After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 26

Meng Jiaqi found herself caught in a dilemma.

If she followed the original plan and led this group straight into the dead-end, she too would end up with no corpse left to bury—after all, she was the one at the front.

But if she gave in to her fear and guided them through the correct exit of the Tenfold Killing Array, she’d lose the best opportunity to eliminate this band of dangerous lunatics.

After weighing her options, she clenched her teeth and made her decision.
“I just cast another divination. It turns out this formation is more deceptive than I thought—it’s layered with illusion. That path earlier wasn’t a dead end after all. Please, follow me.”

She cursed them all to hell in her heart as she reluctantly stepped into another street—an old road lined with elegance and antiquity.

Legend had it that the formation’s designer deliberately exploited human psychology— “The most dangerous place is the safest,” “The most inconspicuous path is the way out.” So, they set the trap in the most broken-down, inconspicuous alley.

Anyone who believed in those sayings would be half a step into the underworld.

In truth, the lavish and well-kept avenue was the actual way out.

As they continued deeper into the street, the thick fog gradually began to lift, fading quietly into a thin mist that lingered at the edges of rooftops like a gauzy veil.

Lamps along both sides of the street cast a warm, steady glow. When Ning Ning glanced up, her eyes caught the reflection of countless star like lights, strung together like pearls.

Unlike the earlier ruined buildings, this part of the city boasted towering pavilions, intricate carvings, and eaves that curled upward like soaring birds. The wooden walls exuded a timeless elegance, with a faint post-rain forest fragrance in the air. From a distance, the buildings looked like rows of silent giants—dignified, quiet, and vaguely oppressive.

“This must’ve been a commercial district back in the day.”

Inside the shops, elegant robes and glittering jewelry were displayed as if untouched by time. Ning Ning, still a young girl at heart, couldn’t help but marvel wide-eyed.
“Jialan City must’ve been truly prosperous once.”

Meng Jiaqi instinctively puffed up with pride. “Naturally.”

But then she paused, realizing her tone was a little too proud, too telling—so she forced an awkward chuckle and added, “At least, that’s what my father told me. This place used to be a grand city, well-known even among the demon clans.”

“Hey! Look over there! Isn’t that—?”

He Zhizhou’s voice suddenly rang out, so excited it cracked. “That’s your Senior Sister, Zheng Weiqi!”

Ning Ning’s fingers twitched. She looked in the direction he pointed—and froze.

At the far end of the street stood a figure clad entirely in blood-red. She was leaning on a column, head bowed, scribbling something in a notebook.

One look at her face, smeared with blood like she’d just walked off a Beijing opera stage—only missing the line “Red-faced Lord Guan battles Changsha”—and Ning Ning could barely recognize her.

But that face, underneath all the gore, was undeniably Zheng Weiqi.

Her male outfit was stained with blood, some hers, some not. Slashes ran across her arms and calves, the blood on them nearly dried.

Ning Ning’s heart skipped a beat. She hurried forward, calling out, “Senior Sister!”

The bloodied opera star—Zheng Weiqi—looked up and gave a simple, guileless smile. Then she coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood and beamed.
“Ning Ning, you’re here! Come quick! This jewelry shop has so many gorgeous ideas. Thanks to them, I suddenly got inspired with all kinds of new designs. I might actually make money this time!”

Shocking! A student of a reputable cultivator trade school, gravely injured and still enthusiastically developing her livestream business strategy!

—Sis, you’re literally coughing up blood, and your first instinct is not to heal, but to boost your merch line?! There’s no need—seriously, no need!

Still worried, Ning Ning stepped to her side and asked gently, “Senior Sister… how did you get so badly hurt?”

“Oh! You mean these?”

Until This Moment, Zheng Weiqi Hadn’t Even Realized She Was Injured.

She glanced down at herself with casual indifference, then let out a careless chuckle.
“There were a bunch of formations scattered around the city. I accidentally triggered a few and fought a couple of lingering wraiths. It’s nothing serious.”

Before Ning Ning could respond, her eyes suddenly lit up. Full of enthusiasm, she waved Ning Ning over excitedly.
“Forget that—come look at this new silver hairpin I just designed! It blends classical and modern elements, and the tail has a tiny, nearly invisible mechanism. I swear—”

Before she could finish, a dramatic splurt of blood gushed out of her mouth, perfectly synchronized with her unfinished sentence—so much so that it looked like a musical fountain dyed crimson.

Zheng Weiqi’s expression changed dramatically.
“Oh no! My manuscript got stained!”

Ning Ning: “……”

How should she put this…
Sword cultivators really did think differently.

While the two were chatting, the other three had also caught up, strolling leisurely down the long street.

After a round of introductions, Meng Jiaqi glanced at Zheng Weiqi’s watermelon-red face—so bright it could rival a lantern—and a cunning idea began to form in her mind.

She was a pure-blooded fox spirit, born to charm. From the way Ning Ning called this woman “Senior Sister,” it was obvious her status was high. If she could win Zheng Weiqi’s favor, the other three surely wouldn’t dare bully her anymore.

Right now, Zheng Weiqi was badly injured—her weakest moment. All she had to do was create an irresistibly gentle atmosphere, and the woman would fall head over heels for her, willingly opening up and protecting her.

The plan: the classic Beauty Trap.

“Miss Zheng,”

Meng Jiaqi gently gasped, covering her mouth in faux shock as she stepped forward to support Zheng Weiqi’s arm, leaning in ever so slightly.
“You’re so badly hurt… Why don’t we take a break first? Let me apply some medicine for you?”

Zheng Weiqi had already been loitering around the street, reluctant to leave. Upon hearing this, she beamed brightly and nodded without hesitation.
“I was thinking the same thing! Then let’s follow Miss Meng’s suggestion and stay here a whi—”

Halfway through her sentence, she suddenly froze.

Meng Jiaqi lowered her eyes and smiled softly, a trace of smug satisfaction flickering beneath her calm expression.

She had discreetly released her charm fragrance, a unique fox ability. Anyone who inhaled it would be irresistibly drawn to her—their affection multiplied.

She hadn’t used it on the others because her cultivation wasn’t strong enough to affect them.
But Zheng Weiqi was injured. There was no way she could resist.

“Miss Meng smells so good!”

Zheng Weiqi’s tone grew increasingly friendly and admiring.

Meng Jiaqi smirked internally.
Stupid sword cultivator. In the end, you’re just another one falling under my spell.

But the woman beside her suddenly leaned in and, lowering her voice like a conspirator, whispered with grave seriousness:
“Miss Meng, based on my experience, I think you’ve been pickled in low-quality cosmetics. Why don’t you take a look at my exclusive handmade facial creams and cinnabar pigments? No weird smells, I promise.”

Meng Jiaqi: “…?”

EXCUSE ME?
Did she just say… pickled in cosmetics?

Wait a minute.

So that “friendly smile” earlier wasn’t her falling under a charm spell… but a sales pitch tone?!

Are you out of your mind?!

Meng Jiaqi was livid.

But a fox spirit had her pride—even if the act was a disaster, she had to finish the performance.

So she forced a stiff smile and endured a full incense stick’s worth of sales talk about skincare, pigments, and small-business strategy.

By the end, her patience was hanging by a thread, but Zheng Weiqi—entirely oblivious—was still rattling on with wild enthusiasm, completely immersed in her imaginary shopkeeper fantasy.

Plan A: failed.

Time for Plan B.

While Zheng Weiqi rambled on about her revolutionary “anti-smudge rouge,” Meng Jiaqi just nodded like one of those fortune-cat statues—polite, eager, expressionless.

Finally spotting an opportunity, she shifted slightly, took a calculated step forward—

—and suddenly lunged, throwing herself into Zheng Weiqi’s arms.

She fell straight into Zheng Weiqi’s chest.

Bloodstains from the torn clothes smeared all over her hands and face. Meng Jiaqi was utterly disgusted inside, but her voice remained soft and coquettish. “I’m sorry… I think I twisted my ankle. I’ll get up right awa—ow!”

She was halfway up when she suddenly feigned pain again and collapsed back into Zheng Weiqi’s arms.

This move was foolproof—enough to make men fall in love and women melt with sympathy. No one could resist it.

Sure enough, Zheng Weiqi blinked in slight confusion, a rare trace of concern in her voice. “Are you alright, Miss Meng?”

“I’m fine…” Meng Jiaqi’s voice trembled as she blinked pitifully, wiping away nonexistent tears. “It’s just my leg hurts so much… I might not be able to walk for a while. I’m so sorry to trouble everyone. I’m useless…”

“Don’t say that, Miss Meng!”

Zheng Weiqi’s tone turned anxious. Meng Jiaqi smiled subtly, sensing victory—only for the next line to crush all her hopes in an instant.

Zheng Weiqi said with a completely serious expression, “Even if you smell weird and don’t seem very useful, that doesn’t mean you’re useless! You—”

The air froze.

From the side, He Zhizhou couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing.

Zheng Weiqi looked a little embarrassed. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

Meng Jiaqi: …

She was exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

She was just a cute, unremarkable little fox—why did she have to endure this kind of worldly suffering?

Her body remained here, but her soul had already floated off to join the late Qin Chuan in the afterlife.

“Don’t worry, Miss Meng! As long as I’m here, I won’t let you slow the team down.”

Seeing her sad expression, Zheng Weiqi hurriedly tried to make amends. “I actually invented a personal transport device. You won’t need to walk at all—you can just ride along with us.”

Zheng Weiqi, the senior disciple under Tian Xianzi, was a money-making maniac. Aside from hawking goods in the mortal world, she also wrote her own sword manuals and invented all kinds of odd little contraptions.

Meng Jiaqi forced out a smile that looked worse than crying. “Go on…”

“Here it is!”

Zheng Weiqi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. With a flash of gold from her storage pouch, a massive contraption shaped like a waterwheel appeared on the ground.

In the center was a horizontal plank, like… a medieval execution rack.

“I borrowed the mechanics from waterwheels and windmills,” Zheng Weiqi began enthusiastically, eyes shining. “You just get strapped into the center, and as someone pushes it forward, it rotates and carries you along. Super-efficient, totally hands-free!”

Meng Jiaqi: Heh.

This wasn’t a transport device. This was an automated torture rack.

Anyone normal would die within a few spins strapped to that thing, okay? In the demon realm, they used something exactly like this for forced confessions!

She’d already said it too many times, but here it came again—

What the hell is wrong with you people?!

She had thought she’d finally met a normal person, but this one was worse than the last three combined! Was the Xuanxu Sect ranked by how insane its disciples were?

Zheng Weiqi looked at her with stars in her eyes, clearly expecting her to try it.

Meng Jiaqi could already see her future.

A dying little fox, bound to the spinning wheel like a slab of meat, hurling into the wind—vomit spraying like a never-ending floral display of misery.

He Zhizhou was already snorting with laughter like a donkey. Ningning couldn’t bear it anymore and finally spoke up to interrupt, “Senior Sister, while Brother He and I were exploring the city, we found a letter written in ancient Jialan script. I suspect the demons in this city are connected to the old ruins—maybe even survivors from a century ago.”

Zheng Weiqi reluctantly tore her gaze from her “invention,” cleared her throat, and tried to look dignified. “Is that so? If they truly are Jialan survivors… then what’s their purpose in stealing people’s souls? Could it be… for that rumored Young Lord?”

Finally, she looked like a proper disciple of a righteous sect.

“To let countless innocents suffer just for the sake of one person—how despicable.”

“Soul stealing?”

A soft voice spoke up after a brief silence, curious and puzzled, as if muttering to herself: “Wasn’t it just their essence being extracted?”

The moment those words were spoken, everyone turned sharply toward the source—Meng Jiaqi.

The sound of silence was deafening. You could almost hear the flute at farewell, the hush of a night by Cambridge waters.

“W-Why are you all looking at me like that?!”

Meng Jiaqi realized she’d slipped up and turned red, stumbling over her words. “I—I heard it from my father! He said the people here had their essence taken, not their souls. Essence can recover—there’s no need to act like it’s some fate worse than death! You’re just slandering for no reason!”

That tone. That look.

Like a mother hen defending her chick.

Ningning bit back the question on the tip of her tongue: “Is your father actually just… you?” She silently looked away.

Everyone was busy trying to keep Meng Jiaqi’s secret under wraps—who could’ve predicted she’d be a walking self-destruct device?

Meng Jiaqi was already dizzy from all the chaos. She noticed the strange expressions on everyone’s faces and, in a panic, shouted, “You don’t believe me? I really am a good person!”

A good person…

Oh no. That phrase slipped out from her old habits as a fox.

The self-destruction truck revved its engine and barreled down the road, fireworks of awkwardness lighting the air.

Meng Jiaqi: …

Ningning: …

Meng Jiaqi: “Heh.”

Meng Jiaqi: “Did I just… out myself?”

Seeing her troubled expression, Ningning tried to console her gently, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Miss Meng. Honestly, your acting was really good. None of us noticed anything off…”

But before she could finish, Meng Jiaqi stared blankly into space, then suddenly let out a high-pitched, near-broken laugh. Her lips curled into a wild, crooked smile.

“Sad? Who said I’m sad?!”

…

She broke into a strange mix of giggles and crazed laughter, her voice a jumble of madness and melancholy. “Ahaha… fine! I’ve been exposed! Hahaha! I’ve finally been exposed!”

Let the whole world rejoice! Bang the drums and beat the gongs! Such a monumental blessing had actually descended upon her!

She didn’t need to keep pretending anymore! No more faking sweetness! No more undercover nonsense! She used to have no choice, but now? Now she just wanted to be a villain and laugh like one! Hahahahaha!

Ning Ning hesitated, exchanging a subtle glance with her senior sister.

Meng Jiaqi’s whole body trembled as she finally blurted out the words she had kept buried deep inside:

“You heartless scumbags—none of you are even human!”

She spun around to glare at Ning Ning, her expression twisted. “You! The first time we met, you threatened hostages and said, ‘If they die, surrender quickly!’ And later, you actually used me—a delicate, helpless girl—as a meat shield! You absolute garbage!”

Ning Ning: “…”

“And you!” Meng Jiaqi turned sharply, nearly choking on her own rage as she glared at Zheng Weiqi. “Do you have some kind of mental illness? What the hell was that contraption you made? What kind of normal person even thinks that up?! Tch! You should just off yourself with that stupid thing already! And another thing—my scent is called natural fragrance, not ‘marinated cosmetics!’”

Zheng Weiqi: “…”

With righteous fury fueling her, Meng Jiaqi turned to He Zhizhou. “And you! ‘Autopsy reveals the victim died from the autopsy’—do you even have a functioning brain?! I’ll remember what you did to Qin Chuan forever! Even if I die and become a ghost, I’ll still haunt you! You better watch your back!”

He Zhizhou: “…”

Finally, her eyes fell on Pei Ji.

Pei Ji didn’t flinch. He even raised an eyebrow, cool and unbothered, as if challenging her to say something.

Meng Jiaqi silently scoffed and stiffly looked away, deciding he wasn’t even worth the energy.

“Miss Meng…” Ning Ning cautiously stepped forward, testing the waters. “Are you… okay?”

“What ‘Miss Meng’?!” she snapped, her tone unyielding. “Call me what I truly am—‘a vile, despicable double agent!’”

Ning Ning didn’t dare provoke her fragile mental state any further. She blinked, hesitant, and softly obliged, “A-all right… um… you vile, despicable double agent.”

Ahhh.

The words washed over Meng Jiaqi like a gentle spring breeze. She took a deep breath, her soul soothed.

Heavenly. Simply divine.

Those seven words were more precious than gold. The world around her suddenly bloomed—flowers more fragrant, grass greener. Her shattered heart finally began to mend.

“Shh… don’t speak,” she said, closing her eyes with a crooked grin that nearly gave her a facial cramp. “Let’s feel it with our hearts.”

“I, Meng Jiaqi, am a vile, despicable double agent. Heeheehee…”

“Someone help!” He Zhizhou’s scalp tingled. He curled his toes so hard his soles cramped. “Did we actually drive her insane? With her like this, she could star in The Grudge or Ringu. Even Kayako and Sadako would bow to her as a senior.”

Ning Ning, also worried, thought for a moment and then slowly approached. “Meng… uh, Miss Double Agent, let me show you something.”

Meng Jiaqi turned her head dazedly and watched Ning Ning pull something out from her storage pouch.

A soft, fluffy, white object appeared—light pink around the edges, two long floppy things…

Wait.

Rabbit ears?

A chubby white rabbit suddenly popped out of the pouch. Since Ning Ning was holding it by the ears, it flailed around helplessly in midair.

As it wiggled, it began dramatically bowing with its stubby front paws and yelling in a deep, exaggerated male voice, “Happy New Year, dear sisters and brothers! Bunny here bows once! Twice! Thrice! May the kind siblings please let Bunny go home! Bunny is very, very scared—!”

Halfway through its performance, the rabbit froze, eyes going wide.

Across the space, it locked eyes with Meng Jiaqi.

Just one glance in the crowd, and it could never forget her face again.

Two traitorous villains stared at each other in stunned silence, their gazes brimming with the weight of past lives.

And then, at the same time, both wailed like two tragic monkeys echoing across the valley:

“—Chuan’er!!”

“—Sister Qi!!”

A chilly wind swept through, lifting Meng Jiaqi’s hair and the rabbit’s messy white fur.

One woman. One rabbit.

No words. Just tears—streaming down their faces like noodles from a Lanzhou hand-pulled shop.