Chapter 16: Habit

Aside from a mother’s love, Yin Changli couldn’t think of anything else that could give him the strength to survive death’s door and be reborn.

At this moment, he was staring at the long hair of the woman in front of him.

Xiang Haikui, meanwhile, was staring at him.

In truth, he was completely lost in his own world.

But to Xiang Haikui’s eyes, he looked utterly infatuated—his gaze gradually softening into a pool of spring water, brimming with tender affection.

Xiang Haikui had an epiphany: This bastard has a hair fetish!

No wonder even when saving a snake, he made her use her hair as thread.

Yin Changli snapped out of his trance and shifted his gaze to Xiang Haikui’s bun.

Wasn’t she the last woman Dao Chen had contact with before he took over his body?

Frowning slightly, Yin Changli asked, “Miss Xiang, may this humble monk…”

“No, you may not.”

Not knowing what he was scheming, Xiang Haikui cut him off first.

She tugged the reins, urging her camel to speed up and put a dozen zhang between them.

Ahead, Xiang Tianqing, who was sharing a camel with Wu Mian, had been keeping an eye on them—especially Yin Changli—ever since Xiang Haikui slowed down to approach him.

Having met Dao Chen multiple times before, Xiang Tianqing had always paid him extra attention.

Today, however, she sensed something different about the revered monk, stirring a sliver of doubt in her heart.

Yet, though the usual halo of sanctity around him had faded, his very bones now exuded an icy, transcendent allure—one that made him even more untouchable.

His eyes, once warm and gentle, had turned into fathomless, still pools.

You saw emptiness in him, yet he saw through you with piercing clarity.

She thought, Perhaps the master has ascended to a higher realm—a significant leap at that.

When Xiang Haikui caught up, Xiang Tianqing sent her a private message: “Xiao Kui, what misunderstanding happened between you and the master today?”

“No misunderstanding,” Xiang Haikui answered truthfully.

“Sis, stay far away from this hypocritical monk in the future. He’s a complete and utter scumbag—”

“So there is a misunderstanding.”

Xiang Tianqing’s tone turned stern.

“If it were as you say, given the master’s reputation in Silver Sand city, the sheer weight of public scorn would drown you before Father even leaves seclusion. No one could protect you. So why would he step in to help you earlier?”

Xiang Haikui had no rebuttal.

She couldn’t figure it out either.

Xiang Tianqing hesitated for a long moment before finally blurting out: “Is it because you saw me getting close to the master, even giving him my camel, that you’re trying to drive a wedge between us?”

What the F**k?

Xiang Haikui was stunned, unable to process the logic behind that accusation.

A surge of irritation rose in Xiang Tianqing’s chest.

She had guessed that Xiang Haikui left seclusion to find Lu Xiqiao and help their father resolve his troubles—and she’d been right.

Lu Xiqiao, that infamous wastrel of the royal capital, was now bowing and scraping to her.

And what about this incredible skill of hers? This fine sword? Why had she hidden it all this time?

A gift from some expert?

What kind of expert would just hand out divine swords to random people?

Actually… had Father told her to hide it?

Father claimed she had no spiritual roots and couldn’t cultivate, yet before she even arrived, he had already begun searching for rare medicines and secret methods to build her foundation.

Was it only natural that he’d save the best treasures for his own flesh and blood? Why should she feel jealous?

Her parched cherry lips, hidden beneath red gauze, cracked as she bit them in frustration.

The sting made her brow furrow.

Meanwhile, Wu Mian, seated in front of her, was equally unsettled.

He couldn’t decide whether Xiang Haikui was really their master’s biological daughter.

He had always trusted his second senior brother, but now he wavered—had her demonic transformation bewitched him?

Impossible.

His heart belonged only to fighting and his little junior sister.

With his White Tiger bloodline, how could he possibly be charmed by a fox?

“Junior Sister,” he asked Xiang Tianqing, “Master’s lover was a fox demon, so that b— Xiang Haikui is a half-demon like me, right?”

In Zhongzhou, while human-demon unions weren’t forbidden, it was rare for humans to formally marry demons—even as concubines.

Demons were usually treated as “playthings.”

Half-demons faced even greater discrimination.

No wonder their master had kept it vague.

“She doesn’t look much like Master, but the aura in her brow does bear some resemblance.”

Wu Mian’s words were like salt rubbed into Xiang Tianqing’s wounds.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved him off the camel: “Go ride with someone else!”

Caught off guard, Wu Mian tumbled to the ground, rolling once before scrambling up in confusion.

“Junior Sister, what did I say wrong?”

Behind them, Lu Xiqiao burst into laughter.

Wu Mian shot him a glare.

Laugh all you want, punk. I’ll kill you sooner or later!

—

By the time they returned to the outskirts of Silver Sand City, Yin Changli, trailing at the back, noticed the group had halted and was now staring at him.

Realizing Dao Chen’s Buddhist cave must be nearby, he released his spiritual sense to scan the area, pinpointed the location, and prepared to take his leave.

“Wait.”

In front of everyone, Xiang Haikui turned her camel around.

“Because of our misunderstanding, I wounded you. I can’t live with the guilt. I’ve decided to accompany you to the cave and tend to your injuries until you’ve fully recovered.”

Yin Changli lowered his gaze.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Xiang Haikui had already ridden ahead.

“You’re a merciful soul. Surely you wouldn’t want a devoted believer like me to suffer a guilty conscience, would you?”

Lu Xiqiao and Bai Xingxian shared a camel, and Bai Xingxian naturally followed Xiang Haikui—only to be blocked by Wu Mian.

“Lu Xiqiao can’t leave. Come back with me!”

Lu Xiqiao argued, “City Lord Xiang only forbade me from leaving the pass. What’s wrong with going to the cave?”

As they bickered, Xiang Haikui and Yin Changli had already arrived at the cave.

Carved into a cliff face, this cave was originally just a natural cave.

Many years ago, a group of ascetic monks took shelter here during a sandstorm and began carving Buddhist statues into the stone walls.

One of them later achieved a golden body, attaining enlightenment and becoming a renowned figure.

The cave thus became a pilgrimage site for Buddhist cultivators—if you hadn’t carved a statue here, you could hardly call yourself a true practitioner.

Over time, the cave expanded into a labyrinthine maze of winding tunnels.

When Xiang Haikui had brought the little black snake here for treatment, she’d been in too much of a hurry to notice.

Now, she realized some of the carvings weren’t even Buddhist statues—likely depictions of loved ones by devotees seeking blessings.

After marveling at the chaotic array, she spotted a stone relief that somewhat resembled her boss.

Seated cross-legged, radiant and dignified, as if playing a game of chess with someone.

Beneath the statue was an inscription:

“Beyond the Nine Heavens, whether you become Buddha or demon, may you be well year after year… and may I—”

The calligraphy was bold and unrestrained.

If the writing reflected the person, Xiang Haikui guessed the carver must have been strikingly handsome.

Unfortunately, time had eroded the last line beyond recognition.

The carver and the subject were likely kindred spirits… or perhaps rivals?

Two equals locked in an eternal stalemate.

Then, just before his ascension, the carver came to the cave, leaving behind this statue as a blessing for his opponent—hoping he’d live long and well, at least until the day he could finally defeat him.

In other words: If you must die, it’ll be by my hand.

Noticing her pause, Yin Changli glanced at the statue but didn’t linger, continuing deeper into the cave.

Guided by instinct, he arrived at a chamber—likely Dao Chen’s meditation room.

The furnishings were sparse: a prayer mat and a writing desk.

He walked behind the desk and sat down.

Fragmented memories surfaced hazily in his mind.

Dao Chen panicked, desperately trying to reclaim control, but Yin Changli’s soul was far too powerful to resist.

As Yin Changli sifted through useful information, Xiang Haikui strode in, slamming her sword case onto the desk.

Then, she drew a dagger from her sleeve and thunk—stabbed it into the wood right in front of him.

Yin Changli glanced at the dagger.

It looked familiar—ah, yes, the same one that had been buried in Dao Chen’s chest earlier.

He averted his gaze.

Xiang Haikui raised a brow and sat across from him, the snake jar hanging at her waist, her posture the very picture of a domineering, unruly boss.

Her eyes locked onto him, unblinking.

Her actions made it clear: When I said I’d keep an eye on you, I meant it.

Yin Changli stopped what he was doing and met her stare.

This human burr… was proving rather troublesome.

Oh? He dares to stare back?

Xiang Haikui raised a hand, clawing the air menacingly toward his eyes.

“Before my father leaves seclusion, if you don’t leave, I’ll camp here day and night. So what if your cultivation’s higher? We’re both divine sword masters—neither of us can touch the other.”

That assassin probably wouldn’t try to drown her while she was bathing now.

Might as well wait here.

The cave might even be safer.

Bai Xingxian had told her: Tiankuang only turned sluggish when she felt hostility toward the Tianren sword’s master.

In battles against others, Tianren would instead empower Tiankuang.

—

After returning to the city lord’s manor, Xiang Tianqing immediately began practicing swordplay.

Hearing of this, Meng Xilou went to observe from a distance.

Normally, she preferred dabbling in herbs—why the sudden diligence?

And why was she so agitated? Her movements were sloppy, devoid of progress.

Frowning, he was about to intervene when his subordinate, Huai Mie, appeared.

“Young Master, we have a problem.”

Meng Xilou paused.

“What is it?”

Huai Mie had been secretly guarding Xiang Tianqing and had witnessed Xiang Haikui’s fight with Wu Mian and the others.

“Though I didn’t see her fight myself, that woman’s strength is nothing to scoff at.”

Meng Xilou was taken aback.

“She has no spiritual roots?”

“The sword in her hand… seems to be the Tiankuang Sword. And that pale-skinned boy with her? Likely wields Tianbao…”

Now Meng Xilou was truly baffled.

Xiang Haikui was twenty years old—a mortal through and through.

How had she suddenly gained cultivation… and a divine sword?

Huai Mie clenched his teeth.

“Young Master, if I’m to torture and kill her in six days… my chances of success are slim.”

Six days from now was the perfect window—Xiang Heng would be deep in meditation.

The next opportunity might not come for a long time.

Meng Xilou rubbed his fingers together, his gaze shifting to Xiang Tianqing in the distance.

His eyes darkened.

“In that case, I’ll handle it myself.”

No matter her origins, how could a mere mortal hope to defy him?

Hah.

—

While Xiang Haikui was busy threatening Yin Changli, Lu Xiqiao and Bai Xingxian found their way inside.

Seems they’d won their war of words against Wu Mian.

The two chatted animatedly.

Xiang Haikui retracted her clawed fingers from Yin Changli’s face just in time to hear them say—

“Pretty impressive, right, little bro?”

“Very.”

“Damn right. Back in the royal capital, I never won a fight, but I *never* lost an argument.”

“Amazing, amazing.”

The moment Lu Xiqiao entered, he took off his storage bracelet, lifted the seal, and handed it to Xiang Haikui.

“Sister Kui, I almost forgot—you haven’t picked your reward yet.”

Xiang Haikui had saved him twice, not for rewards, but she was broke. Why refuse free loot?

She sent her spiritual sense into the bracelet.

Mountains of treasures lay within.

But after seeing her boss’s “department store,” she was unfazed by such wealth now.

After some browsing, she settled on a single red feather.

Brighter than a phoenix’s, pulsing with spiritual energy.

*”Sister Kui, you’ve got great taste.”

Lu Xiqiao immediately retrieved the feather.

“This is a Vermilion Bird feather. A Vermilion Bird—a celestial being!”

Xiang Haikui held it up to her hair, pleased.

“This’ll do.”

Lu Xiqiao blinked.

“Want a few more?”

“This is enough.”

She promptly undid her messy bun and redid it.

Lu Xiqiao noticed a small bald patch on her scalp but bit back his question.

Once she’d secured the feather into her new bun, Lu Xiqiao declared, “Sister Kui, since you’ve accepted my gift, from now on, I’m yours.”

Xiang Haikui froze.

That sounded… weird.

Lu Xiqiao hurried to clarify.

“You know I’ve always wanted to do something big to prove myself to my family. I’ve got a feeling that following you, I’ll achieve great things.”

Xiang Haikui’s only goal was survival.

She’d never aimed for greatness.

“Even if I were planning something big, what could you contribute? Treasure? Little Bai’s already got that covered.”

Bai Xingxian stood obediently in the corner, stealing glances at the “master” meditating behind the desk.

During their earlier exchange, Lu Xiqiao had realized Bai Xingxian was indeed richer—and that blindingly radiant sword of his was no joke either.

“But Little Bai’s shy! I’m different—I’ve got no shame. Today, that rabid dog Wu Mian was about to throw a punch at you, but the moment I opened my mouth, he switched to hitting me instead.”

Lu Xiqiao puffed up proudly.

“I’m a master at drawing fire. In the future, I can take the heat off you.”

Stunned, Xiang Haikui found this logic… irrefutable.

—

Yin Changli wasn’t paying attention to their chatter.

Amusing.

They’d been at each other’s throats earlier, yet now they were chatting away merrily in front of their enemy.

Such remarkable mental fortitude.

Having been in the desert for so long without water, Yin Changli was thirsty.

He retrieved a bamboo tube and a tea set from Dao Chen’s storage bracelet and brewed himself a pot.

Absently, he picked up a Buddhist scripture from the floor and began reading.

After finishing one cup, out of habit, he extended the empty cup toward Bai Xingxian.

Bai Xingxian, who’d been studying him, recognized that familiar pinky-lifted gesture.

Instinctively, he transformed into a chubby hamster, hopped onto the desk, and used both front paws to refill the cup.

Yin Changli flipped a page idly, bringing the cup to his lips.

The moment the tea touched his mouth, he froze.

The diligent hamster, still clutching the teapot with both paws, also froze.

Xiang Haikui, previously annoyed by Lu Xiqiao’s pestering, caught sight of this scene.

After a beat, she, too, froze as if paralyzed.

The air seemed to solidify, time itself grinding to a halt—leaving only Lu Xiqiao’s bewildered, darting eyes.