Chapter 134: A Poison Sweet as Nectar

Two months later, the weather had grown increasingly cold. Dark clouds gathered over the mountain peaks, and icy winds howled through the passes. Fortunately, those who resided here were no ordinary mortals, and such chill meant little to them.

Inside a dwelling, a man with disheveled hair lay half-reclined on a lounge chair. He held a wine flask, his clothes left partially unfastened, and a heavy scent of peach blossoms radiated from his body. His face was covered in stubble, and his entire being was steeped in exhaustion, as if he had retreated into his own world, wallowing in decadence.

In the distance, an old man and a young woman watched him in silence, their hearts heavy with complex emotions.

"Master, if the senior brother continues like this, I fear he will never find his way back," the junior sister said, her beautiful eyes shimmering with worry and heartache. She was dressed in a long, pale yellow gown.

"Huan'er, have I done something wrong?" Jin Xuanzi suddenly asked after a long silence.

The junior sister, whose given name was Tan Huanhuan, asked in confusion, "Master, why do you say that?"

"Do you know why I forbade your senior brother from descending the mountain to find that woman?" Jin Xuanzi asked, his gaze fixed on Baili Mo's decadent form.

"Was it because you did not want him to become entangled in the strife of the royal court?" Tan Huanhuan pondered for a moment before answering.

"Not at all. Dealing with your senior brother's situation is far more difficult than any royal conflict," Jin Xuanzi replied with a faint shake of his head, leaving Tan Huanhuan utterly bewildered.

"What is wrong with my senior brother?" she asked.

"That woman is his tribulation—a path to total destruction," Jin Xuanzi said softly.

"Total destruction?!" Tan Huanhuan gasped.

"The art of divination is merely catching a glimpse of the truth about the future within the vast, inscrutable currents of fate. Such truths, whether real or false, cannot be called certain until they have come to pass; they are merely possibilities. The higher one's cultivation, the more truths one may glimpse, and the more likely those divined events are to manifest. My position as one of the Twelve Immortals of the Southern Mystery Sect rests upon this art of near-infallible prediction."

"On that night he left the mountain, I performed a casual divination to locate him. I discovered that the trajectory of his fate had suddenly changed that night. His hexagram was chaotic, as if someone had forcibly severed his original path and pushed him toward an abyss of absolute ruin."

"I initially thought it was a faulty reading, as one cannot judge right from wrong based on a single divination. But then, stranger things occurred. Your senior brother seemed to be shrouded in a thick mist; no matter how I calculated, I could not discern a single thing. It was as if a great cultivator had intervened in his destiny, masking his path. Even now, I cannot calculate anything concerning him—not even the simplest divination of his whereabouts."

Jin Xuanzi spoke slowly, his heavy tone betraying his inner turmoil. That night, he had thought it was a mere error, but further attempts had caused him injury. This confirmed that his initial reading was likely correct, and that the great cultivator hiding in the shadows was powerful—certainly stronger than himself.

"Then... what will happen to Senior Brother? Master, what exactly did you divine that night?" Tan Huanhuan asked urgently, the anxiety on her face plain for all to see.

"That night, I only saw two characters," Jin Xuanzi sighed deeply, as if recalling the memory.

"Two characters? Which ones?"

"Disaster. Annihilation." An icy wind blew, causing his Taoist robes to flutter.

"Disaster and annihilation? What does that mean?" Tan Huanhuan was even more perplexed.

"A calamity of ruin—or the cessation of the disaster," Jin Xuanzi replied, then added, "That child has already fallen into someone else's scheme. Even for me, the best I can do now is keep him here on the mountain; isolating him from the outside world is his best protection."

"Is that why you won't let him leave?" Tan Huanhuan mused.

"Not entirely. I have tried many things to mend the situation, but all have failed. I cannot calculate anything regarding Mo'er. Is it not laughable? A pillar of the Southern Mystery Sect, one of the Twelve Immortals, at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage and nearing the threshold of the God-Refining realm, yet I cannot even protect my own disciple." Jin Xuanzi smiled self-deprecatingly, his helplessness echoing against the dim mountain peak.

"Master, you did it for his own good. You shouldn't blame yourself," Tan Huanhuan said.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it was a mistake to bring him down the mountain in the first place. That night, he clearly fell into a demonic obsession. Though only a sliver, it was fundamentally opposed to the tenets of our sect. I am deeply worried that one day, he will lose himself entirely." Concern clouded Jin Xuanzi's eyes.

"Senior Brother won't. I will stay by his side, and I will never leave him!" Tan Huanhuan clenched her fists, speaking with great determination.

"I hope so. But at least I have had some success over the years. I bypassed Mo'er and divined the young woman who caused him to become this way."

"Princess Qinglian?" Tan Huanhuan asked with a complex expression.

"Yes. And I discovered that she is the source of that ruin. She is the beginning of his total destruction. While I do not know how his fate will unfold, knowing this much allows me to understand something: as long as Mo'er severs his ties with that princess, the outcome I divined that night might be avoided. It is the best choice."

"Does Senior Brother know?" Tan Huanhuan asked with a trace of bitterness.

"He does not. I have not told him. To tell him would only increase his suffering," Jin Xuanzi replied, shaking his head.

After a long while, Tan Huanhuan asked, "Master, how do you think Senior Brother feels right now?"

"And how do you feel?" Jin Xuanzi turned his head, his eyes seeming to pierce through everything as he looked at his second disciple.

"Master, what do you mean?" Tan Huanhuan's face flushed a deep crimson, as if her own secrets had been laid bare.

"Foolish child," Jin Xuanzi smiled softly, shook his head, and then dissipated like mist, vanishing without a trace.

"Stupid Master!" After a long moment, the junior sister regained her composure and stomped her foot in annoyance.

She turned her gaze back to her senior brother, Baili Mo. The meeting two months ago had been like a heavy hammer, shattering him completely. It was hard to believe such weakness could exist in a cultivator.

Love is like a poison—one consumes it willingly, only to find later that it has seeped into the marrow, impossible to excise. This is true for mortals and cultivators alike; it treats everyone with the same cruelty.

Yes, everyone. Tan Huanhuan watched Baili Mo, motionless. She watched how his every action tugged at her heart, how his every word influenced her soul. It was a feeling of helplessness, of profound impotence.

All she could do was care for him when he was dead drunk, brew his favorite peach blossom wine time and again after he finished his supply, and sit silently by his side when he needed her, listening to his drunken, incoherent tales of the princess. He never knew how much her heart ached during those moments.

A cultivator who had abandoned the use of spiritual energy to clear his drunkenness, he was willing to be intoxicated, desperate to forget.

A cultivator who had abandoned her dignity, she loved with a humility so painful she dared not reveal her heart, terrified that if she did, the last shred of hope would vanish.

It was heart-wrenching.

A month later, on a day no one could later recall, Jin Xuanzi took his junior disciple and descended the mountain once more, leaving the decadent, fragile Baili Mo alone on the peak.

And this time, everything began to change. The gears of fate, as if nudged by an unseen hand, began to turn again, pushing Baili Mo back toward that path of total destruction.

All things are fated; not a single detail is left to man.