother… Master’s expectations,” Zhao Xiang’er said.

“You too, don’t disappoint Master’s tutelage. If you dare to be half-hearted, I’ll punish you on Master’s behalf,” Ning Changjiu said.

Zhao Xiang’er raised an eyebrow. “Ning Changjiu,” she said, “how dare you say such things to me?”

Ning Changjiu smiled slightly. “Miss Xiang’er, do you remember our bet last time?” he said. “Who was older and who was younger has already been decided.”

“I…” Zhao Xiang’er bit her tender, jade-like lips… This damned dream was actually continuous! The girl thought angrily, rubbing her head. “I don’t remember,” she said.

Ning Changjiu feigned a sigh. “So Miss Xiang’er, with all her virtues and beauty, is someone who doesn’t keep her word,” he said. “Alas, rumors truly cannot be believed.”

Zhao Xiang’er felt this was a moral blackmail. Her finely woven teeth gently gnawed at her lip, and her pupils shone with a lively sparkle in the sunlight. She hesitated for a moment, her nostrils flaring, and finally, reluctantly got up, curtsied slightly, and meekly spoke, “Senior Brother.”

Ning Changjiu watched her submissive expression with fondness, smiling.

“Junior Sister is so cute,” Ning Changjiu said softly.

Zhao Xiang’er was very unwilling, secretly trying to think of a reason to challenge him to another bet and win back her Senior Sister status.

Ning Changjiu looked at her childish and beautiful features, thinking that this was his junior sister. In a few years, after they grew up together like childhood sweethearts, she would change her address from junior brother to husband… A beautiful prospect outlined a blueprint in his heart. His emotions surged; he regretted not having accepted the marriage contract in his previous life, for then he could have experienced two lives, savoring different beauties in each, instead of mending regrets in a dream like now.

Zhao Xiang’er’s state of mind was completely different: Junior Sister, Junior Sister, Junior Sister… What junior sister! Back in Linhe City, she had clearly beaten him until he begged for mercy, calling her ‘Sister’! And during the three-year agreement, if he hadn’t exploited her sympathy, he would have surely lost! She should clearly be the older sister! Hmph! Devious tricks…

Zhao Xiang’er angrily chastised him in her mind, then consoled herself: “Fortunately, it’s just a dream, and no one knows. Consider it practice; a fall in the pit, a gain in your wit. When I truly meet him again, I mustn’t be fooled by such tricks!”

As she was thinking, Ning Changjiu’s hand gently reached out and caressed her hair.

“Senior Brother!” Zhao Xiang’er stiffened suddenly.

Ning Changjiu was slightly startled. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Zhao Xiang’er immediately slapped his hand away and righteously declared, “What are you doing? We came to the temple to study and cultivate, not to gamble or roll dice!”

Ning Changjiu snapped out of his pleasant imagination. He looked at Zhao Xiang’er’s serious, pretty face, at her love for knowledge, and couldn’t help but show a look of guilt.

“Okay, I’ll read with Junior Sister!” Ning Changjiu smiled slightly.

Beneath the great, invisible tree, snow-white flowers bloomed, and green grass swayed in the wind, dotted with morning glories, roses, and tulips in full bloom. Beside the ancient tree, etched with the passage of time, Ning Changjiu and Zhao Xiang’er sat on the soft grass. They held books, with bent legs and backs leaning against each other. Beams of sunlight filtered through the emerald leaves above, casting dappled shadows on their clothes and hair.

They read together like this, sometimes in silence, sometimes conversing.

The spring breeze blew, leaves rustled, kingfishers chirped softly, and ants climbed up the tree trunk.

This was an unobservable, sun-drenched afternoon, a youth they had once missed, now re-experienced as they leaned into each other.

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