Chapter 10: The Resurrected Savior of the White Moonlight (Part Nine)

Seeing her press for answers, Tu Shanxi did not wish to hide anything. She held Xiyun’s hand and began to recount her own past.

“At that time, I blocked the fatal strike from Ancestor Guanghe. Do you know who Ancestor Guanghe is?”

Xiyun pondered, sifting through the limited stories she knew of famous figures. After two minutes, she shook her head earnestly, “I don’t know. Is he someone well-known?”

Tu Shanxi nodded. “In those days, apart from the ancestor who presided over the Demon Realm, there were ten great generals. All ten were at the peak of the divine rank, each wielding powerful artifacts, their strength rivaling that of a half-step supreme. When the Demon Realm sought to rid itself of Qingyuan, whom they considered a scourge, they dispatched Ancestor Guanghe, the most adept at assassination. They even specially prepared a Fire-Passing Spear for him, intending to kill Qingyuan in a single blow.

“I was possessed by some foolish impulse that night. I don’t know why, but I insisted on delivering medicine to Qingyuan in the middle of the night. And so, I took the blow meant for him.”

“And then? What happened after?” Xiyun asked, curiosity overflowing.

Tu Shanxi shook her head. “After I was struck, I lost all my cultivation within moments and died. So whatever happened afterward, I know nothing of.”

“I see,” Xiyun nodded. “Then what did you mean by what you said earlier?”

“I meant that before my death, I had already lost my cultivation. Now, having returned, it is only my body that has been revived. Thus, at present, I am merely a common person. Even if I possess a trove of artifacts, they are useless against someone with celestial rank cultivation.”

Hearing this, a hint of regret flickered in Xiyun’s eyes. “Such a pity. Sister, to reach the peak of the divine rank through the path of alchemy, your talent must far surpass the ordinary. To fall like this, to become mortal, it’s truly a shame.”

Over these thousands of years, she had occasionally descended the mountain to listen to storytellers and was familiar with the popular paths of cultivation—mostly sword immortals, blade masters, those who focused on weaponry. But alchemists and formation masters were always undervalued in the sects, their resources scarce, and so there were fewer than two true great alchemists in all. Looking across the cultivation world, those standing at its pinnacle, aside from a few with exceptionally strong bloodlines, none were alchemists. The most renowned master of alchemy had only reached the half-step peak of the divine rank, yet Tu Shanxi had surpassed even that.

Such a powerful figure, gone so suddenly—it was a profound loss.

Tu Shanxi saw Xiyun fall silent, her gaze tinged with sorrow.

“Enough about me. Let’s talk about you,” she said gently, smoothing Xiyun’s brow. “What path do you cultivate? Or is there a way you love most?”

“Me?” Xiyun thought for a moment and shook her head. “Sister, you know well that we nine-tailed foxes are born in accordance with the Dao. I was born with celestial rank cultivation and have always lived on Fierce Fang Mountain. The spiritual energy there is thin, and the beasts are few. With my celestial rank, I could live comfortably, so I never really cultivated further.”

As she spoke, she glanced furtively at Tu Shanxi, as if afraid she would be blamed for her laziness.

Unexpectedly, Tu Shanxi only stroked her hair softly. “When you were alone on Fierce Fang Mountain, were you happy? Carefree, without danger. The mountain is vast—you could take your original form and run wild. You must have been very happy.”

With Tu Shanxi’s words, Xiyun seemed to return to those days as a little fox on the mountain—running wild in her original form, sleeping wherever she pleased, waking to wander again. Now, such carefree days seemed like a distant past.

Tu Shanxi saw the nostalgia in her eyes and understood Xiyun yearned for that life. “If you like, when your body recovers, I can accompany you back to Fierce Fang Mountain.”

Xiyun was confused. “But then, what about revenge?”

Wouldn’t the pain she suffered have been in vain?

“I’m not telling you to give up on vengeance,” Tu Shanxi replied, “but I want you to understand that the path of cultivation is full of mysteries. Even with all my treasures, I nearly died during my ascension to the celestial and divine ranks. There are countless dangers—secret realms, lands where great powers have perished. If you don’t go, you gain no secrets; if you do, it’s a near-death experience. Even with the nine-tailed fox bloodline, I only gained my former strength after enduring endless hardships. I know better than anyone the suffering and peril of cultivation.”

Tu Shanxi sighed, stood, and walked to the cabinet, her fingers brushing the green leaves.

“To be honest, if you favor peace and have no particular love for any path, I don’t recommend striving for greater cultivation. The road is long, cold, and merciless. No one knows whether tomorrow will bring ascension or a fall into the abyss.”

Listening to Tu Shanxi’s heartfelt words, Xiyun gripped the silk quilt tightly, her eyes clouded and uncertain.

“So you’re advising me not to kill Qingyuan?”

“What?”

Tu Shanxi turned, apparently surprised the conversation had taken this turn.

“Isn’t that what you mean?” Xiyun looked up warily. “If I don’t cultivate, I won’t have the power to threaten Qingyuan; he’ll remain the supreme in this world. He’ll continue to be your greatest support—two birds with one stone.”

She laughed at herself. She had thought Tu Shanxi truly cared for her, but it turned out she only wished to reform her with love.

Xiyun, how could you be so foolish? Fooled by Qingyuan before, now tricked by his senior. Have you learned nothing?

The more she thought, the more aggrieved she felt, as if her feelings had been cast aside.

“What nonsense are you thinking?” Tu Shanxi knocked her head without mercy. “Didn’t you say you liked that life? And you haven’t found your own path yet. Instead of aimlessly studying everything, why not relax? Maybe one day you’ll have an epiphany.”

“Really?” Xiyun, holding her forehead, looked at her in disbelief. “You truly aren’t trying to excuse Qingyuan?”

“Excuse him? I have no desire to die; why would I excuse him? I’m telling you the reality. You’re my only sister—do you think I could watch you go to your death? I’m telling you the difficulty of vengeance, so you don’t act rashly in a moment of anger.”

Seeing her still rubbing her head, Tu Shanxi wondered if she had truly struck too hard.

She was about to check when Xiyun leaned back, refusing to elaborate. “Now I’ve told you clearly how difficult the path of cultivation is. You must choose for yourself—whether to walk the road of vengeance or return to being a little fox. But rest assured, whichever path you pick, I’ll support you.”

“You’re not afraid I’ll die in a secret realm?”

Tu Shanxi shook her head and laughed softly. “What else can I do? I’ll just have to ask a few old friends to get you some more protective treasures.”