After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 21

The Xiaozhong Mountain secret realm closed on schedule. Many disciples returned with bountiful gains, their faces full of joy and laughter.

As for Ningning—her journey could only be described as a roller coaster of heavenly highs and devastating lows. She had stumbled upon two Saint-tier spiritual herbs, only to hand them over like a generous little god of wealth, giving them away without hesitation.

Fortunately, she’d never been the type to obsess over treasure. Even returning empty-handed didn’t leave her feeling particularly bitter.

Once the secret realm closed, Liuming Mountain hosted a grand banquet to mark the official end of the trial. It was only after leaving Xiaozhong Mountain that Ningning finally saw her other junior brother again—Lin Xun.

Her little white dragon was in a sorry state.

His once-immaculate white robes were now dirt-stained, turned a dusty shade of tan. Even the jade-like dragon horns atop his head were coated in grime.

When she asked what happened, he replied with a miserable face that he’d accidentally wandered into a cave and gotten lost. There, he met another poor soul who had also lost her way—a sound cultivator. The two of them wandered aimlessly for an entire day, only escaping when the secret realm forcibly kicked them out.

Knowing how socially anxious Lin Xun was, Ningning chuckled teasingly.
“So? Was the sound cultivator a guy or a girl? Did you two bond?”

Lin Xun’s ears turned bright red in an instant. He waved his hands frantically, flustered.
“S-Senior Sister Yun didn’t say a single word to me the entire time! We only communicated by writing. Just exchanged a few notes back and forth.”

A sound cultivator who didn’t speak…

Senior Sister Yun… Could it be…

Yun Duanyue?

The name rang familiar. Ningning had said her goodbyes to Yun Duanyue after giving her the two leaves of Heart’s Heaven Grass. That girl’s social anxiety was even worse than Lin Xun’s—faced with strangers, she often couldn’t even open her mouth to speak.

These two—one shy boy and one silent girl—meeting each other in a cave…

…That was bound to be a legendary level awkward encounter.

Ningning could already imagine the painfully awkward scene—most likely the two of them standing there like mute robots in a silent film.

With the banquet yet to begin, the disciples all scattered back to their guest rooms to bathe and change, scrubbing off the dirt and grime from crawling through the wilderness. Those who were seriously injured were sent to the Hundred Herbs Pavilion on Liuming Mountain, where medical cultivators would tend to them.

Pei Ji was one of the unfortunate few.

He had forcibly broken open his sea of consciousness, causing severe internal injuries—his organs damaged from the overwhelming pressure. Fortunately, most of the demonic energy had been suppressed, and with the help of the Silverthread Immortal Leaf, his cultivation had even taken a step forward.

Remembering something, Ningning turned to her master, Tian Xianzi, and asked curiously,
“Master, during that battle in the Ancient Forest Sea, Pei Ji’s demonic aura leaked out. Will the other sect elders take issue with that?”

The war between gods and demons had left countless dead in its wake. Many righteous cultivators bore deep-seated hatred toward the demon race. Now that Pei Ji had exposed his demonic bloodline so publicly…

But Tian Xianzi just gave a dismissive scoff.
“Relax. Those old fogeys aren’t entirely brain-dead.”

The handsome young man curved his lips into a cool, lazy smile.
“Even if someone’s unhappy, what of it? Pei Ji is my disciple. Do they think they have the right to judge him?”
His voice dropped a shade colder.
“If anyone dares speak out of turn, this master of his will shut them up—with my sword.”

Ningning blinked.

So this is what her master looked like… when he wasn’t talking about money.
Reliable. Fierce. Protective.

“Right, let’s not dwell on that for now,” Tian Xianzi suddenly said, his tone taking a sharp turn.

He gave a mischievous little laugh, his long, narrow eyes sparkling with star-like light.
“Thanks to you getting the Silverthread Immortal Leaf, I made a huge profit betting on that outcome. Once we’re back home, I’m treating all of you to a massive feast!”

A feast!

Ningning’s dark eyes lit up instantly.

She suddenly felt the need to take back her earlier thoughts.

——Turns out, her master could be just as reliable when talking about money too!

Ningning had originally just planned to score a free meal—what she didn’t expect was to become the center of attention, surrounded by waves of strangers trying to strike up conversation.

Sure, she’d won the Heartsoul Grass from the spirit inside the stone, but that was mostly due to quick wit. The couplets she came up with weren’t much better than clumsy limericks.

And stealing the Silverthread Immortal Leaf from the Xuan Bird’s nest? That was pure dumb luck. If it hadn’t been for the Heartsoul Grass shielding her, she would’ve ended up a crispy, finger-lickin’ dried corpse by now.

Pei Ji was the one who had actually struck down the Blood Dragon Tree with a single sword! In the original story—

Ah, right.

In the original novel… how did the plot go again?

As the male lead, Pei Ji was supposed to collect all sorts of rare spiritual plants in the Ancient Forest Sea. He’d then breeze through a string of dangerous battles, defeating fearsome spirit beasts one after another, gaining the favor of countless elders.

So what went wrong? How had things veered so far off script, to the point that he ended up getting targeted by that rampaging Blood Dragon Tree?

…

“I must sincerely apologize for the incident involving the Blood Dragon Tree in the secret realm,” said He Xiaochen, with the practiced tone of a seasoned academy leader.

He clasped his hands behind his back and addressed the disciples with dignity.
“Xiao Zhong Mountain has existed for countless years. As spiritual energy flourished within, so too did hidden traces of demonic influence. None of us expected the Blood Dragon Tree to be corrupted by it—and nearly cause innocent casualties.”

He gave a respectful nod.
“It was thanks to the swift actions of the Xuanyu Sword Sect’s Pei Ji, who drew his sword and purged the demonic force, that greater disaster was averted.”

Murmurs spread through the gathered disciples like wind rippling through grass. Ningning popped a piece of apricot blossom cake into her mouth—only to pause when she heard a sharp voice in the crowd.

“But Pei Ji himself has demonic energy! I heard it was only after he approached that the Blood Dragon Tree went berserk. What if he’s the real culprit—the mastermind who planned it all from the shadows?”

Knew it.

Of course someone would say that.

Ningning’s expression darkened. She scanned the crowd, spotted the speaker, and—without hesitation—hurled her half-eaten apricot cake at the back of his head.

Thwack.
A pitiful yelp followed immediately: “Ow!”

He Xiaochen gave a weary smile.
“Why would such a thought even arise, young man?” he said with forced patience.
“Pei Ji risked his life to save the disciples trapped in the forest. If not for his fellow sect member securing the Silverthread Immortal Leaf in time, he wouldn’t have survived.”

But the doubter refused to give in.
“And yet he did survive, didn’t he? Everyone knows what the demon race is like. What if Pei Ji predicted everything that would happen? What if he staged the whole ordeal just to cast himself as some kind of hero?”

“First he lets the Blood Dragon Tree fall to demonic corruption, then conveniently lets his sect snatch a sacred herb with barely any effort… Come on—are we seriously pretending this secret realm belongs to Pei Ji’s family?”

Before anyone else could respond, a calm yet unmistakably mocking voice cut straight through the air.

“What’s next—Pei Ji personally brewed the spirit tea? Laid the formation by hand? You think the boy wrote the entire script?”

It was Tian Xianzi.

The robed young man in pale green had been sneakily nibbling on pastries, and still had crumbs on the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head and gave an unrepentant half-smile.

He stood there in the most casual pose imaginable, spewing the most sarcastic nonsense with an upturned tone that curled like a cat’s tail—slippery, mocking, and impossible to catch.

“With just a Golden Core cultivation, he could control a ten-thousand-year-old ancient tree?” The young man raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with disdain. “Little friend, if you’re so good at dreaming, why don’t you head back to your room and dream a little more? What are you still doing standing here?”

“You—!”

The elders present were all dignified and composed, their presence like clouds and cranes—except him. He had the audacity to publicly snap back at a junior in front of everyone. And the worst part? The poor disciple he scolded couldn’t even respond, face flushed red, just glaring back in silence.

Unbothered by the commotion, He Xiaochen smoothly continued speaking as if nothing had happened, still carrying the air of a refined gentleman.

“Many of the young cultivators who entered the secret realm this time have shown rare courage and cleverness,” he said warmly.
“Bai Ye of Liuming Mountain gravely injured the Tai Xuan Bird. Song Youran of the Beast Taming Sect discovered the Lion-Tiger Beast. And as for the fabled Heartsoul Grass and Silverthread Immortal Leaf—both were obtained by Ningning of the Xuanyu Sword Sect. Quite the achievement, wouldn’t you say?”

Not everyone had been informed of what happened in the secret realm, and the moment he spoke, exclamations of shock erupted through the crowd.

“You’re kidding! Two saint-rank spirit plants? Most people never even get to see one, and she took both?”

“Ningning? I heard she helped defeat the Blood Dragon Tree too. She pulled off all that in just two days? That’s some next-level time management!”

“Oh, that’s not even the wildest part. You know about Glimmer Island and Haoran Sect? She played both of those parasites like puppets. They’re still in-fighting inside the secret realm.”

Ningning shifted uncomfortably, keeping her head low as she stuffed her face with pastries, hoping food would help her block out the noise. But then someone added loudly, “I heard Glimmer Island’s people are out for her blood. They said they’re gonna take her—”

“Take her dog life?” someone jumped in with a snort.

Ningning choked on her food.

“No, no! Marry her!” the voice corrected cheerfully. “Those flirty cultivators on Glimmer Island? Totally deranged. They got tricked, humiliated, and now they’ve got the hots for her? Isn’t that insane?”

Ningning: “……”

Even more terrifying, actually.
No way was she getting turned into some secret realm tabloid headline: “Bright Young Cultivator Squeezed into Human Jerky by Cult of Creeps.”

Her heart felt like it had been tossed on a rollercoaster. When she finally turned her head, she nearly jumped—Tian Xianzi was standing right behind her.

He gave her a knowing look that could only be interpreted as, “It’s fine. Shizun understands everything.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, casually patting her shoulder. “We’ll be heading back to Xuanyu tomorrow.”

Then, as if remembering something, his lips curled into a grin.
“Oh, and your senior sister just returned from her training down the mountain. Once we’re home, you’ll have time to catch up.”

Senior sister?

Ningning dug through her memories, her expression turning slightly complicated.

Among Tian Xianzi’s five personal disciples, the eldest was named Zheng Weiqi—and she just so happened to be one of the many “future victims” Ningning was destined to thoroughly offend.

And speaking of Senior Sister Zheng… well, she was quite the character.

At the Xuanyu Sword Sect, every disciple was required to attend classes upon initiation—studying sword theory and general academics alike. After all, no one wanted future sword immortals to become glorified illiterate brutes swinging blades without knowing how to read their own names.

Unfortunately, Zheng Weiqi, their senior sister… was the biggest loophole in the entire education system.

Normally, these classes were attended during the Foundation Establishment stage. Pass the basic exams, and you’d graduate with ease.

But Zheng Weiqi?

She went from Foundation to Core Formation, then from Core Formation to Nascent Soul. Years passed. New disciples came and went. Even the quietest girls had turned into stern aunties. And yet, she still faithfully participated in the yearly exams—and still never passed once.

It was like someone starting college entrance exams at 18 and continuing all the way to 80, still not scoring high enough for admission. A tale so tragic, men would go silent, women would weep, and 1.3 billion citizens of the cultivation world would cry in unison.

There was even a legendary test paper of hers that circulated among the sect.

Asked which school of swordplay the revered Zhenxiao Sword Venerable belonged to, she answered:
“The Potato School.”

During the make-up exam, she corrected it with deep sincerity:
“The Idol School.”

Asked to define ‘Entering a meditative state’, she seriously wrote:
“Feels the same as when I zone out in class.”

And then there was a childish math problem:

A farmer makes a deal with a landlord: on the first day, he’s paid 1 grain of rice, the second day 2 grains, the third day 4 grains, doubling each day. Analyze the farmer’s plan.

Zheng Weiqi’s answer?

“The farmer lasted five days, ate a few dozen grains, then starved to death.”

Her brain worked in ways no one could quite understand. But the most infuriating part?

Her swordsmanship was amazing.
Top-tier. Peerless among Xuanyu’s disciples.

Faced with such a person, Ningning’s only wish was to avoid getting her head sliced open like a melon.

…

“By the way,” someone said beside her, “how come I haven’t seen Xu Ye around today?”

He Zhizhou was glancing around in confusion, scratching his head. “Uncle Tianxian, why do the people from Myriad Swords Sect keep giving us weird looks?”

Tian Xianzi simply smiled, as inscrutable as ever.

Instead of answering directly, he said with a chuckle, “I heard you held off the Xuan Bird in Singing Moon Peak to buy time for Ningning. Not bad at all.”

Proud as a rooster, He Zhizhou tried to suppress the way his lips nearly curved into a full grin. “Shishu flatters me. I was just doing my part. Still far from your level.”

Tian Xianzi laughed heartily. “No, no! You’re worthy of the name Little Tianxian. Young man, you must believe in yourself!”

Poor He Zhizhou completely missed the sarcasm, beaming from ear to ear. “Thank you, Shishu! If I ever become famous, I’ll take the title—Tianxian Baby!”

Tianxian… Baby.

Ningning glanced at him, half wanting to say something, half wishing she could pretend she didn’t know him. Finally, she stepped forward and whispered into his ear, “You don’t know, do you? The secret realm has real-time surveillance. Everything you did was live-streamed for all the elders to see.”

The grin on He Zhizhou’s face froze in place.

His master spent 350 days of the year out wandering the world. The disciples were basically left to raise themselves, so no one had ever properly explained how secret realms worked.

So there was surveillance, huh?

Heh… heh… good to know.

At that moment, the arc of Tian Xianzi’s lips could only be described as dangerously wicked—three parts devilish charm, three parts simmering irritation, with 21.5% mockery and 19% dry laughter—just shy of spitting out a classic CEO line: “Little minx, do you know you’re playing with fire?”

Too panicked to notice that the math didn’t even add up to 100%, he fully committed to the act.

Playing with fire in the secret realm by day, getting played by Shishu at night.
He Zhizhou’s smile bloomed like a wild chrysanthemum in the wilderness of despair.
“Shishu… c-could we… maybe go easy on the beatings?”

=====

In the cultivation world, strength was worshipped above all.

So the moment Ningning was singled out by He Xiaochen, it was as if the floodgates had opened. Challengers surged forward like sardines packed into a barrel, eager to test their strength.

But the ones from Neiguang Island were even more terrifying.

They didn’t come to fight. No—every few moments, someone would sidle up and casually ask if she was interested in dual cultivation. Sometimes they even came in groups, like some kind of group discount promotion.

Excuse me? You do realize she played you all, right?

Shouldn’t they be burning with rage right now? Thirsting to chop her into eight pieces?
Where was the righteous fury? The dignity?
Seriously, what was wrong with these flirty cultivators?

Unable to endure any more of it, Ningning used the oldest trick in the book—a convenient excuse and a swift retreat.

She returned to her guest room, only to notice that the lights were on in Pei Ji’s room next door.

Looks like he’d finished treatment and been sent back.

Poor guy. His luck had been utter garbage. Aside from that one dazzling sword strike in the Ancient Forest, he had none of the usual protagonist halo.

While the rest of the place buzzed with laughter and celebration, he sat all alone in his room like a pitiful figure cast aside.

Feeling a bit sorry for him, Ningning hesitated briefly before stepping up to knock.

But before her knuckles even made contact with the door, a hand closed tightly around her wrist.

At the same time, a low voice—sweet but not cloying—brushed past her ear like a whisper wrapped in velvet.
“If I recall correctly… you’re not staying in this room, are you?”

The voice was right next to her ear, close enough that the speaker’s breath tickled her skin, soft and fluttery like dandelion fluff. It scattered straight across her eardrum, leaving her brain buzzing.

Her mind exploded into white noise.

A current zipped straight up her spine, and she instinctively leaned away, holding her breath.

The grip on her wrist relaxed slowly.

Bathed in the silver glow of moonlight stood a youth dressed in crimson robes—Rong Ci, from Neiguang Island.

Gone was the soft-spoken boy who’d pretended to be weak and timid in the cave. What remained now was something entirely different—bold, confident, predatory.

He was beautiful, and the way he stared at her was like a flame licking its next victim.

This was the same Rong Ci she had deceived with a counter-scheme.

Ningning forced out an awkward yet polite smile and took a deliberate step back.
“Wow, what a coincidence. What are you doing here?”

“This isn’t a coincidence,” Rong Ci replied, narrowing his eyes like a fox spotting its prey. He leaned in, slowly meeting her gaze.

“I came here specifically to find you.”

He paused, then dragged out the last syllables of his next line with a smile:
“Do you remember… the thing I didn’t get to finish saying last time? About dual—”

He had barely gotten the word “dual” out when—

BANG.

The door beside her was flung open from the inside.

A rush of light spilled out, so bright she instinctively squinted.

Pei Ji must’ve overheard the conversation outside.

He stood at the threshold, dressed in rare, clean white robes. His usually pale face looked even more bloodless under the light, a fragile contrast that made him seem even more gaunt.

The fabric clung lightly to his frame, and as Ningning turned, she caught a glimpse of the butterfly shape of his collarbone, framed delicately under the thin cloth.

He was holding… a book.

Ningning had thought the book in Pei Ji’s hands was a sword manual. But when she looked closer, she realized—it was a cookbook.

The page he had open was titled:
“99 Ways to Cook Mushrooms: So Good Your Husband Will Cry.”

No way…

She had casually mentioned before that Pei Ji should cook something for everyone once they returned to Xuanxu Sect—and he actually took it seriously?
Still recovering from his injuries, and he went and bought a cookbook?

Pei Ji’s eyes were dark, shadows gathering between his brows. When his gaze landed on Rong Ci, he arched a brow and sneered, voice full of cool mockery.
“She can walk into any room she wants. That’s not something an outsider should interfere in, is it?”

Rong Ci chuckled, unfazed.
“Well, who knows? Maybe I won’t be an outsider for much longer.”

Ningning: Danger.

She could already smell the tension crackling in the air—something volatile and smoky, like the moment before fireworks explode.

The two boys were slinging barbed words at each other, thick with implication. Ningning, standing between them, was completely lost. Her mind churned with chaotic thoughts:

• First of all, those masochists on Neiguang Island clearly weren’t completely shameless. Even for dual cultivation, they still expected exclusivity, huh?
• Second, these two hadn’t been baptized by domestic soap operas or flame wars from Zu’an forums. Their level of bickering was elementary school level at best.

Pei Ji especially—he looked like the kind who normally fought with his sword, not his words. Now he was throwing out half-baked comebacks with messy hair sticking up like he’d just been zapped by lightning. There was even a little puff of hair curled up at the top like an angry sprout.

Ningning was getting bored, just about to cut in, when—
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Someone else was standing at the courtyard gate.

—Yun Duanyue.

She stood still as a statue under the moonlight, staring in their direction, the soft glow painting her like a fairy from the moon—ethereal and luminous.

It was impossible to tell how long she’d been there.

When Ningning finally noticed her, Yun Duanyue’s cheeks flushed a bright red.

This was the guest courtyard of the Xuanxu Sword Sect. Yun Duanyue didn’t know anyone here besides Ningning. Clearly, she had come for her.

So Ningning immediately left the two men behind and jogged over, softening her voice to avoid scaring the girl.
“What’s wrong?”

Yun Duanyue bit her lip, head lowered, and handed her a small embroidered sachet.

It was exquisite, stitched with a quiet scene of moonlit flowers. Ningning thanked her and opened it—inside was a single Tianxin Grass leaf.

Yun Duanyue whispered, barely audible.
“I heard… you gave your Tianxin Grass to the Xuan Bird.”

She didn’t look up once, small pale hands clutching the hem of her skirt nervously.

“I asked the doctor. One leaf is enough to save someone’s life. I wanted… to return this to you.”

Then, after a pause, she suddenly lifted her eyes—large and dark like a startled fawn—before quickly dropping her gaze again.
“Thank you… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at a time like this.”

But Ningning only smiled gently.
“No. You came at exactly the right time.”

That night would forever be etched in the memories of Pei Ji and Rong Ci.

Ningning didn’t know what kind of script she’d been given, but it definitely wasn’t the one where the heroine got caught in a messy love triangle full of jealousy and drama.

Before the boys could even finish their next round of veiled insults, she announced she’d teach them a new kind of entertainment.

It was called… mahjong.

They would later realize: this wasn’t just a game.
It was a wallet-destroying war zone.

The two men, once bitter rivals, were utterly defeated at Ningning’s hands.
In the dead of night, through pain and shared suffering, they finally understood the meaning of true brotherhood: not sharing blessings, but enduring calamity together.

Oh, how they’d fought for her earlier…
Now, all they could do was sit and watch as that very same girl used their money to make another girl laugh—and even borrowed their best lines while doing it.

Yun Duanyue said shyly,
“That’s okay… I still have some savings. Miss Ningning doesn’t need to give me so many spirit stones. I’m just an outsider.”

Ningning smiled.
“How are you an outsider?”

…Was this something a human being would say?! Huh?! Was it?!

By the time dawn approached, Pei Ji and Rong Ci had not only buried the hatchet, they had become battle-forged comrades, standing side by side.

They never imagined that what was supposed to be a revenge match against Ningning would turn into a Huluwa rescue mission—one after another, sent straight to their doom.

Defeated, humiliated, and broke, the two formed a unified front in the face of shared adversity.

And by the end of the night, they had made a pact—
Next time they met, they’d continue the war.
All night long.
One final rematch at the mahjong table.