Chapter 62

When Lin Xunzhen woke, there was no Lin Manor, no streets—only a thick silk cocoon that had split open around her.

She scrambled out at once and saw that Qing Zhouxue was already awake too, bending over to slash away the silk threads binding her ankles with her ice sword.

Nearby, the spider had lost all interest in the living, who had torn free of their cocoons. It only fed on those still wrapped, still dying within their illusions. It perched atop the remaining two cocoons, waiting for the women inside to perish.

They couldn't kill this spider. If it died, the people trapped in the cocoons would have no chance of survival.

That was precisely what made this demon beast so troublesome.

There were many ways to escape the illusions—Qing Zhouxue had done so by killing, Lin Xunzhen by breaking from her original path and reclaiming her agency—but in the end, every escape required one to awaken by oneself. Outsiders seemed unable to do much to help.

Lin Xunzhen lingered there, guarding the two cocoons, exchanging distant stares with the Dreamweaver Spider.

After discussing with her for a moment, Qing Zhouxue stood up and felt her way back along the path.

The Dreamweaver Spider must be the guardian beast of the dense forest. Its appearance meant the treasure had already been disturbed. The small squad that had entered earlier had all been wrapped into cocoons, and the token of authority was likely lying somewhere in the grass along the way.

Outside, the two split their duties smoothly, while Ruan Mingzhu, still lost in her dream, stubbornly survived in the desert.

A golden sun hung in the sky, baking the yellow sands until they were scorching hot. A breeze occasionally blew, lifting dust into the air.

Several claw prints were scattered messily across the sand, followed by a few mournful howls. A pack of large, yellow-furred wolves surrounded a fallen yellow sheep, gnawing at its bones.

A closer look revealed a child squeezed in among them, covered in filth, with curly, yellowed hair. All that stood out were her big, bright eyes. When the wolves tore off large chunks of meat, she trailed behind, picking up small bones and scraps to eat.

Those wolves were somewhat like the Sand Wolves of the secret realm, though a size smaller and without any cultivation. They seemed familiar with the child's scent and showed no hostility toward her.

Over a decade ago, Ruan Mingzhu lived exactly like this—sleeping in the open and eating wherever she could. She didn't know whether she had parents; all she remembered, from the very beginning, was following the wolf pack, scavenging for food and water. When nights grew cold, she curled up with them for warmth.

Her life was simple, without worries—except when they failed to catch any prey, and she had to go hungry.

The illusion painted a perfect picture of her memories, and for a while, she didn't notice anything amiss.

One day, while she was drinking at the edge of an oasis, the alpha wolf kept a wary eye on their surroundings.

Nothing seemed unusual. The wind was gentle, and the air was dry and hot. The yellow sand burned her feet, forcing her to seek shade. She frolicked with the other wolf pups, playfully biting and growling in a beastly tongue, unable to speak human words.

Something rustled in a low, withered bush. The alpha wolf's eyes darted, locking onto the spot. A little lizard scurried out, then shook its head and burrowed back into the sand.

Its tail twitched, and it settled into the shade, narrowing its wolf eyes in contentment.

A shadow crept silently closer.

A beast's instincts are always sharp, but compared to a prepared human, they fall short.

One side was in the light, the other in the dark. When Ruan Mingzhu turned her head, all she saw was the gleaming white blade of a ronin's sword.

Warm wolf blood splattered across her face. She snapped to her senses and, scrambling and crawling, fled with the surviving pups toward a sparse patch of vegetation in the distant sands.

Arrows struck live hearts like blades. The wolf pups didn't even manage a whimper before they fell. Then Ruan Mingzhu was yanked up by the scruff. She struggled, a low growl rumbling in her throat as she glared at the towering figures before her.

"What's this?" one man said, hauling the pups into a cowhide sack, then turning to study the child.

"A child raised by wolves?" a hoarse voice cut in. A woman with her face fully wrapped glanced at her. "Bring her along."

The child let out a howl and bit down hard on the swordsman's finger. He flung her to the ground, but small as she was, she was as nimble and fierce as a wolf. She sprang back up at once, eyes bloodshot, as if she wanted to devour his flesh and blood to avenge her "kin."

The swordsman's gaze sharpened. He seized her by the neck and lifted her. "Little wolf cub, behave!"

She refused to yield. With sharp teeth, she bit anything she could reach, like a maddened beast. Finally, she took a punch and blacked out. She was bundled into the sack alongside the dead pups and carried back to camp.

This place was a gathering spot for rogues, out on the border where the court had no reach and no intention to intervene. Men who wielded blades, smuggled goods, or had killed without paying for it—all mingled here amid the rasping of huqin fiddles and raucous noise.

Those who lived by the edge of a blade were briefly curious about the wolf child and grudgingly took her in.

Because she bit people the moment she woke, they tethered her to a wooden stake in front of a shabby tent.

Others dangled dried meat before her nose to tease her. When she lunged eagerly to snatch it, they whisked it away, leaving the wolf child wrinkling her nose and baring her teeth—an amusing sight that drew hearty laughter from the crowd.

Except for her ferocity when pouncing for food, she spent the rest of her time glaring warily at these people. The tall men came and went before her chain, seemingly meaning her no harm.

Living among a pack of ruffians, she gradually learned the ways of survival here.

The fierce-looking man with a large blade and several long scars across his face was the "wolf king" of this place. He led his band of henchmen, wielding swords, spears, and clubs, to rob passing merchants—calling it "hunting"—before returning to divvy up the spoils. At times, they fought against the ruffians from another camp to seize water sources.

So it was no different from the wolf pack—you had to fight, you had to win, to get the best meat.

In her limited, simple mind, that was what life was like.

She found that pouncing on all fours was awkward for attacking, so she gradually learned to walk upright by watching humans. Noticing that people wrapped cloth around their bodies to protect themselves, she copied them, snatching scraps of fabric to tie around herself. In the end, amid the drunken boasting and spittle-flying talk of that band of brutes, she picked up the local dialect—though not a single word in ten could be called refined.

She stopped biting people and grew familiar with the crowd. The barbarian woman wrapped in a thick headscarf was the only literate one, and she gave Ruan Mingzhu a name—translated into Chinese, it became the three characters she uses to this day.

The swordsman found she had some talent for martial arts and, when drunk, would teach her with his blade. Ruan Mingzhu's aptitude for martial arts was indeed outstanding. She learned in a haphazard way, yet improved rapidly.

Having grasped the principle of life and death, of taking and killing, she—young as she was—absorbed the ways of that pack of ruffians and mimicked them readily.

Not every girl can be compared to a delicate flower. She was more like a wild weed, thriving wherever the wind carried her.

Outside the illusion.

Lin Xunzhen watched the silk cocoons of the two girls, which remained motionless except for a subtle rise and fall, barely proving that they still lived within. Anxiety gnawed at her. The spider occasionally let out a strange cackle, almost as if mocking her.

A rustle came from the woods. She alertedly turned toward the shadowy undergrowth. Qing Zhouxue strode over, clutching a crystalline piece of jade. "This might be it. I searched the whole way and found it wedged in a crevice beneath the cocoons."

Lin Xunzhen took it and examined it. Its surface indeed bore the emblem of the Taichu Sect, faintly radiating spiritual light. "It was set by the sect beforehand, so it must be right. Did anyone come looking for it while you were out?"

"A few did. But they were in a hurry and didn't inspect closely—they passed right by." Qing Zhouxue glanced back. "I doubt they noticed I picked it up."

To be safe, Lin Xunzhen carefully stowed the jade, wrapping it tightly so no glimmer escaped for others to covet. Her heart finally eased a little. But when she looked at the silk cocoons of Ruan Mingzhu and Bai Su, her brows knitted again. "These two... what on earth did they see? Why haven't they come out?"

Lin Xunzhen's instinct told her she couldn't just sit idle. Clinging to a faint thread of hope, she called out their names toward Ruan Mingzhu's and Bai Su's cocoons.

Inside the illusion, yellow sand swirled in the wind.

Ruan Mingzhu was the smallest of the children in the camp, yet she fought the most ferociously. Older kids loved to bully others, snatching her dried food whenever they had nothing better to do. She would take a beating until blood streamed down her head, but she never backed down—instead, she showed the ruthless resolve of one ready to burn everything to the ground.

Unable to get the better of her, they came to fear her a little. And through bouts of fighting, she grew ever more skilled at it.

Two figures rolled on the ground, kicking up clouds of yellow sand, legs flailing wildly.

A few barbarian children cheered nearby as Ruan Mingzhu pinned a boy from the rival camp beneath her and grabbed him by the collar. "The food! Hand it over!"

The boy was stocky, but no match for her strength. She punched him in the chest, and he coughed violently as his mouth filled with sand. "Why should I give it to you?" he cursed.

"Because I can beat you." The girl bared a fierce gaze, and for some reason, her head gave a sharp throb. She bared her teeth. "Or you can call me your boss. Then not only will I not hit you, but I'll share with you, just like the others!"

"No way!"

Ruan Mingzhu's arm stung as the boy bit down till he drew blood. Her fury flared. She slammed him face-first into the sand, then grabbed his head as if about to smash it down like an egg—

"Call me boss or not?" She threatened, holding him there, but didn't actually crack his skull.

She loomed over him.

For some reason, a dull ache throbbed at her temples again, as if something were trying to yank her soul from her body.

"...Screw you! Never!" the boy said, his words slurred.

Furious, she was about to strike when a sharp pain exploded in her head, like being trapped inside a bell as it was struck.

It felt as if some teacher had been nagging in her ear every single day.

Ruan Mingzhu! Hold fast against arrogance and haste. Attain the ultimate void, keep firm in stillness—that is the proper path.

What "ultimate void"? What "stillness"? Those were not words she should know, not words she could understand. She didn't even know how to read.

In that instant, Ruan Mingzhu froze as if struck by thunder and lightning. Everything before her eyes turned illusory.

From the distant sky came a trembling voice, someone calling, "Ruan Mingzhu—"

She had no name. She didn't understand Chinese. Who was being called, and why did she feel it was meant for her?

Ruan Mingzhu's mind went blank for a moment. That phrase—she seemed to understand it. She—

She wasn't an unawakened beast anymore. She no longer kept company with ruffians. She had a sect, friends, kin. Many things obtained by seizure—that didn't seem like the right path.

Ruan Mingzhu stared at the head she held in her grip. One side, bred in blood and bone, the wolfish instinct to plunder and slaughter; the other, human mercy, pulling her strength away bit by bit.

The moment she released her hold entirely, a flash of white light passed before her eyes, and the outline of the illusion shattered completely.