Chapter 33: Old Tales of the Mortal World

The next morning, Bai Yue’ning finished her meditation, feeling her spiritual energy advance ever so slightly, the barrier to the seventh stage of Qi Refinement seeming thinner than before. She rose and began to consider where she might undertake a more lucrative task that day, to satisfy the ever more fastidious “ancestor” at her back.

Just then, a knock came from outside. The rhythm was measured, neither hurried nor slow, unlike that of a familiar person.

Alert, Bai Yue’ning approached the door but did not open it at once. “Who is it?”

From outside came the somewhat nervous voice of a young man. “Senior Sister Bai, I am Zhao Xun, an outer-sect disciple.”

“I was asked by someone to deliver a letter to you.”

A letter?

Bai Yue’ning was taken aback. She knew few people in the sect—who would write to her?

She cautiously opened the door a crack.

Standing outside was an unfamiliar youth in blue robes. Seeing her, he quickly produced a rather coarse letter from his breast and presented it with both hands.

“It was entrusted to a courier at the foot of the mountain by a young woman surnamed Bai, who instructed it be delivered to you, Senior Sister.”

“That courier is from my hometown and knew I was on mountain patrol today, so he asked me to deliver it.”

Bai Yue’ning’s gaze swept over the envelope, on which was written, in somewhat childish handwriting, “To Bai Yue’ning of Azure Cloud Sect—For Her Eyes Only.”

At the end, there was only one character: “Yao.”

The sight of that name made Bai Yue’ning’s heart give a quiet, involuntary jolt.

She silently accepted the letter. “Thank you, Junior Brother Zhao.”

“No need for thanks, Senior Sister.” Zhao Xun, his errand complete, seemed relieved, bowed, and hurried away.

Bai Yue’ning closed the door, leaning against it, her fingertips gently tracing the rough surface of the paper.

After a long moment, she broke the wax seal.

The letter was not long, but the care taken with each character was evident.

“Sister Yue’ning, I hope this letter finds you well. It is me, your little sister, Yue’yao.

“These ten years, we have received all you sent through others. We lack for nothing now. Please, Sister, do not scrimp on yourself to provide for us any longer.

“I write with good news. I… am to be betrothed.

“He is Lin Songde, son of the Lin family from the neighboring village.

“The villagers say he is honest and his family is well-off. The date is set for the sixth of this month.

“Sister Yue’ning, I miss you so much… It’s been almost ten years since you went up the mountain.

“Do you remember how I used to follow you everywhere?

“Will you come see me? Just a glimpse, so I might see you too.”

The letter ended there, without further pleading, yet that careful hope seemed almost to press through the page.

Bai Yue’ning gripped the paper, her fingertips tightening.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since she crossed into this world and took possession of this body.

A flood of chaotic memories surged forth, beyond her control.

They were not her own, yet more vivid and indelible than any she had brought with her.

A small village, an earthen house, her adoptive father Bai Shichang always regarding her with gentle affection, her foster mother Qin Yuelan, frail but kind and virtuous.

And… that little tail always trailing after her, piping “Sister! Sister!”—Bai Yue’yao.

She remembered how Bai Shichang had held her on a full-moon night, smiling as he said, “Yue’ning, bright as a mirror—let’s call you Yue’ning.”

She remembered the family’s overflowing joy when Qin Yuelan was pregnant again.

And that strange sense of protectiveness she’d felt when cradling soft, tiny Yue’yao after her birth.

She remembered the year of famine, the sky a sickly yellow, the barren fields.

Her parents’ brows were always furrowed, fishing the last grains of rice from their thinning gruel to give to her and Yue’yao.

She recalled overhearing from the neighbors that she was not their biological child, but adopted.

She also remembered secretly eavesdropping on the old men at the village entrance as they spoke of a rumor:

The Azure Cloud Sect was recruiting; disciples with spiritual potential could receive monthly grain rations.

To repay her family’s kindness, she remembered packing a small bundle in secret, clutching a rock-hard half-biscuit, and quietly slipping out after her parents fell asleep.

She remembered those endless, towering steps up the mountain.

She remembered blacking out as she took the final step onto the sect’s platform, her heart’s last convulsion.

And then… she opened her eyes in this world.

She had inherited everything of this body, including its name.

And that weighty, life-forged resolve to repay a debt of gratitude.

For ten years, she had fulfilled the former owner’s last wish, regularly sending spare grain from her outer-sect stipend down to the little village.

Ensuring that family of three wanted for nothing.

But she had never considered returning, not even once.

The immortal and the mortal must walk different paths.

Having set foot upon this road, she ought not entangle herself further with the mundane.

She believed ten years of secret support had nearly settled her karmic debt.

And yet this letter…

“Hey, what are you daydreaming about? Whose letter is that—a love letter?”

Ye Ming’s curious voice rang in her mind, shattering her thoughts.

“No.” Bai Yue’ning folded the letter, her voice quiet. “It’s from… my sister.”

“Sister?” Ye Ming sounded even more surprised. “You never mentioned one. Why write now?”

“She… is getting married, and wishes to see me.” Bai Yue’ning’s words were brief, her emotions tightly held.

But Ye Ming, linked to her very soul, could faintly sense the subtle ripple beneath her calm exterior.

“Getting married? That’s a happy occasion!” Ye Ming sounded genuinely interested. “So, will you go back?”

Bai Yue’ning was silent for a moment. She walked to the window, gazing toward the mist-veiled mountain below. “I have no intention of going back.”

“Ensuring their peace and comfort from afar is enough.”

“Why not?” Ye Ming was baffled. “From the way you talk, you seem to care for your sister. She’s getting married and wants to see you—hardly an unreasonable request, is it?”

“And what would come of seeing her? Only more attachments.”

“They have their mortal lives; I have my path to walk.”

“Not disturbing each other is best.”

“You can’t look at it like that.” For once, Ye Ming didn’t argue, but spoke with a rare seriousness.

“Cultivation is about tempering the heart, not becoming stone. Severing all feeling—then you’re just driftwood, not an immortal.”

“And besides, you’ve sent things in secret for ten years—if that isn’t attachment, what is? You’re only deceiving yourself.”

“If you ask me, just go. Set your heart at ease.”

“Otherwise, this may become a flaw in your state of mind, something to haunt you in cultivation. And—” Ye Ming’s tone turned sly, “Who knows? Maybe the village has some old treasure or spiritual local specialty.”

“At worst, there’ll be good food at the wedding, right?”

“We’ve just come from that wretched Sword-Sinking Valley—time to soak up some joy and change the flavor!”

Bai Yue’ning did not refute him at once.

Amidst Ye Ming’s twisted logic, a few words had struck home.

A flaw in her state of mind?

She had always thought herself detached and decisive.

Yet the subtle tremor brought by this letter reminded her that some things could not be severed so easily.

It was not merely the former owner’s memory—ten years of silent watching had woven a subtle, complex bond.

Should she go?

To see what had become of the five-year-old child from her memories.

To see if those kind-hearted parents were well.

To settle this mortal bond, and clear her heart for the path ahead.

Perhaps… even Ye Ming’s nonsense about “local specialties” contained a grain of sense.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, clarity shone within. Her mind was made up.

“All right.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ye Ming was immediately supportive. “When do we leave? Should we bring gifts?”

She ignored his excitement, gazing at the letter. In a soft voice, she said, “As soon as possible.”

Only by settling mortal bonds could one walk the path with a clear heart.

This journey—would be her final farewell.