Appreciating New Tea with an Inkstone - Chapter 44

Ye Qinming showed no mercy toward them. The Bixiao Sword in her hand sensed its master’s killing intent, its glow growing even more intense. It had been a thousand years since it had fully unleashed its power.

As Tianshu and Tanlang launched their attack, Ye Qinming spun Bixiao in her hand, effortlessly blocking their combined strike. At the same time, she forcibly opened the gate to the Demon Realm with a surge of spiritual energy from her left hand.

Tianshu and Tanlang grew anxious.

“Stop her at all costs!” they shouted.

Without hesitation, Ye Qinming sent a tremor through Bixiao, reflecting two waves of spiritual energy back at them. The rebound was infused with her own power, forcing the two immortals—who were slightly weaker in spiritual strength—to dodge in panic.

The vortex at the peak of Zhuoguang was expanding rapidly. In just a moment, Ye Qinming would be able to step fully inside. She raised a barrier with her right hand. The devil standing nearby, seemingly curious about her, had not taken advantage of the chaos to escape. Instead, it was drawing some of the enemy’s fire, an unexpected boon for Ye Qinming.

Relentless spiritual energy barraged her barrier, scattering like a violent storm. Trees atop Zhuoguang Mountain toppled one after another, but nothing could halt Ye Qinming’s advance.

Just as she was about to step into the Demon Realm, a blinding white light shot toward her. The intense radiance forced Ye Qinming to squint.

Realizing she couldn’t block the attack with just one hand, she withdrew and quickly twisted her body to evade. The white light crashed directly into the open vortex, causing the portal to start closing.

Ye Qinming frowned as she looked at the mirror in Tianshu and Tanlang’s hands. Her voice was cold. “The Mirror of Rebirth… You’ve really gone all out.”

She glanced up at the sky. She had to finish this quickly. If she delayed any longer, either those four pests or that old bastard Taiyi would show up.

Since she couldn’t leave immediately, she might as well deal with these obstacles first.

A slow smirk curled her lips. She stared at the five opponents before her, who stood as if facing a deadly threat. But her smile held no warmth—it was wicked, arrogant, and overflowing with killing intent.

Tianshu and Tanlang instinctively stepped back, their hearts pounding.

This was the Demon Emperor who once shook the entire Immortal Realm single-handedly. Even if she was no longer at her peak, her sheer presence—her natural supremacy—was enough to make them tremble.

She hovered in the air, her flowing green robes stirring without wind. With a graceful motion, she swung Bixiao in an arc before her, then pressed two fingers from her left hand onto the blade.

In the next instant, Bixiao erupted with light. Ye Qinming’s eyes turned crimson, and she let out a cold laugh. “With just you? Even the Mirror of Rebirth won’t save you!”

***

On the Fifth Peak of Dongzhou, Gu Xiyan, who was meditating, suddenly let out a muffled groan and opened her eyes. A cold sweat broke out on her pale face as she instinctively clutched her chest.

She gasped for breath, her head lowered, then murmured softly, “Qinming.”

A sudden wave of unease gripped her heart. She couldn’t explain it, but she had a strange feeling—it was because of Ye Qinming.

Could something have happened to Ye Qinming?

She quickly shook her head. No, that was impossible. Ye Qinming was incredibly powerful; there was no way they could harm her.

But no matter how much she reassured herself, she couldn’t calm down. She stood up, pushed open the door, and took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t see beyond Dongzhou’s borders, but she stood at the top of the Fifth Peak, letting the wind whip past her.

Her expression was grim, her brows furrowed with worry.

This feeling was unbearable.

All she could do was pray that Ye Qinming would return safely to the Demon Realm.

***

No matter how much Gu Xiyan worried, time continued to flow like water. Eight years had passed in the human world.

Over these years, demons and monsters continued to wreak havoc. Dynasties rose and fell, wars raged, and the common people suffered.

In Dongzhou, those cultivators with hearts devoted to the world emerged to aid the suffering. The once obscure disciples of Dongzhou had become the people’s saviors—revered as deities in place of the so-called gods.

***

In Ying City, a sudden scream tore through the crowd.

A shadow flashed by, and then—

A woman’s anguished cry rang out, heart-wrenching and desperate.

“My child! My child! Ahhh—give me back my child!”

The crowd finally realized what had happened. A gray figure had snatched the woman’s child.

Panic turned into hushed murmurs.

“A demon must have taken the child… What a tragedy. There’s no way the child will survive.”

The woman seemed deaf to the murmurs, frantically pushing through the crowd as she chased after the shadow without hesitation. A kind-hearted bystander, unable to bear the sight, called out, “Don’t go after it! If you anger it, you’ll be in danger too!”

But the woman shook off the hands trying to hold her back, her cries relentless. “My child! My child! Give me back my child!”

Among the crowd, a young girl holding a skewer of candied hawthorn furrowed her brows at the commotion. She bit into a piece of the candy before vanishing into the crowd in an instant.

***

Qingwu carried the child as she rushed from Ying’s southern gate straight toward Wei Mountain. The child in her arms hung limp, their head drooping, with small, pale hands dangling lifelessly in front of them.

Her face was cold and grave, and the desperate cries of that mother still echoed faintly in her ears, making her complexion even paler. Yet she did not slow down. Clenching her teeth, she pressed forward at full speed.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind swept through the air. A red shadow flashed past her, narrowly missing her. Startled, Qingwu immediately halted, spinning backward in retreat.

The red streak arced through the air before landing in the hands of a young girl.

She wore a light yellow dress, her bare feet white and delicate. She lowered her head, gazing at the candied hawthorn in her hand. Then, she looked up, revealing large, round eyes—clear and bright, like two pools of spring water, seemingly capable of speech.

She let out a sigh, shook her head, and murmured, “You ran so fast. I had to chase you for dozens of miles, and I didn’t even get to finish my candied hawthorn. So frustrating.”

Qingwu eyed the girl warily, not daring to let her guard down.

This girl didn’t have the aura of a cultivator, yet she clearly knew martial arts. Could she also be a demon?

“I have no quarrel with you, neither in the past nor now. Why are you blocking my path?” Qingwu forced herself to remain calm, clutching the child tightly in her arms.

The girl in yellow bit into her candied hawthorn and spoke with her mouth full, “Put the child down.”

Qingwu bit her lip, hesitation flickering in her eyes, but her wariness only grew. “I cannot comply.”

The girl, Mujin, tilted her head, looking slightly displeased. Then, as if resigned, she sighed. “My lady, she won’t put the child down. Should I just take action?”

Qingwu was momentarily stunned before she tensed in alarm.

At that moment, she heard it—a soft, rhythmic sound of footsteps on fallen leaves.

A figure in white stepped out from behind a nearby tree, approaching at an unhurried pace.

She wore a flowing white robe with wide sleeves, exuding an air of ethereal elegance. Her eyes were covered with a strip of white silk, making her appear almost otherworldly—like an immortal descended from the heavens.

Qingwu was briefly struck by her beauty before a deep sense of dread overtook her. 

Someone had been this close to her without her noticing at all.

Her expression grew solemn, her body tensing. She had no time to waste. She had to take the child and leave.

The woman in white spoke, her voice clean and crisp like a mountain spring, yet gentle and soothing, as warm as polished jade. “Turn back before it’s too late. He is just a child. Please, let him go.”

Qingwu finally realized something—The girl in yellow was a demon. But the woman before her was undeniably human. If she could completely conceal her presence, she had to be a powerful cultivator.

Wasn’t someone like her supposed to exterminate demons on sight? So why was she traveling with one?

Qingwu took a step back, her voice heavy. “I must take him. If you try to stop me, I will fight with my life.”

She seemed desperate. The moment her words fell, she lunged at Mujin without warning.

Mujin clicked her tongue. “My lady, she made the first move, so you can’t blame me.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the once lively and adorable Mujin transformed instantly, shooting forward like a cannonball.

Her fighting style was pure brute force—engaging in close combat with terrifying speed. Every strike was so powerful that even Qingwu dared not take them head-on.

To make matters worse, Mujin treated Qingwu’s spiritual attacks as if they were mere child’s play. Carrying a child already put Qingwu at a disadvantage, and she had to ensure the child remained unharmed. Soon, she was overwhelmed. Mujin struck her in the waist, causing Qingwu to lose her grip and allowing Mujin to snatch the child away.

Mujin did not hold back—her attack sent Qingwu flying, crashing hard into a tree. Qingwu let out a muffled groan and coughed up blood. Lying on the ground, she watched Mujin lift her leg for another kick but made no effort to resist, as if she had already resigned herself to death.

“Mujin, stop. That’s enough. Be careful with the child.”

At that moment, the woman in white finally spoke. Mujin abruptly changed her angle, stomping forcefully beside Qingwu instead. Exhaling, she suddenly realized she was still holding the child—upside down. In a fluster, she carefully adjusted her grip, holding the child with extreme caution, her voice panicked.

“My lady, this little thing is too soft… I-I didn’t break it just now, did I?”

“Be gentler,” Gu Xiyan said calmly as she walked over to Qingwu and crouched down in front of her. After a brief silence, she finally spoke. “There’s no blood on your hands, meaning you’ve never taken a life. So why did you try to take this child?”

Qingwu coughed a few times but remained silent, her head lowered in dejection and despair.

Gu Xiyan frowned slightly. “You’re deeply troubled. Is there something you cannot speak of?”

Mujin noticed a droplet of water fall onto the leaf-covered ground in front of Qingwu—then another. She was momentarily stunned before she said seriously, “My lady is kind-hearted. If you have difficulties, just tell her. Even though you’re a demon, my lady is fair. She wouldn’t kill you just because of what you are. But if you keep being stubborn like before, I might as well just beat you to death.”

“Mujin, mind your words.”

Mujin stuck out her tongue playfully. “I was wrong, my lady. It won’t happen again.”

“No candied hawthorn for you tomorrow.”

Gu Xiyan’s lips curved slightly as she spread her hands. Mujin immediately pouted in grievance.

“But she’s not wrong,” Gu Xiyan continued. “Even at the risk of your own life, you refused to let go of the child. That means you had no choice but to take him. And even while fighting, you still tried to protect him. That doesn’t make you entirely bad. Were you ordered to do this?”

Qingwu’s head snapped up at that, but she quickly looked away, as if afraid of revealing too much. Fortunately, the woman before her seemed to be blind.

Just as she reassured herself of this, Gu Xiyan spoke softly. “It seems I was right. Who ordered you to abduct the child?”

Qingwu clenched her teeth and refused to answer.

Mujin fumed. “Let me beat it out of her.”

Gu Xiyan waved her hand dismissively. Then she leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. Though her eyes were covered by white silk, Qingwu could still see her astonishingly delicate features. Unconsciously, she turned her head away. 

Gu Xiyan’s nose twitched lightly. “Someone close to you is ill?”

Qingwu was startled. She stared at Gu Xiyan in surprise but remained silent.

“Ginseng, angelica, radix pubescens, cinnamon bark, licorice, ephedra… and you even added spirit grass.” Gu Xiyan tilted her head as she listed the ingredients, her tone soft and even. “That means the patient is already gravely ill, with little time left. Am I right?”

Qingwu’s eyes widened in shock with each ingredient named. But when Gu Xiyan stated that the person was beyond saving, her face turned deathly pale, and her eyes filled with barely restrained pain.

“… Yes.”

Gu Xiyan’s expression remained calm, as if she had expected this answer. Lowering her gaze, she murmured, “If this person is gravely ill and important to you, then instead of staying by their side to prolong their life, you chose to be here, kidnapping a child. That must mean this matter is directly related to them.”

It was not a question—it was a statement.

Qingwu’s expression became complex. After a moment of hesitation, she asked, “Can you see?” Otherwise, how could she so accurately grasp even the subtlest changes in emotion?

Gu Xiyan shook her head, her lips still carrying that faint smile. “I lost my sight when I was seven. You don’t need to be surprised.” She paused, then asked, “Will you tell me why you did this?”

Qingwu watched as time ticked away, thinking of that person’s pale, unconscious face.

In the end, she gave in.

“I’ll tell you—on the condition that you let me leave for now. I won’t run. Afterward, you can do whatever you want with me.”