My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 3

When the Spirit Flowers Bloom

Only After Growing Up Can You Become Daoist Partners

On the second day of her punishment, Qi Zhi’s knees ached from kneeling, and her stomach growled.

Mu Qingshi had held an umbrella over her through the night. As dawn broke—neither fully light nor dark—Qi Zhi had closed her eyes for just a moment, and when she startled awake, the space beside her was already empty.

            

A small loss rippled through her heart like a wave, vanishing in an instant.

It was as if this were how things were meant to be, and she had simply conjured too many vain hopes.

Around noon, the snow stopped. Disciples passed by the Law Enforcement Hall from time to time, their expressions mostly indifferent.

            

Qi Zhi kept her head down. Her body had grown stiff from the cold, nearly losing all sensation.

Faintly, she heard what sounded like a dispute in the distance. She pricked her ears to listen, but the wind made it impossible to catch anything clearly, so she simply closed her eyes.

She didn’t know how long had passed. Just as her consciousness began to blur, someone gently tugged her arm.

            

Qi Zhi startled awake. She looked up to find Mu Qingshi trying to help her stand.

She couldn’t help but shiver. Her cracked lips parted, her voice low and trembling: “It… it’s three days…”

Mu Qingshi frowned and pulled her firmly to her feet. Qi Zhi couldn’t keep her balance and stumbled into Mu Qingshi’s arms before hastily straightening her ice-cold body.

            

Elder Mu came from behind and passed by them, his face ashen.

Qi Zhi jumped in fright, instinctively wanting to kneel back down, but Mu Qingshi held her steady—pinned her, even.

When she came to her senses, Fourth Senior Brother had just limped to her side, shooting her a venomous glare.

            

“Consider yourself lucky,” he said, his words laced with anger.

Qi Zhi shrank her neck, instinctively leaning closer to Mu Qingshi.

“Kneel!” Elder Mu’s angry shout rang out, and Fourth Senior Brother lowered his head and knelt.

            

Qi Zhi couldn’t help but widen her eyes, her gaze toward him carrying a touch of “so you get yours too” surprise.

The next second, Fourth Senior Brother glared at her, and she quickly looked away.

“Ye Wuju, you framed a fellow disciple—clumsily and shamelessly! Today you are punished to kneel here. Do you accept this?”

            

“I accept!” Fourth Senior Brother said in a muffled voice, though his tone was anything but accepting.

Elder Mu took a long breath, closed his eyes, and sighed. “Given that you are injured and have shown remorse, you will kneel for one day. Let this be the last time.”

The gathered disciples murmured among themselves. Elder Mu glanced at Qi Zhi from the corner of his eye and said coolly, “I punished you wrongly yesterday. You may go.”

            

Such blatant favoritism—an entire day of wrongful punishment—dismissed so lightly from his lips.

“Thank you for your fair judgment, Elder Mu.” She even had to thank him. That old bastard.

“I’ll take you back,” Mu Qingshi said, her gaze sweeping their surroundings before she supported Qi Zhi and turned to leave.

            

On the way back, Qi Zhi’s mind wandered to this and that, until only one question remained.

She was so hungry, so tired. Should she eat first or sleep first once she got back?

As it turned out, she had overthought things. The moment she touched the bed, she couldn’t control herself—her eyes fell shut, and she fell into a deep sleep.

            

By the time she woke again, Mu Qingshi was gone. On the table sat a bowl of ginger tea and vegetable lean meat porridge, kept warm with spiritual energy.

She patted her flat stomach, got out of bed to eat, and then flopped back onto the bed, soft and boneless.

Word of Fourth Senior Brother’s punishment spread through the mountain within a few days.

            

Qi Zhi heard it from others. That day, just after dawn, Second Senior Sister had sought out Fourth Senior Brother.

She hadn’t seen this shidi¹ in a century, and the very first thing upon their reunion was to challenge him to a match. The bout took place at the outer sect disciples’ morning practice grounds.

In front of everyone, Second Senior Sister used little spiritual power. She hadn’t even drawn her sword, yet she beat Fourth Senior Brother until he vomited blood and nearly broke his leg.

            

In that moment, everyone saw Second Senior Sister’s sword sheath pressed against Fourth Senior Brother’s brow. Her left hand half-raised, a wisp of dark incense igniting at her fingertips.

The fragrance unfurled in wisps, wrapping him in a thread of spiritual light. In an instant, his eyes glazed over and his pupils dilated.

“Speak,” Second Senior Sister said, her gaze sharp. “What about the jade token?”

            

“I gave it to that little waste. I wanted to see her punished, so I tricked her into going down the mountain to run errands, then had the Law Enforcement Hall drag her back.”

“Why?”

“She and you—one born with damaged spiritual roots, the other with spiritual roots destroyed after the fact. Nothing but wastes clinging to wastes. I just wanted her to understand that running to Suihan Hall every day doesn’t mean she has a backer.”

            

The surrounding disciples whispered among themselves, their expressions complicated.

Second Senior Sister curved her lips and pinched out the ember of incense at her fingertips.

Fourth Senior Brother snapped back to his senses at once, his voice shaking with rage: “You used Truth Incense² on me!”

            

“So what if I did?” Second Senior Sister said. She sheathed her sword and slung it across her back, looking coldly at the person on the ground. “My shidi is right that I will never break through in this lifetime—but my shidi hasn’t made much progress in the past century, either. Such cultivation, and such character.”

“You…”

“Those words just now were heard by everyone here. If my shidi’s legs can still move, he can come with me to the Law Enforcement Hall.”

            

People said Second Senior Sister’s tone was utterly indifferent. Fourth Senior Brother’s face flushed red and white with fury, but he couldn’t beat her and had been caught red-handed. He was furious but didn’t dare speak out.

In Qi Zhi’s memory, it seemed that from that time onward, her days became much easier.

Four hundred years passed in a flash, yet somehow felt longer than expected.

            

Without realizing it, Suihan Hall had become her second home. No matter how many rumors swirled through the mountain, she would run there the moment she had free time.

On the white plum tree at Suihan Hall, several notches had been carved with a small blade.

They were marks Mu Qingshi had made as Qi Zhi grew, little by little.

            

She had grown taller, and it seemed she had changed in other ways, too.

For instance, Fourth Senior Brother no longer dared to cross her easily, but whenever they crossed paths, he still couldn’t resist making snide remarks.

“Off to Suihan Hall again, little waste?”

            

“What sword technique are you practicing? Second Senior Sister teaching you? Can you even understand it?”

“What did you cook this time? Thinking about pleasing the lady of Suihan Hall every single day—expecting her to protect you forever?”

But from some point on, Qi Zhi stopped enduring it. Whenever she heard that sarcastic voice, she stubbornly talked back.

            

“What I do is what I like. It’s no concern of yours, shixiong³!”

“Shixiong⁴‘s cultivation has been stagnant for ages. If you have the spare time to keep an eye on this little waste, you’d be better off practicing more—maybe then you’ll break through your bottleneck someday.”

At first, Qi Zhi worried that Fourth Senior Brother would make her life difficult, but she eventually realized the man was a bully who only picked on the weak. Once he’d suffered a loss, he only dared trade words with her, and her comebacks grew less and less polite.

            

It wasn’t just Fourth Senior Brother—she responded the same way to anyone who picked on her.

Qi Zhi had grown a little full of herself, increasingly accustomed to acting however she pleased under someone’s favoritism. She felt that no matter what trouble she caused, Mu Qingshi would always protect her.

Of course, she hadn’t actually wanted to cause trouble. Her so-called doing as she pleased was nothing more than trying to live in Mount Qiongju like a normal disciple—one who wasn’t bullied.

            

Many in the sect found Qi Zhi’s transformation hard to accept.

They couldn’t seem to reconcile themselves to someone who had once meekly endured everything suddenly straightening her spine, speaking to them no longer in that soft, quiet voice.

So no matter how much time passed, they still carried that lingering disbelief, asking from time to time: “Why is Second Senior Sister so good to Qi Zhi?”

            

Qi Zhi had wondered about this question for years, too.

She was certain that no one in this world could be better to her than Mu-shijie.

Why was Mu Qingshi—who seemed so icy to everyone else—so good to her alone?

            

She had never figured it out. She only knew that this kindness held an irresistible draw, making her harbor thoughts she shouldn’t have.

She thought she must be a greedy little blade of grass.

Even if it was a bit presumptuous, she still wanted all of Mu-shijie’s goodness to herself.

            

Qi Zhi’s thoughts wandered until a thread of unease crept in.

The wind outside was loud. She clutched the candy in her hand, burrowed under the covers, and curled into a small ball.

“Strange illness…” she mumbled, sniffling as she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

            

In the silence, the sunset faded.

The autumn wind swept through the old tree a few more times. In the small courtyard outside the window, atop the branch where the Bamboo Wind Chime⁵ hung, a small bird with a white head and gray back hid quietly among the withered leaves.

Suddenly, a flicker passed through its brow markings, and it closed its eyes.

            

“No need to keep watch. Go to Muxue Valley⁶.”

At these words, the little bird ruffled its wings and chased the setting sun into the distance.

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A few days later, fully recovered from her illness, Qi Zhi’s first stop was Suihan Hall.

            

It was the perfect season to pick osmanthus flowers. Every year around this time, she would drag Mu Qingshi along to that grove where they first met, gathering heaps and heaps of blossoms.

No matter how many years passed, the sight of sword wind swirling a rain of flowers through the air remained her favorite view on Mount Qiongju.

That sword was named Chunsheng⁷, Mu Qingshi’s natal sword⁸ that she had carried at her side since entering the sect.

            

It was said that a natal sword is bound by blood, linked to the three souls and seven spirits. It is a part of the sword master’s very life—without the master’s permission, others cannot easily touch it.

This Chunsheng—others rarely saw it drawn even once, yet Qi Zhi could touch it and call to it as she pleased.

—Mu-shijie must have some feelings for her, right?

            

Every time she stroked Chunsheng after it had “finished its work,” feeling the faint tremor along its cold blade, Qi Zhi would secretly think this.

In the end, the long sword would return to its sheath, and she would tuck away those little thoughts of hers. After gathering osmanthus together, she would wave goodbye to Mu Qingshi.

But the walk back alone was always so long.

            

It wasn’t just that path, either. The longer she knew Mu Qingshi, the farther away Suihan Hall seemed.

She thought how wonderful it would be if she could just move there—but she had no reason to.

It was said that two people who loved each other could become Daoist partners⁹. With that bond, they could live and eat together openly, cultivate together, and no one would gossip about them anymore.

            

But only after growing up could you become Daoist partners.

Growing up was so slow. She had waited so long.

By the end of this winter, she would be five hundred years old.

            

For a demon spirit, five hundred meant adulthood.

When that time came, she wanted to ask Mu Qingshi herself.

—I’ve grown up, shijie¹⁰… would you be willing to become my Daoist partner?

            

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The author has something to say:

Mu Qingshi: The weather’s turned cold. Time to wipe out a family.

(Meaning winter. It hasn’t turned cold yet.)

            

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