Chapter 43: A Dream of the Moon, Oh a Dream of the Moon

In the dream, he had transmigrated to become Ye Xunhuan, the young master of the Spirit-Taming Sect.

When he woke up, he was wearing a robe as scarlet as blood, embroidered with auspicious clouds in golden thread that faintly shimmered under the candlelight. He looked around blankly, finding himself seated right in the main seat of the grand hall. The hall was desolate, with only two or three matrons and maids bustling about in the corners. A solitary red candle burned, making the vast hall appear even more solitary.

Today was his twentieth coming-of-age banquet. The Spirit-Taming Sect, which had once commanded the allegiance of ten thousand sects, could barely muster a handful of guests even for a coming-of-age celebration.

The middle-aged man beside the main seat grabbed a wine pitcher from the table and tilted his head back to chug it. Amber wine streamed down his jaw, soaking his collar unheeded. After draining it, he slammed the pitcher back onto the table with a heavy thud, letting out a long sigh that made even the candlelight flicker.

The woman beside him reached out and snatched the pitcher away, her voice exceptionally light and soft: “Lingtian, the decline of the Immortal Sect… and the rise of divine arts is an inevitable trend, something beyond the control of any single man. Why torture yourself by laying the blame for everything on your own shoulders?”

Ye Lingtian slammed his palm against the table, causing the wine pitchers and bowls to leap into the air together. His eyes split wide with fury: “To think that my Spirit-Taming Sect was once the number one sect in the Divine Realm continent! Even a minor dharma assembly would see ten thousand sects kowtowing in allegiance! But ever since those divine arts arrived, mere decades have been enough to reduce our Heavenly Sect to this sorry state—I, Ye Lingtian, have failed our ancestors!”

Before he finished speaking, he reached out to grab the wine pitcher again. The hand paused midway, stopping dead in the air.

Ye Lingtian furrowed his brows, looking with utter confusion at Jiang Xiaoyu, who was still dazed: “Huan’er, in the past whenever your father threw a fit, you would spare no effort trying to reason with me. Why are you just sitting there without a single reaction today? Could it be… you’ve been possessed by a ghost?”

Jiang Xiaoyu’s heart skipped a beat, and he cursed his luck.

Immortal sects, divine arts, the Spirit-Taming Sect, ten thousand sects coming to court—what on earth was all this?

“Where on earth has this sent me?”

Before the thought could even finish spinning in his mind, a phrase uncontrollably popped out of his mouth: “Damn it… Xuanhuan cultivation?”

At that moment, the woman also sensed something was amiss.

She walked over quickly, reached out to touch Jiang Xiaoyu’s forehead, and muttered, “It’s not hot.”

Following that, her expression darkened as she began to lecture Ye Lingtian: “You as a father don’t even know what’s on Huan’er’s mind? He’s hardly in the mood right now to listen to your old-fashioned whining!”

Ye Lingtian let out a scoff, the alcohol rising to his head and stripping away his inhibitions: “It’s just him being useless! His childhood sweetheart, whom he shares a mutual affection with, is right there, yet he drags his feet and can’t even marry her! If you ask me, we should just drug him and make it official…”

Before he could finish, the woman flew into a blind rage.

She flicked her finger in a sword-seal, and an immortal sword hanging on the wall un-sheathed itself with a dragon-like chime. Its cold gleam illuminated half the grand hall in an instant.

The woman pointed her sword-finger straight at Ye Lingtian, cursing furiously: “Old dog! Do you dare repeat what you just said? Such a despicable and shameless thing is something an elder father can say?!”

Ye Lingtian sobered up by half, realizing his loose mouth had courted disaster yet again.

He chuckled awkwardly, backing up while forming a sword-seal of his own, summoning another immortal sword from the wall.

Stepping onto the blade with a single bound, he transformed into a streak of light and bolted toward the exterior of the hall, his voice echoing from afar: “Wife, you misheard! I was saying… I was talking about proposing! Proposing! Don’t be rash…”

Mistress Wang snorted coldly, tapped her toes, and shot into the sky like a shooting star chasing the moon: “Don’t you dare try to twist your words, old dog Ye! Prepare to die!”

The two sword beams, one chasing the other, vanished into the air in the blink of an eye.

Jiang Xiaoyu, dumbfounded, twitched the corner of his mouth: “I can accept Dongfang Yueli’s Daoist arts, I can accept the school’s Future Warriors… but how the hell am I supposed to accept Xuanhuan cultivation?”

At that, a sudden shiver ran through him.

“No! No! Just a moment ago, Dongfang and I were battling Chen Hao and Limei on the sports field. The moment Limei’s demonic sound hit me, my mind went blank—this must be an illusion created by Limei’s demonic music!”

“Yes! An illusion!”

Realizing this, he gritted his teeth, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the table, and without blinking, ruthlessly stabbed them straight into the palm of his left hand.

Slash! The bamboo chopsticks pierced right through his palm, blood splashing out. A piercing, bone-deep pain exploded like wildfire up his arm, turning his vision pitch black for a moment.

Seeing this, the matrons and maids nearby were terrified out of their wits. Scrambling away on all fours, their screams tore through the entire grand hall: “Sect Master! Mistress! This is terrible! The Young Master… the Young Master is trying to commit suicide!”

Jiang Xiaoyu hissed in agony, quickly stopping them: “What are you on about… I’m not committing suicide…”

Before he could finish, a figure stepped out from behind the screen.

“It was a woman in black, carrying a sword.”

Her entire aura was as biting as frost, her face as cold as the moon. Her steps were soundless, yet every step caused the air in the hall to freeze by three notches.

Her gaze fell upon Jiang Xiaoyu’s bleeding palm, and she sighed lightly.

She walked over and took Jiang Xiaoyu’s hand.

Waving her hand casually, a full moon materialized out of thin air behind her, moonlight pouring down like mercury and making her look like a banished immortal descending to the mortal world, too cold to belong among men.

Focusing her sword-finger, a silver-white aura surged like a spirit snake into Jiang Xiaoyu’s palm. The pierced wound healed within the span of a breath, leaving not even a trace of a scar.

Then she simply stared fixedly at Jiang Xiaoyu, saying not a single word.

Such a breathtakingly beautiful woman was right before him, and a faint, subtle fragrance of osmanthus drifted into his nose. Jiang Xiaoyu felt a flutter in his chest, his heart pounding wildly and uncontrollably.

He quickly turned his head away, not daring to look at her again.

After the chopsticks through the hand just now, he had confirmed that this was reality. Therefore, in this strange world, he had to proceed with utmost caution.

“I have no idea who this woman is, but I can’t just go asking questions randomly. If I slip up, it’s going to be a disaster.”

Thinking of this, a flash of insight struck him, and he snatched up the wine pitcher to chug it. The burning liquor scorched his throat, making him flush red, cough violently, and even tear up.

A trace of heartache flashed in the woman’s eyes. She gently took the wine pitcher away, setting it on the table, then leaned her side against his shoulder, her voice as light as the clouds and moon in the sky.

“Jiaoyue and Xunhuan have been betrothed since childhood, and I ought to fulfill my duty of serving my husband and raising children. But when I was fifteen, my divine consciousness awakened, and I realized I wasn’t just Lengyue Palace—Jiaoyue; I also carried the mission of reviving the Immortal Sect. The Moon Goddess decreed: You and I share the fate of lovers, but not the fate of husband and wife. Otherwise, your soul will scatter. Why must you push me so hard… I…”

Hearing only halfway, Jiang Xiaoyu understood the gist of it.

Ye Xunhuan was badgering her to get married, but Jiaoyue was refusing, claiming her divine consciousness had awakened and she was burdened with some destiny!

A textbook manipulative green-tea routine! Absolutely outrageous! It was obvious she was playing Ye Xunhuan for a fool. Based on Jiang Xiaoyu’s experience, this Jiaoyue definitely had someone else on the outside!

It seemed this thought resonated with the original owner’s soul, and a surging wave of anger burst forth from his chest.

Jiang Xiaoyu shoved Jiaoyue’s hand away, abruptly stood up, and pointed at her, cursing furiously: “Utter nonsense! Jiaoyue, if you still hold any shred of regard for our past ties, give me a straight answer—do you have someone else on the outside? If you do, tell me to my face! I, Ye Xunhuan, am no clingy leech; I won’t pester you and refuse to let go!”

The moment the words fell, two voices harmonized from behind the screen, cheering in full voice—one male, one female: “Well said!”

Immediately following, two angry shouts rang out from behind the screen, matching male and female: “You bastard, Ye Lingtian! Your son is spewing garbage, and you’re joining in? I, Leng Feng, will fight you to the death!”

Mistress Leng Feng: “Sister hasn’t disciplined sister in a few days, and sister’s mouth is running wild again?”

Ye Lingtian scoffed: “Afraid of you? Come, come…”

The sounds of clashing swords erupted from behind the screen, clang, clang, spiritual energy churning and causing the candles in the hall to flicker wildly.

Mistress Ye Lingtian snorted coldly: “Sister is still as sharp-tongued as ever! Fine, today I’ll tear that mouth of yours to shreds!”

Accompanied by two sharp cries, another roar of colliding spiritual energy shook the room.

Listening to the sound of their parents fighting a pitched battle outside, Jiaoyue whipped her head around, her reddened eye sockets burning as if a fire raged within them.

“Ye! Xun! Huan!” she bit out each word, her voice trembling. “Are you happy now?”

She took a deep breath, her chest heaving violently, tears welling up in her eyes yet stubbornly refusing to fall.

“Fine, fine—I, Jiaoyue, will prove it to you right now before both our parents. Watch and see whether what I said about us lacking the fate of husband and wife is true or false.”

“If I’m lying, I’ll consummate our marriage with you right this instant!”