The Mountain Lord's Daughter

"You dare not kill, but I do."

The night wind rustled the parasol trees in the courtyard, scattering fallen leaves across the ground.

A torrential rainstorm a few days ago had battered the summer blossoms into disarray, leaving a faint scent of decay lingering in the air. Shen Ye withdrew his gaze from the scattered petals and noticed someone standing before him.

"Master?" he addressed.

Yue Zhiheng, who was supposed to be resting, had inexplicably appeared in the courtyard. Dressed in a dark cyan robe embroidered with a qilin pattern, his loose hair was tied back with a matching ribbon.

As Shen Ye drew closer, he noticed a woman standing behind Yue Zhiheng.

"I have urgent matters to attend to," Yue Zhiheng said calmly. "Stay here with the other Chentian Guard members, Shen Ye. Miss Zhan, follow me."

Zhan Yunwei hurried to keep pace with him.

Though the command was unusual, neither Shen Ye nor the rest of the Chentian Guards dared to question it. They all answered with a solemn "yes."

Walking beside Yue Zhiheng, Zhan Yunwei breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced at him. His title carried immense weight—immense enough that within the dynasty, apart from the Ling Emperor himself, anyone who dared oppose him had either met their demise or was on their way to the grave.

Once outside the Yue Residence, Zhan Yunwei extended her hand. "Release me."

The night sky over Fenhe County was clear, dotted with countless stars. The moon hid behind wisps of cloud. Yue Zhiheng looked no different from usual, but upon closer inspection, his eyes were darker than before.

His normally ink-wash-like irises had turned into cold, unfeeling black pools.

The effects of the Demonic Puppet Pill were setting in.

Yue Zhiheng raised his hand, and moments later, Zhan Yunwei felt the restraint bracelet unclasp. A flood of spiritual energy surged back into her body. Her injuries from the spiritual pill had long since healed; now, with her body absorbing the surrounding energy, she felt light and agile once more.

She closed her eyes, even hearing the distant murmur of the Fen River's flow.

There was no time to lose. The Demonic Puppet Pill's effects would only last for three hours. If Yue Zhiheng regained consciousness, they would have no chance of escaping.

Fenhe County wasn't far from the capital, but it would still take some time to get there.

Mounted on Yue Zhiheng's ghost-faced crane, Zhan Yunwei looked down to see the reflection of the stars scattered across the river's surface.

Yue Zhiheng sat behind her, bound to her side by his puppet state. He was unaware of his surroundings, but his body radiated an icy coldness.

Zhan Yunwei straightened, blocking the chilly night wind for him.

"I'm sorry," she thought. "I mean you no harm, Master Yue."

With the thought of fleeing in her mind, she couldn't help but marvel at the ghost-faced crane as a tool for escape. She asked the puppet Yue Zhiheng to teach her how to operate it.

He obeyed, guiding her hand to the mechanisms hidden under the crane's feathers.

As a puppet, he was oblivious to distinctions of gender, but Zhan Yunwei found herself nearly enveloped in his embrace. His sharply defined jaw was just a hair's breadth from resting on her shoulder.

She quickly shifted away, not daring to take advantage of him any further.

The thought lingered: if they ever met again, Yue Zhiheng would undoubtedly want her dead.

He despised spiritualists, and today, she had not only manipulated him into becoming a puppet but also treated him with such familiarity. He would likely wish to tear her to pieces.

Though immobile at the time she administered the Demonic Puppet Pill, Yue Zhiheng's mind had been fully conscious.

He would remember every excruciating moment with perfect clarity.

For the first time, Zhan Yunwei wished she could erase someone's memory. If only she had the ability to do so—or the time to seek someone who did.

But there was no point dwelling on it. She resolved to avoid Yue Zhiheng for the rest of her life. Meeting again would be far too awkward.

Suppressing her thoughts, she focused on mastering the ghost-faced crane.

The more she explored its mechanisms, the more she admired Yue Zhiheng's talent in crafting artifacts. She had always thought of him as extraordinary for his nine spiritual veins, but she hadn't expected his skill in artifact refinement to rival that of renowned artisans.

The ghost-faced crane, typically used only by the Chentian Guard, looked ominous and intimidating. Unlike the celestial elegance of immortal sect artifacts such as the luan birds, golden phoenix chariots, or celestial chariots, this crane was built for speed. Its claws and beak could shred lesser spirits with ease.

Each feather on the crane's body could detach and fly at will, serving as deadly projectiles. Beneath its wings lay countless hidden mechanisms, including the ability to spit fireballs.

Zhan Yunwei hastily stopped the puppet from demonstrating this function. It would be disastrous if a fireball incinerated the village below.

No wonder the common folk feared the Chentian Guard. Even a single mount like this ghost-faced crane could kill and destroy at will.

A few of these cranes could effortlessly raze an entire village, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

By the time Zhan Yunwei had become adept at controlling the crane, they had reached the capital.

Unlike the serene and picturesque Fenhe County, the capital of the dynasty was ablaze with lights, bustling with song and dance wherever there was illumination. Countless nobles of the dynasty sought nightly entertainment, while the curfew applied solely to the common people.

She lowered her gaze to this vast and opulent beast of a city. Decadent though it was, it remained unshakable.

The immortal sects that had once opposed it were ruthlessly consumed, one by one.

At the first watch of the night, the imperial prison received orders from the Chentian Office. The Master Overseer demanded an overnight interrogation of the surviving remnants of the immortal sects.

A group of spiritual cultivators who had been imprisoned for days was finally released from their torture devices. They hadn't had a drop of water or a morsel of food for weeks.

Two of the youngest among them, four-year-old Yuan Cong and five-year-old Bie Youyang, had developed high fevers a few days prior.

For mortals, a cold could be fatal. For spiritual cultivators, a fever meant their spiritual energy was nearly depleted, their life force slipping away.

Many of the cultivators in the dungeon were connected by blood or bond.

Bie Youyang was the final disciple of the Lord of Penglai and the junior brother of Pei Yujing. Yuan Cong was Zhan Yunwei's cousin. From the time he could walk and run, he had been a bright and obedient child.

Though Zhan Shujing held grudges against his own family, he couldn't bring himself to vent his anger on a four-year-old. Yuan Cong would often trail behind him, calling him "Brother."

When Yuan Cong was captured, his clavicle was pierced by black iron. At first, he cried loudly, but in recent days, he could barely speak, occasionally murmuring, "Mother..."

Yesterday, when he managed to awaken briefly, he had asked weakly, "Brother, am I going to die?"

Zhan Shujing, who had only ever shed tears when his parents died, couldn't help but feel his eyes redden.

The dynasty had always been cruel. Spiritual cultivators could survive longer than most adults without sustenance, but the children were visibly withering away.

Five-year-old Bie Youyang had stopped calling out for his master or senior brother in his sleep.

The dungeon reeked of death.

When the torture devices were finally removed today, Yuan Cong's frail body began to collapse. Ignoring his own excruciating pain, Zhan Shujing caught him and held him in his arms.

Yuan Cong opened his eyes, his voice barely a whisper, his pupils unfocused. "Brother, I saw you secretly hide Cousin Yunwei's sachet, but I won't tell her. It's a secret between us men."

On any other day, Zhan Shujing would have scolded him, threatening to spank him for speaking nonsense. But today, holding this fading child, he could only respond in a hoarse voice, "Yes, our secret."

"I miss my father and mother," Yuan Cong said.

But his parents were long gone, killed in battle, just like Zhan Shujing's, leaving them both as orphans.

Holding Yuan Cong was like cradling his younger self. "I'll find a way to get you out of here," he promised.

For tonight's interrogation, even if it cost him his life, he was determined to seize an opportunity to break free and rescue his people.

Sixteen years ago, the Lord of Changyan Mountain had taken his hand and told him, "From now on, Changyan Mountain is your home."

Back then, Zhan Shujing had scoffed at the idea. He never imagined a day would come when he'd be willing to risk his life for the Zhan clan.

The flickering torchlight cast shadows in the dim dungeon. From a distance, Zhan Shujing saw their interrogator approach.

The man's sharp brows and narrow, cold eyes exuded an unfeeling chill. He raised his gaze, icy and indifferent as he looked at them.

It was none other than Yue Zhiheng, the Master Overseer of the Chentian Office.

A spiritual cultivator holding Bie Youyang pleaded, "Master Overseer, could you give the child a sip of water before the interrogation?"

The most lethal weapon in the world isn't brutal torture, but the torment of compassion.

Zhan Yunwei, hidden under her hood, felt a pang of sorrow that made her eyes sting.

Zhan Shujing, holding Yuan Cong, sneered coldly, "Why beg him? This mongrel isn't even worthy to clean the immortal sect's shoes."

As he spoke, Zhan Shujing prepared to forcefully tear out the black iron hook embedded in his body.

To his surprise, Yue Zhiheng made no reaction. Instead, he turned to the jailers and ordered, "Leave."

The figure behind him then revealed her face from under a cloak. "Zhan Shujing," she said softly. "I'm here to get you out."

In the enclosed interrogation chamber, extracting the black iron hooks from the cultivators' bodies was no easy task.

Zhan Yunwei used her spiritual energy to protect their meridians, allowing the puppet-like Yue Zhiheng to perform the removal.

Seeing Yue Zhiheng following orders so obediently, Zhan Shujing frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's under the effects of the Demonic Puppet Pill," Zhan Yunwei replied.

Zhan Shujing gave her an odd look. "He doesn't guard himself against you?"

Zhan Yunwei fell silent. There was no good way to respond to that.

She took Bie Youyang from someone else and used her spiritual energy to stabilize his heart and replenish his life force.

The child opened his eyes and, recognizing Zhan Yunwei, clung to her. "Sister-in-law," he murmured.

The puppet behind her remained impassive, but Zhan Shujing let out a mocking laugh.

Zhan Yunwei felt a headache coming on, but she didn't have the heart to argue with a gravely ill child.

Bie Youyang asked, "Sister-in-law, where's my senior brother?"

Zhan Shujing interjected, "He abandoned even your sister-in-law. Do you really think he'll come to save you?"

"Shut up, Zhan Shujing," Zhan Yunwei snapped.

She realized that Zhan Shujing was reliable only when cornered. Otherwise, his sharp tongue would be his downfall.

Bie Youyang's pale face fell, his spirits dampened.

Zhan Yunwei gently reassured him, "Your senior brother and master surely want to rescue you. They just can't right now. Once you're out of here, follow the clan to reunite with them."

Zhan Yunwei was the only spiritualist in the dungeon, but there were over fifty cultivators to free. Unlocking their restraints alone took an hour and a half.

Fortunately, Zhan Shujing recognized her urgency and pitched in to help.

"How much time is left on the Demonic Puppet Pill's effects?" he asked.

Zhan Yunwei kept her focus, glancing at the cold and unresponsive Yue Zhiheng. "About one more quarter-hour," she estimated.

Zhan Shujing, understanding what that meant, freed the last of the immortal clan from their restraints and urged, "Hurry up and go."

They probably wouldn't make it far before the effects of the Demonic Puppet Pill wore off.

In the outskirts of the city, a massive cloudship awaited them.

Lady Hua peeked out from the vessel, her face lit with relief. "Yan Yan, Shujing, you're finally here."

The first thing Zhan Yunwei had done upon returning to the capital that night was to use Yue Zhiheng's authority to secretly release the spiritualists from Danxin Pavilion.

Lady Hua had been deeply anxious, fearing any slip in the plan.

"I'm worried," she said uneasily. "As we left Danxin Pavilion, that Lord Fang from the dynasty spotted us. I think they're already suspicious."

Hearing this, Zhan Yunwei felt her heart sink.

The outskirts were deathly quiet, with barely a whisper of the night wind. An ominous feeling crept over her as she sensed faint ripples of spiritual energy in the air.

Something was wrong—Fang Huai was coming with the Chentian Office guards!

"Get on the cloudship!" she commanded.

One by one, the disciples of the immortal sect boarded the vessel. Zhan Yunwei handed Yuan Cong over to Lady Hua, only to turn and see Zhan Shujing intending to kill Yue Zhiheng.

She quickly used her spiritual control to block his sword. "Brother, what are you doing?"

"Of course, I'm going to kill him! Or do you expect me to let this scourge live? Why are you stopping me?"

"If he dies, will you then deal with the next Eastern Jibai? If we don't leave now, we won't get another chance!"

Zhan Shujing knew she was right. Eastern Jibai and Yue Zhiheng were fundamentally the same—both highly talented, immensely powerful, and ruthlessly cunning.

Every change in leadership at the Chentian Office left the spiritual realm awash in blood, with the common people suffering most. Letting Yue Zhiheng live was ultimately the right choice.

But Zhan Shujing couldn't completely ignore the fact that Yue Zhiheng had been Zhan Yunwei's companion in name for nearly a month. Suspiciously, he asked, "Zhan Yunwei, do you not want him dead?"

As he said this, he didn't notice that Yue Zhiheng, who was shielded behind Zhan Yunwei, had lowered his head slightly, his fingers twitching ever so faintly.

"You're spouting nonsense!" Zhan Yunwei snapped.

The reasons she didn't want Yue Zhiheng dead were numerous, none of which had anything to do with being reluctant to part with him.

Seeing the sincerity in her expression, Zhan Shujing finally dropped the matter. Extending his hand, he said, "Let's go."

When Zhan Yunwei placed her hand in his, a sudden chill shot through her.

Without the spirit-constraining bracelet, her sensitivity had greatly increased. Instinctively, she pushed Zhan Shujing aside, and the two of them tumbled onto the deck of the cloudship.

Beside the ship, the ground split into a chasm ten feet deep, cleaved open by a whip.

Zhan Yunwei turned her head and felt a momentary chill run down her spine.

It turned out the most dangerous threat wasn't the Chentian Office guards in pursuit, but Yue Zhiheng, who had awakened unnoticed in the dark.

Lord Yue still wore his simple yet elegant green robe. Lowering his gaze, he toyed with the icy blue whip, "Shen Yun," before curling his lips into a smile. "Quick reflexes, Miss Zhan."

Although his tone was light and amused, Zhan Yunwei couldn't shake the feeling that he was angrier than she'd ever seen him.

Had she been a moment slower, that whip would have shattered Zhan Shujing's skull.

It made sense—force-feeding Yue Zhiheng the Demonic Puppet Pill was enough to make him want her dead.

Fortunately, she had managed to board the cloudship, which was now ascending with the disciples of the immortal sect aboard.

At that moment, Fang Huai arrived with the Chentian Office guards. Clever as ever, he brought along Zhan Xueyin from the marquis' residence as a hostage, just in case.

The dynasty's cunning was notorious; they were adept at dealing with immortal sects.

Sure enough, Lady Hua's face turned pale upon seeing her daughter.

In a calm yet mocking tone, Yue Zhiheng said, "Stop them. If you can't stop them alive, kill them. Dead works just as well."

Fang Huai glanced at him. Clearly, Lord Yue was in a foul mood tonight.

Countless blue-faced ghost cranes rose into the air.

Zhan Yunwei, knowing their speed far exceeded that of the cloudship, realized that if no one held them off, none of them would escape tonight.

Without hesitation, she summoned Yue Zhiheng's ghost crane from her robes and leapt onto its back.

"Zhan Yunwei!" Zhan Shujing reached out to grab her, but he was a step too late. All he could do was watch as she drove the ghost crane forward, her hands forming a series of seals.

A cascade of silvery-white light scattered like stars across the sky.

"..." Fang Huai tilted his head. "Lord Yue, did you give her all the ghost cranes?"

That struck a nerve. Yue Zhiheng's expression grew even colder.

The delicate streams of spiritual energy descended, initially dismissed by the guards of the Chentian Office—until they realized the silvery starlight was sealing their spiritual energy. Even the ghost cranes couldn't move.

Only then did they grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Spirits of the Sea of Smoke, Stars Scattered Across the Sky, All Living Things Obey My Command!"

An invisible chessboard rose beneath them, as if from nowhere. Everyone caught in the spiritual energy field became pawns in the young woman's game.

Those with weak wills even turned on their comrades in a frenzy.

Fang Huai stared in disbelief. "What in the world is that?"

Yue Zhiheng watched the girl commanding the ghost crane and said coldly, "Didn't you hear her? Spirit Control Technique."

As more guards of the Chentian Office fell under her influence, Yue Zhiheng let out a mocking laugh and finally made his move. The whip, "Shen Yun," transformed into 24 eerie shards of ice in his hand, which shot sharply toward the increasingly distant cloudship.

Realizing the danger, Zhan Yunwei had no choice but to withdraw her Spirit Control Technique and intercept the ice shards.

Unfortunately, the shards scattered in all directions, and she could only block half of them. Screams erupted from the cloudship as people fell from it one after another.

Zhan Yunwei didn't have time to look back and see who had been injured. When her pure white spiritual energy collided with the shards, she noticed with alarm that her energy was slowly turning black!

Yue Zhiheng's weapon could corrode spiritual energy?

Afraid to block it directly again, she redirected the shards back toward him, using his own strength against him. Yue Zhiheng neither dodged nor flinched, instead letting out a soft laugh as he grabbed Zhan Xueyin and used her as a shield.

Zhan Xueyin's face turned deathly pale, and she let out a sharp scream. Gritting her teeth, Zhan Yunwei forcibly restrained her spiritual energy, causing herself to cough up a mouthful of blood from the backlash.

"Yue Zhiheng!" she roared.

"Miss Zhan," he said with a mocking smile. "I didn't dodge. It's you who lacked the resolve. If you had been ruthless enough, you could have killed both me and her just now."

His laugh was wild as he commanded, "Bring me a bow."

One of the Chentian Office guards handed him a bow and arrows.

Drawing the bow and nocking an arrow, Yue Zhiheng aimed not at the cloudship itself but at the fallen passengers, targeting their spiritual cores.

"Do you know why you've lost?" he taunted. "It's because the people you hesitate to kill—I won't."

Fang Huai instinctively took a step back. For the first time, he saw Yue Zhiheng in such a deranged state. What had Miss Zhan done to provoke him to the point of attacking her weakest spots without mercy?

In the next instant, Yue Zhiheng wasn't surprised to see Zhan Yunwei abandon her ghost crane.

Using her spiritual energy like a net, she leapt into the air to block his arrows.

Seven arrows struck her, but the moment they made contact with her body, they transformed into black mist that seeped into her. Zhan Yunwei fell straight down from the sky.

Yue Zhiheng was silent for a moment. The "Shen Yun" whip reverted to its original form and coiled around her waist, pulling her toward him.

He coughed lightly, swallowing the blood rising in his throat, and didn't bother pursuing the now-distant cloudship. Instead, he glanced down at the person in his arms.

Calmly, he said, "Enough. Let's go back."

We'll settle this properly later, Miss Zhan.