After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 20

Ningning followed the map deeper into the dense forest. As the rising sun gradually tore through the lingering gloom of night, the scene before her began to clear and open up.

Pushing through the thick underbrush, she unexpectedly emerged at the edge of a cliff.

This was Singing Moon Peak, the farthest point of Little Zhong Mountain. Beyond the jagged rocks scattered around her was a sheer cliff, towering high like it scraped the sky itself. Below lay a boundless ocean—waves crashing white against the cliff face, vanishing in an instant like fleeting sword light.

Everyone who entered the Little Zhong Mountain secret realm was at the Golden Core stage. At such a level, they stood no chance against the Xuan Bird’s overwhelming might—let alone survive its attacks long enough to make it here and witness the true form of the Silverthread Immortal Leaf.

In fact, the only reason the rumor “The Silverthread Immortal Leaf grows atop Singing Moon Peak” even existed was because, years ago, a disciple had accidentally been transported to this very spot. There, by sheer luck, he caught a glimpse of the legendary immortal herb—
…As for how he managed to escape afterward, wailing and crawling, that was another thrilling tale entirely.

Now, standing at the cliff’s edge, Ningning narrowed her eyes against the howling wind. When she finally made out the sight ahead, the corners of her lips lifted slightly.

At the flat end of the precipice stood a single glowing spiritual plant. Unlike ordinary herbs, this one bore only a single long, slender leaf—its entire body shimmered a luminous silver-white, like starlight spilling across a galaxy. Bathed in the gentle morning light, it looked like something out of a dream.

The fierce wind roared, flinging sand and stone in every direction, yet the leaf stood silently in the deepest corner of the secret realm, utterly unmoved. It seemed as though the very light of the heavens and the shadows of the earth had gathered around it—a worthy vessel for the essence of sun and moon.

Even Ningning could feel the gentle spiritual energy emanating from it. There was no doubt—this was the legendary Silverthread Immortal Leaf.

With no time to waste and no idea how long He Zhizhou could hold off the Xuan Bird, Ningning stepped forward and carefully plucked the leaf.

Just like with the Heavenly Heart Grass, holy-grade spirit plants like this took centuries to mature. She was especially cautious not to damage the root system, so it could grow anew in time.

But the moment she looked up, her eyes caught a flicker of movement—and her heart skipped a beat.

Sparse vegetation lined the edge of the cliff, surrounded by layer upon layer of jagged stones. Yet in one secluded corner, half-hidden beneath the rocks—
A flash of blinding crimson suddenly caught Ningning’s eye.

It was an egg.

Oval in shape, perfectly round, and more than a meter tall. Its vivid red hue mirrored the feathers of the Xuan Bird, and from a distance, it looked almost like a ball of flame, burning quietly among the rocks.

The location was extremely well-hidden. Focused solely on retrieving the Immortal Leaf, Ningning hadn’t noticed the shadow until now. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

That’s… the Xuan Bird’s egg?

So that was it.

The reason the Xuan Bird had been so fiercely guarding the Silverthread Immortal Leaf—
Was for its child.

Back when she had been speaking with Su Qinghan in the forest of ancient trees, the two had discussed why the Xuan Bird was so determined to protect the Immortal Leaf.

“The Silverthread Immortal Leaf is mostly used to neutralize poisons and suppress demonic energy. But since all holy-grade spiritual plants carry calming and stabilizing auras, most people assume the Xuan Bird wants it to absorb spiritual essence and raise its cultivation.”

Su Qinghan had said, “But there are some who believe that perhaps… the Xuan Bird laid an egg and is using the leaf to nourish its hatchling.”

Seeing Ningning’s puzzled expression, she patiently added, “The Xuan Bird is a rare species. Though it grows extremely powerful in adulthood, its young are incredibly fragile. It takes a hundred years just to incubate the egg. Even after hatching, the chicks are so weak they might not survive long without a treasured spiritual herb to sustain them.”

Ningning had nodded thoughtfully.

“But Senior Sister, didn’t you say the Heavenly Heart Grass is best for nurturing life? If the Xuan Bird wants to incubate or recover, why not seek out that instead?”

Su Qinghan had only chuckled and shook her head.

“Forget the difficulty in finding one—someone once tried to forcefully take a Heavenly Heart Grass they stumbled upon. But the Stone Spirit guarding it nearly killed them. They said the spirit had absorbed so much of the grass’s aura that it’s become one of the strongest half-immortals in the entire secret realm. Even the Xuan Bird would have a hard time taking it from her.”

At the time, Ningning had gasped, eyes going wide with disbelief.
She’d never imagined that the unassuming woman with a bookish air would actually be one of the secret realm’s hidden bosses.

A hidden master disguised as a humble librarian… truly, they’re everywhere.

“So the Xuan Bird is trying to raise a child…”

Outside the Mystic Mirror, a cultivator murmured in understanding,

“No wonder it fought so hard to protect the Silverthread Immortal Leaf. With its current cultivation, it doesn’t need herbs to improve itself.”

Another gasped,

“I’ve heard Xuan Bird eggs change color as they hatch—white to red. Judging by this one, it must be close to hatching.”

A red-robed female cultivator from Myriad Swords Sect raised a brow with interest.

“But compared to the Heavenly Heart Grass, the Silverthread Immortal Leaf is really just second-best. Once the Xuan Bird returns, wouldn’t Ningning be able to bargain with it? Offer the Heavenly Heart Grass in exchange for peace?”

But someone else disagreed.

Qu Feiqing gave a low chuckle beside her.

“And what if the Xuan Bird is greedy? Kills her and takes the herb by force? Then what? Who’s she going to complain to—King Yama?”

A male cultivator suddenly recalled,

“No wonder… when the Xuan Bird was speaking with He Zhizhou earlier, it said it liked children and wanted a new one…”

Tian Xianzi grinned, eyes glinting as he remembered something.

“Don’t forget, we made a wager—whoever’s disciple retrieves the Silverthread Immortal Leaf first wins. The results are in, folks. Time to pay up.”

“Wait—look! Everyone, look!”

An elder from Haoran Sect suddenly frowned, eyes fixed sharply on the Mystic Mirror.

“That shadow… isn’t that the Xuan Bird returning?!”

The scene in the mirror shifted—and sure enough, a streak of crimson light shot across the sky.

The Xuan Bird flew swift as wind. The moment it landed, the ground trembled, sending loose stones tumbling. Its body was too large to move freely, so upon landing, it transformed into a red-robed woman.

But after only a few steps, her expression suddenly froze.

The Silverthread Immortal Leaf… was gone.

Yet she hadn’t sensed even the faintest presence approaching the cliff. Not a trace of spiritual energy lingered in the air. Could the leaf have… sprouted legs and run off on its own?

The longer she thought, the more agitated she became. Pacing back and forth, her crimson eyes darkened—an ominous red bleeding into her golden pupils.

“Strange… where did Ningning go?”

Outside the mirror, Sect Master He Xiaochen scanned the image, but couldn’t spot the girl anywhere.

When they’d shifted focus to the Xuan Bird, Ningning had still been there. But by the time they returned—she’d vanished.

Qu Feiqing’s smile faded, brows furrowing.

“This area is wide and open. The only place to hide… is that pile of rocks beside the egg.”

And clearly, the Xuan Bird had thought of the same thing.

The red-dressed woman’s face twisted into a dangerous sneer. Without a word, she began walking—step by step—toward the stone pile.

She had waited a hundred years for her child to be born. If someone dared ruin it all now—

She would make sure that thief wished they were never born.

A burning red aura, laced with killing intent, sliced across the dark brown earth like wildfire.

The Xuan Bird arrived before the jagged stones.

Outside the mirror, many cultivators held their breath.
Some soft-hearted female cultivators even looked away.

They watched as the Xuan Bird slowly bent down, her eyes filled with wrath, peering behind the rocks.

A cold wind blew past, rustling the distant treetops—
Like the sound of a final countdown.

The Xuan Bird’s pupils contracted sharply.

Behind the rocks… there was nothing.

“N-Nothing?”

Outside the mirror, an elder gasped. “Did she escape?”

The thief must’ve run.

The woman in red narrowed her eyes, a glint of coldness flashing through them. But in the blink of an eye, she had already shifted back into her enormous avian form, flapping her wings and soaring into the sky.

When it came to speed, that little thief couldn’t possibly outrun her.

“Ningning can’t be faster than the Xuan Bird. She’s bound to get caught.”

He Xiaochen’s brows were tightly furrowed. “Could it be… she used the Xuan Bird’s blind spot and cleverly slipped away on her sword?”

Tian Xianzi burst into laughter. “Oh, not quite, not quite. Sect Master He, why not take a closer look? Aside from those rocks on the cliff… isn’t there an egg?”

“An egg?”

The red-robed cultivator from Wanjian Sect leaned closer, puzzled. “But when the Xuan Bird checked earlier, behind the egg was clearly—Ah!”

Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, a rare smile blooming. “This egg… it was about to hatch not long ago.”

Just as she finished speaking, the massive, round bird egg within the Mystic Mirror gave a little wobble.

Then, the very top of the eggshell was cautiously lifted—

But instead of a newborn Xuan Bird, what peeked out… was a bright-eyed young girl.

Ningning poked her head out, holding up the round eggshell like a helmet. She blinked groggily and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She had sensed something strange on the horizon and realized the Xuan Bird would return soon. If she’d tried to hide behind the rocks or make a run for it, she would’ve been caught on the spot—especially after plucking the Silverthread Immortal Leaf. There was no way she could explain her way out of that.

Just as she was deciding what to do, the silent egg nearby gave a faint tremble and let out the faintest cracking sound.

Heaven never blocks all paths.
The Xuan Bird’s chick had chosen that exact moment to hatch.

“She actually hid inside the egg…” He Xiaochen chuckled. “That upper and lower crack was sealed perfectly. With the way she pressed it shut, you’d never notice unless you looked closely. The Xuan Bird was too anxious to find her—it wouldn’t notice such a tiny detail.”

Someone added, “The egg was already on the verge of hatching. It must’ve been influenced by the Tianshin Grass on her—helped it break the shell.”

He paused, stroking his long beard with a smile. “Truly, what a twist of fate. If Little Friend Ningning hadn’t had the Tianshin Grass, none of this would’ve happened.”

As the others continued their lively discussion, Qu Feiqing silently watched the girl in the mirror. The glint in her eyes deepened.

…

“Thank you,” Ningning whispered.

Lowering her gaze, she looked at the baby Xuan Bird nestled in her hands. Unlike other newborn chicks, the inside of the egg had been spotless, even faintly fragrant with a creamy sweetness. The hatchling had already grown soft, fluffy feathers that were warm and pleasant to the touch.

Despite the egg’s large size, the chick was no bigger than her palm. It seemed to like her quite a bit, nuzzling against her constantly. Its tiny wings fluttered softly, brushing her palm like a tickling spark.

“I can’t stay here long… I have to go now.”

She gave the chick a gentle pat on the head. It narrowed its orange-yellow eyes, rolled once across her hand, and curled up like a flaming red dumpling.

“But…” Ningning twirled the Silverthread Immortal Leaf in her fingers, lowering her voice with a sly smile. “I have a little gift for you.”

…

The Xuan Bird, having returned to the cliff in a rage after failing to catch the thief, froze in place when it saw the shattered eggshells.

Its child—whom it had waited a hundred years for—was wobbling around at the base of the shell. The moment it heard footsteps, it tilted its head and looked up, blinking its round little eyes, brimming with fresh life.

The newborn chick was weak. After just a few steps, it toppled over and lay sprawled out, wings twitching feebly. It didn’t even have the strength to cry.

But beside the baby, two perfectly round leaves were neatly placed.

An intoxicating spiritual aura surged into the Xuan Bird’s heart the instant it saw them, leaving it completely stunned.

That was… the Tianshin Grass it had been searching for over a century.

The one and only thing that could ensure its child’s safe growth.

Just who… could’ve stolen it from the Stone Spirit and then willingly… given it away?

To offer up such a priceless treasure so freely—it was inconceivable.

Alongside the leaves was a small slip of paper.

The Xuan Bird gently picked it up. The killing intent in its eyes slowly faded, replaced by a soft warmth.

“We had no choice but to take the Silverthread Immortal Leaf in order to save a life.
As an apology, we offer the Tianshin Grass to Madam.”

And below that, one more line:

“Little one, grow up safe and strong, okay?”

…

By the time Ningning returned to the Ancient Forest Sea, He Zhizhou and Xu Ye were trailing behind her.

They had previously been hiding inside a Vajra Shield, too afraid to leave. The Xuan Bird’s senses were too sharp—any sign of the barrier breaking, and it would’ve swooped down to hunt.

Now that it had its chick, it was temporarily distracted. That gave the cultivators a chance to escape from Changyue Peak.

The forest had returned to normal after a fierce battle. Su Qinghan was now taking care of Pei Ji in a cave.

Even the usually carefree He Zhizhou frowned when he saw Pei Ji.

Good thing the boy wore black. Any other color would’ve long since been soaked to a dark red.

His arms and neck—where they were exposed—were riddled with deep gashes. Though they’d been quickly cleaned, the traces of mangled flesh and dried blood remained. His face was paler than paper, and to keep from groaning, he had furrowed his brows and bitten down hard on his lip.

But what shocked everyone most… was the heavy demonic energy swirling around him.

He Zhizhou knew Pei Ji carried demon blood in his veins—but he never imagined it would manifest like this.

The thick black mist around him was almost tangible, wrapping his entire body. Within that haze, the crimson hue of blood twisted like venomous snakes, slowly forming a bottomless pit of darkness.

The tear-shaped mole at the corner of his eye glowed blood-red—like a drop of dried, cursed blood.

With how he looked now… who needed a whetstone? He was his own blade.

Fortunately, Ningning had brought her pill furnace by chance. Under Su Qinghan’s guidance, she brewed the medicine and quickly fed it to Pei Ji.

But the boy—trapped in his demon-possessed nightmare—remained unconscious, showing no sign of waking even after swallowing the pill.

After all this trouble, Ningning was completely drained. After feeding him, she lazily leaned back against the stone wall of the cave, closed her eyes, and tried to rest.

Knowing how exhausted she was, He Zhizhou offered to go out with the others and find some ingredients to cook a proper meal for the girl.

Before leaving, Su Qinghan paused thoughtfully and reminded her,
“Junior Brother Pei is currently tormented by demonic qi.
Try to go along with him, whatever he says or does—so his spirit doesn’t spiral further into madness.”

And so, only Ningning and Pei Ji remained in the cave.

She had spent the past two days constantly switching between battle and survival, hovering on the edge of life and death. Now, though bored, she was far too tired to move.

Her gaze slowly drifted around the cave before finally settling on Pei Ji’s face.

Asleep, he looked far more obedient than when awake.

When he was awake, he always wore a cold face. Even if he did smile occasionally, it was never warm—just mocking or menacing smirks. He didn’t look like a male lead at all. If anything, he was more suited to be the final boss villain.

But the moment he fell asleep, all that chilling sharpness melted away.

Though the demonic energy had faded, the lingering pain in his body continued to torment him, even in sleep. Pei Ji, beautiful as a young immortal, now lay with his long lashes trembling slightly and his thin lips tightly pressed together. His narrow eyes, faintly upturned at the corners, paired with his occasional shivers, lent him a fragile, broken look.

Like a wounded little beast, barely holding on.

Yet not long ago, in front of the ancient Blood Dragon Tree, his sword intent had been ruthless and hellish.

Ningning had been watching him absentmindedly when she suddenly saw Pei Ji’s brows twitch.

Tormented by the remnants of demonic qi, he was likely trapped in a nightmare. In a hoarse, barely audible voice, he muttered, “…move aside.”

Ningning’s heart skipped a beat.

Th-this kind of scene… why did it feel so familiar?!

Wasn’t this the classic moment in every cultivation romance?

The male lead, unconscious and feverish from pain, calls out in a dream—and the female lead, who just so happens to be by his side, embraces him tightly and softly murmurs the iconic line, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

—Tch! Absolutely not! No way she was saying that!

Wasn’t this the type of melodrama that only happened between the heroine and the male lead?

Even if her heart softened and she did something that disgustingly sweet, based on her role as the “vicious supporting female,” the result would be inevitable: the male lead would wake up thinking she took advantage of him, and then fry, slice, dice, and send her straight to the crematorium.

Ningning turned her head stiffly to the side, face blank.

A fit of coughing suddenly broke the silence, followed by harsh, labored breaths, like a broken bellows struggling to work.

…Yeah, he sounded terrible. Like he might keel over at any second.

She definitely wasn’t going to be soft-hearted.

Ningning told herself over and over: Pei Ji isn’t pitiful. He’s just… really good at voice acting.

Then his head made a dull thud as it bumped against the stone floor.

And his usual cocky voice—now softened and laced with the hint of tears—choked out, “Don’t go, I…”

The rest was too muffled to hear clearly.

That made two people who had ever told her not to go.

The first was during an 800-meter sprint back in school, when the P.E. teacher yelled at the tail end of the line, “Don’t go! Run faster!”

Ningning forced her thoughts to wander, trying her best to ignore him. But…

Damn it! Why did he have to look so pitiful?!

He’s unconscious anyway—he won’t remember anything she does, right?

Unsure if it would help, Ningning clenched her jaw, stepped forward, and ruffled his hair.

Her fingers brushed against soft, cold hair. The sensation was oddly comforting. She lowered her voice and growled, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not being nice. You were just being annoyingly noisy, okay? Stop crying, will you? Aren’t you a grown man? Where’s your dignity? If you make another sound, I’ll punch you!”

Pei Ji, of course, didn’t respond.

But as if chasing the sudden warmth on his forehead, his head leaned ever so slightly into her palm.

And then, he let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh—fragile and pained.

Ningning: “…”

She couldn’t actually hit him.

So her voice softened just a bit, muttering half to herself, “You probably can’t hear this, right? You male leads are the worst—sleeping and still needing someone to whisper sweet nothings at you. Thank goodness I’m not the one with that script. But seriously, sleeping people can’t hear, right? All those lines like ‘I’ll stay with you’… aren’t they just solo performances?”

Pei Ji didn’t respond, but the tension in his brows deepened. His lips were bleeding—bitten through. He was still trapped in pain.

Startled by his ragged breathing, Ningning remembered Senior Sister Su’s instructions before she left. She quickly fumbled to make up for it, rubbing his head again and blurting out, “Don’t—don’t be upset! Look, I’ve been super nice to you, okay? Do you know how hard I fought to get that Silverthread Immortal Leaf? I almost died. And for your Senior Sister’s Heartgrass, too—you better hang in there—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Her expression froze. Her throat too.

Because—

Pei Ji suddenly opened his eyes.

No warning. No build-up. Just wide awake.

The demonic haze hadn’t fully cleared from his gaze, and his bloodshot eyes were sharp enough to slice. He stared at her like the sky was raining blades.

Ningning’s first reaction was to slowly—very slowly—remove her hand from his head.

Then she gave him a dry, awkward laugh. “There was a bug on your head. I just swatted it off. Haha.”

The two “haha”s sounded exceptionally lonely and tragic.

Before Pei Ji could speak, a voice echoed in his mind—his sword spirit, Cheng Ying, screaming:
“Pei Ji! She used the entire Heartgrass just to save you!”

Then it added in a deadpan tone, “Also, there was no bug. She touched your head to comfort you while you were trapped in the nightmare.”

Even though Pei Ji had been unconscious, Cheng Ying had witnessed everything.

Meanwhile, Ningning kept spouting nonsense to maintain her villainess persona, “By the way, when you had that nightmare earlier, He Zhizhou also comforted you. He even touched your head. Super touching.”

Cheng Ying: “Tsk, tsk.”

“Oh, and get this. When I went to Changyue Peak, I just happened to stumble across the Silverthread Immortal Leaf that can heal you. What a coincidence. So I brought it back. Totally casual.”

Cheng Ying: “Tsk, tsk.”

Ningning scratched her nose, her guilt beginning to show. “So, um… are you feeling better now?”

Pei Ji, suppressing the pounding in his head, gave a neutral reply, “Mm. Thank you, Senior Sister.”

He always spoke bluntly, never one to hide his thoughts.
“This debt—I will repay with everything I have.”

Ningning instantly shot back, “No need!”

—If she became the male lead’s savior, how was the story supposed to progress? The whole plot would spiral off a cliff!

Cheng Ying sighed, “Knew she’d say that. This girl… so foolishly kind. Never expects anything in return. It’s heart-breaking. Only the Bodhisattvas understand how much I pity her.”

Pei Ji grew annoyed at its chatter and shifted his gaze. But when his eyes landed on the hem of Ningning’s robe, he froze.

She was wearing a standard sect uniform, but at the edge of her skirt, just below her knees, a faint tear had opened up—revealing a pale, slender ankle.

A gust of wind lifted the edge of the fabric slightly, making the tear more obvious. It ran up all the way to her knee.

She must’ve torn it climbing the rocks at the cliff top.

Pei Ji averted his eyes and fell silent.

“What’s wrong?” Ningning noticed the shift in his expression and followed his gaze.

She blinked blankly for a few seconds before realizing the tear must’ve happened during the mission.

Pei Ji didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for a bloodstained bundle nearby, rummaged through it for a moment—and pulled out…

A sewing kit.

Ningning was stunned.

Based on what she knew of him, his pack should’ve been filled with sword manuals, throwing knives, and all kinds of rare medicinal pills.

But this… a sewing kit?

The sense of disconnect was jarring—like Ultraman battling Teletubbies, or Lord Guan Yu marrying an alien.

Pei Ji noticed the surprise in her eyes. He averted his gaze and turned his face slightly away, his voice hoarse and stiff:

“…Is it bad?”

Ningning shook her head. “No.”

“…Then sit still.”

That last line came down firm and unyielding—calm but heavy, leaving no room for argument.

And the one who said it—this same Pei Ji who just recently fought the thousand-year-old Blood Dragon Tree with a single sword—was now quietly lowering his long lashes as he carefully threaded a needle.

What kind of fantasy was this?

Ningning almost wondered if he’d been possessed. In the original novel, the male lead was always a cold, arrogant genius. Not once did it mention he could do this.

Still, she sat down like he asked and glanced at the wounds covering his body. “Are your injuries okay?”

Pei Ji gave a cold little laugh, the corners of his lips barely twitching. “Just moving my fingers. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.”

Ningning nodded, still full of curiosity. As Pei Ji leaned forward to get to work, his head lowered just in front of her. She could only see his thick, inky lashes, fluttering like a pair of fans.

“So impressive. When did you learn how to sew?”

“When I was little.”

Ningning grinned. “If you know how to sew, does that mean you can also cook, fry rice, and do laundry?”

Pei Ji’s gaze was fixed tightly on the torn edge of her skirt, making a conscious effort not to glance at the smooth curve of her leg beneath it. His fingers moved deftly, stitching like it was second nature. He replied simply, “Mm.”

Ningning’s eyes widened. Her tone rose with excitement. “Wait, so when He Zhizhou and I were messing around trying to make caramelized bananas—did you laugh at how terrible we were?”

Pei Ji’s hands paused slightly.

Then—he actually chuckled. Quiet and low, like a whisper of wind. His lashes curved up slightly, and the familiar lazy, indifferent expression returned to his face.

“If Senior Sister wants to learn, I can teach you.”

Completely dodged the question.

Ningning narrowed her eyes. “So you did laugh!”

Ugh! He was just like those secret study gods in class who blended in with the clueless students and, after every test, would pretend to panic: “I messed up everything too.” But in their hearts, they were already roasting everyone around them!

Unforgivable! Pei Ji, this scheming bastard, was hiding deep.

“Nope, nope, that won’t do. You’ve been hiding your talents all this time—you have to cook us a meal when we get back.”

Ningning added seriously, “Also, you owe me spirit stones! Do you even know how expensive Heartgrass is?! I gave it to you to sa—”

Wait.

According to the narrative she made up earlier, she only casually picked that Silverthread Immortal Leaf and brought it back.

Pei Ji, of course, responded as always, in a calm tone: “Mm.”

After tripping over her words, Ningning shut up and focused on watching his hands.

His hands were long and fair—beautiful in their shape, but scarred by old injuries and the hardened calluses of sword training. These were hands that should’ve been gripping a sword amid blood and corpses.

But right now, they were holding a needle and thread… mending the hem of her skirt.

It struck her as absurd, in the most oddly heartwarming way. A laugh bubbled up in her throat—quick and light.

She hadn’t meant to make a sound, but Pei Ji looked up at once, expression completely blank.

Ningning immediately pressed her lips into a straight line and stared back at him with big, innocent eyes.

He lowered his head again.

But she couldn’t help it—another giggle escaped, making the skirt sway slightly, brushing against his pale fingers.

“…Senior Sister.”

Pei Ji’s tone was dry and a bit sharp. “If you want to laugh, just laugh.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Ningning propped her cheek on one hand, elbow resting on her knee. “I just didn’t expect you to know so much.”

Then again, it made sense.

He’d been alone since he was young. These basic survival skills weren’t just hobbies—they were necessary.

Only now did Ningning really start to look at him properly.

Until now, in her mind, Pei Ji had always just meant “the male lead”—lucky beyond belief, the chosen one, the classic power-fantasy protagonist.

But now, she realized…

None of those grand labels actually fit the real person in front of her.

In fact, from what she could tell, his life had nothing to do with words like “blessed” or “heaven’s favorite.”

It was strange.

Ningning was lost in thought, her gaze lingering on his face. Amid the pale skin of his cheek, she suddenly spotted a jarring splash of red.

—It was a dried smear of blood on his earlobe.

“Hold still.”

She didn’t think too much and reached out. The moment her fingers touched that bead of blood, Pei Ji’s entire body froze for a second.

“There’s some blood here,” she said.

The soft flesh of the earlobe was delicate and smooth. Her movement was gentle, but with every slow rub of her fingertip, an invisible current seemed to ripple through the air.

It tickled—just a little.

Pei Ji had never been in such close contact with anyone.

She carefully wiped the blood away, but it had been there too long. The dried stain had spread into a faint outline, hard to remove.

Ningning, in a rare moment of kindness, decided to see the job through. But since the stubborn red didn’t come off easily, she pursed her lips, frowned, and pressed harder.

Unfortunately, …

The more she rubbed, the darker the mark got.

Wait a second.

Deeper…?

Ningning, just like the dazed Pei Ji in front of her, froze mid-movement.

The color of his ear was still strikingly obvious—like a swath of sunset torn straight from the sky and painted across pale skin.

So red.

Turned out… it wasn’t a bloodstain at all.

His whole ear had actually turned red.

—

After everyone finished eating, it was time for Xu Ye and Su Qinghan to say goodbye to the group.

“I heard many disciples from the Myriad Sword Sect are gathered together. My senior sister and I thought we’d drop by and join the fun.”

Xu Ye spoke with some reluctance. “The secret realm’s ending soon. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

He hesitated for a moment, then finally voiced the thought he’d been holding in for a long time, in the most tactful way he could manage.
“Promise me… don’t use the pill furnace to cook any more strange things. Especially not whatever it was you made the night before we entered the secret realm. Please?”

He Zhi Zhou blinked in confusion. “The night before the secret realm? Oh! You mean our caramelized bananas?”

Xu Ye: “?”

Xu Ye: “Caramelized… bananas?”

“They may not look the best, but they taste amazing!” He Zhi Zhou’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
“Just so happens Ningning brought the pill furnace and sugar, and we even found more bananas earlier. Since we have the ingredients… why don’t I make you a serving to try?”

And just like that, He Zhi Zhou actually handed him a deep brown, twisted object that looked disturbingly like a small snake.

According to him, that bizarre color was simply how the sugar glaze hardened. It might look off-putting, but it was definitely sweet.

Even knowing it was just banana, the thing’s terrifying appearance completely killed Xu Ye’s appetite. After a long internal struggle, he chose to just hold onto it—as a farewell gift from a friend.

He and Su Qinghan bid the three farewell, then followed the map and soon arrived at the Myriad Sword Sect’s camp.

There, several friends he was quite close to caught sight of him and, without exception, all froze with looks of pure shock.

Every single one of them stared, unmoving, at the caramelized banana in his hand.

Sigh, these kids… still too young.

He’d been the same way once—jumping to conclusions without ever seeking the truth. Just a glance or two, and he’d immediately dismissed something as vulgar or absurd.

“This is all just a misunderstanding,” he said solemnly. “This thing is actually edible. If you don’t believe me, watch closely—”

Xu Ye’s gaze was resolute as he raised the banana to his mouth. In order to prove to everyone that this was real, edible food, he decided to take the first bite himself.

——But from the perspective of the other disciples of the Myriad Sword Sect, it was a completely different story.

They had already heard some wild tales from Xu Ye about the absurd happenings at the Xuanxu Sword Sect. Now, after finally escaping those lunatics and reuniting with their group, their junior brother stood before them holding… something exactly like what those people had been rumored to play with.

And he actually claimed it was edible.

Heavens above! Earth below! This was terrifying beyond belief!!!

Had Xu Ye’s brain been eaten by the Xuanxu Sect?!

Someone even let out a voice-cracking scream:
“NO! Junior Brother Xu, stop! Don’t do it!!”

But Xu Ye only gave a devil-may-care smile, and without hesitation, shoved that disturbingly colored object straight into his mouth and took a big bite.

He wanted to prove—through action, not words—that this was nothing but an ordinary snack, and that everyone needed to stop judging the Xuanxu Sect with such biased eyes.

The moment the banana entered his mouth, a rich, sweet aroma filled his senses. The outer glaze was sugary but not cloying, light and fragrant enough to win over even the pickiest eater.

The flavor was surprisingly delightful. Xu Ye’s lips curled slightly, his expression one of pure contentment. His eyes curved with satisfaction.

“Mmm… Fragrant, sweet, soft, and perfectly chewy. Absolutely delicious.”

He beamed as he prepared to give everyone a big surprise:
“You guys would never guess that this is actually—”

But before he could finish, his entire expression froze.

W-wait…

Why… why did it suddenly feel like something was twisting inside his stomach?

Before Xu Ye could even make sense of what was happening, his eyes rolled back—and he collapsed on the spot. The last thought that flashed through his mind before losing consciousness was:

Wait… was that banana poisoned?!

No!! I haven’t even told them it was really just a banana—!!!

The disciples of the Myriad Sword Sect would never forget the terror that Xu Ye inflicted upon them that day.

Their junior brother, completely oblivious, had stood in the open holding a grotesque object. He insisted on tasting it—right in front of everyone.

He’d shoved it into his mouth without a moment’s hesitation, even showing signs of… enjoyment.

And then, without warning, his eyes rolled up. A fountain of white foam erupted from his mouth and sprayed three feet into the air.

Then he dropped to the ground and started convulsing—arms and legs flailing like a spinning top that had been kicked sideways.

Their Sixth Senior Brother burst into tears, voice cracking with grief as he cried out:
“JUNIOR BROTHER XU—!!! XUANXU SWORD SECT, I SWEAR I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

Someone muttered tearfully, “He brought this upon himself… It’s tragic. His mind was clearly washed, but his sense of taste remained sharp.”

Fourth Senior Sister sighed deeply.
“All that talk of fragrant and delicious, soft and chewy… only for him to throw it all back up the next second. What a disgrace. After this… how can our sect hold its head high again?”

“We tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. Who could’ve guessed that thing was so toxic? Xu Ye… oh, Xu Ye…”

A fellow inner disciple gritted his teeth.
“Humans shouldn’t—no, couldn’t—shouldn’t ever act like that! What was he thinking?! I’ll never understand!”

“I just walked over and saw Senior Brother Xu twitching like mad on the ground… like one of those broken wind-up toys…”

Their youngest junior sister trembled in a corner, whispering through tears,
“I mean, come on! He ate something like that! Did he want to die?! Why would he—my eyes… my poor eyes… I’ll never be clean again!”

Su Qinghan: …

What the hell are they even talking about?

—

Meanwhile, on the other side of the secret realm…

Bored out of her mind, Ningning was casually flipping through the Xiaozhong Mountain map when her finger landed on a small line of text:

[Chao Tian Banana: Slightly bitter and mildly toxic. Consumption may result in full-body spasms and foaming at the mouth.]

Right next to her, He Zhizhou’s face turned pale.

“The caramelized banana we made for Xu Ye… don’t tell me it was made from that thing?!”