Cheng Xueyi had begun a one-sided cold war with Shen Nanyin.
If she hadn’t had a mission riding on this—needing him to help her find Moon-Mending Grass—she would have beaten him black and blue and stormed off without a backward glance.
Life in Heart-Devouring Valley had been hard, but her heart had never felt this stifled there. Any anger she felt, she vented on the spot, and most of the time she didn’t even need to lift a hand herself—Fuguang would tear apart any demonic race member foolish enough to provoke her.
Truly detestable.
Shen Nanyin had grown a face that good-looking, one that sat perfectly within her aesthetic preferences, and yet he refused to put it to proper use, insisting instead on standing against her.
“Bell-Chime Illusion is not a righteous path”—those words kept replaying over and over in her mind. He’d better not bring it up again, or she really couldn’t guarantee she’d keep herself under control.
He’d seen through the illusion at the stone gate. That didn’t mean he’d see through the next one too.
She wouldn’t fail every time.
The moment she thought this, Shen Nanyin asked, “I wonder where Junior Sister Cheng learned Bell-Chime Illusion?”
Even as they spoke, neither of them had been idle. Cheng Xueyi was an outer disciple who’d taken on this mission—not exactly swamped with duties. Shen Nanyin was different.
As the eldest disciple of Jingci Fazong and the future sect leader of Qiantian Sect, he could rightly be called swamped with a thousand matters, with all manner of sect business large and small waiting for his return. Naturally he needed to move quickly to secure the Moon-Mending Grass.
Someone of his standing would surely know where the White Marsh Chart was.
Cheng Xueyi looked back at Shen Nanyin again. Her one-sided cold war mainly showed in ignoring him, not looking at him, and not walking alongside him—the two of them moved separately, splitting up to cover more ground, which was actually rather efficient.
But the moment she thought of the White Marsh Chart, she couldn’t help but look his way, and inexplicably her gaze toward him grew eager.
That was pure hunger for Qiantian Sect’s greatest treasure.
Shen Nanyin had no idea what was going through her mind. As the one being stared at like that, he naturally assumed the look was meant for him.
He paused, turning his head to glance over. Cheng Xueyi looked away just in time, avoiding his eyes.
“…”
Not looking at him, not speaking to him—she still seemed to be angry.
Shen Nanyin fell silent too.
He didn’t feel he’d said anything wrong, or made any wrong choice.
Nor did he feel it unreasonable that Cheng Xueyi was upset.
He could understand these reactions of hers.
If she vented it out, he could handle it better.
But her being cold and distant, saying nothing at all—that left him at a loss instead.
Shen Nanyin was rarely at a loss.
Yu Buran had once said that what she hated most was how he approached everything with such unshakeable certainty—and it was true, he was certain about everything he did.
Including when he’d refused Cheng Xueyi.
But looking at her rejection and cold expression now, something unclear and disordered stirred in his chest. — BLACK LOTUS NOVEL Novel | Black Lotus Novel
The two of them passed together through a damp passage. Behind the waterfall lay another world entirely—the cave ceiling scattered with mottled colors that pulsed faintly with light.
The brilliant light shone on Cheng Xueyi’s face, making her look vivid and alive with color.
Shen Nanyin’s robes remained untouched by dust, impervious to water and fire alike.
Cheng Xueyi’s plain outer-disciple robe, on the other hand, quickly grew damp from the water dripping steadily from the cave ceiling.
He raised a hand to help dry her off. Cheng Xueyi said flatly, “No need. Eldest Senior Brother had better keep his distance from me, in case I lose control of my temper and commit another ‘unrighteous act.'”
Shen Nanyin: “…”
Vines began appearing throughout the passage, the traces of damp water gradually vanishing as the light grew dim.
Thinking that Cheng Xueyi’s cultivation was low and she might not see the path clearly, Shen Nanyin conjured a ball of fire spirit to light the way.
The passage, spacious enough a moment ago, began to narrow. The two of them, who had kept several people’s worth of distance between them, slowly ended up shoulder to shoulder.
Even so, it grew difficult to pass through. Cheng Xueyi simply stepped forward, walking ahead of him instead of beside him.
She was the one keeping track of the route, so she walked in front, with Shen Nanyin bringing up the rear to guard against anything unexpected. That worked too.
The fire spirit lit the path ahead, bathing Cheng Xueyi in warm light.
The flame flickered, and Shen Nanyin caught glimpses now of her tightly pressed lips, now of her bright eyes lit from within.
He wasn’t someone given to dwelling on things.
Just as Cheng Xueyi had said—if he didn’t want any further complications after cutting things off, then given her temperament and his usual way of handling matters, the best course was to simply ignore it all.
Whether she was angry or hurt, it was a process. It would pass in time. These things had to be gone through.
And yet he heard himself speak again, breaking the silence, in a tone that came close to an explanation: “Throughout Qiantian Sect, inside and out, the only person I know who cultivated Bell-Chime Illusion alongside sword dao—and was a master of it—was one person.”
Cheng Xueyi’s steps faltered. The vines beneath her feet were thick and gnarled, and her soles were slippery from the damp; she nearly stumbled, her body tilting to one side. Shen Nanyin reached out to steady her, but she dodged away.
He looked at his hand, still hanging in midair, and slowly withdrew it, continuing what he’d been saying: “It was Martial Aunt Shenyuan. My master’s junior martial sister. My martial aunt.”
Shenyuan.
Hearing that name, Cheng Xueyi truly couldn’t take another step.
Her hand braced against the vines on the wall, her palm sticky all over, and it made her think of blood.
Human blood and demonic blood weren’t the same. Both were red, but human blood was warm—given time, it grew sticky and gradually clotted.
Demonic blood was cold. No matter how much time passed, it flowed like water, never clotting.
As it happened, Cheng Xueyi had experienced both firsthand.
When she was very young, her father’s blood had sprayed all over her, staining her hair, her lips and teeth, her clothes. She’d sat there blankly in the pool of blood, and no one had spared her a glance, because everyone’s attention had been on her father.
Her father had died.
The person she’d thought would never leave had left just like that—hastily, brutally.
Later it was her mother.
When her mother died, this time someone had looked after her—Fuguang had stayed by her side the whole time. But she’d driven him away, insisting on holding her mother’s slowly cooling body alone, letting the blood clot on her own skin.
Cheng Xueyi slowly turned her head, watching Shen Nanyin quietly by the light of the fire spirit.
“What are you trying to say?”
Shen Nanyin was sharp enough to sense her mood was off.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought this up.
He fell silent. Cheng Xueyi spoke instead: “You only know of one person who cultivated Bell-Chime Illusion, so you think mine has something to do with her?”
The corners of her mouth slowly curved up, revealing a smile that was sweet yet faintly bloody, and she drew closer to Shen Nanyin beneath the honeyed glow.
“How clever, Eldest Senior Brother. As expected of you—you guessed it right away.”
Cheng Xueyi said, utterly composed: “I simply came upon her cultivation method by chance, and learned Lu Shenyuan’s Bell-Chime Illusion. Since she’s your martial aunt, a proper Daoist Lord elder of Qiantian Sect, and I learned her technique—how could that possibly be called an unrighteous act?”
Shen Nanyin’s brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t sure which words had set Cheng Xueyi off like this, but he knew he couldn’t let her continue down this path.
“It’s getting late. Let’s find the immortal herb first.”
He abandoned the topic, wanting to lead Cheng Xueyi out of this passage that was growing darker by the moment.
He sensed these vines had life in them, seeming to shift and move, narrowing the path they walked bit by bit.
But Cheng Xueyi, if anything, seemed in no hurry to move.
“I wasn’t finished. What’s the rush?” She grabbed hold of Shen Nanyin’s sleeve, saying lightly, “You think Bell-Chime Illusion isn’t a righteous path because Lu Shenyuan died a bad death, don’t you?”
“Junior Sister Cheng.” · BLACK LOTUS Novel Reading | black lotus novel
Shen Nanyin’s tone carried more weight than it had even when he’d refused her before, and those three words, spoken aloud, instantly cooled the heat in Cheng Xueyi’s blood.
She broke out in a cold sweat. The bloody illusion before her eyes vanished, and she surfaced from the wretched memory to see an expression of rare displeasure on Shen Nanyin’s face.
He was unhappy.
Though his brow and eyes remained gentle, clear, and composed, he was displeased—she could tell.
“Junior Sister shouldn’t speak of an elder that way. Martial Aunt Shenyuan died exterminating demons. Heart-Devouring Valley’s founding owes much to her sacrifice, and the peace the world enjoys now is largely thanks to her. Whatever attitude Junior Sister takes toward me, I can tolerate it. But not toward my martial aunt.”
“Why would I think your illusion technique isn’t righteous because of Martial Aunt Lu? I only brought her up to tell you—if you insist on cultivating Bell-Chime Illusion, you might as well draw on her insights and methods, rather than seeking out some crooked side path. Since what you cultivate is already your martial aunt’s own technique, then just take what I said as nonsense.”
He’d rebuked her, expecting her to grow angrier still, perhaps even to fly into a rage and storm off. He’d already braced himself to stop her, determined not to let her act rashly in a place riddled with danger like this.
But nothing of the sort happened.
Nothing happened at all.
Cheng Xueyi’s reaction was the complete opposite of what he’d expected.
She closed her eyes briefly, looking rather calm, her mood even seeming to ease.
Cheng Xueyi’s lips moved as if to say something, then gave up on it.
She gave a hollow little laugh and said flatly, “Right. Everyone says she died exterminating demons. That’s certainly worthy of admiration and reverence.”
“Let’s go find the Moon-Mending Grass.”
She ended the topic there, holding her hand out in front of Shen Nanyin to show him.
“The vines are bleeding.”
Shen Nanyin wasn’t the least bit surprised by this.
She’d accepted his suggestion, and his displeasure vanished at once.
Cheng Xueyi remained cold, but at least she could speak with him normally again now.
They’d nearly argued themselves into an unresolvable mess, and then suddenly settled back into calm—why, only Cheng Xueyi herself could say.
Shen Nanyin wasn’t one to dwell on the reason. Since he’d already refused her, all that mattered to him was the outcome, and the current outcome was one both of them could live with.
“Stay back. Stand behind me.”
He drew Cheng Xueyi behind him, first wiping the bloodstains from her hand clean, then expanding the fire spirit. As the light grew brighter, an endless expanse of blood vines came into view.
They’d been distinguishable enough even in the dark, but nothing compared to the visual impact of seeing them lit up like this.
Cheng Xueyi’s pupils contracted slightly, and instinctively she wanted to act, to deal with the blood vines herself.
She’d grown used to relying on herself. Her foot had already stepped forward when suddenly a flash of white light stabbed at her, forcing her eyes shut, her eyelids stinging until tears spilled out.
By the time she’d recovered enough to open her eyes, the blood vines had all vanished.
Shen Nanyin sheathed his sword and said calmly, “There.”
“…”
Blood vines were spirit plants on the verge of becoming high-tier demons—the deeper the red on the vines, the more blood they’d absorbed.
When she’d braced herself against the vines while walking, her palm had come away sticky all over. She’d thought of the feel of blood, and it really had been blood she’d touched.
That much blood—clearly these blood vines had committed no small number of sins. BLACK LOTUS Reading | BLACK LOTUS NOVEL
The masked woman’s brocade map had marked this spot with a large red circle; she’d probably suffered plenty at the blood vines’ hands too.
But with Shen Nanyin here, in the time it took her to blink, everything had been resolved.
Cheng Xueyi looked down at the smooth, cleared path he’d made and followed a few steps behind him, her gaze stopping on the hem of his robe, spotless without a trace of dust—even his silver boots hadn’t picked up a speck of dirt or blood.
She lifted her skirt hem and glanced at her own boots—black boots covered in blood and mud, paired with her general dampness, she looked like an absolute beggar.
Cheng Xueyi frowned, thinking she’d just have to bear it. She’d been in far more bedraggled states than this back in Heart-Devouring Valley; this was nothing to be bothered about.
Getting the Moon-Mending Grass quickly was the priority.
But Shen Nanyin seemed to think she minded a great deal.
The eldest senior brother, spotless and untouched by dust, suddenly crouched down and began cleaning her up from head to toe, bit by bit.
His fingers, pale and fine as jade, landed on her filthy boots, and she couldn’t help but want to step back—but he simply took hold of her calf without the slightest hesitation, saying softly, “Don’t move.”
She could only watch as those hands—the ones that wielded swords and formed spell seals, hands like gilded jade brushes—were sullied by mud and blood, and then, along with his dust-clearing technique, cleaned her clothes and boots spotless once more.
He was so tall that if he didn’t crouch, she wouldn’t even be able to see the top of his head.
Cheng Xueyi held her breath, trying to keep her gaze fixed on his hair crown, as if that alone could steady her nerves.
But the crouching figure rose quickly to his feet, his hand landing on her shoulder, bringing with it a wave of warmth and dryness, and all the chilling dampness that had weighed on her chest dissipated at once.
Last was her hair.
Shen Nanyin’s profile was exquisite, his bone structure refined and beautiful, and his hands were just as lovely—well-defined at the joints, like bamboo carved from jade, clear and warm, faintly heated to the touch.
He was courteous and restrained, brushing over her hair with the lightest, most measured touch, and in an instant her hair too had dried and grown soft again.
“There. Let’s keep moving. Stay behind me.”
Cheng Xueyi felt her body go somewhat stiff, moving unnaturally, rigid as a corpse.
Everywhere his warmth had touched felt as if it had been infected by some kind of poison, difficult to move.
She stumbled along after him, her steps in disarray, as the scenery around them shifted, as if they’d entered some kind of treacherous mountain cliff.
The blood vines were gone, but in their place was a boundless miasma. Only one path remained passable, narrow enough for a single person at a time.
Cheng Xueyi couldn’t tell how high the drop was beneath the miasma. Walking behind Shen Nanyin, her gaze drifted upward to settle on those hands of his that seemed almost magical.
She watched him gently rub his fingertips together.
He probably wasn’t even aware of the gesture himself, but his index finger and thumb kept brushing against each other, an unconscious light rubbing motion.
It was the hand that had touched her.
Cheng Xueyi’s gaze drifted further up, taking in his broad shoulders beneath the gauze robe and brocade.
The gauze was faintly sheer, and beneath the broad shoulders, the slim waist cinched by the jade belt was just barely visible.
Truly, so gentle.
Odd as it was to think it, watching his bearing and his movements, Cheng Xueyi found this person unusually gentle.
He suddenly turned around and held something out to her. Cheng Xueyi took it on instinct, her gaze somewhat evasive, looking exactly like someone caught peeking at another person.
Shen Nanyin paused for a fraction of a second, then explained the item’s use, his expression composed once more.
“The miasma here is unusual. I don’t know if the brocade map mentioned it. Hold this pill under your tongue—don’t swallow it, and don’t speak. It will keep the miasma from entering your body.”
Cheng Xueyi said, “The brocade map didn’t mention it, and what’s drawn on it doesn’t match this place. The sister from the Ghost Market didn’t take this path.”
“Eldest Senior Brother killed the blood-vine demon, while that sister escaped the blood vines instead. Different choices, likely triggering different shifts in the formation array—so our path and hers diverged.” | black lotus novel Novel Translation | BLACK LOTUS NOVEL
Different paths meant the map she’d memorized was worthless now.
Shen Nanyin nodded slightly, agreeing with most of what she’d said, but correcting one point: “I didn’t kill the blood-vine demon.”
Cheng Xueyi froze.
Shen Nanyin raised his hand, pulling back his sleeve to show her his wrist, where a blood-red vine coiled around it like some unusual piece of jewelry.
“…?” A flicker of bewilderment crossed Cheng Xueyi’s face.
“I subdued it. I’ll bring it back and lock it in the Demon-Suppressing Tower.” Shen Nanyin didn’t let a single opportunity to reform her slip by. “Junior Sister Cheng, there are many ways to resolve a matter. Killing is the lowest choice of all.”
Cheng Xueyi’s expression twisted.
What a benevolent person.
Every time he went to perform the spirit-suppression rite in Heart-Devouring Valley, when had his hand ever shown mercy?
This benevolence he could extend to his “junior sister,” even to a demon that had done wrong—but not to the demonic race, was that it?
Cheng Xueyi took a deep breath and glared at him. “Shen Nanyin, shut up. Has anyone ever told you that you really do talk too much? Did anyone ask you to say all that?”
Shen Nanyin stared at her in stunned silence, his lips parting slightly, unable to produce a single sound.
“This pill needs to go under the tongue, and you can’t talk, right? Then you’d better take one too, so you can spare me the lecturing.”
Cheng Xueyi pinched the pill, opened her mouth, and lifted the tip of her tongue slightly, pointing with her finger to the spot beneath her tongue, asking him with her eyes: Right here, isn’t it?
Shen Nanyin’s gaze, startled, landed on the tip of her tongue—that red, moist, private place laid bare before him with nothing to shield it. He looked for only an instant before quickly turning his head away.
“Yes.”
That single word was all he could manage.
Not hearing a reply from Cheng Xueyi, and worried something might happen the moment she left his sight, he glanced back at her quickly again.
Only to see her, unhurried, watching him steadily as she tucked the pill beneath her tongue, bit by bit.
It was just a pill.
But because of the look in her eyes and the way she did it, it felt as though she were tucking his heart beneath her tongue instead, licking it slowly until it melted.
Threads upon threads, coiling close and fine.
