Senior Sister Went Mad After My Fake Death Chapter 31

The marriage alliance between the Wunian Sect and the Bright Snow Sect had been discussed for nearly half a year, and its progress could only be described as peculiar: the sect elders naturally welcomed it, the problem lay solely in whether the two parties involved agreed. The Wunian Sect people had persuaded You Qian for a long time. After much coaxing and pleading, You Qian reluctantly agreed. She said she wanted to personally come to Mount Shu to see what this Han Xiao was truly like.
However, her timing could not be considered fortunate: the joyous drumming and gongs had not even played for three to five days when they encountered a funeral. Even though the Wunian Sect people didn’t know the deceased, seeing the Bright Snow Sect cultivators weeping in sorrow, they could clearly guess the identity of the departed. The deceased was someone with some reputation in the sect, and a disciple of Immortal Lord Yang Nian. And she was from the same sect as her nominal “Dao companion.” You Qian thought this, and after Han Xiao appeared in her line of sight, her gaze remained fixed on her, never leaving.
Han Xiao maintained an indifferent demeanor throughout. She supported the coffin, her posture graceful and upright, walking through the eerie June snow. Wind and frost settled between Han Xiao’s brows. At one moment, You Qian’s gaze met Han Xiao’s. The latter’s gaze was very cold, containing an indescribable emotion. But some people, paradoxically, were most captivating when they were cold.
You Qian had always stubbornly refused to budge for only one reason: Han Xiao had not proactively agreed. According to her aunt, apart from the first time, Han Xiao had never responded to the matter of forming a bond. You Qian was the rightful young lady of the sect leader, how could she have suffered such indignity? But today, when she first saw Han Xiao, her emotional defenses suddenly wavered a little, so she cautiously asked her aunt.
Zhenjun Changming, Youye, also watched the funeral procession in the wind and snow, and told her, “A’qian, do not worry. Han Xiao said she hasn’t expressed her stance, but she also hasn’t refused.”
You Qian swallowed, her brows furrowed, her hands tightly clutching the corner of her robe, saying anxiously, “Aunt, if she hasn’t expressed her stance, doesn’t that mean she hasn’t accepted? It’s been so long!” From last year to this year, their Wunian Sect had made overt and covert gestures of goodwill towards the Bright Snow Sect many times, but Han Xiao had never shown the slightest sign of agreement or refusal.
She seemed to care neither about the weather nor about livelihood. You Qian had not failed to collect information on her; this woman was indifferent to an unbelievable degree, yet she didn’t cultivate the Path of Ruthlessness. For mortals, immortal destiny was something one could encounter but not seek. Just becoming a cultivator was something to boast about—let alone reaching Han Xiao’s level! Yet this person was utterly indifferent, wanting nothing, desiring nothing. She even ignored their Wunian Sect’s greatest bait, “ascension to immortality.”
Youye stroked You Qian’s head and told her, “A’qian, don’t worry. Do you know that some things are called ‘tacit agreement’?” She smiled, looking at the woman carrying the coffin through the snow, and then suddenly affirmed, “For someone like her, she’s probably just waiting for arrangements.”
“As long as you approve of her.”
You Qian still clutched the corner of her robe, silent for a long time, swallowing her words. Youye had originally wanted her niece to leave with her, but You Qian stubbornly insisted on staying on the mountain a little longer. Youye had no choice but to leave first herself.
Gazing at the solitary, pure figure standing there, a thin mist unconsciously covered You Qian’s clear eyes. Just then, someone called her from behind: “Hey, isn’t that Young Lady You?” You Qian immediately wiped her tears dry, turned around, and looked at Yan Linglong with vigilance. She first scanned her up and down, then said, “It’s you?”
Yan Linglong was not adorned with gold and jade today, which differed somewhat from You Qian’s impression. This person, when she was in the mortal realm, always made a grand entrance, dressed in lavish clothes and ornaments. It seemed that years of being a cultivator had changed her temperament quite a bit.
“Yes, it’s me.” Yan Linglong shrugged, a smile blooming on her face. “I didn’t expect Big Sister A’qian to still remember me.”
“How could I not remember you?” You Qian frowned. “The way you and your childhood friend made a fool of me at the Vermillion Bird Feast still hasn’t been addressed!”
Hearing the words “childhood friend,” the smile on Yan Linglong’s face instantly froze. She quickly changed the subject, saying, “Those were all childhood matters. Why does Big Sister A’qian dwell on that?”
“I came because I have something to tell you.”
Yan Linglong spoke as she walked towards the edge of the cliff. Looking down, the rapidly falling snow and swirling wind created a long, deep imprint on the path—left by today’s funeral procession for Senior Sister Jiang Chunai.
“What is it?” You Qian didn’t want to give Yan Linglong much favor.
“Big Sister A’qian doesn’t need to be so hostile towards Linglong,” Yan Linglong said, pressing her lips together. “Aren’t you currently worried that your future Dao companion doesn’t like you?”
Hearing this, You Qian’s face immediately flushed red, and she quickly said, “What nonsense are you spouting? I don’t like Han Xiao!”
“Big Sister A’qian’s reaction clearly shows that Linglong has hit on your inner thoughts.” Yan Linglong still didn’t turn around, continuing, “Today, I accompanied Senior Sister Han Xiao to attend Senior Sister Chunai’s funeral.”
No wonder she was dressed in mourning clothes today.
“What does that have to do with me? And what does it have to do with the nonsense you were just spouting?”
Yan Linglong smiled, finally turning around to meet You Qian’s evasive gaze, and laughed: “It has everything to do with you, Big Sister A’qian. Don’t you know? Jiang Chunai and Han Xiao both learned from Immortal Lord Yang Nian.”
You Qian stubbornly said she knew.
“But what you don’t know is that Immortal Lord Yang Nian, while alive, gave each of them a jade bracelet.”
“…So what? What does that have to do with me?” You Qian was slow for a moment, then said.
Yan Linglong’s eyes narrowed. “Their relationship is quite profound, and now, Senior Sister Chunai is dead.”
You Qian’s throat suddenly tightened. She seemed to vaguely understand Yan Linglong’s unspoken meaning.
“Big Sister A’qian says she doesn’t like Han Xiao, but in truth, you just feel that the Wunian Sect rushing to form this marriage makes you lose face, don’t you?”
You Qian said nothing. She indeed had that worry. Divine companions, she too had a first love. Han Xiao’s lingering refusal to agree to the Wunian Sect’s proposal might be for this very reason. Hearing Yan Linglong’s words, You Qian surprisingly felt a sense of relief.
In the Bright Lamp Pavilion, hundreds of lamps burned brightly, placed together, illuminating the area as if it were daytime. Zhang Ziga, however, was still holding a small stick, going lamp by lamp, trimming their wicks; beside her, a long, deep shadow was cast on the white wall—it was Han Xiao.
Zhang Ziga and Han Xiao’s relationship grew closer. She now felt that Immortal Lord Yang Nian’s head disciple was indeed extraordinary. As she trimmed the wicks, she chatted with Han Xiao: “Han Xiao, you are currently riding the crest of success. How many people wish they had your achievements, your status.”
“…And how many people will never achieve your accomplishments in their lifetime.”
Han Xiao was already a figure in the cultivation world whom countless people struggled to emulate.
Han Xiao said indifferently: “Elder overpraises me. Han Xiao still has shortcomings.”
Zhang Ziga held the small stick in the air, averted her eyes, and squinted at Han Xiao’s shadow on the wall, saying, “Shortcomings? Do tell, what are your shortcomings?”
Han Xiao did not speak.
“Hmph, shortcomings are just something you humble, perfect people say to flatter an old woman like me!” She was uncharacteristically fierce, then trimmed the wick of the lamp before her.
“In my opinion, you’re doing very well now.” Zhang Ziga quickly returned to her usual calm, put down the small stick for trimming wicks, and pulled up a stool to sit opposite Han Xiao. Han Xiao looked at her in confusion.
“You have a career, you have friendships, and love is within reach, easily attainable…” As Zhang Ziga spoke, she even reached out her hand and began to divine for her, then laughed: “Ah, I truly envy you.”
Han Xiao raised an eyebrow, noncommittal. Did the three things Elder Zhang mentioned truly exist for her? Elder’s words tonight were numerous, which was exactly what Han Xiao wanted.
“Unlike me, I’m utterly meaningless,” Zhang Ziga sighed. Han Xiao, following her lead, asked her what was wrong, why she said that.
“Why do I say that?” Zhang Ziga shook her head, her tone quite bitter: “Look at yourself, then look at me. You’ll probably understand.”
Han Xiao tilted her head slightly. She understood, and yet she didn’t quite understand. Fortunately, Zhang Ziga’s desire to confide tonight was strong, so Han Xiao finally understood her meaning. The Bright Snow Sect was known for its swordsmanship, which was why a genius sword cultivator like Han Xiao received so much attention. And Zhang Ziga didn’t originally intend to be a medical cultivator. In other words, who would choose to be a medical cultivator if they could be a sword cultivator?
So this kind of thing also happened among humans. In truth, she had never quite understood why others admired her so deeply…
Then, Jiang Chunai, did you also feel this way about me, because I am a so-called “genius sword cultivator,” just like them?
She listened to Zhang Ziga’s words, but what she thought of was herself, and another person.
“But I’m also not very useful as a medical cultivator,” Zhang Ziga suddenly said with sorrow, actually choking up. “Han Xiao, look at how many lamps are lit in this Bright Lamp Pavilion, and how many have extinguished?”
Before Han Xiao could speak, Zhang Ziga brought up the matter of life and death again. “When I was still a sword cultivator, I fell in love with a mortal woman. Originally, it wasn’t a big deal for a cultivator to have a mortal Dao companion, but that mortal woman…”
“When she was young, she was harmed by an evil cultivator, and her life was fading. I accompanied her for so many years, spending so many years of my life that could have been spent as a sword cultivator,” she murmured. “But I don’t regret it. If I had to do it again, I would still stay by her side.”
Han Xiao lowered her head, rubbing her slender fingers, silently saying nothing. She hadn’t expected the always gentle Elder Zhang to show such a side, like what people called a “lovesick fool.” It was Han Xiao’s first time patiently and seriously listening to such a love story. In the past, she had heard and seen them, but to her, they were too ephemeral.
What did it truly feel like to love and hate someone? Could she understand and explain it clearly?
Knowing it was a tragedy, yet wanting to do it again, and wanting to protect her side—this was humanity. Things that neither immortals nor demons could achieve, humans presumptuously wished to achieve, with a sense of overestimation of their own abilities. But strangely, Han Xiao now found it difficult to feel as she had in the past, that this was a foolish delusion.
Elder Zhang still said, “If only I were like the Xiangyi God…”
Xiangyi, it sounded like a familiar name. Han Xiao gently raised her eyebrow, finding this person in her memory. Nuwa’s intestines turned into ten gods. The god who fell in love with a mortal was called Xiangyi. Xiangyi, as a deity, fell in love with a mortal woman. That mortal woman unfortunately met with disaster. And Xiangyi God, disregarding the objections of other gods, resurrected her, and stubbornly stayed with her, even conceiving descendants that continued endlessly.
“So that’s why so many people want to cultivate immortality, want to ascend to immortality. You see, if you ascend to immortality, you can even revive the dead…”
Han Xiao quietly listened to Zhang Ziga speak. Outside the window, rain and snow tapped against the glass, mixed with Zhang Ziga’s intermittent mournful voice, creating a rather eerie atmosphere. It also closely resembled Han Xiao’s dreams of violent wind and snow that raged every night.
If it were her usual self, politely comforting Zhang Ziga that the dead could not be resurrected would be her greatest act of kindness. A demon who had been in chaos for thousands of years would not understand human emotions. Being able to mimic humans and show empathy was already a success. If it were even earlier, Han Xiao might even have mocked her as a deluded fool—a mere mortal body, yet aspiring to ascend to immortality, dreaming of grand spring and autumn resurrections.
But Han Xiao was speechless at this moment. She only lowered her gaze to the dim, flickering candlelight before them. According to Zhang Ziga, that woman was a mortal, so naturally, she couldn’t be enshrined in the Bright Lamp Pavilion. Every lamp in the pavilion belonged only to Bright Snow Sect cultivators.
But she was the lamp keeper, and humans always had selfish motives.
“I light this lamp for her, to let it burn long and bright. Not for brilliance, just for eternal illumination.” This was her selfish desire as the Elder of the Bright Lamp Pavilion. Not very capable, yet she offered her whole heart.
After Zhang Ziga finished, the dim, flickering candlelight seemed about to extinguish. She quickly rose and picked it up, walking to the side, wanting to borrow a flame to keep this lamp, which held her selfish desire, burning brightly. To her surprise, Han Xiao actually followed her, standing behind her.
When Zhang Ziga raised her hand to borrow a flame, a mark on her wrist was exposed. Two layers, a pattern, pressed by a wrist guard. Only when the lamplight shone on it did Han Xiao see it. Like a surging river.
All evening, she had listened to Elder Zhang talk about her own affairs for too long, too many things. It was time for Han Xiao to speak her own words.
She watched as Zhang Ziga borrowed the flame. At the very moment the flame was transferred and rose, Han Xiao asked her, “Elder Zhang, what would happen if these extinguished lamps were to be relit?”
The dim candle flame flickered again, swaying in Han Xiao’s clear, deep eyes, like unsteady fireflies in the night. A very, very fine, reddish-black line ran horizontally beneath her right eye. Suddenly, it disappeared into the shadow of her dense eyelashes.
Zhang Ziga paused, then spoke, but her answer was beside the point:
“Then, which lamp do you wish to light?”
Light and shadow flickered. Aside from the rustling of the wind blowing the candle flame, there was no other sound in the Bright Lamp Pavilion.
Although Immortal Lord Yang Nian had passed away, her cultivation methods still needed to be taught by someone. Otherwise, Yang Nian’s disciples would always be bullied by the neighbors—in fact, Han Xiao wasn’t unaware of this; she had merely felt in the past, what did those people’s affairs have to do with her? Only Jiang Chunai would be so excessively concerned with others’ feelings.
Even when they were young and went to the Ghost Market, Jiang Chunai, regardless of whether she could win or not, would always draw her sword to help when she saw injustice.
…If she couldn’t win, she would return dejectedly to find her Senior Sister.
Despite her usual thought of “less trouble is better,” Han Xiao would still take her sword and help her Junior Sister. No matter how troublesome or trivial, she never refused. Troublesome matters, Jiang Chunai couldn’t resolve; as for trivial matters, well, they were called trivial matters…
Han Xiao had always thought these were ordinary things, but now, she finally realized that those things were not ordinary. She no longer had that youthful time, nor the inclination to return to such a youthful time.
Han Xiao came to the Sword Hall today. As soon as Senior Sister Han Xiao appeared, the Sword Hall immediately erupted with cries, and soon a female cultivator in white robes walked up to her, cautiously asking Han Xiao, “Senior Sister, do you have time to guide us today?”
As she spoke, she awkwardly scratched her head: “Over a year ago, Senior Sister Chunai taught me the Purple Lightning Green Frost Sword, but I wasn’t very serious then and didn’t learn carefully…”
Han Xiao raised an eyebrow, not directly answering. During her silence, the female cultivator was nervous, but finally, when Han Xiao uttered a “Good,” a brilliant smile bloomed on her face.
Today, Senior Sister Han Xiao taught many people. When one person learned, others also rushed forward to seek instruction. After all, it was Han Xiao herself teaching; one had to listen!
While wielding her sword, looking at the surrounding cultivators, Han Xiao, meeting their expectant and reverent gazes, suddenly felt a moment of realization—
Jiang Chunai, were you also like this, bearing these gazes?
After a period of effort, many people learned new sword techniques. Even some disciples of Dao Lord Qiming from next door brazenly came to seek instruction.
“Go away, weren’t you complaining yesterday that we didn’t have a master?! Why are you here today!”
“Oh, what’s the matter? We are all Bright Snow Sect cultivators, what’s wrong with learning together?”
“Without Senior Sister Chunai, there’s Senior Sister Han Xiao! How wonderful to have Senior Sister Han Xiao!”
There were even some less harmonious voices: “No one is irreplaceable, you know.”
…
It seemed that Jiang Chunai had always taught techniques like this, surrounded by crowds. Some people chattered, surrounding her, wanting to understand how each move was performed. But meeting the underlying fear in those people’s gazes, Han Xiao knew that she couldn’t fully experience what Jiang Chunai felt.
Senior Sister Chunai, in the hearts of her fellow disciples, was like a small sun, warm but not scorching. One could ask her anything they wished. However, these people now, surging forward, though they also had questions, and though they surrounded her like they surrounded Jiang Chunai, Han Xiao knew that they simply thought Senior Sister Han Xiao was in a good mood today. Or, that she was showing great benevolence for once.
“Thank you, Senior Sister Han Xiao!” Junior Sister Yun Qi expressed her joy. “If not for you, I might not have learned this move.”
Han Xiao smiled, remaining silent, but didn’t wait for Yun Qi’s further words. She actually knew that Yun Qi was the most eager to learn. Han Xiao rarely came to the Sword Hall. Each time she did, she would see Yun Qi asking Jiang Chunai for advice, asking question after question.
Even now that Han Xiao had also guided Yun Qi, the latter merely thanked her, then left, with no further words.
No one is irreplaceable… right?
Nonsense.
This morning, Han Xiao woke up wanting to go to the mountain. Recently, the Wunian Sect people had been pushing the marriage too much; it was too noisy. Han Xiao moved her home to the middle of Mount Chongming. Mount Chongming was a tall peak, and also the most sun-drenched place among the Mount Shu range. Additionally, their Master, Immortal Lord Yang Nian, also resided there before.
But the path up the mountain was always damp. Earlier in the morning, it was full of mist, occasionally mixed with light rain. In the very beginning, when Han Xiao hadn’t yet achieved her budding genius, she would also ascend the mountain with her fellow disciples, together to pay respects to Master.
…Actually, Jiang Chunai joined the sect earlier than her, harboring some inexplicable feelings towards this new “Senior Sister.” Perhaps it was hostility. Perhaps it was admiration. Perhaps it was something else. In any case, Jiang Chunai at that time was quite pleased with herself, flaunting her rather crude, in Han Xiao’s eyes, three-legged cat martial arts in front of the younger disciples. She didn’t climb slopes or walk mountain paths, only used light-foot techniques to traverse, jumping from one treetop to another. Then, morning dew would rustle down, falling completely onto the people below who were diligently climbing the mountain. Someone would immediately complain, “Senior Sister Chunai, why do you always bully people!”
Jiang Chunai giggled, yet cautiously peeked at her nominal Senior Sister. But Han Xiao always remained indifferent, calmly brushing off the dew that rustled onto her, like a fine drizzle—though she suffered the most directly, she seemed utterly unconcerned.
Han Xiao also walked up the mountain in the rain today. Through the thin morning mist, along the long stone steps. No one was leaping through the treetops anymore. Fortunately, there was rain this morning, rustling down onto her shoulders, as if it were the dew she had received years ago, returning. She was drenched in rain, drenched in the rain of memories and the present. Whether it was rain, or dew, or tears, Han Xiao herself couldn’t quite tell.
When they went to the Ghost Market, Jiang Chunai playfully asked if Senior Sister would resent her for childhood matters—Han Xiao said it was fine, she wouldn’t remember. At that time, Jiang Chunai’s expression seemed a bit forlorn. She finally understood now: not remembering had not meant forgiveness, remembering also meant an eternal, lasting inability to forget.
From Mount Chongming, one could walk to Mist-Shrouded Mountain, and to the Ice Soul Secret Realm. The Ice Soul Secret Realm, due to the demonic energy leakage, was now completely surrounded. However, these formations posed no difficulty for Han Xiao. She easily broke through them, returning to the secret realm’s entrance. The secret realm entrance originally had a thatched hut for people to rest in, with neatly arranged tools outside. This dilapidated hut actually had another name; privately, everyone called it Jiang Chunai’s house—who else always filled in for others on duty? Han Xiao knew this, but Han Xiao had never gone inside to look. Today, she had the inclination.
With a “creak,” she pushed open the old wooden door. The house was indeed old. Flies were trapped on the rafters, forming webs with spiders. Dust motes floated. Han Xiao walked silently forward and saw a peach wood sword hanging on the wall. The hilt was finely engraved with the character “Jiang,” presumably her relic. She picked up the sword.
…The Ice Soul Secret Realm was somewhat dangerous after all. Such a peach wood sword was merely a toy. Under what circumstances would she use this peach wood sword?
Unfortunately, this question would never have an answer.
Han Xiao was silent. Suddenly, she heard the sound of wind chimes—she started in alarm, quickly stepping out of the hut, only to see strings of wind chimes hanging under the eaves, clear and melodious. Each wind chime was meticulously hung with white silk ribbons. In the slanting wind and fine rain, their sound seemed even more ethereal. It must have been something Jiang Chunai hung up.
Han Xiao stood silently in the rain, feeling this prolonged dampness. Her departure was not a heavy downpour, but a damp, moss-breeding overcast day. Each touch was like this, long, boundless, bitter, and moist.
Han Xiao pulled out the snake egg from her embrace. It was laughable, but this snake egg was now the deepest connection she had with Jiang Chunai—yet, on that day of passionate confusion, she had even held a sword to Jiang Chunai’s chin, telling her to get out. What had been repulsive to Han Xiao then had now become something she yearned for but couldn’t obtain.
Suddenly, the normally quiet snake egg stirred: a deep blue aura rippled around it. Han Xiao composed herself, sensing the changes around her. It was normal for demonic energy to leak from the Ice Soul Secret Realm. Especially now, the Bright Snow Sect was no longer as prosperous as it once was, nor was it the impenetrable fortress everyone imagined. Any kind of demon or monster, if they found the right opportunity, could enter the sect. Otherwise, why would she be standing here?
Han Xiao looked down at the black snake scales spreading from her chest. Suddenly, the wind chimes rang loudly, the lingering wind unceasing, whistling past. In an instant, Han Xiao was in her sea of consciousness. Her sea of consciousness, a long, endless night of silence. In the deep darkness, surging waves roared, almost drowning out the sound of the wind chimes near her ears.
“…Come out. What do you have to tell me today?” Han Xiao said blandly, only putting the snake egg away in her embrace. The darkness suddenly opened a small gap. A “hissing” sound of a tongue flicking broke through, and then a snake head emerged. It was a giant python. The giant python had the same faint golden vertical pupils as Han Xiao. It chuckled: “You’re truly becoming more and more proficient.”
Han Xiao nodded. “Mm.” She hadn’t seen this giant python many times, but she had known for a long time—her power originated from it.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you doing any proper business today?” the giant python asked her. Han Xiao, however, said, “I am doing proper business. The demons around the Ice Soul Secret Realm are all at my disposal, aren’t they?”
The golden patterns in the giant python’s eyes suddenly enlarged—
“You want to see her,” it said.
Han Xiao’s long eyelashes trembled. When she blinked again, she was back in the slanting wind and fine rain, with the crisp sound of wind chimes in her ears. “Han Xiao, is there anything you cannot do?” That voice, however, was still in her ear, seductively tempting: “You are the one I have chosen.”
Han Xiao lowered her gaze, using the lingering aura of Jiang Chunai within the thatched hut to infuse spiritual energy into it. “Lord Zhongji, what should Han Xiao do?”
The wind chimes rang, white silk ribbons danced, once again resembling the magnificent scene they had seen that day under the Udumbara tree. The bells chimed, sounding out whispers and a young girl’s worries.
“Hoping to be with Senior Sister forever.”
The voice in her sea of consciousness grew clearer, more distinct: “Is it to avenge her, or to revive her?”
“Or perhaps, both?”
Another crisp ring of wind chimes, drowning Han Xiao’s reply in the wind, turning it into incoherent murmuring. Han Xiao stood alone in the rain and mist. From a distance, she still looked like the tall, cold head disciple of an immortal venerable, transcending the mundane, untainted by worldly desires, fame, or fortune.
But that was only from a distance.
Only Han Xiao knew in her heart how her bloodline, her bone marrow, truly ran deep.