Zhu Xian: They've all been reborn

late at night.

Tian Ling'er lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling with her eyes open.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a pale white glow on the floor.

She turned over, facing the wall, and buried her face in the pillow.

When I touched his neck today, he flinched.

Tian Ling'er closed her eyes. Scenes from her past life surfaced in the darkness.

The sword light, blood, rain, and the way he fell on Qingyun Mountain.

Lu Xueqi hugged him tightly, preventing anyone from getting close.

She stood outside the crowd, watching, and felt her hands and feet getting cold.

She didn't know what happened in the end, only that when she woke up she was back to the age of seven.

She stood there stunned for a long time before getting out of bed, running to the mirror, and seeing her own childlike face reflected there. Then she ran outside to the back hill, where she saw him holding a machete, chopping bamboo, one stroke at a time. Six-year-old Jiang Xiaochuan was small, with thin arms, and his face was covered in sweat from chopping.

When she hugged him, tears almost welled up in her eyes. He was warm, alive. This time, it was different.

That year, she watched him cultivate, saw him distressed because of his ordinary talent, and saw him grit his teeth and chop bamboo every day.

She really wanted to tell him, "It's okay. Even if you never reach the fourth level of Jade Purity in your entire life, it's okay. I can protect you."

But she can't.

All she could do was stay by his side, be good to him, and get closer to him little by little.

But he seemed... to feel nothing. No, he did feel something, but it was resistance. He always took a step back when she got too close.

Tian Ling'er hugged her pillow tighter. She felt a mix of sadness and sweetness in her heart.

The bittersweet feeling is that he doesn't understand yet, but the sweetness comes from the fact that he's still here, and this time, Lu Xueqi hasn't appeared yet. Biyao is still young. Xiaobai... Xiaobai is still locked up in the Xuanhuo Altar in Fenxiang Valley.

She has time.

As she pondered, a smile crept onto her lips. The moonlight outside the window slowly moved, creeping from the floor to the edge of the bed. She turned over, facing the window, gazing at the bright moon.

This time, she won't let go.

Fox Hill.

In the open space outside the Six Fox Cave, Biyao squatted on the ground, watching ants move their nest.

She is six years old. It has been three months since she was reborn. In these three months, she did the most important thing: she pestered her father to let Uncle Qinglong and Aunt Youji accompany her mother back to Fox Ridge Mountain to see her maternal grandmother.

They're back today.

Hearing footsteps, Biyao looked up. Xiaochi emerged from the cave, carrying a basket of wild fruits. Sunlight shone on her face, a gentle face Biyao had sketched countless times in her memory. Her dead mother, the mother who fed her with her own flesh, the mother who, even as nothing but bones, still clung to her.

Now stand here properly.

Biyao stood up, ran over, and hugged Xiaochi's leg.

"What's wrong with Yao'er?" Xiao Chi put down the basket and bent down to touch her head.

Biyao shook her head, burying her face in her skirt. She couldn't cry; she couldn't let her see. She took a deep breath, raised her head, and smiled.

"Mom, how is Grandma?"

"I'm fine," Xiao Chi said with a smile. "I was just wondering why you didn't come along. I'll definitely bring you next time."

"Yes." Biyao nodded vigorously.

A whooshing sound came from afar. Qinglong and Youji landed in the air, their expressions not good.

"What's wrong?" Xiao Chi asked.

"We ran into those bald monks from Tianyin Temple," Qinglong sneered. "Pu Fang and his group of righteous people were hiding in the shadows, trying to launch a sneak attack. Youji and I stopped them."

Youji continued, "We protected the old lady as we retreated, and the fight didn't last long. But a corner of the cave entrance was shaken down."

Xiao Chi's face turned pale. "Then my mother..."

"It's alright, everyone's out," Qinglong said. "It's those bald monks, they have a really good nose."

Biyao gripped Xiaochi's hand tightly. It had come after all. But this time, her mother was alright, and her grandmother was alright. The stone that had weighed on her heart for countless years finally shattered.

That evening, Ghost King Wanren returned. After listening to Qinglong's report, he remained silent for a long time.

"Tianyin Temple." He slowly uttered these three words, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Sect Master, shall we retaliate?" Qinglong asked.

Everyone turned to look at Xiao Chi. Xiao Chi shook her head: "My mother and I are both fine, let's just forget about it."

Biyao sat beside him, munching on mountain fruits in small bites. She knew her father wouldn't let it go so easily. Sure enough, a few days later, the four Holy Envoys of the Ghost King Sect launched a surprise attack on one of Tianyin Temple's outposts. Although they didn't gain much advantage, they heard that the bald monk Pufang had also been injured.

When the message came back, Biyao was cultivating in her room. She opened her eyes, a coldness that was not commensurate with her age flashing in them.

Then she closed her eyes again and circulated her cultivation technique. The contents of the celestial book from her past life flowed through her mind. Volume One, Volume Two, and those scattered techniques. Her cultivation level rose rapidly, and she had already vaguely touched the threshold of the entry-level realm.

But not enough.

She was thinking of Jiang Xiaochuan. He should be on Dazhu Peak now, cutting bamboo every day.

Biyao bit her lip.

I need to get stronger quickly. Strong enough to go to the Qingyun Sect and bring him out. To the Ghost King Sect, or anywhere else. The important thing is to prevent him from being with Lu Xueqi again…

She paused her thoughts and took a deep breath.

No rush, there's still plenty of time. He's only seven years old. She has time.

The moonlight outside the window was cold and clear, illuminating the outline of Fox Ridge Mountain. Biyao walked to the window and looked towards the distant Qingyun Mountain. The mountain shadows stretched for thousands of miles.

She raised her hand, and moonlight fell into her palm.

wait for me.

She said it silently.

The back mountain of Dazhu Peak.

Jiang Xiaochuan finished cutting the last bamboo stalk of the day and collapsed to the ground, panting. The setting sun cast long shadows of bamboo. Tian Ling'er sat beside him and handed him a water pouch.

"Thank you, senior sister." He took it and tilted his head back to drink a big gulp.

"You've improved," Tian Ling'er said. "You made ten more cuts today than yesterday."

Jiang Xiaochuan gave a wry smile. "Is this considered progress?"

"Yes," Tian Ling'er said earnestly, "We'll take it one step at a time, things will get better eventually."

Jiang Xiaochuan looked at her. The setting sun shone on her profile, turning the downy hairs golden. An eight-year-old girl, yet she spoke with an air of maturity beyond her years. He suddenly realized that Tian Ling'er sometimes didn't seem like a child.

"Senior Sister," he said.

"Um?"

Why are you so good to me?

Tian Ling'er was taken aback. She turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in the setting sun. After a long while, she finally spoke:

"Because you are Xiaochuan."

This answer was essentially meaningless. Jiang Xiaochuan wanted to ask more, but Tian Ling'er had already stood up and dusted off her skirt.

"Let's go back, it's time for dinner. My teacher's wife made braised pork today."

She reached out her hand to him.

Jiang Xiaochuan looked at the hand. It was small, with thin calluses from practicing martial arts on the palm. He hesitated for a moment, then took it. Tian Ling'er pulled him up with force, and then, naturally, without letting go, led him down the mountain.

My palms are warm.

Jiang Xiaochuan looked at their clasped hands, and that strange feeling welled up inside him again. He tried to pull his hand away, but Tian Ling'er held on even tighter.

"Senior sister..." he whispered.

"What?" Tian Ling'er didn't turn around.

"...It's nothing."

He gave up. He let her lead him, step by step, down the mountain. The setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them, overlapping and swaying with their movements.

The wind rustled through the bamboo grove. In the distance, the smell of cooking smoke drifted in, along with the barking of Big Yellow.

Jiang Xiaochuan watched Tian Ling'er's retreating figure, her ponytail bouncing. He suddenly felt that... this might not be so bad.