Fate is mocking, ironic, and full of playful teasing when cast upon the mortal world.
Just like Lin Nan.
Lin Nan recognized Xun Lin immediately. Although many years had passed since they last met, Xun Lin deliberately maintained the appearance she had when they first knew each other—or rather, she wasn’t even the same as when Lin Nan last saw her.
Gone was the cold, majestic aura of an emperor, replaced by the faint sorrow of a girl just blossoming into womanhood.
That Senior Sister Qiao, who had once suggested she apprentice under Xun Lin Elder, was in fact Shu Ying.
The rumored former Demon Emperor who ruled the mortal realm for a millennium, only to go mad and disappear unexpectedly, she ended up under the banner of Qingyun Sect.
But… why had she come here?
Lin Nan shook her head. The scent of sandalwood still lingered in her breath as she suppressed the faint, elusive bitterness in her heart and let out a sigh.
She found a relatively quiet spot, sat cross-legged on the ground, and opened the Demon Summoning Method, reading it carefully.
She hadn’t realized before just how perfectly the Demon Summoning Method suited her.
Back when the Monster Clan flourished, humans still relied on the breath of monsters to survive. It was under such circumstances that the Demon Summoning Method was born.
This technique combined ancient shamanistic arts, invoking gods and immortals to summon monsters onto oneself, allowing the caster to manipulate Demon Power and fight with it.
Lin Nan took a deep breath. She saw a possibility.
She was half-monster, which might be why she couldn’t quickly find her own Qi. But if she used the Demon Summoning Method as her foundation?
Then she could cultivate True Qi and also, in critical moments, draw upon Demon Power without arousing suspicion.
More importantly, summoning demons was something she’d been through for eight lifetimes already—how could she not find the demon to summon?
Time passed quickly. As dusk fell outside, countless lamps quietly lit up the library, illuminating the room like daylight.
Lin Nan’s fingers pressed against the yellowed pages as she silently chanted the opening incantation of the Demon Summoning Method.
The mantra was obscure and awkward to pronounce, filled with the wild aura of ancient times. By the third recitation, a faint warmth suddenly blossomed in her Dan Tian.
Unlike the “Long Breath Song” taught by Shen Yuer, this heat carried a defiant wildness, like a small beast prowling beneath her skin.
“It really works,” she curved her lips slightly, a glimmer flashing through her jade-green eyes.
This was the first time in nine lifetimes that she genuinely felt the presence of power.
No longer relying on the residual battle instincts of her past lives, but a force belonging to this half-monster body that she could control.
Just as she was about to delve deeper, extremely light footsteps sounded behind her.
Lin Nan’s fingers paused. She didn’t turn, but out of the corner of her eye caught the hem of a teal-gray robe.
It was Xun Lin.
Why had she come again?
Her heart tightened as if gripped by an invisible hand. Images from the Heavenly Ceremony of her past life flashed through her mind: the high-raised Demon-Slaying Blade, blood staining the Altar of Heaven, Shu Ying’s crimson eyes, and the phrase scattered by the wind—“An Immortal’s blessing upon the head, a vow for eternal life.”
Hatred?
It shouldn’t be hatred. But having grown up alongside Shu Ying, watching her hold power, don the dragon robes, transforming from the little girl who always held her hand and softly called her “Teacher” into a cold-eyed monarch who dragged her step by step into the abyss in the name of imperial authority…
Hatred shouldn’t exist. From the moment she knew Shu Ying, she already understood her fate was to be beheaded by her.
But human hearts aren’t so rational. She was a monster, but also human.
And humans feel pain.
“Still reading this book?”
Xun Lin’s voice came from behind, warmer than the afternoon but still cautious and probing. “Demon Summoning Method is too esoteric. A single misstep could cause the demon energy to backfire on you. Are you really determined to learn it?”
Lin Nan slowly turned her head, wearing an appropriately blank expression like a novice who knew nothing about cultivation. “Xun Lin Elder? You’re still here? I couldn’t find Qi from other methods, so I’m just trying this one for luck.”
She deliberately emphasized “Xun Lin Elder,” creating distance.
Shu Ying stood under the lamp, her black eyes shining startlingly in the light.
She stared at Lin Nan’s face for a long time, as if trying to see through it and find the girl from a thousand years ago in the temple the one who wore monk’s robes and chanted scriptures to wash away a lifetime of grudges and blood debts.
“You…” Shu Ying hesitated, unconsciously rubbing the edge of her sleeve. “You seem… quite familiar with ‘monsters,’ don’t you?”
Lin Nan sneered silently.
She came as expected.
Shu Ying’s probing had begun.
She closed the book, tilting her head. “Not really familiar. I used to sell wine outside Changjing City and heard many stories about the Monster Clan. Like that former Demon Emperor who, for one monster, slaughtered the entire Grand Preceptor’s nine clans and then madly searched for her for a thousand years.”
She deliberately mentioned “former Demon Emperor” to observe Shu Ying’s reaction.
Sure enough, Shu Ying’s complexion paled instantly. She clenched her fingers into a fist, voice tense: “You… have heard of her?”
“Yeah,” Lin Nan nodded, her tone light as if discussing someone else’s story. “But I don’t know who the monster she sought was. For an emperor to go mad like that, it must have been someone important, right?”
She watched Shu Ying’s black eyes darken like a candle snuffed by the wind.
“Someone important,” Shu Ying whispered, the words thick with emotion as a faint sigh rolled through her throat. “Maybe. But in the end, she didn’t even know if she felt the same for that person…”
The last two words went unspoken, but Lin Nan guessed clearly.
Important.
Lin Nan turned her face away, pretending to tidy the book’s pages, avoiding Shu Ying’s gaze. “Who knows? Maybe that monster’s long dead, or simply never wanted to be found. If I were that person being obsessed over by someone so mad, I’d run for my life.”
Her words sliced slowly like a dull knife through Shu Ying’s heart.
Shu Ying staggered back half a step, steadying herself on the bookshelf behind her. Pain and despair churned in her black eyes, but when they caught sight of Lin Nan’s white hair, a faint glimmer of hope flickered.
“You and her… look very alike.” Shu Ying suddenly said, voice barely a whisper. “Especially your eyes, and your white hair.”
Lin Nan’s movements froze abruptly. Her fingertips dug hard into the book cover, leaving deep marks.
She shot her head up; all innocence vanished, replaced by cold detachment. “Elder, you must be joking. I am who I am, not anyone else.”
She stood up to leave, but her wrist was suddenly grabbed by Shu Ying.
Shu Ying’s hand was cold, trembling uncontrollably.
She stared into Lin Nan’s eyes, black pools overflowing with unyielding obsession. “One last question! Do you know Shu Ying?”
Lin Nan jerked her wrist free with such force she startled herself.
Taking two steps back, her voice chilled like ice. “I don’t know any Shu Ying. I don’t know what relationship Elder has with this Shu Ying or with that Demon Emperor, but I must say I’ve passed the Jianyao Mirror and officially joined Qingyun Sect.”
Having said that, she turned decisively and hurried away, clutching her book.
Shu Ying froze in place, watching her vanish at the corridor’s end. Her fingertips still tingled with the warmth left by Lin Nan’s wrist.
She lowered her head, looking at her empty palm, and suddenly smiled.
Of course.
How could it be her?
That person was already dead.
Dead before her very eyes, at that Heavenly Ceremony.
This girl before her was just someone who looked alike.
Yet she was… too alike, far too alike…
The library’s lamps flickered unknowingly, stretching Shu Ying’s shadow long and long.
Across a thousand years, an unknown scar was etched into that shadow the longer the shadow grew, the deeper the wound.
Lin Nan walked straight out of the library. Only after standing atop the long stone steps did she exhale deeply.
The evening breeze blew past, carrying the chill of the mountains.
She sat on the steps, facing the wind, humming a song no one in this world could understand.
“Let the past be carried away by the wind, all carried away by the wind.”
“All carried away by the wind.”