At the border of West Mountain, a chasm known as the Ghost Tomb separated Ming City from Xichuan.

The area was steeped in demonic energy, a blood-red moon hanging high above and an endless abyss below. Even the Demon Sect’s cultivators rarely dared to venture here.

But today, someone with a longsword in hand crossed the wailing of ten thousand ghosts, cutting through spirits to arrive.

The sword bore the engraving of a flying crane. Its wielder stood at the edge of the Ghost Tomb, gazing into the chasm.

For miles around, the only color was a faint moonlit white.

Mei He stared into the abyss, knowing that the vengeful spirits within were also looking back at her. Yet she showed no fear, her face softening into a gentle smile.

The Battle of Demon Suppression had claimed countless heroes, leaving the once-thriving Yue City devastated. Over time, it withered into what was now Ming City.

For years, Mei He had wandered the world, always returning to Ming City to visit the Ghost Tomb, as if meeting old friends.

Of course, there were two people she most wanted to pay homage to.

A century ago, Sword Saint Yue Qianqiu and Demon Lord Chu Changli clashed in Yue City.

Chu Changli, a master of the xiao (flute), played a piece that made ten thousand ghosts weep.

Yue Qianqiu, with a sword strike that shook heaven and earth, split the mountains and rivers, creating the chasm that became the Ghost Tomb.

But a disciple can never defeat their master. Chu Changli lost. After her defeat, she descended into madness and leapt into the abyss. Yue Qianqiu disappeared soon after.

Her master had been missing for a hundred years, and Mei He had wandered for just as long.

A hundred years, gone in the blink of an eye.

Back then, Yue Qianqiu loved a wine from Chang’an’s Tower called Eternal Drunkenness. Now, at the Ghost Tomb, Mei He held her sword, Yushang, and poured a cup of the wine in offering.

Eternal Drunkenness started with a sharp, fiery taste but ended with a long, mellow warmth—a priceless treasure.

The spirits wailed incessantly, their cries piercing the air.

Mei He poured the wine into the Ghost Tomb and said with a smile, “Changli, I offer you a toast as well.”

She spoke to the chasm for a long time. When the cup was empty, she looked regretfully at Yushang and tossed it into the abyss.

It was said that the depths of the abyss held the spirits of those who perished in the Battle of Demon Suppression. As she watched the howling ghosts, Mei He felt a fleeting sense of disorientation.

Among these spirits, could her master’s soul be present?

The crimson moon over Ming City hung in the sky like fresh blood, its hue akin to lacquered red.

Mei He thought of the message she had received yesterday from the Wanjian Sect and murmured softly, “Master, did you know? The 300 scrolls you designed a century ago—someone has now answered 231 of them.”

“In the past hundred years, no one has come close to such a feat. The last martial genius must have been that young girl, Jiang Fei.”

Mei He chuckled, slightly tipsy, and added with a tinge of irreverence, “To be honest, that person is a little like you.”

Qingluan Peak, Qiushanju

In the quiet of Qiushanju, Gong Yu sipped tea, nestled against a pearwood desk as she compiled the latest rankings.

The sound of a door opening broke the silence.

A man stepped in, clad in a fox-fur coat, sword at his side, exuding an air of striking handsomeness. It was Ji Qingyang.

His heavy scent of alcohol made Gong Yu frown.

Ji Qingyang, known for his carefree demeanor, paid no mind to her obvious disdain. Instead, his gaze fell on the two piles of exam scrolls on the desk and the rankings list she was drafting. His eyebrow arched.

“Elder Gong, why is it that both Gu Baiyi and Ji Rong answered 231 scrolls, yet Ji Rong is ranked first while Gu Baiyi is second?”

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As the chief examiner for the Inner Sect, Gong Yu could see everything in the examination hall through the Water Mirror. She coughed lightly and explained, “They both did exceptionally well, but Gu Baiyi left one question unanswered.”

The Water Mirror replayed the scene.

At the start of the exam, Ji Rong had immediately buried herself in answering questions.

In contrast, Gu Baiyi had neither picked up her brush nor opened her test booklet. Instead, she stared intently at the figure in white ahead of her for quite some time.

“To be distracted during an exam is unacceptable,” Gong Yu said. “I penalized her for it.”

By the time the exam ended, both had put down their brushes simultaneously, during which Gong Yu had already graded nine scrolls.

Ji Qingyang chuckled. “Which question was left unanswered? Was it due to lack of time or exhaustion of mental energy?”

“It wasn’t that.” Gong Yu’s henna-tinted nails pointed to the last question on the 231st scroll.

Ji Qingyang looked at it, his carefree demeanor fading slightly. “It’s no wonder she didn’t answer this one. It’s more of a legend than a question.”

“No,” Gong Yu shook her head. “I saw her hesitate, her brow furrowed. Her brush hovered for a moment before she stopped. She knew the answer but chose not to write it.”

Ji Qingyang asked, “And Ji Rong? Did she answer it?”

“She did,” Gong Yu replied. “But half of it was wrong.”

“Half wrong?” Ji Qingyang raised an eyebrow. “Then why did her score surpass Gu Baiyi’s?”

“Because she made the mistakes intentionally.”

Gong Yu set down her teacup, her voice calm as she concluded, “The first three swords she named were correct. But the last two—she wrote them so absurdly wrong, it had to be deliberate.”

Ji Qingyang was intrigued and picked up Ji Rong's final exam scroll to examine her answers.

"Sword of Unease" and "Flirty Glances Sword"? What kind of so-called legendary swords were these?

He froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. “One knows but doesn’t answer; the other deliberately answers wrong. How amusing.”

At Baolu Market

Ji Rong stood before a stall selling yellow plush duck figurines, questioning her life choices.

Liu Ningxue, ever superstitious, handed over fifty jade spiritual coins to buy a "Pass-Every-Exam Duck" and asked with a grin, “Senior Sister, would you like one too?”

The little duck, warm yellow and palm-sized, was finely crafted. Once imbued with spiritual energy, it would chirp repeatedly, “Pass the exam! Pass the exam! Pass every exam!”

It was no different from paying an "intelligence tax." Much like superstitious charms, it wouldn’t guarantee success.

Ji Rong shook her head, unwilling to be duped again.

“Ah, to be honest, I’m more worried about today’s written exam than tomorrow’s martial trial,” Liu Ningxue remarked.

“Why?”

Ji Rong was puzzled. She thought, Isn’t this little beauty going in unprepared? What’s there to be concerned about?

Looking at Ji Rong as if she were a protective talisman, Liu Ningxue’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Senior Sister Ji, you absolutely must win! Otherwise, my five hundred jade spiritual coins will be gone!”

Ji Rong: “?”

Nearby, Mo Yan, tending her stall and occasionally eavesdropping, burst into laughter. “Senior Sister Ji, you might not know this, but while we waited outside during yesterday’s written exam, we placed a few lighthearted bets.”

How impressive, Ji Rong thought. They even make gambling sound so refined.

She looked calmly at Mo Yan, waiting for her to continue.

Mo Yan had expected questions, but none came.

Awkwardly, she explained, “The bet was on whether you or Junior Sister Gu Baiyi would score higher on the written exam.”

“Ah, I see.”

“…”

Mo Yan stared at Ji Rong’s impassive demeanor and sighed. “Don’t you care at all? Senior Sister Liu wagered five hundred jade spiritual coins, and I secretly bet one thousand on you winning.”

Hearing the mention of spiritual coins, Liu Ningxue clutched her endlessly chirping duck and nodded furiously. “Yes, yes! Senior Brother Wei even bet three thousand jade spiritual coins!”

Ji Rong asked, “Who received more bets in total?”

Mo Yan sighed. “Since your previous written exam results weren’t great, the numbers are currently three to seven, three for you, seven for Gu Baiyi.”

“But in terms of wagered spiritual coins, you’re ahead because Senior Brother Wei accounts for half the total.”

Ji Rong smiled faintly and nodded. “Then you’ll win big this time.”

At Kuai Xueju on Tianji Peak

Moonlight spilled like water, its glow illuminating the bloodstains on medicinal herbs.

Gu Baiyi was refining pills, but a sharp pain in her heart caused her to suddenly cough up blood.

The crimson droplets splattered onto her knuckles, resembling tiny red plum blossoms embroidered stitch by stitch.

Her dark robes masked the bloodstains well, but the freshly harvested herbs from Myriad Medicine Valley were wasted.

A phoenix totem spread from her chest to her neck as she sat cross-legged, attempting to stabilize her breath. The cold malice in her eyes grew more intense.

It wasn’t until the scarlet hue in her pupils faded to ink black that she slowly stood up and washed the blood from her fingers.

Her gaze was not so much calm as it was indifferent.

As she wiped the blood from the herbs, she realized that while the stains could be cleaned, the demonic aura tainting them could not.

Perhaps her life was no different from these herbs—always beyond her control.

After a long pause, she reined in her wandering thoughts. Turning to the shadow under the moonlight, she bowed slightly, a smile playing on her lips.

“Senior Bai, your reputation precedes you.”