Thinking that Xueqing’s current state was clearly not good and this was not the time to ask her to undo the seal, Yu Mi instead called over Zi Yunshu, the Demon Saint, Qu Yirou, Jade Shura, and Si Ruo—those few who were said to be Bao Gu’s life-and-death friends.
She also had Steward Ding, the one in charge, repeat in full everything he knew about what had happened to Bao Gu over the past several hundred years.
Yu Mi had paid close attention. The two versions he gave were essentially identical, with only tiny differences in wording. That meant he wasn’t lying.
She couldn’t help asking,
“Was Bao Gu always this unpredictable in the way she did things?”
Zi Yunshu gave Yu Mi a cool look.
“You know Bao Gu has that supreme treasure called the Xumi Treasure Realm. Do you know what she calls it?”
Yu Mi asked,
“What does she call it?”
Zi Yunshu crisply tossed out,
“Super–Large Storage Pouch.”
She went on,
“And that name? The two of you came up with it together. What were you thinking back then?”
Yu Mi: “…”
Qu Yirou said with a faint smile at her lips,
“When I first met Bao Gu, she’d just stepped into Foundation Establishment. She actually used a tower-type Soul Transformation–grade heavy treasure she’d gotten from a primordial ruin to hire me as a bodyguard. It was only much later that I realized she’d given that treasure to Jade Shura.
You have to understand, in those days in Xuan Yue Ancient City, Soul Transformation was the absolute peak. A Soul Transformation heavy treasure was worth about as much as a sacred artifact today.”
Yu Mi: “…”
Prodigal.
She turned to Jade Shura.
“What was Bao Gu like when you first met her?”
Jade Shura tucked some hair back from her chest, thought a moment, and said,
“I met you two junior sisters at the same time. You sneaked into that primordial ruin with her, and the moment you went in, you blocked the main gate. Then you started killing every Taiyin Sect cultivator you saw.
As for Bao Gu, her cultivation was pitifully low, but she was covered in magic treasures. She threw talismans like they didn’t cost money.
The instant I saw her, I thought: this one’s filthy rich and bleeds money like crazy. And she’s dragging a mountain of trouble behind her. Isn’t that a huge business opportunity walking right up to my door?”
Yu Mi turned, noncommittal, to look at the Demon Saint.
Holy Aunt was Bao Gu’s own master; she should be one of the people who understood Bao Gu best, right?
The Demon Saint frowned faintly.
“What’s wrong with that?”
What’s wrong with that?
Yu Mi blanked for a moment, then thought,
…Fine. Nothing wrong with that.
Qu Yirou chuckled softly and asked,
“You want to know what Bao Gu used to be like? The one who knew best is the former you.
Princess Xueqing is right here. When are you going to have her undo the seal?”
For no good reason, a wave of tension and unease washed over Yu Mi—mixed with a fierce, almost greedy anticipation.
She asked the Demon Saint,
“Holy Aunt, how is Ancestor-Grandma now? Is it… appropriate for me to go to her at this time?”
The Demon Saint said,
“Go.”
Princess Xueqing had lived tens of thousands of years and gone through more than most people could imagine. Her state of mind was long past ordinary. After that brief loss of emotional control, she had quickly regained her calm.
Hearing this, Yu Mi could no longer sit still. Like an impatient young girl, she hastily excused herself and rushed off to find Xueqing.
As soon as Yu Mi stepped into the palace complex where Xueqing lived, she saw her—a figure in a pure white fox-fur cloak, standing straight in the courtyard, gazing up at a distant figure in the sky.
Yu Mi walked forward slowly, cupped her fists, and bowed.
“Yu Mi greets Ancestor-Grandma.”
Xueqing’s gaze fell on her. She gave a small nod.
“There’s no need for such formality.”
Seeing the haste in Yu Mi’s steps just now, she asked,
“Is there something you need?”
Yu Mi answered respectfully,
“I would like to ask Ancestor-Grandma to undo the seal on my memories… if it is convenient for you.”
Xueqing nodded lightly.
“Come with me.”
She led Yu Mi into the main hall and had her sit cross-legged on a soft couch.
Then Xueqing split off a strand of divine sense, dove into the depths of Yu Mi’s consciousness, and one by one undid the seals she had placed over all those memories related to Bao Gu.
As the seals dissolved, scenes from the past resurfaced vividly in Yu Mi’s mind.
The Kandao Writ Master of rumor, the one whose name shook the cultivation world—
In her clearest memory, that legendary figure was a half-grown girl of twelve, thirteen, maybe fourteen.
A scrawny little thing without even two proper ounces of flesh on her, eyes bright and clear.
The Kandao Writ Master others described was either cold and aloof or razor sharp, someone who seemed untouched by worldly dust, who, once battle intent erupted, could cover the heavens with killing intent.
But what she remembered…
Was a little girl always squinting with a silly smile, an ancestral abacus from the Bao family hanging around her neck, forever clicking through calculations in her heart.
So young, yet already prematurely shrewd, scheming over everything, painstakingly managing Xuantian Sect.
Back then, she’d always felt Bao Gu was deeply scheming, like a smiling tiger.
Only now, looking back, did she realize just how hard things had been for Bao Gu at that time.
How much bitterness and hardship had been hidden beneath that dazzling smile, how no matter how hard or painful it was, Bao Gu just swallowed it all down and faced everything with a grin.
Back then, Bao Gu had always looked at her with those longing eyes, thinking up every possible way to follow at her side.
She’d found Bao Gu clingy, and terrible in fights besides. Whenever they met enemies, Bao Gu almost had no ability to protect herself. If she didn’t protect Bao Gu, Bao Gu absolutely wouldn’t survive.
She herself had been weak back then too. She could at least survive a hit—at worst, heavily injured. But that pitifully frail little Bao Gu, if she took a solid blow, wouldn’t she be slapped to death on the spot?
Whenever she thought of that pitiful little figure, Yu Mi just couldn’t harden her heart.
She would rush in on impulse, sometimes stepping in front of blows before she even realized she’d moved.
Even now, when she thought about it—Bao Gu had been that weak, and she herself was the senior sister. If she didn’t protect her, who would?
She had despised how slowly Bao Gu cultivated, how weak her battle power was. She’d never said it straight out, but deep down she still thought Bao Gu, with her five-spirit-roots aptitude, even if she might have great potential in the far future, had an even greater chance of never reaching Nascent Soul at all.
So she hadn’t wanted Bao Gu to follow her around.
Only now did she finally see how hard Bao Gu had been working back then, how exhausting and painful it had been for her to chase after her shadow.
Like a child terrified of being abandoned, stumbling and falling again and again, but still running desperately behind, trying not to be left too far behind…
All this time, she’d thought Bao Gu had so much.
Endless cultivation resources. The attention of the sect’s Grandmaster. The protection of Martial Uncle Feng. Duobao the little monkey following her with unwavering devotion.
Everywhere she went, she stumbled into great opportunities, her luck so outrageous it made people jealous.
Only now did she understand: everything Bao Gu had, she had scraped together with blood and sweat.
Those so-called great opportunities hadn’t just fallen from the sky into her hands—they were things she clawed out of life-and-death situations, gambling with her own life and taking insane risks to obtain.
Like the dragon-kin medicine field Bao Gu had used as her starting capital.
That had been won in a contest of wits with a flood-dragon corpse fiend.
At the time, Yu Mi hadn’t understood. She’d watched Bao Gu talk circles around the flood-dragon corpse fiend and get it to hand over such a huge asset, then later scare it off with just a few words, and she’d thought Bao Gu was just lucky.
She’d never realized Bao Gu had already stepped with one foot over the line of death. The slightest misstep, and she, they, maybe even the whole of Xuan Yue Ancient City could have been annihilated by that flood-dragon corpse fiend.
She had seen Bao Gu’s wealth. She had seen how many people valued Bao Gu, how she smoothed things over everywhere, coaxing Grandmaster and Martial Uncles and everyone around her.
What she hadn’t seen…
Was how profoundly uneasy Bao Gu had been back then.
How desperately she had craved family and love.
How hard she’d tried to hold on to Yu Mi and to everything she possessed.
How terrified she’d been of losing it all.
She had disliked Bao Gu’s mercantile habits—ignoring proper cultivation to run one business venture after another to earn resources.
She’d thought: even if you earn endless resources, if your aptitude is poor and you’re clumsy in battle, if your cultivation realm never rises, what’s the use?
She hadn’t known that precisely because Bao Gu’s cultivation consumed so much, and Xuantian Sect was so dirt poor, Bao Gu had needed to earn money desperately.
To feed herself, to feed Yu Mi, to feed Xuantian Sect…
The legendary Kandao Writ Master, blessed by generations of ancestors’ accumulated virtue, a person with heaven-defying chance and immortal fate on her shoulders—
She’d soared straight up to the heavens, dragging Xuantian Sect along with her to prosper.
Yet the Bao Gu in Yu Mi’s memories had thin shoulders and a frail body, a five-spirit-roots aptitude that made cultivation excruciatingly slow, and a heart that she offered up to Yu Mi with stupid, clumsy sincerity.
In the past, Yu Mi had always felt Bao Gu was hard to understand.
She’d tried to get to know her, but always felt Bao Gu hid herself too deeply, impossible to see through.
It wasn’t until she truly got together with Bao Gu that she realized Bao Gu had never wanted anything complicated.
All she’d ever wanted was a simple, steady life spent together.
A quiet little courtyard no one disturbed, with Yu Mi, Little Martial Aunt, and Holy Aunt as neighbors, passing the time sipping tea and daydreaming whenever they were free—and that would be enough to satisfy her.
Xueqing withdrew her divine sense.
Seeing Yu Mi sitting there, completely absorbed in her thoughts, she rose soundlessly and walked out into the courtyard.
She stood there, looking up at the clouds shifting with the wind, her expression mild, a trace of confusion in her eyes.
Suddenly she felt a familiar, almost imperceptible fluctuation of energy flicker and vanish outside the main gate of the Writ Master’s Estate.
A moment later, she sensed two familiar figures slipping through the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox clan’s illusions as if no one were there, bypassing the layers of guards at the gate and charging straight into the palace.
The two figures headed right for the main hall, one in front and one behind—Ling’er and Xuan Yue.
Ling’er rushed into the hall and swept her gaze around.
She saw Zi Yunshu, the Demon Saint, Qu Yirou, Jade Shura, and Si Ruo sitting together, chatting over tea.
But Yu Mi and Bao Gu were nowhere to be seen.
She asked,
“Bao Gu’s back?”
Duobao the Spirit Monkey, perched on Ling’er’s shoulder, stared wide-eyed around the hall.
When her gaze fell in the direction where Xueqing stood, she suddenly let out a sharp “Eek!” and slapped both hands over her eyes.
Then she spread one finger and peeked through it toward the courtyard.
Jade Shura answered,
“She’s back. You’re late—Bao Gu has gone into seclusion.”
Ling’er asked,
“Then where’s Sister Yu Mi?”
Jade Shura said,
“Out the back door, turn left. The palace right beside the main hall complex.”
Ling’er let out an “Oh,” grabbed Xuan Yue, and tore off toward Yu Mi’s palace.
As she ran, she shouted,
“Sister Yu Mi, we’re here!”
She vaulted into the courtyard in a single bound—only to find a silent, motionless figure standing right in the middle.
Her heart nearly stopped. She froze where she landed.
Seeing her own mother standing in the courtyard, Xuan Yue also jumped in fright. She called out quietly,
“Mother.”
Ling’er shrank her neck in, forced herself to say,
“Aunt.”
Then she snuck a glance at Xuan Yue and, feeling guilty, looked at Xueqing’s slightly cool expression.
Xueqing’s gaze rested on the two of them for a moment.
Then she slowly turned and went back into the hall.
Xuan Yue had never seen her mother like this.
Her mother had always been gentle, always carrying a faint, soft smile. But right now—
She must be heartbroken.
Xuan Yue sighed to herself and said to Ling’er,
“Let’s go.”
Ling’er whispered,
“How about we…”
Bow our heads and admit fault to Aunt?
Yet she felt she wasn’t wrong at all.
There was even a saying in the mortal world, wasn’t there? Cousins make the best spouses…
Xuan Yue shook her head.
She glanced back anxiously and saw her mother already inside, the doors shut. Her divine sense couldn’t even penetrate the barrier.
She still remembered vividly:
Her fingers had been deep inside Ling’er’s body, wantonly teasing. Ling’er’s eyes had been glazed with pleasure, and they had both…
They had both been so lost in each other they hadn’t noticed when her mother appeared at the entrance to the courtyard.
Those obscene, shameless words she’d whispered at the time—she didn’t dare imagine how they’d sounded in her mother’s ears.
When she’d finally turned around and seen her mother standing there, eyes wide with shock, one hand gripping the doorframe so hard she crushed it to splinters…
After that, both she and Ling’er had been locked up in solitary confinement.
Over a month later, the stone tile beneath her suddenly trembled.
Xuan Yue pried it up and was stunned to see Ling’er—back in her Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox form—appear from a tunnel below, her whole body caked in dirt, her little paws that should have been snowy white completely coated in dust.
She looked like she’d rolled through a mud pit.
Ling’er spat out a mouthful of dirt.
“What are you staring at? Hurry up and move. It took me forever to dig this tunnel. Once Aunt finds out, we won’t be going anywhere.”
Xuan Yue blurted,
“Go… where?”
Ling’er said,
“If we don’t leave, you want to stay locked up forever? Aunt’s still in shock right now. Once she comes to her senses, you think we’ll get off easy?
If she can seal Sister Yu Mi’s memories, she can seal ours.
If she seals away everything we remember about each other, then throws us each to some different place, you’ll end up just like Sister Yu Mi—heart with a missing piece, not knowing where to fill it in, wandering the world searching without knowing what you’re even looking for.
I’m telling you right now, I’m not doing the amnesia thing with you.
Let’s go back to the cultivation world. We’re cooped up in the demon domain all day, surrounded by demon cultivators who look like they belong in a stewpot—don’t you get hungry?”
Xuan Yue asked,
“Won’t Mother come to the cultivation world to drag us back?”
Ling’er said,
“I know every inch of the cultivation world’s lands. She won’t find us.
Once she calms down and thinks it through, we can come back.
I think Aunt’s just stuck on one little point. Think about Sister Yu Mi and Bao Gu—did she ever object? Think about the Demon Saint and Zi Yunshu—does she have any problem with them?
If we weren’t related by blood, she’d probably have agreed already. Cousins make the best match, remember?”
Xuan Yue snapped,
“Match your big ghost head! A daughter with her own aunt’s daughter is not the same as disciples ending up together!”
Ling’er snorted,
“Fine. If you’re so eager to forget me, then go ahead and forget.”
Caked head to toe in dirt, Ling’er wriggled back into the tunnel, looking for all the world like she was going to run off and leave Xuan Yue behind.
Xuan Yue hesitated for a heartbeat, then dove into the passage as well.
But when the two of them crawled out of the hole Ling’er had dug, they froze.
Her mother was standing right at the tunnel mouth.
Xueqing said,
“Why?
Yue’er, Ling’er, the two of you are bound by blood. Why insist on knowingly committing this wrong?
Yu Mi and Bao Gu share no blood. Zi Yunshu and the Demon Saint likewise.
But you two—are first cousins, born of direct blood. Among demonkind, love does not need to heed gender. Many demons can even change their gender at will.
But among demons, bloodline has always been paramount.
One of you carries the pure Celestial Fox imperial bloodline. The other carries half that bloodline.
Children born from one unbroken line of that blood will suffer heaven’s wrath.
You, and any child you bear, will die a hundred thousand deaths and still not be absolved.
And if you choose to have no offspring at all, then the Celestial Fox royal line will end with you.”
