Chapter 1

Kunlun Mountain, the deepest valley within.

A waterfall plunged from the sky, crashing into a deep pool with a rumbling roar. Mist rose dozens of feet into the air, refracting a rainbow in the sunlight. Behind the waterfall was a naturally formed stone cave, its entrance shrouded by dense vines. Even if an ordinary cultivator passed by, they would never give it a second glance—because here, "there was nothing."

There was nothing—and that was exactly the state Bai Qingwu was most satisfied with.

"Click."

A faint, crisp sound, like something long sealed had been triggered.

Bai Qingwu lay on a bamboo couch behind the waterfall, not even lifting her eyelids, assuming Ah Li had knocked something over again. She lay on her side, one arm pillowed behind her head, her loose moon-white robe slipping off her shoulder, revealing a stretch of fair, slender wrist. Two thousand years of seclusion had accustomed her to such sudden noises—mostly falling rocks from the mountain, or that little fox rummaging through her junk again.

Ah Li was a pure white little fox with eyes like two translucent amber gems. She was the who-knows-how-many-th generation "resident" of this cave dwelling—when Bai Qingwu first moved in, Ah Li's great-great-great-grandparent was still a blind newborn fox pup. Two thousand years had passed, and the foxes had changed generation after generation, but Bai Qingwu was still Bai Qingwu—not a single white hair had grown on her head.

She couldn't be bothered to see what Ah Li had knocked over again. It wasn't anything valuable anyway. The "junk" in this cave—a chipped jade bottle, half an unfinished jade slip, a pile of discarded talismans—were all products she had tinkered with over two thousand years to pass the time. Truly valuable things, she didn't care for anyway; she'd grow bored of them after a few centuries.

But this time was different.

A faint blue glow suddenly rose from a corner, rippling like water, gradually coalescing into a semi-transparent mirror that hovered in midair.

Bai Qingwu finally opened her eyes.

They were beautiful eyes—slightly upturned at the corners, pupils a deep, dark ink, like two fathomless pools of water. But at this moment, those beautiful eyes held only one emotion: annoyance.

"Tch." She frowned. "How did you dig that thing out?"

It was a Water Mirror she had casually set up two thousand years ago, out of sheer boredom, to see how the Meng Clan was doing later on. She never expected to leave it for two thousand years, to the point where even she had nearly forgotten it existed.

"Whatever, might as well take a look." Bai Qingwu lazily propped herself up, leaned against the cave wall, casually grabbed a bamboo tube beside her, and poured herself some cold tea.

Ah Li seemed drawn by the Water Mirror as well, hopping onto the bamboo couch, tilting her little head, curiously examining the glowing mirror. Bai Qingwu casually rubbed her head, and the fox squinted in contentment, letting out a soft purr.

The Water Mirror began to play images on its own.

The first to appear was a young man in moon-white brocade robes. His features were warm and gentle as jade, a perfectly measured faint smile on his lips, his bearing noble and otherworldly. He stood in an elegant courtyard, behind him a grove of bamboo swaying in the wind.

Bai Qingwu glanced at him, not paying much attention. After two thousand years, she couldn't remember who this was—most of the Meng Clan looked like this; she'd seen too many to care.

"Another Meng Clan brat." She yawned. "Good-looking, but that look in his eyes... just like his ancestor, like something's got him spellbound."

The scene shifted.

The man stood before a magnificent palace, countless cultivators behind him, each radiating murderous intent. On the palace plaque were three bold, striking characters—Qingxuan Sect.

"Xuanjizi," his voice was soft, yet carried a chilling calm, "hand her over."

Bai Qingwu's hand, holding her teacup, paused slightly.

Qingxuan Sect?

She remembered that name. Two thousand years ago, it was the people of this sect who falsely accused her of "colluding with demons," rallying over a dozen large and small sects to besiege her. She could have crushed them all—really, to her, those so-called "righteous cultivators" were no different from ants. But that would have been too troublesome, and... that brat Meng Ciyuan was still the young master of the Meng Clan; if things escalated, it wouldn't be good for him.

So she chose the easiest solution: faking her death and fleeing.

She left behind a charred "corpse," left behind a strand of hair, then dusted off her hands and left.

She thought that would be the end of it. Meng Ciyuan would grieve for a while—maybe a few years, maybe a few decades—then continue on as the young master of the Meng Clan, marry, have children, exhaust his lifespan, and reincarnate. Two thousand years had passed; he should have long turned to dust, even his grandchildren's grandchildren long dead.

But this man in the image—what was he doing?

"He's going to... save her?" Bai Qingwu murmured, frowning deeper. "Save who? Me?"

The scene continued.

Flames shot into the sky; screams filled the air. In a single night, over three thousand members of Qingxuan Sect were all slaughtered.

Bai Qingwu's eyebrow lifted.

Three thousand people? This was hardly the way of a "righteous and proper sect." That gentle, jade-like brat Meng Ciyuan—he could be this ruthless?

In the scene, the man stood in the rain of blood, robes fluttering, untouched by dust. Not a single drop of blood had splattered onto his white garments—not because his lightness skill was exceptional, but because the blood simply dared not approach him. He stood there quietly, watching the flames and corpses filling the palace, that perfectly measured faint smile still on his lips, but his eyes held no warmth at all.

Bai Qingwu's hand, holding the teacup, paused again.

This look in his eyes... she had some memory of it. Over the past two thousand years, occasionally in some deep night, some fleeting moment, she had seen him "look" at her like this—not at her face, but at her back, like he was looking at something precious that could vanish at any moment.

At the time, she thought it was just a youth's admiration for an "extraordinary being." She didn't think much of it.

Now, it seemed she had underestimated something.

The scene continued. The man turned, knelt before a cenotaph, and whispered something. Three characters were carved on the stone tablet—Bai Qingwu.

Bai Qingwu's eyes sharpened.

He had... slaughtered an entire sect for her?

"Is it worth it?" she muttered quietly. "Humans really are..."

She didn't finish the sentence, because the scene changed again.

Cenotaph after cenotaph rose up, scattered across mountains and rivers. The man changed from a youth to a young adult, from a young adult to a middle-aged man with gray-streaked temples. Every time the scene shifted, there was a new cenotaph—some built on mountain peaks, some by the water's edge, some in a meadow full of wildflowers. His figure was there before every tomb, and every time he whispered something, just too softly for the Water Mirror to transmit.

"One, two, three..." Bai Qingwu stopped counting after a few. "Is he obsessed with dirt mounds, or is he obsessed with me?"

Ah Li seemed to sense the change in her master's mood, rubbing her little head against Bai Qingwu's hand. Bai Qingwu absently petted her again, but this time, her fingers were a little unsteady.

The scenes continued switching, as if fast-forwarding.

She saw him build a small pavilion on a mountain peak, with only one stone table and two stone stools inside. He sat on one stone stool, talking to the empty stool opposite him, for a long time.

She saw him plant three thousand bamboos in a grove—exactly the way the bamboo grove where she had lived for two thousand years looked. He watered the bamboos every day, murmuring softly as he did.

She saw him build a small hut by a hot spring pool, with a bamboo couch, a small table, and a tea set inside. He sat on the bamboo couch, drinking tea toward the air, cup after cup.

Every place, every object, was exactly the same as the things she had "lived in," "used," and "liked" over the past two thousand years.

Bai Qingwu's expression grew uglier by the moment.

She had always thought that two thousand years was just a nap to her—she slept, woke up, and the human world had already changed several times over. But she never imagined that during those two thousand years she was "asleep," this man had "replicated" every single place she had "passed through," over and over again, waiting for her to come back.

"This man..." Bai Qingwu murmured, "has he gone mad?"

The scene finally slowed down.

At last, the image stopped at a cliff edge.

That was Forgotten Abyss. Bai Qingwu recognized it—though she had never been there in two thousand years, she knew of that place. A bottomless chasm, shrouded in mist; legend had it that anyone who fell into Forgotten Abyss would have their soul torn apart, body and spirit utterly destroyed, without even a chance at reincarnation.

The man stood at the cliff's edge, wearing the same white robes as two thousand years ago, holding a jet-black strand of hair in his hand.

Bai Qingwu's pupils suddenly contracted.

That strand of hair... was hers.

When she faked her death and fled two thousand years ago, she had deliberately left it where Meng Ciyuan could find it—she thought at the time, let him keep a memento, to stop him from making a scene.

She thought it was just a "memento."

But now, that man held that strand of hair in his hand, standing at the edge of Forgotten Abyss, and softly said—

"Two thousand years," his voice pierced through the image, as if right beside her ear, "you'll come find me, won't you?"

With that, he leaped off the cliff.

The Water Mirror's image suddenly shattered, scattering into countless faint blue specks of light, dissipating into the air.

The cave dwelling fell silent, save for the ceaseless roar of the waterfall.

Ah Li seemed frightened, tucking her tail between her legs and retreating under the bamboo couch, leaving only her amber eyes exposed, timidly watching her master.

Bai Qingwu did not move.

She remained in the pose of holding her teacup, her fingers slightly tense, fine cracks already forming on the cup's surface—it was a fine mutton-fat jade cup, impervious even to ordinary magic treasures.

After a long moment, she slowly, slowly loosened her grip. The teacup fell with a "thunk" onto the small table beside the bamboo couch, tea spilling everywhere, soaking the hem of her robe.

The expression on Bai Qingwu's face gradually cracked apart.

Not shock, not sorrow, not any of the emotions humans would feel upon seeing such a scene—but rather... a sense of absurdity at having been violated.

She had lived for millennia, seen countless humans go mad for love, hatred, and obsession, but she had never imagined that one day something like this would happen to her.

What unsettled her even more was his final words.

"You'll come find me, won't you?"

That wasn't a question.

It was... certainty.

What gave him the right to be certain? Because of a strand of hair? Because he slaughtered three thousand people? Because he built three thousand cenotaphs? Because he jumped into Forgotten Abyss?

Bai Qingwu found it absurd, laughable, and... a little chilling.

This man wasn't "dying for love."

This man was "forcing her to appear."

He was betting his own life that she wouldn't really let him die.

Bai Qingwu suddenly stood up, pacing a few steps back and forth in the cave dwelling. Ah Li was startled, scurrying out from under the bamboo couch, circling around her master's feet.

"Calm down, calm down." Bai Qingwu muttered to herself, her voice slightly strained. "Bai Qingwu, you've lived for millennia, you've seen everything. So what if a human man threw himself off a cliff? What does that have to do with you? You didn't ask him to do it."

She stopped where the Water Mirror had dissipated, staring at the empty air for a long time.

"You are a demon," she said to herself. "A Nine-Tailed Fox Demon. Human lifespans are but the blink of an eye to you. Their feelings, their obsessions, their madness... none of it has anything to do with you."

"Whether he lives or dies, whether he's mad or sane, whether he slaughtered Qingxuan Sect or built three thousand cenotaphs... none of it has anything to do with you."

"You're perfectly fine in Kunlun Mountain—you have a waterfall, bamboo groves, Ah Li, endless spirit fruits, endless cold tea... Why would you go down the mountain? To find a human man who should have died two thousand years ago?"

"Are you crazy, or is he crazy?"

Bai Qingwu took a deep breath, then another deep breath.

She lay back down on the bamboo couch and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Ah Li jumped up and curled up on her lap, her warm little body soothing Bai Qingwu slightly.

"Yes, just like this," she murmured. "Sleep. Pretend you saw nothing. He's dead anyway, finished and done. When I wake up from my nap, maybe I'll have even forgotten where Forgotten Abyss is."

She closed her eyes.

But the image of that man standing at the cliff's edge appeared before her.

He held her strand of hair in his hand.

He said, you'll come find me, won't you?

Bai Qingwu's eyes snapped open.

"Tch." She scratched her hair in frustration. "What a nuisance."She sat up, her gaze sweeping across the corner of the cave dwelling—where all sorts of junk she had "collected" over the past two thousand years were piled up. Among them was an unremarkable jade box, tossed in the very back, covered in dust.

That jade box contained the letters Meng Ciyuan had written to her over the past two thousand years.

She had never read a single one.

Because she felt there was no need—letters from a human, reading them would be a waste of time.

But now, she suddenly felt a little curious.

Curious about what that gentle, jade-like little brat had written in those letters. Curious whether he had been a madman from the very beginning, or… driven mad by her.

Bai Qingwu stared at that corner for a long time.

Then, she lazily stood up and stretched.

"Forget it," she murmured. "Can't sleep anyway, so… I might as well take a look."

"Just one glance," she emphasized to herself. "I'll come back to sleep after I've read it."

"Really."

Ah Li tilted its little head, watching its master walk toward that corner.

It didn't understand human thoughts, nor did it understand the thoughts of a Nine-Tailed Fox Demon. But it could sense it—that lazy, couldn't-care-less aura of its master had faded just a little.

Replaced by something it had never seen before, something like a hesitation… as if something had tripped her up.

Bai Qingwu stopped at that corner, crouched down, and brushed the dust off the jade box.

The dust was thick, and when she brushed it away, a fine cloud of particles rose into the air. She frowned and used her demonic energy to blow the dust away.

The jade box revealed its original appearance—a piece of warm green jade, etched with simple cloud patterns, the style commonly used by members of the Meng Clan. Two thousand years had passed, and the jade box remained intact, but the spiritual energy within it had almost completely dissipated—after all, Meng Ciyuan was merely an ordinary human cultivator; his belongings couldn't retain spiritual energy for two thousand years.

Bai Qingwu stared at the jade box for a while but did not open it.

She was thinking—

What would she see once she opened it?

A young boy's admiration? A man's obsession? Or… a madman's confession?

"Tch." She clicked her tongue again. "What a hassle."

But this time, her fingers were already resting on the lid of the jade box.

After a long moment, she patted her chest and secretly rejoiced—

"Good thing I'm a demon."

At least she wouldn't die.

At least she still had time to think things through slowly.

At least… she still had a choice.

The lid of the jade box gave a soft click as she gently pried it open a crack.

A faint beam of light seeped through the gap—not from her demonic energy, but… something else.

Something… that belonged to Meng Ciyuan.

Bai Qingwu's fingers paused.

For the first time, her gaze was no longer languid.