After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 4

The moment the sword technique collided with the Soul-Piercing Nail, the smile frozen on Ning Ning’s lips stiffened.

She truly hadn’t expected that her stray sword energy would, by sheer luck, crash into Chen Zhao’s venomous nail. The two opposing forces—one yin, one yang—completely neutralized each other, vanishing into nothingness.

After such a colossal blunder, the system in her mind remained eerily silent.

It was the same when she’d mistaken someone else for Pei Ji earlier. It seemed the system’s only job was to push Ning Ning into doing things, but it didn’t care in the slightest about the quality or accuracy of her actions.

Exactly like how Ning Ning used to complete her summer homework, just filling in all the blanks without a care for whether the answers were right or wrong. If it was finished, it was fine.

Chen Zhao was even more panicked upon seeing the Soul-Piercing Nail lose its effect.

That sword energy had been swift and precise, hitting the nail dead-on. In such a fast-paced and high-stakes clash, only someone with extraordinary skill could pull that off.

Either Pei Ji possessed unfathomable strength, or a hidden master was secretly helping him—either way, it spelled serious trouble for Chen Zhao.

Just yesterday, upon hearing that Ning Ning of Tianxianzi’s sect had lost to a mere outer disciple, he had secretly looked down on her countless times. He had resolved to crush that boy’s arrogance in today’s competition—but now…

Chen Zhao’s expression grew grim, the joints on the hand gripping his sword hilt whitening.

Since things had come to this, don’t blame him for going for the kill!

His giant sword rose with the momentum of a mighty gale. The dark golden blade gleamed under the sunlight. In just a blink, the tall and muscular youth charged forward, striking straight at Pei Ji.

The boy in black stood firm, focused, a faint shadow of murderous energy rising between his brows.

Ning Ning stood with her arms crossed, watching the increasingly fierce duel in silence. An outsider might only see the spectacle, but an insider like her could recognize the skill behind the moves. She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly:

The male lead is so good-looking.

Truthfully, Pei Ji didn’t look like a traditional righteous protagonist—his personality and actions strayed far from the archetype.

Having grown up despised by his mother and often beaten as a scapegoat for his unfaithful father, it was no surprise he hadn’t turned out to be a model citizen. He was withdrawn, eccentric, and possessed an alarming number of problematic traits—venomous tongue, gloomy temperament, and a manipulative, black-hearted nature.

He was more like a villain than the actual villains, leaving no room for them to shine.

So, it wasn’t surprising that the novel’s popularity…

Let’s put it kindly, it wasn’t exactly high. No one knew how the author had the willpower to write so many chapters solo.

Back to Pei Ji.

He had a face that was stunningly beautiful. His upturned phoenix eyes held a natural hint of seduction, but that allure was tempered by the ruthless ferocity within his gaze.

That deadly aura, mixed with dangerous charm, created a haunting harmony. Most striking was the deep red tear mole beneath his eye—like a drop of cinnabar, a bead of blood—paired with pale, tightly pressed lips, it drew the eye even more than the vast, ink-painted mountains behind him.

Not to mention his black robes outlined his tall, lean frame. Where his skin was slashed by sword energy, you could see unnaturally fair skin stained with bright red blood—

No wonder so many side characters liked him.

At this point, the battle was nearing its end, both sides battered and bruised.

Unlike Chen Zhao, who was a direct disciple, Pei Ji was just an outer sect member. He had only trained in the sect’s most basic sword techniques—yet he had gained the upper hand.

With no master to guide him, he had taught himself day and night. With no fixed sword forms, he adapted to the moment, fought step by step, and followed the intent in his heart rather than the rigid structure of swordplay.

It was a glaring difference in talent. Chen Zhao had lost—completely and utterly.

By now, it was obvious to any observer who would win. Ning Ning saw it clearly and knew the male lead was about to experience the first major turning point of his life.

Amid the clash of swords and light, sudden gasps rose from the crowd. Ning Ning knew the time had come. She followed their gaze.

Hovering above the dueling platform was an ancient sword glowing icy blue, emanating a cold aura. Under the sunlight, it shimmered like melting crystals.

Standing atop the sword were two young men, both in white robes with their hair tied up, exuding elegance.

One had twinkled eyes and a playful smirk, lips lazily curved. The other was dressed in flowing robes, expression cool and detached, sunlight and shadow dappling across his clothes like an immortal descending to earth.

Someone exclaimed, “It’s… it’s Elder Tianxian and Senior Brother Meng Jue!”

Ning Ning squinted against the light and saw the ever-smiling youth wave at her.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the sword cultivator who looked like a rich, idle playboy… was her master.

Yes, the ethereal one beside him was her senior brother Meng Jue.

From the over-the-top name Tianxianzi (“Heavenly Admired One”), you could already tell their master was an eccentric.

He was a legendary figure in the Xuanxu Sword Sect, traveling the world nearly 300 days a year to study every sword style under the sun. He rarely attended sect events—either off adventuring or locked in closed-door training.

He was also a complete sword maniac. Whenever he saw a sword he liked, he’d do everything he could to buy it. Despite being several centuries old, he still lived paycheck to paycheck.

According to the original novel, Tianxianzi had just returned to the sect when he heard Ning Ning had lost to an outer sect disciple. Ever the drama-lover, he immediately flew over to the dueling platform—and witnessed Pei Ji’s brutal battle against Chen Zhao.

Then, slapping his forehead, and staying completely in character, he decided: This one’s a genius! He’ll be my disciple from now on.

And just like that, Pei Ji, originally a nameless outer sect disciple, suddenly soared in status, becoming Elder Tianxian’s personal disciple in one leap. From then on, his life completely changed—no longer subject to bullying or humiliation.

From the stage came a dull thud as the heavy sword hit the ground. Chen Zhao finally lost consciousness and collapsed. The black-clothed youth beside him was panting softly, his thin chest rising and falling.

Blood trickled down from his clothes; the part of his face grazed by sword energy was now flushed red with blood, set against pale skin and dark hair—so striking it could seize one’s soul.

Though Pei Ji looked battered, his back remained straight. As if sensing something, he lifted his murky black eyes.

And they locked directly with those of Tianxianzi, who hovered above with his sword.

Ning Ning knew—It was done.

“Not bad.”

The young man standing on the sword had a naturally smiling mouth; his brows and eyes barely arched, yet he radiated the gentle warmth of spring and the melting of snow. His tone, as always, was light and playful.

“Wanna be my disciple?”

In that moment, he was the very image of an ethereal immortal—refined, graceful, and dazzling. His new disciple would no doubt forever remember that awe-inspiring demeanor and adopt “Master is the greatest in the world” as their new catchphrase.

Too bad, just as he said “Wanna be,” Pei Ji’s body gave out. He propped himself on his sword and half-knelt on the ground.

His eyes even closed.

Tianxianzi: “…”

Bro, give me a chance to finish showing off, please.

=====

The moment an unknown outer sect disciple was personally accepted by an elder, the duel platform erupted.

What was an outer sect disciple? Someone with a mere trace of spiritual energy and average talent—unqualified even to enter the inner sect. To even speak a few words to an elder in their lifetime was considered a blessing.

Yet after just one duel, he had become a personal disciple?

Unbelievable.

Pei Ji had passed out, but Tianxianzi was intrigued by the immense sword energy in his body and cheerfully followed him to the medical hall on Tianhe Peak.

Seeing everything settle, Ning Ning was about to return to her small courtyard for some rest—when a figure in white suddenly appeared at her side.

It was her eldest senior brother, Meng Jue.

When it came to swordsmanship, her senior brother was practically divine. In combat, he had never lost in years. He was the undisputed top disciple of the sect.

Compared to the ever-flippant Tianxianzi, the calm and steady Meng Jue was far more like a real teacher.

Word had it that this senior brother was as gentle and noble as the breeze, with a constant smile at his lips. But only Ning Ning knew—this man was a true, black-hearted lotus.

Before he entered the Immortal Sect, Meng Jue had been the only son of a wealthy merchant family. Due to his parents being overly trusting, the family was destroyed when he was twelve, and all their assets were stolen by the friend his father trusted most.

It was only thanks to his mother buying time with her life that a loyal servant managed to smuggle Meng Jue out. Barely clinging to life, he escaped death by a thread.

From that day on, Meng Jue trusted no one.

He was always courteous to others but never gave his true heart. There was always an invisible distance around him—untouchable.

The gentler he smiled when chatting with you, the more ruthlessly he would strike you down without hesitation if he ever discovered betrayal.

So, one could imagine, in the original novel’s later chapters, just how much he despised the original Ning Ning, who kept courting death.

Ning Ning glanced at his smiling eyes, steadied her thoughts, and greeted him:

“Senior Brother.”

At this point in time, they didn’t interact much. Meng Jue only saw her as a spoiled, willful little junior sister. He didn’t particularly like her but didn’t dislike her either.

So, he smiled in return.

“Junior Sister Ning Ning. Before Master left, he asked me to remind you—train hard and strive to improve your swordsmanship as soon as possible.”

He was referring, of course, to her defeat by an outer sect disciple.

Ning Ning obediently nodded. She figured it was time for one of her scripted outbursts, and sure enough, her mind buzzed—

[Dingdong!]

[Meng Jue has exceptional swordsmanship and a solid cultivation base. Though you know he dislikes your spoiled and unreasonable personality, you’ve had no way to get close to him—until now. Try using a beauty trap! Once he falls for you, won’t magical artifacts and secret manuals come pouring in?]

[Please say the following line to Meng Jue:]

And then came a string of black text on white background that was so embarrassing, Ning Ning wanted to cover her eyes and scream: “My eyes! My eyes!”

Original Ning Ning, this is not okay.

Why are you always thinking about taking advantage of others? You have limbs, you’re even a sword prodigy admired by all—why do you insist on clinging to other people’s thighs?

Wouldn’t it be far more satisfying to work hard and beat those people with your own skills until they’re groveling?

Ning Ning just couldn’t understand.

But the system didn’t care if she understood. The lines had to be said.

“Senior Brother.”

She was supposed to act soft and pitiful here, but she really didn’t have the face for it. She stood there completely expressionless, like a robot reciting lines:

“I’m so sad about losing to Pei Ji.”

Meng Jue: “Mm.”

“Now that even, Master wants to take him as a disciple, I have no one else to rely on. Only you can help me, Senior Brother.”

Meng Jue didn’t respond.

Ning Ning took a deep breath, and in a tone like a soldier going to war, she declared:

“So! Tonight, at the hour of the pig! Are you free?!”

Her face turned pale several shades as she finished. According to the plot, Meng Jue would immediately understand that Junior Sister was inviting him on a secret rendezvous—and coldly rejected her without hesitation.

In the original novel, there had been a whole paragraph describing her suggestive tone and posture—her voice as soft as silk, fingers gently tugging at Meng Jue’s sleeve, a faint fragrance lingering…

Even Ning Ning, as a girl, would have trouble resisting. But Meng Jue?

He declined without blinking.

Right now, her face was full of reluctance, her voice stiff like a robot, looking like a martyr walking toward death. Surely that would make him even more disgusted.

Ning Ning had already prepared herself for a blunt rejection.

But to her surprise, Meng Jue hesitated for a moment, then actually curved his beautiful peach blossom eyes and said, “Alright.”

Ning Ning: Excuse me? Are you insane, or am I?

And the craziest part was still to come.

Meng Jue’s smile deepened, and he even revealed a trace of ambiguous tenderness:
“How about I teach you something… not quite suitable for your age?”

Ning Ning was shaken.

If pupils could experience earthquakes, hers would have just been shattered into oblivion.

No wait.

Senior Brother, do you always speak this bluntly? Is this your character setting? Wake up, Senior Brother, please!

=====

Midday, in the small courtyard.

Moonlight danced among the shadows, thin mist arose in the night, and the stillness spread quietly from the sky, melting softly into every patch of earth.

Stars and moonlight cast a hazy glow, drifting into Ning Ning’s courtyard with the wind, illuminating the flush on the young girl’s cheeks.

“Senior Brother.” Ning Ning hadn’t expected Meng Jue to keep his word and show up at the small courtyard at the Hour of the Boar (around 9–11 p.m.). Now, it was already midnight. Her back was pressed tightly against his chest, and their damp, dark hair intertwined, glistening with sweat under the ambiguous moonlight.

Heat radiated from her whole body, difficult to endure. She bit her lip to hold back a gasp that nearly slipped out.
“This really isn’t working.”

Meng Jue was very close to her, gently holding her slender wrist. When he spoke in a low voice, a faint bamboo fragrance in his breath lingered in the sensitive hollow of her neck:
“Little Junior Sister, are you tired?”

Ning Ning didn’t even have the strength to nod.

What do you think?!

If you practiced swordplay for three hours straight, wouldn’t you be tired too?! And you treat your beautiful same-sect junior as this?! Meng Jue, have a heart!

Earlier, Senior Brother just said his piece and left, not giving her a single chance to back out. She had waited, heart pounding, deep into the night. Not only did he show up, but he even brought a sword manual.

That’s right — the “something not quite suitable for her age” that Meng Jue spoke of…

Was a high-level sword technique so devastatingly intense it nearly killed her by the time she finished one round.

Truly beyond what someone her age could bear. Ha ha.

Well played.

What the hell is wrong with sword cultivators’ brains? Could they for once think like normal people? Did what she said really sound like she was desperately asking to learn sword techniques? Huh?

But Meng Jue clearly thought very differently.

When Junior Sister first spoke up, he instinctively assumed she had ulterior motives and was going to reject her. But her expression — really, it was just too awful.

Have you ever seen someone invite a man out at night with the face of a corpse? Ever heard anyone flirt with the tragic tone of a war hero sacrificing their life? Eyes wide like brass bells, face pale like a vengeful ghost — who the hell tries to seduce someone like that?

Meng Jue had not.

He’d seen many women scheme to get close to him, all with soft voices, gentle glances, practically melting into his arms.

But not Junior Sister.

Her expression was filled with shame, awkwardness, and indignation — most of all, a heroic resolve like she was prepared to die.

—Clearly, she was unconvinced after losing to an outer disciple and wanted to ask for sword guidance!

The shame and frustration of losing to Pei Ji, the bashfulness of speaking to him for the first time, and the determined resolve to learn even if it meant getting worn out, knowing full well how ruthless he was as a teacher.

With that interpretation, everything made perfect sense.

This… is the spirit of a sword cultivator!

To think such a wild and unruly junior sister could be so hardworking — Meng Jue was truly moved.

“Senior Brother…” Ning Ning’s eyes were completely lifeless after three hours of training. She felt like a young sword cultivator who had just lost all her dreams that night.
“I can’t learn it. Really.”

Please, just let her go already!

Blown up by a cauldron, tortured by sword techniques, mistaken for some desperate fangirl who followed a boy back to his dorm…

She was just a perfectly average villainess side character! Is this the suffering a proper villainess is supposed to endure?! This was clearly the xianxia version of To Live!

Ning Ning felt more wrong than Xianglin’s Wife. She was truly foolish. Really.

She was starting to think everyone in this sect was crazy.

And to make it worse, aside from the three male leads she’d already met, there were still several more waiting in line. Who knew what kind of monsters they were, ready to torment her in fresh new ways?

Then came Meng Jue’s cool, elegant voice — gentle and caring as ever:
“Junior Sister, you’ve already grasped half the technique. With more practice, you’ll surely make a breakthrough. The greatest mistake in cultivation is giving up halfway. Why not be a little more confident?”

Ning Ning took a deep breath and nodded.

She had never spoken with such determination and self-assurance in her entire life. Each word rang with undeniable conviction.
“Senior Brother! I really can’t learn it! I just can’t!”

Is that confident enough for you, you damn sword cultivator?!