Chapter 121: The Beginning of Spring

He Songning was a prominent Senior Disciple within the December Sect.

Passages to the Demon Realm shifted every so often; no one knew their exact locations, so people had to be sent everywhere to search for them. Three years had passed since the last shift. Now, as flowers bloomed in the warmth of spring, the locations had changed once again.

It was necessary to find and guard as many passages as possible to prevent rogue cultivators from wandering in by mistake. These passages were also known as the "Road to the Yellow Springs," a name given by common folk based on haunting, ephemeral rumors. To an ordinary person, the Demon Realm was indeed nothing less than the road to the afterlife.

This time, He Songning had volunteered, emerging from seclusion to search the Qinglian Prefecture area.

The spring breeze was gentle, driving away the harsh winter, yet it still carried a slight chill. Cultivators, living through so many years, generally felt little toward the changing of seasons; there was rarely anything novel about it. What

was

novel were the mortals with their hundred-year lifespans; every time He Songning emerged from a stint of seclusion, they had invented some new curiosity.

He flew on his sword amidst the clouds, looking down. From his height, the people below were like ants, yet he could see the bustling crowds and the peaceful prosperity of the marketplace. Looking at it, he couldn't help but let out a smile.

After searching for several months, He Songning finally found a hidden passage. He never traveled with others because he was prone to smiling and didn't want people to think less of him; he felt he had to maintain a cold, distant facade to keep others at bay.

As the passage came within reach, He Songning’s expression suddenly turned solemn.

"Who's there?!"

A furtive figure of a demonic cultivator scrambled out in a panic, attempting to flee toward the outskirts of the wild forest.

He Songning’s voice was heavy: "Those of the Demon Realm are not permitted to enter the mortal realm without authorization!"

In an instant, an inescapable net spread from all directions. Seeing no way out, the demonic cultivator cried out fiercely, "I just want to stay alive! Your cultivation world is too overbearing!"

He Songning remained unmoved. His grip tightened, and the spiritual net closed in on the demonic cultivator.

He said coldly, "After the defeat, for every ten demonic cultivators who entered the mortal realm, nine robbed the commoners of their wealth and wantonly abused the old and young. The remaining one lurked in the cultivation world to murder and steal treasures. Despite having food, you still gouge out hearts, eating them raw while mocking the victims. You skewer mortals to parade them through the streets in a show of force, using your cultivation to slaughter civilians, turning peaceful cities into hell. You ask why the cultivation world has no room for you?"

The demonic cultivator screamed in rage, "That wasn't me! I... I promise I will follow the rules of you cultivators—"

"That is what those people said as well."

He Songning spoke no more. Clear spiritual power rippled outward.

After a bout of fighting, he had been at ease and was about to capture the cultivator, when the man suddenly erupted. His pupils turned crimson, and demonic Qi spilled out—he had been in a state of cultivation deviation for a long time and was at his wits' end; he was doomed to die regardless.

The spiritual Qi in the Demon Realm was sparse, and the bodies of mortals there didn't offer the same nourishing effect as those in the cultivation world. The demonic cultivator had intended to use evil methods to absorb human life and flesh to save himself. Regardless of whether it would work, he had to try. Now that his plan was ruined, the demonic Qi in his body turned chaotic and uncontrollable. Self-destruction was the only path left.

"!"

He Songning was immediately knocked back several steps by the shockwave of the blast, and then—

He stepped into the Demon Realm.

He Songning: "..."

The cultivation world did not fear mortals entering the Demon Realm because the passages were usually sealed with extremely complex formations. One had to see through the array and step on the correct nodes to enter. This required a clever person, such as an array master skilled in mathematics.

...In any case, it wasn't him.

He Songning looked at the wasteland of yellow soil before him, then up at the scorching sun. Right by his foot was a human skull, half-buried in the dirt.

Silence.

"..."

"Mhm..."

The Demon Realm, Immortal-Slaying Pavilion.

How does one act as a Pavilion Master?

In truth, it was much simpler than running a company—or so the System said.

[After all, if your strength is high enough, no one can drag you down.]

The System spoke with the air of a sage:

[Not to mention you have a top-tier assistant; it makes everything twice as easy.]

Mist rose in the air as a golden dragon-head fountain continuously spat out beautiful pillars of water. Zora was soaking in a thermal pool, leaning against the edge while her long, dark hair was held in someone's palms.

Wang Yili held the hair nervously. ...Normally, this task would be performed by a professional maid who had undergone rigorous training.

—But the Master refused.

After the banquet, Zora was about to ask about her sleeping quarters when a man suddenly stood up and said in a small voice, "There is a newly carved thermal pool in the rear. The Master can try it... if you are unsatisfied, we will carve another."

Wang Yili, hiding in the shadows at the time, had shot him a glance.

Oh, from the Department of Works.

Zora thought about it. Perhaps it was because she had spent all day gauging the strength of the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion only to find the previous Master couldn't fight and the rest were even worse; the rising sense of security put her in a good mood. Hearing this, she was curious about the difference between a thermal pool and the spiritual pools or cold ponds she had soaked in before. So, she casually chose someone she knew and was familiar with to attend to her.

Uh... which was her.

She had originally chosen Vane, but he had looked surprised for a moment, then lowered his eyes and declined with pursed lips.

—Incredible. She had thought he would never, and would never dare to, refuse the Master.

She didn't know what the youth had whispered in Zora’s ear, but after listening, Zora simply nodded, and then... then it became her turn.

Knowing her well—meant knowing Wang Yili couldn't win a fight. Even with her hands close to Zora’s scalp, she wouldn't succeed. After all, this was a cultivation world; a person's body was different from a mortal's.

Being familiar—the Immortal-Slaying Pavilion had been "contributed" eagerly by Wang Yili. How could they not be familiar?

Wang Yili knelt on the stone slabs with a stiff face.

The former Master was excessively luxurious. A thermal pool should have been outdoors, but the people in the Pavilion had habitually built a small palace to enclose it. Expensive wooden pillars carved with birds and beasts stood everywhere, emitting a faint woody fragrance that filled the nose.

The thermal pool was like an inlay in the floor. The hidden guard’s hands were somewhat rough and her bones weren't small; the girl's smooth, ink-like hair in her palms created a strange contrast.

Wang Yili was extremely anxious. Beside her were small ceramic containers; presumably, they held hair-washing products. She scooped a bit out—it was oil-like, with a faint pink tint and an incredibly sweet fragrance.

...This, this should be applied directly to the hair, right? Do these oils have a specific order? —Do they? No, probably not.

Wang Yili’s mind was racing, but her surface was as steady as a mountain as she systematically massaged the strands of hair.

After a while, the overly sweet scent drifted away.

Zora’s nose twitched involuntarily, and she let out a small, soft sneeze.

It made Wang Yili jump; she nearly blurted out,

I'm sorry Master, please have mercy and spare my life!

In the end, even after she helped Zora dress, she heard no word of blame.

Wang Yili breathed a sigh of relief. Though she was no longer a hidden guard, her current Master seemed quite decent—her temper was much better than the previous one's.

Wet feet stepped onto the stone slabs. Zora threw on an outer robe and walked toward the door, leaving a trail of watery footprints on the ground that quickly evaporated.

Wang Yili pushed the door open ahead of her. Moonlight poured in, and Zora happened to see Vane waiting at the entrance.

Wang Yili took her leave tactfully.

As she was about to step out of the courtyard, she heard Vane’s leisurely voice.

"It seems she really likes your hair; she wants to put every good thing on it."

Zora didn't care much: "Mhm, is that so?"

"..." Wang Yili walked away even faster.

She had wanted to say this for a long time: this man really has a silver tongue...

But with a little thought, she understood his mindset. It was simply a case of: rather than scolding a servant immediately, it was better to keep the new Master happy.

...

Vane: "Can I touch your hair?"

His tone was inquiring.

Zora: "You can."

The moonlight was dim tonight, as if layers of soft light had wrapped the moon, making its outline blurred and unclear. His features weren't exactly soft—they were even a bit sharp—but when the youth tilted his brow and lowered his eyes, that face strangely became piteous and harmless, like a ball of animal fur curling up at her feet.

Zora watched him raise his hand. Her lashes lifted slightly as he touched her hair, then habitually smoothed it from top to bottom.

The cloying fragrance lingered in the air. Zora’s nose twitched involuntarily; inevitably smelling the spreading sweetness, she let out another short sneeze.

Vane: "..."

His hand paused, then continued naturally.

The oils hadn't fully adhered to her hair. No matter how carefully Wang Yili massaged them, in the eyes of an expert, it was still crude; Zora’s dark hair clearly hadn't absorbed them completely.

Spiritual power covered his palm. He smoothed her hair stroke by stroke, just as he did every morning. As the strands slid across his palm and fingertips, the oils were quickly processed. He couldn't strip them away entirely, nor did he intend to.

What he had to do was provide a perfect follow-up.

Soon, the fragrance faded until it was no longer pungent, and the wet hair gradually dried. It wasn't good to dry wet hair too quickly, as it would make the hair frizzy and the person uncomfortable—after all, few people could master the fine manipulation of spiritual power with such precision.

The water droplets evaporated bit by bit, finally dissipating into the air.

Zora put on her shoes, intending to return to the sleeping quarters those people had carefully prepared, when she heard Vane continue: "I..."

After a moment, there was still no following word. Zora tilted her head in confusion and stared at him.

Vane pursed his lips, appearing somewhat nervous; the usual ease he showed the outside world had vanished completely.

"I... following the rules common in the cultivation world, I have written the Union contract. I've modified a few parts."

He had been looking at the brick floor by her feet, but as he finished, he lifted his eyes. They held the light of cold stars as he looked straight into her eyes.

Zora: "A Union contract?"

She had no concept of the fact that one should sign a Union contract during a grand wedding ceremony. Hearing this, she reached out directly: "Give it here, then."

"..." He actually fell silent for a moment. "Apologies. I locked it in a sandalwood box; it may take a moment to fetch."

Then why did you bring it up just now?

Zora shot him another puzzled glance.

He had never made such a blunder. Zora was in a good mood, so she asked, "How long do I have to wait?"

"Just a moment."

"Then go get it."

Vane glanced at her, turned, and left, seemingly toward the room where he had been resting earlier.

Zora stood in place, hugging her arms and dazing for a moment, before coming to her senses. She was very bored; she kicked a pebble on the steps. The small stone rolled for a bit, hitting the trunk of a tree and bouncing back to the ground.

Zora followed it with her eyes, then leaped up. As her soft skirts slid down like floating clouds, she was already sitting steadily in the tree.

The occasional rustle of leaves drifted by her ears. She reached out and tugged a branch; the leafy bough was pulled down heavily by her hand, then she let go, watching the branch sway up and down, triggering a flurry of rustling leaves.

When Vane arrived, he made no sound. In the blink of an eye, he was sitting beside her. The thick branch was sturdy enough to support two people.

"This is the Union contract." As he spoke, he lowered his eyes, not looking at her. He unrolled the bamboo paper; the handwriting was sharp and fluid, pleasing to the eye.

Zora looked down. She knew of Union contracts, but hadn't paid much attention to what should be written in them.

Usually, it consisted of words representing deep affection, followed by constraints that entwined their fates. Even if a Dao partner died, the other could vaguely sense where the soul resided. When a mortal dies, the soul lingers for a while; when a cultivator dies, the soul exists in the world even longer. Many people had used this to try and capture a partner's soul to put into a wooden puppet to resurrect them, but none succeeded. Fate’s entanglement simply allowed one to be with a partner's soul a bit longer. Furthermore, there was the common knowledge of dual cultivation yielding twice the result, being able to sense when a partner was injured, and so on.

Zora read a few words, then pointed her finger at one of the clauses: "What does this mean?"

The Union contract used archaic and obscure phrasing that even many natives couldn't understand, let alone Zora. In the cultivation world, Union contracts followed a fixed format; as long as the phrasing was correct and not contradictory, the Heavenly Dao would acknowledge it. Normally, one just had to copy an old one and fill in the names, but Vane seemed to have written a new one.

Moreover—

Zora noticed the bamboo paper faintly emitting a restrictive force, waiting for the parties to sign for it to take effect. What he wrote was actually valid.

Vane said gently: "This means it weakens your perception of the damage to my body."

Zora looked at him.

He smiled: "After all, we are in the Demon Realm, and I am your servant; I will definitely have to do things frequently. If the perception is too strong, it will disturb you."

Zora immediately showed an appreciative look: "True."

She didn't want to be woken up from her sleep by an intense sensation. If there was a life-threatening danger, the Master-Servant oath would alert her anyway.

She continued reading. After a few more sentences, she pointed at the paper again: "And here?"

"This is..."

He answered every question she asked. Unknowingly, the two were huddled together like they were studying a textbook, their heads close. The Union contract was spread between them, and they discussed it word by word.

Wherever her fingertip pointed, he explained. If a change was needed, he used a brush from his storage bag to cross out the original sentence and make a note in the margin.

The moment he crossed out the first few words, the restrictive force waiting within the contract vanished abruptly.

Zora: "Ah, it's useless now."

Vane: "It's fine. This is just a draft. I will write it again."

He wrote for a while. Zora’s interest rose; feeling like she hadn't used a brush in a long time, she took the warm brush from him, wanting to write on the paper. Vane loosened his fingers the moment her hand reached out, and she snatched the brush without any obstacle. He lifted his eyes to watch her handle it.

As soon as Zora set her grip, Vane spoke at the right moment, softly reciting the words that needed to be noted. Zora wrote down the sentences as seriously as if it were a dictation, each stroke very neat. She didn't know how to do cursive; she knew no fancy or flamboyant fonts. When she learned characters, she wrote them stroke by stroke, and she still did so now. However, it no longer looked childish; instead, it seemed organized and serious to the extreme, the square characters quite handsome.

She wrote slowly. The Union contract was placed between them, each occupying one of their thighs. When Zora wrote, she leaned toward his side. The faint scent from her hair drifted into his nose. She had new, light hairs growing at her forehead; having just been washed, those short hairs stood up fuzzily, occasionally nuzzling his chin or cheek.

Writing the final stroke, Zora withdrew her hand with satisfaction: "Done."

Vane came to his senses, pursed his lips, and rolled up the contract.

Zora propped herself up with one hand on the branch between them, shoved the brush directly into his storage bag, and stayed there, turning her body to stare at him.

"..."

Vane paused, looked at the ground, then turned his eyes back a moment later to meet her gaze.

Zora thought for a moment: "So, we are Dao partners now?"

Not exactly. According to the rules, a grand wedding should be held, friends and family invited to witness, and then the contract signed during the ceremony to accept the Heavenly Dao's constraints. This was the process through which countless couples had joined their hearts over thousands of years.

But Vane only paused for a brief moment before nodding slightly to affirm her.

"Yes. We are Dao partners now."

The youth beneath the moon and tree shadows was truly beautiful. His face was calm, but there was a faint, reddish tint of excitement in the details, mixed with a chaotic, thick mass of emotions that gave his face a vibrant allure.

Zora stared, propping up her head and leaning in.

She was direct and entirely without shyness, just as she used to be when pecking his cheek.

Vane didn't move, but his lashes trembled at the last second.

She had just finished her bath; logically, she should be warm, but her soft lips were slightly cool.

Zora pressed against him just like that. Because she used the same force as when pecking his cheek, her slightly pouted lips were pressed flat, as were his thin ones.

In the past, no matter how she kissed him, he wouldn't move, and would even proactively draw closer to accommodate her. Now, however, Vane’s strength vanished in an instant. The ponytail at the back of his head hit the rough tree trunk, giving a faint sensation of pressure.

The bamboo paper was crumpled in his grip. His breath stopped abruptly; it was as if he had died for an instant, his heart stopping with it, followed by a heavy thud. Because it was so intense, it created the illusion that his heart didn't exist.

Their breaths mingled. His heat was quickly transmitted through their lips, soft and burning, easily warming the girl's cool temperature.

The hem of her blue-and-white dress entwined gently with his black-and-silver robes. Soft moonlight spilled through the gaps in the trees. Vane stayed motionless. In that moment, it was as if he didn't exist, nor the moon, the trees, or the spring breeze—only this person before him, whose kiss felt like a light collision.

Zora soon straightened up, her slightly round almond eyes looking at him.

Her lips returned to their pouted fullness. Part of the color had turned from pale pink to white, unevenly so; it was clear they had been squeezed, and only after a moment did they slowly recover.

A dense sensation slowly spread across his mouth, not entirely uniform. Zora had clearly applied force toward the center; the color of her philtrum was the slowest to return, and Vane's was the same.

The youth pursed his lips, then slowly let go. The tingling sensation traveled from his lips all the way into his marrow; even his spine was submerged in an extreme numbness. It nearly made him want to tremble. Intense excitement and other thick sentiments surged; even his fingertips were shaking slightly. He had to grip the bamboo paper tightly to maintain his outward composure.

Zora saw that he had been knocked against the tree and didn't straighten up even after the kiss, just staring at her like he was dead. So Zora kindly grabbed the fabric of his arm and pulled him upright.

Zora saw the bamboo paper he had crumpled: "Is the ink dry?"

Vane answered her instinctively, unrolling the paper: "It won't smudge... the writing is still clear."

Zora nodded: "Good, then."

"..."

She paid no mind to her unusually silent and strangely focused new Dao partner, reaching out to tug down a branch above them and letting it go. The branch bobbed up and down, occasionally hiding the moon and then revealing it again.

Zora: "Is the moon in the Demon Realm the same one as in the cultivation world?"

"..." It took a moment before he seemed to come to his senses. "No."

Vane's reaction had become extremely slow. He paused before continuing, "The moon in the Demon Realm can emit heat like the sun in the summer. The days are hot, and the nights are even hotter. That is why as many people die in the Demon Realm in the summer as in the winter."

Zora: "What day is it today?"

Vane: "The fourteenth day of the first month."

Zora made a sound of affirmation. She didn't think about how long it was until summer, but instead brought up another topic: "Then, the fourteenth of the first month is when we became Dao partners."

"..."

No one spoke for a long while.

Zora turned her head, meeting his gaze. Vane looked away the moment he hit her eyes.

"...Yes."

As he spoke, he turned his head back to stare directly at her, and then smiled gently.

"It happens to be the Beginning of Spring."