23. Heart’s Blood of the Demon Ghost

The sky had already darkened, so Sheng Ningyu did not go to find Lady Xiang, but instead returned to her own quarters.

Ji Qingwu was clearly waiting for her. The moment she caught sight of Sheng Ningyu, she hurried forward. "Sister Ning, you—"

She stopped abruptly, her expression shifting to one of curiosity: "Is this current appearance your true face?"

Sheng Ningyu: "?"

She took the Shuiyue Mirror the young girl offered and examined herself carefully.

The good news: she was still herself; she hadn't turned ugly or strange.

The bad news: her appearance had reverted to that of her seventeen-year-old self.

Sheng Ningyu: "..."

She finally understood what that piece-of-junk pill from the old man Yuan was for.

Talking about "nothing ventured, nothing gained," talking about "if your spirit bones are within those people, you will sense them when you touch them," talking about "the old man has his own ways to manage your looks and stature, but if the change is too drastic, people will notice something is wrong"—

Sheng Ningyu felt that Yuan Daojun simply wanted to see her make a fool of herself.

The old rascal was indeed wicked to the core.

Though Sheng Ningyu was composing a thousand complaints in her heart, her face revealed only a touch of shyness: "I previously took a concoction from a demon, which altered my appearance..."

Sheng Ningyu spun a dramatic tale, and Ji Qingwu listened, utterly enthralled.

"So that’s why Lady Xiang was so surprised to see you! You aren't a descendant of the Sword Venerable, but the daughter of a long-lost relative of hers!"

"Heavens! So the portrait in the Lady’s pavilion isn't of the Mingyue Sword Venerable either—no wonder she never admitted it. It turns out that painting depicts her deceased kin!"

"Then your name—"

"It is Mingyue," Sheng Ningyu paused, then added, "Only today did I learn that my surname is Wang, given name Jiu, and courtesy name Mingyue. Sister Qingwu, you may call me by either from now on."

Wang Jiu, courtesy name Mingyue.

The name was plain enough to blend into any crowd.

Sheng Ningyu did not believe that, among the wealth of talent at the Qingyi Academy, anyone would have the spare time to notice such an utterly mundane name.

Ji Qingwu covered her mouth, lowering her voice: "Sister Mingyue, after you left today, Brother Youling and the others were all incredibly curious. If they ask tomorrow—"

Sheng Ningyu sighed: "Lady Xiang misses my mother deeply; I will likely have to go keep her company tomorrow. As for the rest, I trust Brother Youling and the junior brothers. If they ask, tell them as you have been told."

She hesitated, ultimately unable to bring herself to actually say the words "Brother Youling."

That would be far too shameless.

After Sheng Ningyu told Lady Xiang everything, she watched as the woman covered her lips with a silk handkerchief and giggled.

"Then I have truly gotten the better end of the bargain," Lady Xiang laughed. "I have gained such a wonderful junior for nothing."

Sheng Ningyu laughed too, then shook her head: "My apologies." She said softly, "My spirit bones are incomplete, and I dare not reveal my identity lightly, yet without your consent, I have dragged you into this—"

"What are you saying?"

Lady Xiang raised her hand to cast an additional barrier, then brought out a new plate of pastries. She watched with a smile as Sheng Ningyu ate piece by piece, feeling immensely satisfied. "My Lord, it is a blessing that I can still be of use to you."

If things were as they had been sixty years ago, waiting in silence for news that was impossible to distinguish as true or false, it would be better to truly devolve into a mindless demon or ghost. At least then, there would be a glimmer of hope that she might catch the Sword Venerable’s eye before she died.

Lady Xiang handed the prepared incense to her, along with a "Galaxy Pouch."

In terms of function, the Galaxy Pouch was no different from an ordinary storage bag; the only difference was that its exterior was more ornate and beautiful.

Only a young immortal who knew no sorrow would like such a thing.

Lady Xiang probed carefully: "The Old Patriarch told me that the current lockdown of the palace is in preparation for the reopening of the Qingyi Academy in half a month. He said you would be heading there with Brother Shuhe and the others, so I prepared a few things... I wonder if they meet with your approval?"

"Such a beautiful little pouch, how could I not like it?"

Sheng Ningyu hung it at her waist right in front of Xiang Bieyun and patted it: "Many thanks, Sister A-Yan. With this, I won't have to worry about where to pile my talismans."

Recalling the incident with the "Snow-Dissolving Talisman," Lady Xiang covered her lips and laughed again.

Once she finished laughing, she lowered her eyes and carefully pushed an inconspicuous wooden bracelet toward Sheng Ningyu.

"My Lord, if you are going to the Academy, it would likely be inconvenient to continue using the 'Veiling Pearl.' This object is called the 'Breath-Restraining Bracelet.' Not only can it mask your aura and cover the scars on your wrists, but it can also prevent anyone below the Tianquan Realm from detecting your spirit bones, making you appear as a mere disciple at the first stage of the Yinyuan Realm. If you wish to use your sword at the Academy, no one will be able to tell the difference."

"However, this item can only withstand spiritual power up to the Dongming Realm. If it exceeds that, it will likely shatter instantly."

As Xiang Bieyun spoke, she began to frown.

It was too crude, she thought. Such a crude object—in the past, the Sword Venerable wouldn't have even glanced at it, yet here she was, daring to present it to her and hoping she would wear it—

"—This is an excellent item."

Sheng Ningyu grasped the wooden bracelet, her fingers tracing over it.

Though called a wooden bracelet, the material did not resemble common pear wood; it seemed more like a variant of the golden-thread nanmu found in the mortal realm.

Under the sunlight, the bracelet seemed to shimmer with silver light.

Sheng Ningyu’s brow did not relax. She pondered for a moment: "If I am not mistaken, you..."

"My Lord!" Xiang Bieyun interrupted, her chest heaving violently. "If you do not like it, please throw the bracelet into the lake."

Sheng Ningyu had never seen such a forceful Xiang Bieyun. She was momentarily stunned, then stood up, crouched beside her, and looked up at her: "Sister A-Yan, that is not what I meant."

"But I do."

Xiang Bieyun clenched her hands into fists, then slowly loosened them. She dared not look at Sheng Ningyu, fearing that one glance would make her unable to bear seeing her troubled.

But today, she had to accept the bracelet.

Xiang Bieyun closed her eyes and spoke slowly.

"Please do not think about how this bracelet came to be. You only need to tell me if this object is of any help to you."

How could it not be?

A bracelet infused with the heart-blood of a powerful demon ghost could never be a common object.

But this was heart-blood.

Sheng Ningyu had once read storybooks in the mortal world, where the most egregious act an immortal committed was often taking the heart-blood of a female cultivator.

Though the plot was cliché, those mortal writers were not wrong about the importance of heart-blood.

Especially for a demon ghost—every drop lost was a drop gone forever, and each contained a portion of their powerful ghostly cultivation.

No wonder she hadn't seen Lady Xiang for several days.

"...It is."

Sheng Ningyu looked up, sighed silently, and gave a gentle tug to Lady Xiang’s sleeve: "Sister A-Yan, please don't be angry with me."

Lady Xiang kept her eyes closed and whispered: "If the Lord wishes to make amends, then please, hold me once more."

Sheng Ningyu watched her quietly, then wrapped her arms around her and leaned against her side.

"Don't be angry with me," Sheng Ningyu lowered her voice. "I am not trying to distance myself from you; I just... I have had my spirit bones carved out, and I know how painful it is. I don't want you to be hurt, and I don't want you to be in pain."

The reason she took up the sword was to protect herself and everyone standing behind her.

It was like that in her youth, and it remained so today.

Suddenly, Lady Xiang burst into tears.

She finally wrapped her arms around Sheng Ningyu’s shoulders, holding her tightly.

"Since you have called me 'Sister,' let me do something for you," Xiang Bieyun pressed the bracelet into Sheng Ningyu’s palm and said, "Just this once."

Sheng Ningyu gave a sudden smile, the familiar air of nonchalance returning to her face: "It is I who am the recipient of your grace; the way you put it, it sounds as if you were begging me to accept it."

She raised her hand to wipe away Lady Xiang’s tears and leaned back against her shoulder.

"But Sister A-Yan, only this once. If you do this again, I shall take my own heart-blood and return it to you."

Xiang Bieyun’s heart trembled just hearing those words, and she said in a panic: "I understand, my Lord, please do not speak such nonsense again."

Seeing her so anxious, Sheng Ningyu could not help but smile.

After soothing Xiang Bieyun, Sheng Ningyu returned to her quarters with the incense she had been gifted.

Yuan Daojun had used the excuse of "conducting unified training for the disciples" to decline all visitors, semi-sealing the Yunwang Palace. The young girl Ji Qingwu was too busy to be seen, and Sheng Ningyu had moved to new quarters.

In her own room, she was, at last, more at ease.

Sheng Ningyu opened the stopper of the incense bottle.

The fragrance was quiet and deep, permeating the air.

Ethereal as snow falling upon a flower’s stamen, mysterious and unfathomable, yet carrying a hint of familiarity.

Lady Xiang had said this was an incense she had blended specifically for her in the past, one she had never given to anyone else.

Sheng Ningyu believed that Lady Xiang would not lie to her about such a thing.

But this scent—Sheng Ningyu had smelled it many times since she woke up.

When they first met, whenever he approached.

Beside the screen in Yuan Daojun’s room.

And that day, after she had thought of her aunt and dozed off by the railing, waking to find it lingering.

...

Xie Qianjing.

Sheng Ningyu pursed her lips, resting her chin on her hand in a daze, her right hand unconsciously doodling on the table.

The things Yuan Daojun had said that day—"the son of an old friend, suffered much," "Bu Shu is only seeking him," "mentioned in Shuhe’s notes"—seemed flawless, identical to what Xie Qianjing had told her when they first met.

But Sheng Ningyu still did not believe it.

She didn't know why, but even if this person did not exist in her memory, Sheng Ningyu was certain that she had met Xie Qianjing before.

If her memory did not contain him, then it was her memory that was at fault.

That was the reason she was determined to go to the Qingyi Academy—to test those old acquaintances.

Sheng Ningyu lay flat on the bed, looking at her right wrist, crisscrossed with ugly, winding scars. She could still vaguely imagine them being gently and carefully wrapped in gauze, tied with a beautiful knot.

He seemed to bear a grudge against her, yet also seemed to care more about her injuries than she did herself.

Sheng Ningyu stared for a moment, then let out a laugh directed at the empty room.

"Xie Qianjing." She tilted her head, tossing the pill Yuan Daojun had given her, and murmured to herself, "Who exactly are you?"

Next time they met, she would make sure to get an answer.