After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 42

Let the heavens rejoice and the masses celebrate—for after an entire night of nerve-wracking anticipation, the ranking results for the Xuanyu Sword Sect’s academy exams were finally released!

Zheng Weiqi had been so anxious she didn’t sleep a wink. Despite being a cultivator, even her spiritual resilience couldn’t stop the toll of two sleepless nights spent in constant mental overdrive. By the time she staggered out of her room, she resembled a wandering zombie from the cultivation version of Resident Evil.

Ning Ning couldn’t help but think of a famous line that sprang to mind at the sight.

A ghost—a ghost of swordsmanship—is haunting the Xuanyu Sect.

She had always gotten along well with her senior sister, so naturally, she got up early that morning to accompany her.

Zheng Weiqi was currently in the exact state of a student awaiting college entrance exam results—both euphoric and on the brink of tears. Her expression was a vivid depiction of “half sunshine, half sorrow,” stuck between a desperate desire to know her score and the paralyzing fear of failure that made her want to stay inside forever.

When they arrived at the academy, a crowd had already gathered at the announcement board. The entire area was packed wall-to-wall, a sea of people buzzing with either celebration or despair.

Ning Ning, having already graduated from the academy in her past life, had rarely set foot here. Now that she had the chance to see it up close, she couldn’t help but look around with mild curiosity.

The academy tower stood proud and imposing, constructed entirely of white jade stone, exuding a quiet yet unshakable strength. Verdant pines and lush vines wrapped around its form, lending a serene beauty to its grandeur.

Outside the white jade hall, the results were posted on the wall in a very traditional manner—names written in ink on paper, stuck up for all to see. Zheng Weiqi waited until the crowd had thinned out a little before nervously stepping closer… heading straight for the last row.

Only the names of those who had passed were listed, and given her skill level, if she didn’t find her name among the final few—then the answer was obvious.

Zheng Weiqi took a deep breath, exchanged a look with Ning Ning, and used her right hand to cover the final column of names.

Then, with the solemnity of someone walking into their own execution, she muttered, “Alright… here goes! Hah!”

With that incomprehensible shout, she moved her hand up, revealing the name underneath.

Two characters. A glance told her it wasn’t hers.

Her hand trembled as she moved it up again—another unfamiliar name, a man’s this time.

Again—nope.

And again—still not it.

No way.

Behind her, Ning Ning’s voice drifted in gently, full of caution and sympathy: “Senior Sister…”

Those two words hit like a sledgehammer to her ears, knocking the strength from her legs. She stepped back in defeat and let her hand drop completely.

She stared at the list. An entire vertical row of names stretched before her like a swaying dragon. But no matter how carefully she looked—forget her full name, there wasn’t even a single person with the surname Zheng.

…Unbelievable.

There wasn’t even an index. Every row was scrawled haphazardly with different names. Zheng Weiqi narrowed her eyes and squinted until she finally recognized a recurring pattern. Two words were repeated over and over again across the entire list.

“Retake Exam.”

Zheng Weiqi: “…”

Well, that was that.

She exhaled, her expression distant.

“Looks like… I didn’t pass. Again.”

As the senior sister of the sect, no matter how bitter she felt inside, Zheng Weiqi knew she couldn’t show even a hint of it in front of her beloved junior. She forced a smile, turned to Ning Ning, and said with exaggerated cheer, “Well… there’s always next year! I’m used to this by now, haha.”

But Ning Ning didn’t move. Instead, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes stayed locked on her, lips pressed together as she gently shook her head.

Then, she lifted her right hand and pointed toward the center of the board not far away. “Senior Sister… you’re right there.”

——Not only had she passed, she had even scored smack dab in the middle of the academy rankings—respectable, solid, better than average. Her name was right there among a dense cluster of others, proudly posted in the heart of the list.

Zheng Weiqi blinked, dazed. It took her a moment to fully process Ning Ning’s words. When she finally turned and spotted those three unmistakable black characters on white paper—Zheng Weiqi—she stood frozen, stunned as if in a dream.

It was her name.

Really, her name.

This wasn’t a dream, right?

She pinched her cheek. Yep—ouch.

Oh my god.

SHE. ACTUALLY. PASSED!!!

…

The Ten Directions Assembly was just around the corner. Every sect under the sun was dispatching their elite disciples to the grand host city—Luan City.

Held once every twenty years, the Assembly was a major event in the cultivation world. It tested not only raw power but true skill, offering young talents the chance to rise through fierce competition. After rounds upon rounds of trials, one top cultivator would be chosen from each realm.

To Ning Ning, it felt a lot like a final exam… naturally nerve-wracking.

After their flying vessel landed in Luan City and the group had settled into an inn, they were given the rest of the day for free activity.

The Assembly would officially begin tomorrow. Tonight, however, the City Lord of Luan had specially prepared a grand welcome banquet.

Since the Xuanyu Sword Sect arrived early, they had nothing official on their schedule by noon. The younger disciples, who’d spent most of their lives holed up in the mountains, were naturally excited to be in such a legendary city. A few murmurs of suggestion were all it took to send the whole group dashing into the streets like kids on a field trip.

As usual, while each group was supposed to be led by a supervising master, their own team’s elder—He Zhizhou, the one known for wandering the world—was nowhere to be seen. So they ended up under the watch of Tian Xianzi instead.

“Aah! The air’s so fresh! Life is beautiful! I feel like I could ace ten more exams!”

Zheng Weiqi was still high on the adrenaline of passing the written test. As she strolled down the city streets, she grinned like a lunatic and proclaimed, “First of all, I want to thank my senior brothers, junior brothers, and junior sisters for their unwavering support. Without you, I couldn’t have done this! Secondly, my deepest gratitude goes to the test masters who created those exam questions—you are the parents of my rebirth! I will honor those questions for the rest of my life!”

He Zhizhou quietly elbowed Ning Ning and whispered, “How long has she been like this? Did she… see a doctor?”

Ning Ning shook her head.

Actually, this was already the calm version of Zheng Weiqi.

Back at the academy when she saw her name on the board, it had gone something like this: she stared at it, then read it once, then again. She clapped her hands twice, let out a slightly crazed laugh, and yelled, “AH! YES! I PASSED!”

It was the cultivator-world version of Fan Jin passing the imperial exam.

The only difference was, unlike the historical Fan Jin who rolled around in mud, this one simply spun around and flung herself at Ning Ning with a tongue-wagging, dog-like enthusiasm.

If she had a personal theme song at that moment, it would undoubtedly be:

🎵 Cause we are the champions, my friends! And we’ll keep on fighting till the end… 🎵

The song practically burst out of her mouth—it was the anthem of her soul.

Luan City was massive—prosperous and bustling at every turn. The guesthouse where the Xuanxu Sword Sect had lodged was situated right in the heart of the city. The moment they stepped outside, they were greeted by a sea of people and a lively, unending flow of noise and color.

Ning Ning had barely had a chance to take in the city’s grandeur when she heard He Zhizhou let out a long, extremely disdainful “tsk.”

She followed his narrowed gaze and spotted a man standing not far ahead—a slim figure dressed in pale blue robes, back straight and posture elegant, exuding the air of a cultured gentleman.

Noticing Ning Ning also staring at the stranger, He Zhizhou clicked his tongue again and muttered darkly, “You see that aura around him? So foul I’d need two cans of spiritual air freshener just to breathe next to it.”

This comment came from He Zhizhou—a notorious slacker who rarely had strong opinions about anything. The sheer amount of disgust in his voice piqued Ning Ning’s curiosity.

Then he added grimly, “Do you remember back when I was impersonating a disciple of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect while competing in the flower festival? One of their actual disciples exposed me on the spot.”

Ning Ning’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Wait… don’t tell me—”

“That’s right,” He Zhizhou growled through clenched teeth. “It’s him. Ye Zongheng, that bastard!”

So that was his name.

Zheng Weiqi, who still hadn’t entirely recovered from her emotional high, nevertheless managed to speak up in her usual Big-Sister tone, “Junior Brother He, strictly speaking, you were the one impersonating a disciple of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect. Ye Zongheng was within reason to call you out. Anyone in his position would’ve done the same to protect the sect’s reputation.”

He Zhizhou’s ears flushed red with indignation. “Senior Sister Zheng, you don’t understand! He didn’t do it out of loyalty to his sect. It was because the former Flower Champion he was chasing after got snatched by yours truly! That guy’s ego couldn’t take it, so he kept trying to trip me up just to impress her!”

“And it wasn’t just that one time!” He was truly worked up now, voice rising as he balled his fists. “He even went as far as hiring a bunch of goons to stand under the stage and blow suona horns while I was performing!”

“Tell me, is that even human behavior?!”

Ning Ning silently agreed—probably not.

If Ye Zongheng had wanted revenge that badly, he could’ve just hired someone to beat He Zhizhou up in a dark alley. But no—he had orchestrated a wind section sabotage. It was almost… artistic in its pettiness.

Before they could say more, the man in blue turned his head slightly, sensing the heated conversation behind him.

To everyone’s surprise, Ye Zongheng didn’t look like a petty schemer at all. In fact, he had a baby face so harmless he could pass for the protagonist of a children’s picture book. His round, clear puppy-dog eyes were like juicy black grapes, and there was still a bit of baby fat clinging to his fair cheeks—like a soft, squishy steamed bun.

And yet this bun-faced boy was not only a frequent patron of brothels… he also didn’t seem too bright.

As a core disciple of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, Ye Zongheng was especially sensitive to fluctuations in spiritual energy. Sensing the eyes on him, his hand instinctively went to the sword at his waist, and he turned around—

—only to lock eyes with the entire Xuanxu Sword Sect entourage staring him down in unison.

Leading them was none other than his nemesis, He Zhizhou, wearing the smuggest, provocative grin imaginable as he slowly strolled forward like a villain with unfinished business.

Ye Zongheng’s stomach dropped. This was bad.

He Zhizhou clearly hadn’t forgotten the suona incident and looked ready to settle the score. Worse still, Ye Zongheng was alone, while the other party was backed by a group of formidable sword cultivators. If this came to blows, he’d be flattened.

Damn it!

As He Zhizhou closed the distance, his grin growing ever more unhinged, and just as he was about to open his mouth—

Ye Zongheng suddenly let out a pained grunt and collapsed to the ground like a stiff, frozen popsicle.

The move was so unexpected that even He Zhizhou froze for a moment, momentarily unsure if the guy had just dropped dead.

Then Ye Zongheng let out a whispery, mosquito-voiced cry: “Help… someone save me… he… he hit me…”

And just for good measure, he clutched his chest and gave a dramatic little twitch, feigning agony—but there was a distinct glint in his eyes as if to say, “Ha! Didn’t expect that, did you, idiot? Strike first, play the victim later!”

…This guy actually faked an assault! In public!

He Zhizhou always knew Ye Zongheng was a rat, but this… this was a whole new level of shameless.

Under any other circumstance, he would’ve just punched him and been done with it—but alas, they were in the middle of a busy street. Curious onlookers had already begun to gather, glancing between the “assailant” and “victim” with growing suspicion.

And so, He Zhizhou could only stand there, fists clenched, veins bulging, teeth grinding—

—while Ye Zongheng lay on the ground, face scrunched in a theatrical grimace, milking his fake injury for all it was worth.

All eyes turned toward Ye Zongheng—and each gaze was filled with horror and disbelief.

The man in question lay sprawled dramatically on the ground like a dead fish, utterly pleased with himself as he watched his nemesis’s face go from pale to green. His voice trembled pitifully as he added a final blow: “This won’t do… You… You have to compensate me for… for my medical expenses…”

With so many witnesses around, and given He Zhizhou’s personality—and more importantly, his net worth—there was no way he could just turn tail and run. Nor could he argue the case publicly without dragging down the good name of the Xuanxu Sword Sect.

Ye Zongheng had been dreaming of this moment for a long time.

This was revenge—sweet, calculated revenge—for the time He Zhizhou stole the title of Flower Champion right out from under his nose. Now that an opportunity had finally presented itself, how could he possibly let it slip away?

Sure enough, He Zhizhou clenched his jaw after a moment’s hesitation and reluctantly asked through gritted teeth, “How much?”

Ye Zongheng feigned weakness, half-sitting up like a wounded martyr and raising a trembling hand: “Not much… Five thousand spirit stones will do.”

“Five thousand?”

He Zhizhou practically choked. He reached for his pouch and weighed it in his palm. After a painful internal struggle that seemed to last a lifetime, he finally extended the pouch toward Ye Zongheng.

In a voice so low that only the two of them could hear, he muttered, “I don’t have that much. Just… take what you think is fair.”

Broke-ass peasant.
Ye Zongheng sneered inwardly, but outwardly maintained his “delicate little victim” act as he reached out to take the pouch.

Unexpectedly, He Zhizhou didn’t let go.

Ye Zongheng frowned and tugged harder, annoyed. He pulled with more force, intending to snatch the pouch away—

And at that exact moment, He Zhizhou let out a thunderous, earth-shattering roar.

“HELP! THIEF! HE’S STEALING MY MONEYBAG! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Ye Zongheng’s brain short-circuited.

The shameless fool—he actually reversed the script?!

He Zhizhou looked positively terrified on the surface, but the wicked glee flashing in his eyes said it all.

“Surprise, dumbass! You’re not the only actor in town!”

Before his transmigration, what had He Zhizhou done for a living?

He’d been an actor. A professional one. And now, this amateur was about to witness a masterclass in performance.

“The Art of Method Acting: Vengeful Cultivator Edition.”

The scene flipped in an instant.

Ye Zongheng: Shit.

While Ye Zongheng had put on a passable “frail and twitching” act, He Zhizhou’s performance came from the soul. His voice rang out with desperation and panic, laced with just the right amount of helplessness, as though he might burst into tears any second. He looked utterly pitiful—exactly the sort of person others instinctively rushed to protect.

Predictably, the passersby stopped in their tracks and turned their heads toward the commotion.

Ye Zongheng was instantly caught in a storm of judgmental stares.

He could already hear the murmurs.
“Snatching money in broad daylight? Disgraceful!”
“Look, he’s got a sword at his waist! Which sect is he from?”

Ye Zongheng nearly coughed up blood right then and there.

His brilliant scheme had blown up in his face.

But he wasn’t out of tricks yet.

If He Zhizhou wanted to drag him down, then Ye Zongheng was more than willing to return the favor. Let’s see who sinks faster.

That thought barely flickered through his mind before his eyes sharpened, and the spiritual energy around him began to churn. Sword intent flared to life—cold, sharp, and rising fast.

He Zhizhou noticed the shift and immediately panicked.

Oh no. Was Ye Zongheng actually pissed enough to start a fight in public?

Come on, man, you’re the one who faked an injury first!

Ye Zongheng was already a Nascent Soul cultivator. He Zhizhou, still a middling Golden Core with barely enough talent to coast by, had zero chance of winning a head-on clash.

He turned to flee—

But before he could take a single step, Ye Zongheng’s sword energy exploded outward like a tsunami, cresting high in the air and crashing down—

Onto himself.

He Zhizhou stood there, dumbfounded.

Ye Zongheng had used his own sword intent to blast himself into the sky. He flew backwards like a ragdoll launched off a pirate ship ride, did a full 360-degree flip mid-air, and then crashed to the ground with all the grace of a wet mop.

He twitched once—like a broken puppet—then weakly raised a trembling hand and rasped, “…All I did was try to steal your moneybag… why… why would you go so far as to try to kill me…?”

Then, with a pitiful gurgle, he coughed up a dramatic mouthful of blood.

—Haha! Bet you didn’t see that coming!
He still had this trump card! Compete with him in acting? What a joke! Absolute idiot, He Zhi Zhou!

He Zhi Zhou: “…”

He Zhi Zhou: What the—?! Are you out of your damn mind?!

This lunatic Ye Zongheng actually pulled a ‘hurt myself to hurt you harder’ move—sacrificing twenty thousand to take down one hundred! What kind of demented genius plays like this?! Bro, this really wasn’t necessary!

“Help! He’s trying to kill me!”

The bystanders had never witnessed such a shocking, soul-wrenching reversal in their lives. Screams, gasps, and frantic shouts for help erupted like a wave.

Ye Zongheng remained sprawled on the ground, still trembling and twitching, occasionally spitting out delicate little blood-foam blossoms like a poorly programmed NPC.

Stuck dead center in the chaos, He Zhi Zhou had no way to retreat and a thousand thoughts exploded in his head all at once.

Acting theory… Chinese television history… horror films, comedies, rustic love dramas…
The mountains seemed impassable, yet a new path emerged through the willows—he still had one last play to make!

“I meant to beat you up today!”

While the crowd buzzed with disbelief, He Zhi Zhou took a deep breath, veins bulging at the temple as he exploded with righteous fury.
“If it weren’t for you squandering every last coin from our house, would our sick, bedridden mother have died helplessly?!”

The surrounding chatter paused.

Seeing the change, He Zhi Zhou pressed on, rage dripping from every word.
“Second Brother! I know you love the brothels—but Father hasn’t eaten a proper meal in days! He’s counting on the spirit stones in my coin pouch to buy medicine! And you—you heartless bastard—you had the nerve to steal it and spend it all on that Peachy girl?!”

“Peachy” was the very courtesan who had stolen Ye Zongheng’s title of Flower Queen—and now she was being dragged into this mess too.

With just a few lines, the tide had turned again.

People began to curse in righteous fury.
“What a disgraceful brat! If it were me, I’d break every bone in your body!”
And someone had already taken out their coin pouch with a face full of compassion.
“Do you have enough spirit stones left in there? Poor kid… Here, I’ve got a little savings. Take it home, buy your dad something nice to eat.”

Ye Zongheng was about to burst a vein from how much blood he was “spitting.” He wished he could leap up and throttle this entire mob of easily swayed, brainless fools.

And just like that, the situation had spiralled out of control.
Not only had he ended up injuring himself in this little scheme, but he’d also been cast as the villain of the story, hated by all and condemned by public opinion.
What a total backfire—he’d lost both the lady and the army.

Just as he was about to force out a few words of defense, he noticed that the noise around them had abruptly died down.

He looked up.

The once-crowded circle of onlookers had suddenly parted like the Red Sea, forming a clean, silent passageway.

A tall young man in dark official robes strode toward them, scanning the messy battlefield with an impassive expression before nodding gravely and announcing,
“Gentlemen, I am the Chief Enforcer of the Luan City Judicial Division. I heard reports of unrest here and have come to investigate.”

In short—this was one of Luan City’s top-tier law enforcement officers.

Ye Zongheng had only meant to mess with He Zhi Zhou a little. He hadn’t expected this kind of attention. His expression twitched, and he gave a weak laugh.
“Aha… there’s really no need for all that, is there?”

Internally, he comforted himself. With all the nonsense they’d pulled, even if the guy did want to investigate, there wouldn’t be any real evidence—

But the black-robed officer raised his voice with absolute confidence, “I have already spoken with several witnesses. Though the accounts are messy and contradictory, please don’t worry—”

He pointedly raised his eyes toward the very top of Luan City’s central tower, where the sculpture of a giant luan bird spread its wings.
“You may not be aware, but due to a recent surge in missing women within the city, the Lord Mayor installed an enchantment on the luan bird statue. It now surveils every corner of the city and feeds visual data into a mystical mirror network for recording and review.”

The officer’s tone became stern.

“Please look—its eye is currently turned in this direction. Everything that transpired just now has been captured in full detail.”

Magic. Surveillance. Recordings.

He Zhi Zhou’s soul nearly fled his body.

He slowly looked up.

Sure enough, the emerald jewel embedded in the bird’s eye was glowing with a chilling green light—like a cosmic security camera locked directly on them.

Who would’ve thought? After all their brilliant schemes and intricate lies, the two of them had been caught by the real master player—the damn bird.
Somewhere up there, it was probably laughing its feathers off.

“Hah! Didn’t expect that, did you? Luan City comes with built-in surveillance!”

Did not expect it.
Really, truly, did not expect it.

He Zhi Zhou stood frozen, trembling.
“N-no need to take this any further… right?”

Ye Zongheng’s eyes flickered. “That sounds like a lot of trouble. How about we settle this in private…”

The Enforcer from the Luan City Criminal Division radiated righteousness as he let out a hearty laugh. “Nonsense! Heaven bears witness to all things. Man may deceive, but the heart cannot lie! With tensions running this high, no ordinary method can distinguish right from wrong. Today, I shall reveal the truth to the public and expose the true villain!”

As he spoke, he confidently pulled a mystical black mirror from his storage pouch.

Dozens of curious eyes all turned to the mirror’s surface.

First scene: Ye Zongheng’s terrible acting—he hadn’t even been touched by He Zhizhou before throwing himself to the ground in a dramatic fall.

Then came He Zhizhou, calmly handing over his coin pouch… only to snarl moments later, face twisted, “Help! Robbery!”

And the grand finale—Ye Zongheng’s own sword energy exploding upward in a wild backflow, flinging himself into the sky in a beautiful, self-inflicted arc.

The young man soared like a phoenix, landed in a swirl of fluttering robes under the ashen gaze of He Zhizhou. It was… dreamlike. Almost poetic.

Men watched in stunned silence. Women watched with tears in their eyes.

The scene was utterly soundless. The Enforcer’s bright smile slowly faded with each second of footage.

They had expected a heart-wrenching tragedy.

Instead, it was a full-blown battle of acting gods, both trying to out-perform each other while trampling everyone’s intelligence.

This… performance art of framing and counter-framing… was genius.

After a long silence, someone finally dared to speak up.

“Uhh… what…”

“As expected of sword cultivators. Their ways are truly beyond us mortals.”

“Which sect do they belong to? Truly otherworldly… Miss, do you happen to know them?”

A cool, familiar female voice replied icily, “No.”

Then came a young man’s voice chiming in quickly, “Judging from how close they seem, they must be from the same sect. Our Myriad Sword Sect has always acted with integrity—how could any of our disciples behave like this? Haha…”

Ye Zongheng’s heart skipped a beat. He turned toward the voices—only to see his fellow disciples, Su Qinghan and Xu Ye.

The moment he made eye contact, the pair turned their heads away in perfect unison, pretending not to know him at all.

He Zhizhou nearly burst out laughing, gloating with gleeful malice. “Karma! Oh, what a tragedy! The bond of brotherhood runs so deep! My sect would never—”

He hadn’t even finished when he froze mid-sentence, smile still plastered on his face.

Over on the other side, led by Zheng Weiqi, the rest of his fellow disciples had also noticed his gaze—and without hesitation, every one of them turned their heads, suddenly fascinated by the surrounding scenery.

And not a single one of them had a sword on their waist.

—Why the hell did you all stash your swords?! Just to disown me?! Are you that desperate to pretend you’re not sword cultivators anymore?!

Zheng Weiqi was the first to speak. “Such lovely weather today.”

“Perfect for studying,” she added. “I love reading. It’s so refined. So scholarly.”

Meng Jue sighed with feigned sympathy. “I’ve heard sword cultivators have their… quirks. Seeing it in person now, it’s certainly enlightening.”

Little White Dragon’s face turned crimson, even his horns flushing pink. Just remembering what Senior Brother He had done made him want to cry from second-hand shame.

Ning Ning tilted her head slightly, gaze shifting from He Zhizhou to Pei Ji beside her. “Creating a public disturbance like that… truly disgraceful. What do you think, little junior brother?”

Pei Ji: “…”

Pei Ji: “I have never in my life seen such shamelessness.”

He Zhizhou’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears—delicate, pitiful, wounded.

Pei Ji! You traitor! You’d sell out your own sect for a pretty face!

The Enforcer cleared his throat. “Both of you, come with me. We’ll summon your sect elders for retrieval. May I ask which sects you belong to?”

Ye Zongheng straightened up and forced a proud sneer through his unshed tears. “Isn’t it obvious? I hail from the Xuanxu Sword Sect! Xuanxu is second to none under the heavens!”

He Zhizhou’s eye twitched, mouth contorting. Anyone watching would think he crawled straight out of a peasant soap opera. “Big bro, I’m a disciple of the Myriad Sword Sect. Be gentle with the punishment, okay? Our sect’s full of folks afraid of pain…”