HuLü Yan’s chest hurt so badly it felt like it was about to explode. The metallic taste in his throat kept rising, spilling from his mouth and trailing down his lips, warm and thick, dripping onto the ground one drop at a time.

Soon, he felt someone steady him by the shoulders. He could feel Mi Lu’s firm embrace, but he felt so cold. His limbs were numb, his body devoid of any warmth. No matter how much of Mi Lu’s warmth seeped into him, he couldn’t feel even the slightest hint of comfort.

Memories he had purposefully forgotten flooded his mind like a tidal wave. Fragmented scenes from his childhood flickered past his eyes, each memory vivid and raw. In that moment, he remembered so many things.

He remembered how, as a child, Wen Liuliu would take him to admire osmanthus blossoms, fly kites, and make peach blossom cakes. He remembered her countless hugs when she was happy. He remembered how malicious neighbors, seeing them as easy prey—a widow and an orphan—would knock on their door late at night. He’d be terrified, crying in Wen Liuliu’s arms as she comforted him tirelessly.

Wen Liuliu had the most beautiful hands, slender as jade, with long, delicate fingers and soft, gentle skin. Those hands had cooked for him, washed clothes, soothed his back, and held his tiny, chubby hand as they walked through countless streets in Zui City.

Wen Liuliu was frail, her meridians destroyed, her cultivation lost; anyone could trample on her. But to him, she was immense, filling his entire world. As long as he opened his eyes, Wen Liuliu was all he saw. She was his entire world. Wen Liuliu was his mother.

Scalding tears streamed endlessly from his eyes. Even though HuLü Yan hadn’t found his heart yet, he felt an intense, stabbing pain within. It was as if countless hands were reaching out from all directions, grabbing him, tearing at his flesh, and exposing his raw bones.

He gasped for breath, unable to breathe. Mi Lu’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head, pressing him firmly against his chest. His ragged breaths and tears soaked into Mi Lu’s clothing.

Choking for a long while, he finally squeezed out a single word, “Mother…”

Mother.

It hurt so much. His entire body was in agony. Only now did he realize that his former disdain, hatred, and desire to escape had all been nothing but a self-made joke. He had been the root of all his own misfortunes.

So why did HuLü Wan even bring him into this world? Maybe he was never meant to exist at all.

At that moment, he heard footsteps approaching, followed by Wu De’s voice, “After the Wen family tragedy, I searched for her, but my strength alone was no match for the HuLü family and their allies among the sects. I was always one step behind them. By the time I reached here… Liuliu, she…”

Wu De’s voice trailed off, unable to continue, his pain evident in every word, silent and relentless, gnawing at his soul.

Mi Lu turned and saw Wu De awake, realizing only now that he had regained consciousness. The Wu De of today was a bald monk, dressed in plain grey robes, a far cry from the dashing swordsman of the illusion.

Mi Lu remembered the scandal from Tian Ming Mountain, about how disciple Zhai Feng had caused a commotion over a woman from the demon realm and even attacked HuLü Xing during a private banquet organized by HuLü Xing. Unfortunately, Zhai Feng was outnumbered, as HuLü Xing was not only highly skilled himself but also had many experts around him. Zhai Feng had fought to the point of exhaustion, managing to injure only HuLü Xing’s arm.

The night of the failed ambush, Zhai Feng’s master took him back to Tian Ming Mountain, risking everything to keep him alive. However, Zhai Feng had to endure three days and nights of punishment and was ultimately expelled. No one expected that Zhai Feng would then plunge into the demon realm, shave off his hair, and become a monk. His actions were the talk of the righteous sects for a long time; people mocked his overestimation of himself and his hopelessness. Yet, they couldn’t help but marvel at his devotion to the demon woman.

A mere woman, was she worth such sacrifice?

Mi Lu hadn’t understood before, but he did now.

He also knew that Wu De hadn’t given up on avenging Wen Liuliu. But he and Qiu Bei had both been silenced by a forbidden spell, leaving Wu De with no choice but to help HuLü Yan uncover the truth, hoping that HuLü Yan could seek vengeance for Wen Liuliu.

But Mi Lu sensed that Wu De had more to say. As expected, after collecting himself, Wu De continued, “HuLü Yan, your mother, HuLü Wan, may still be alive. But she’s not with the HuLü family. Most likely, she’s gone to the Wenren family.”

HuLü Yan froze in Mi Lu’s arms, unmoving, like a soulless puppet.

He seemed not to hear Wu De’s words, but Mi Lu felt it—the slight tremor in HuLü Yan’s body as Wu De spoke.

Mi Lu, speaking for HuLü Yan, asked, “How did you find this out?”

“I guessed,” Wu De replied. “The HuLü family has long announced the death of Lin Song, yet they’ve never confirmed HuLü Wan’s status. They only said that she disappeared and was never found. Given the HuLü family’s nature, she’s probably still alive.”

He continued, “With the deaths of the two elders, HuLü Xing has absolute control over Immortal Valley. He has always feared HuLü Wan’s position as the primary heir and would certainly not allow her to stay in Immortal Valley. The best way to deal with her was to send her to Wenren Zheng of the Wenren family.”

Mi Lu frowned, focusing on the details. “I heard Wenren Zheng and HuLü Wan had an arranged engagement from birth, but after everything that happened, Wenren Zheng surely knew she had feelings for another. Why would he still be so obsessed with her?”

If Wenren Zheng truly loved her, he should have helped her during her hardships or let her go when she faced challenges, instead of binding her with a verbal engagement.

Thinking about it, Mi Lu almost concluded—Wenren Zheng was likely HuLü Xing’s hidden accomplice.

His question struck a nerve. Wu De’s lips curled in a sneer, his sharp gaze piercing Mi Lu. “You live in the Capital City, so you must know about the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword buried there, right?”

Mi Lu nodded. “I’ve heard of it.”

In Wen Liuliu’s memories, the story of HuLü Wan and Lin Song was incomplete. In reality, HuLü Wan and Lin Song had not only attempted one escape. The first time, Lin Song had taken HuLü Wan and fled. But as soon as they reached the Capital City, they were intercepted. During the ensuing fight, HuLü Wan realized someone was trying to steal her Seven-Star Kunlun Sword, and she used all her strength to thrust it into the ground.

Thinking back, that person who had dared go for the sword was likely HuLü Xing. In Wen Liuliu’s memories, HuLü Xing always looked at the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword with a burning gaze, his desire unmistakable.

“To pull HuLü Wan’s Seven-Star Kunlun Sword out in broad daylight, they came up with the sword-pulling day excuse,” Wu De’s words brought Mi Lu back from his thoughts. Wu De sneered, adding, “Not long ago, on sword-pulling day, the Wenren family arranged for three youths, all surnamed Wenren, to pull the sword together. Do you know what happened?”

Mi Lu said nothing, gently patting HuLü Yan’s back, and waited in silence for Wu De to continue.

Wu De’s gaze lingered on HuLü Yan before he replied, “Those three youths stirred the sword’s spirit.”

Mi Lu was surprised. “But isn’t the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword HuLü Wan’s life-bound magical artifact…?”

“Exactly.” Wu De’s voice was low. “Which is why I suspect HuLü Wan is trapped within the Wenren family. As for those three youths, they are likely related to her by blood and might even be…”

Descendants of HuLü Wan.

Given HuLü Yan’s presence, Wu De left the rest unsaid.

But Mi Lu understood. He glanced around at the fading illusion, then asked Wu De, “How do we get out?”

The illusion had frozen on the moment Wen Liuliu was beaten to death, her torn clothes, disheveled hair, and battered body a haunting sight. Wu De’s eyes showed deep sorrow as he looked at her, his pain surfacing, before he closed his eyes tightly.

“I created this formation to preserve Liuliu’s memories. Now that you know everything, there’s no point in keeping it,” Wu De said, summoning spiritual energy to his fingers. With a swift motion, the illusion dissolved like fireflies scattering, little by little.

Finally, a bright golden light emerged, drifting gently toward Wu De. He extended his hand, and the light rested in his palm. Wu De gazed at it, his eyes showing a faint smile through the pain. “Liuliu, I can finally bring you home.”

As his fingers curled around the light, the illusion completely vanished, and they returned to the courtyard of Spring Garden.

Only now, the once-empty courtyard was filled with people from Spring Garden searching for them. The intruders, startled by the sudden appearance of Mi Lu, HuLü Yan, and Wu De, soon recovered. One of them pointed and shouted, “They’re here!”

The voice was high and sharp, familiar to Mi Lu. He turned and saw a face he recognized—the brothel keeper who had betrayed Wen Liuliu.

Years had passed, but time had not touched her, the spite in her eyes even sharper than before. She hadn’t seen HuLü Yan in Mi Lu’s arms clearly, her venomous gaze fixed on Wu De as she spat, “You filthy monk! You think you can mess with us again? Last time, you got lucky and escaped. Let’s see if you get away this time!”

As she spoke, her followers all drew their swords and charged at them.

“Don’t hold back! Kill them right here!” the brothel keeper screeched from behind.