My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 12
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
Yet She Insisted on Forcing It.
The wind outside the window struck at that moment of silence.
The withered flowers had long since lost their fragrance, replaced by a faint scent of blood.
The corpses outside, the dark moon in broad daylight, Ah Yun standing guard by the window, and Mu-shijie pushing through the door—every single thing radiated an eerie danger.
Yet the voice at her ear, the fingers gently brushing through her hair, still carried the same tenderness as before.
Qi Zhi timidly opened her eyes, staring somewhat blankly into Mu Qingshi’s eyes, not daring to speak.
At this moment, Mount Qiongju was as silent as a dead land.
Was anyone left alive on the mountain?
She didn’t know.
Why was Mu Qingshi acting like this, and why hadn’t she made a move against her?
She didn’t know that either.
All she knew was that Mu Qingshi was now sitting sideways on her bed, holding a wooden comb, drawing it through her hair again and again with gentle movements.
Just this morning, she had dreamed of something similar. Who would have thought that when the moment actually came, she would somehow worry that Mu Qingshi might tear her head off—just like the stone-cold Fourth Senior Brother outside, dead and chopped into pieces.
So she tucked her neck in even tighter.
Soon, the bun was styled. Qi Zhi’s worry had come to nothing.
Mu Qingshi’s eyes held a smile. She tilted her head, studying Qi Zhi earnestly for a moment, then glanced elsewhere and rose, walking toward the shattered mirror fragments scattered in the corner.
Qi Zhi’s heart clenched again, and she unconsciously gripped the corner of her blanket.
Mu Qingshi bent down and picked up one of the pieces, the light in her eyes flickering.
Such a small mirror, yet it had shattered into so many fragments—so like the flowers filling this room, blooming in abundance, then wilting without a sound.
She had always known that the fondness her shimei spoke of amounted to nothing more than this.
Yet she insisted on forcing it.
A self-mocking smile flashed through Mu Qingshi’s eyes. Spiritual light suddenly flared at her fingertips, and every shard of the shattered mirror scattered across the floor rose to hover above her palm.
In an instant, the broken mirror was made whole1.
Ah Yun turned its head toward the window and looked up at the sky.
Mu Qingshi returned to the bedside as though nothing had happened and sat down, offering the mirror to Qi Zhi, who was still curled up in the corner of the bed.
Qi Zhi opened her mouth, but didn’t dare speak, nor did she dare reach for it.
The smile on Mu Qingshi’s face hadn’t diminished. She lowered her gaze and calmly pried open Qi Zhi’s tightly clenched fingers, pressing the mirror into her trembling palm.
The sky outside gradually darkened. The corpses and bloodstains outside had already been cleansed by Mu Qingshi’s spiritual power.
The wind and snow had not ceased, laying down another layer of fresh white upon this place. The wind chime rang softly, as though nothing had ever happened.
Mu Qingshi went to the kitchen and cooked a bowl of longevity noodles for Qi Zhi. As always, she sat to the side, watching Qi Zhi cradle the bowl and chopsticks and eat every last bite.
Only this time, Qi Zhi didn’t say a single word the entire time—head down, she ate; chopsticks down, she burped.
After nightfall, Mu Qingshi didn’t stay. Before leaving, she simply said a few things to Qi Zhi.
“Today on the Immortal Terrace, there hung a formation. The Daoist Venerable sought to break through and required a living sacrifice. All who guarded the array knew the truth.”
“He did use his own divine soul to nourish your spiritual root for five hundred years. But if he truly wished you well, why would he have ignored you for five hundred years, only remembering you today?”
“Ye Wuju and Qingyao came looking for you to bring you into the array. And putting that bracelet on you—that was their own greed.”
Here, Mu Qingshi turned back to look at Qi Zhi. “You don’t have to believe me, but I haven’t lied to you.”
With that, she turned and departed.
Ah Yun looked at Qi Zhi sitting so obediently by the table, its gaze sweeping over the faintly visible pure white flower bud in her hair, and couldn’t help but sigh.
It felt that Mu Qingshi wasn’t very good at comforting little girls. As an enthusiastic, warm-hearted bird, it had a duty to put in a few good words on Mu Qingshi’s behalf.
“What are you afraid of? I could gobble up little demons like you in one bite. If she really wanted to kill you, would you still be sitting here?”
“Some people—if you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you. No need to feel burdened about it. The strong prey on the weak. That’s how this world has always been.”
“From now on, just put your heart at ease. Whatever you like or hate, just say the word, and Qingshi and I will definitely get it sorted for you!”
Ah Yun chattered on for ages before finally hearing Qi Zhi give a soft “Mm,” and instantly breathed a sigh of relief.
Good. It seemed its comfort had been quite effective.
Ah Yun: “Then get some rest early. I won’t disturb you anymore.”
Qi Zhi nodded obediently at it.
Ah Yun, thoroughly satisfied, turned to face the window. With a little stamp of its feet and a flap of its wings, it flew off in the direction Mu Qingshi had gone.
The candlelight, dim and yellow, gently swayed across a small, thin figure.
Qi Zhi looked at the jade bracelet on her wrist, pressed her lips together, and gently slipped it off.
She thought that regarding the Daoist Venerable’s matter, Mu Qingshi probably hadn’t lied to her.
If that eternally lofty Daoist Venerable had ever truly wished her well, she wouldn’t have been someone everyone on Mount Qiongju could bully.
It was her own heart that held too many unrealistic hopes—wanting recognition, yearning to be accepted—that made her so easily believe the absurd lie that her Master had ever cared about her.
And Ah Yun wasn’t wrong either.
She was just a little grass demon with meager cultivation. If Mu Qingshi truly wanted to kill her, it would take no more than a flick of her fingers.
But she had suddenly woken from a beautiful dream, and reason told her that no one in this world would be good to another person for no reason at all.
To be able to destroy Tiandao Sect in the span of a single day and night—what kind of background and identity did Mu Qingshi possess? Qi Zhi didn’t even dare to imagine.
She had merely shaken the osmanthus blossoms in the mountains once—how could that possibly earn her such a person’s boundless devotion?
If someone claimed all of this was truly without ulterior motive, even a fool wouldn’t believe it.
Though she couldn’t yet figure out the reason behind it all, she had already been a blissfully ignorant fool for four hundred years. She truly didn’t want to keep being a fool any longer.
Having a branch to lean on2 felt wonderful, true enough. But if she didn’t wake up soon, she feared she might foolishly lose her own life one day.
Thinking thus, Qi Zhi took a deep breath, rose, and shut the doors and windows tight.
That night, Qi Zhi gathered the few belongings she could easily carry and packed them into a small bundle.
The Facing Mirror that Mu Qingshi had forced into her hands, she gently covered with a pillow.
Finally, she felt for the jade hairpin in her hair, removed it, and placed it beneath the pillow as well.
And so, a tiny girl with a tiny bundle pushed open a crack in the door like a thief, poked out half her head, and glanced all around.
Seeing no one about, she took a long, deep breath and fled the little courtyard.
But the moon had barely climbed overhead when the departing girl quietly crept back and fished the jade hairpin out from under the pillow.
She hesitated for a moment, then tried channeling a trace of spiritual power into it.
The jade hairpin had no reaction. It probably wasn’t any kind of magical implement.
Qi Zhi slowly let out a breath of relief, opened her bundle, and carefully tucked it among a few soft garments.
She thought she might as well keep a memento.
No matter how many lies there had been, Mu Qingshi’s kindness toward her over the past four hundred years had truly happened. She figured that wherever she went from now on, no one else would ever treat her this well again.
Keeping a memento wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
…
Right! Not too much at all!
So Qi Zhi took back the hairpin and, once more braving the wind and snow, guided by moonlight and filled with anticipation and curiosity, ran toward the world beyond the mountain.
She had walked this path down the mountain in her dreams countless times—only to be caught, or to wake up.
But this time, there would be no Elder Mu coming with people to capture her.
She could finally leave this place and see the world outside!
The author has something to say:
Qi Zhi: Woohoo! I’m free!!!
…
Ah Yun: She still ran away.
Mu Qingshi: Mm, you scared her badly.
Ah Yun: I’m not listening, I’m not listening! You’re the one who scared her!
Footnotes
- The phrase 'broken mirror made whole' (破镜重圆) is a classical Chinese idiom traditionally symbolizing the reunion of separated lovers or the restoration of a broken relationship.
- The phrase 'having a branch to lean on' (有枝可依) contains a pun on Qi Zhi's name—her given name 枝 means 'branch.' The expression evokes both finding shelter and the character's own identity.
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