She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 128

Gazing at the young couples entwined in each other's arms not far away, Chu Tiankuo tilted his head toward the sky and let out a long, melancholic sigh.

In his palm lay a white jade brush.

The brush was pure and translucent, its body gleaming like snow, with only a vibrant red tassel tied at its end—a striking contrast that accentuated the jade’s flawless texture. It was unmistakably the "Twin Masters' Brush" belonging to Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang.

Just moments ago, in the critical instant when Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang locked eyes and embraced, Yan Luoyue had—with remarkable presence of mind—pulled the Twin Masters' Brush from her robes and tossed it toward Senior Sister Tao Tao.

Not that one could blame her for lacking fraternal loyalty.

After all… who had ever heard of a couple passionately wrapped up in romance while still carrying around their senior brother or sister in their arms, right?

If such a scenario had actually unfolded, it would undoubtedly have left an indelible mark on the memories of Yan Luoyue, Wu Manshuang, and Mi Jichen alike.

From then on, in every sleepless night, this scene would replay relentlessly in their minds, perhaps even compelling them to drill their toes into the bedboards like a spiral drill, tapping out a rhythm like a metronome.

Thus, Yan Luoyue’s quick thinking in entrusting the Twin Masters' Brush to the reliable Tao Tao in that urgent moment was a testament to her composure, sharp instincts, and quick wit.

It absolutely wasn’t because she prioritized romance over friendship, or snakes over brushes—absolutely not!

Upon catching the brush, Tao Tao blinked in slight surprise, curiously examining the jade artifact in her palm.

"You must be… Senior Brother Mi, right? I’m Tao Tao from the Hanson Sect." She vaguely recalled some rumors about that particular peak. "Um, Senior Brother Mi, would you like a brush stand? Or maybe an inkstone?"

As she spoke, Song Qingchi had already begun rummaging through his storage pouch, pulling out the mentioned items and floating them in the air—clearly not just offering empty courtesy.

In this cold, indifferent world where even his own junior sister had abandoned him, Mi Jichen was deeply moved by this heartwarming display of kindness.

Sure, his own junior sister had rushed off to flirt with her junior brother, but at least someone else’s junior sister was dependable!

"Thank you, Junior Sister Tao, but that won’t be necessary for now."

The jubilant atmosphere lingering in the air after the battle was like the finest spiritual medicine, gradually seeping into Mi Jichen’s brush form. If the intensity of these emotions persisted, it wouldn’t be long before he could regain his human form and return to his usual self.

After hearing Mi Jichen’s explanation, Tao Tao exhaled in relief.

"So, Senior Brother Mi is already recovering?"

"Indeed."

"That’s wonderful!" Tao Tao cheerfully raised her hand. "Eldest Senior Brother, you take care of Senior Brother Mi for us, okay?"

Mi Jichen: "???"

Chu Tiankuo: "???"

Wait a minute… something felt off.

The thought had barely crossed Mi Jichen’s mind when he suddenly found himself levitating midair.

Extending his spiritual sense beyond the brush, he saw himself hurtling toward Chu Tiankuo.

Meanwhile, Tao Tao had already flung herself into Song Qingchi’s arms, looping her hands around his neck and kicking her feet excitedly.

"We won! We won!" she cheered.

Song Qingchi smiled bashfully and nodded. "We won."

Then, swept up in the moment, the young couple also embraced tenderly, lost in each other’s warmth.

Chu Tiankuo: "…"

Mi Jichen: "…"

Well, well. So it wasn’t just his own junior sister who was unreliable—other people’s junior sisters were just as bad!

What was wrong with the world? Did every junior brother in existence have to steal away their sect’s junior sisters?!

At that moment, the burdens of being an eldest senior brother weighed doubly upon Chu Tiankuo’s shoulders.

Cradling Mi Jichen’s jade brush form, Chu Tiankuo muttered, "For some reason, I suddenly wish Brother Jiang were here too…"

Mi Jichen couldn’t help but sigh in agreement. "It’s a little unkind, but I also wish our eldest senior brother were here…"

The bitterness of being abandoned by their juniors shouldn’t be something only the two of them had to endure!

At some point, Wu Ti—the exhausted firebird—flapped its wings and descended from the branches of the Moonfall Tree, perching on Chu Tiankuo’s shoulder.

To his surprise, Chu Tiankuo found that he could actually discern a look of deep resentment on the face of this… bird? Fire? Creature?

In that moment, the three of them—man, brush, and fire—exchanged glances.

They had confirmed it with one look: they were all victims of public displays of affection.

On one side of the tree, two couples whispered sweet nothings, lost in their own worlds.

On the other side, Chu Tiankuo, Mi Jichen, and Wu Ti stood like the three brightest stars in the sky—shining with the radiant loneliness of the single and abandoned.

After letting out a series of indignant chirps, Wu Ti was the first to introduce itself.

"I’m Wu Ti," it grumbled. "A single fire."

Mi Jichen’s brush twitched in Chu Tiankuo’s palm, as if suppressing a laugh.

"I’m Mi Jichen," the brush replied in its elegant, androgynous voice. "I am…"

After a brief internal debate, Mi Jichen finally settled on: "A single brush."

That left only Chu Tiankuo.

His gaze drifted toward the two oblivious couples in the distance, and he sighed—half amused, half exasperated.

"As you can see," he said dryly, "I’m just a hammer."

"Wow," Wu Ti said, completely serious. "So the three of us combined still can’t make up a single ‘human’?"

"—No wonder we’re single!"

Chu Tiankuo, who was technically human (but also a magical artifact): "…"

The statement sounded absurd at first, but upon reflection… it kind of made sense?!

……

After the great battle, the Turtle Clan’s territory seemed to return to its usual tranquility.

Yan Yu stood in her courtyard, removing the protective robe she had worn during the conflict.

The Turtle Clan’s lands had been slightly affected by the rampaging aberrations, and though her home hadn’t suffered major damage, the place was still in disarray.

But at least…

Her gaze drifted toward the stone flowerbed, and a genuine smile touched her lips.

At least the aberrations had come and gone too quickly to harm the plum tree planted in her yard.

Outside the gate, the Elder was organizing the clansfolk to restore order.

However, his speech was so slow that before he could even finish a single command, the clansmen had already dispersed to their tasks.

Some grabbed brooms, others dustpans. Wind talismans swept away debris, while water talismans cleansed the bloodstains from the stone paths. In no time, a corner of the once-chaotic village had been tidied.

Meanwhile, the Elder was still drawling out the tail end of his sentence:

"Everyone—listen to—my—arrangements—"

Yan Yu: "…"

At this rate, by the time you finish "arranging," the work will already be done.

With a faint smile curling her lips, Yan Yu shook her head and resumed tidying up the courtyard.

The broken debris was temporarily piled in a corner of the yard, and the flower stand from inside the house could be brought out to replace the water vat’s spot…

Just as Yan Yu was pondering the courtyard’s new arrangement, two familiar and cheerful voices rang out from the distant path.

“Sister Yu, we’re back!”

“Sister Yu, I’ve come to visit unannounced again!”

The two young men dashed toward the courtyard at a speed utterly unbefitting their usual sluggish reputations, their feet spinning like windmill blades.

Along the way, they nimbly leaped over the piles of leaves and dust heaped in the middle of the path.

But given the joyous atmosphere, even if they had kicked the piles into the air, they’d likely only receive a few teasing complaints.

Yan Yu paused her sweeping and looked up to see Yan Gan and Sang Ji standing before her.

The two young men wore charming grins and moved with eager efficiency.

One snatched the broom from Yan Yu’s hands, while the other hurried to fetch a basin and cloth from the back room, both competing to clean.

Yan Gan declared loudly, “The sect gave us a month-long break, so we thought we’d come see you first, Sister Yu!”

Sang Ji chimed in, “That’s right. If you’re not too busy, Sister Yu, you could come with us.”

Yan Yu blinked in confusion. “Where… are you two going?”

“To the Guiyuan Sect to visit our little sister, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah! Sister Yu, want to join us?”

Yan Yu hesitated briefly, mentally reviewing the clan’s schedule.

…Hmm, a month would be enough time for a round trip. It seemed doable.

Noticing her tempted expression, Yan Gan quickly fanned the flames:

“Sister Yu, you have to come with us! Our little sister’s been stolen away!”

If there had been any acting at first, by now, Yan Gan’s voice was thick with exaggerated despair.

“Our little Erzha, she’s only eighteen, still such a tiny little turtle—not even as round as the mouth of a water vat…”

Sang Ji discreetly kicked Yan Gan, signaling he’d gone off-track.

But that didn’t stop Sang Ji from adding his own embellishments:

“Ahem, her size isn’t the issue. If she’s willing and they’re truly in love, that’s fine. But that guy is shady—dark as night, scheming, and utterly untrustworthy!”

“Yeah, that guy’s all swagger!”

“That guy’s full of himself!”

“That guy dares to lay hands—no, wings and tail—on our sister!”

“My sister—wait, our sister—that guy spreads his wings and blots out the sun, plunging the world into darkness!”

The brothers’ accusations came rapid-fire, their rhythm as tight as a comedic duo’s banter.

Yan Yu listened with a deepening frown, torn between concern and bewilderment.

“Who… exactly are you talking about?”

The description sounded vaguely familiar yet utterly foreign.

Sang Ji clutched his chest dramatically. “That guy—the one who’s always writing letters with our sister, sending us Guiyuan Sect specialties, and who tricked us into calling him ‘little brother’ before revealing his snaky ambitions—Wu Manshuang!”

Yan Gan mirrored the gesture, his face a picture of anguish.

“I was a fool! I thought pen pals exchanged letters out of camaraderie—who knew they might be angling to become brothers-in-law?!”

Yan Yu: “…”

Yan Yu asked gently, “Could there be a misunderstanding? I’ve met Manshuang—he’s a good kid…”

Yan Gan: “!!!”

Sang Ji: “!!!”

Disaster—their sister had already defected to the enemy!

While pretending to clean, the two brothers sidled into a corner to whisper.

Sang Ji sighed gravely. “Seems Sister Yu and our little sister both approve of him.”

Yan Gan muttered, “I don’t approve.”

After weighing the situation, Sang Ji reluctantly admitted that in their patchwork family, the interloper might win by a vote of three to two.

Taking a deep breath, Sang Ji murmured, “Well… if our sister really likes him…”

Then they’d… have to accept it.

“…”

At this, Yan Gan deflated like a punctured pufferfish.

“Of course she likes him… she’s always liked him.”

The brothers exchanged a glance and heaved identical, resigned sighs.

Yan Gan’s face twisted as he clutched his chest.

“Bro, you know what killed me? When he said, ‘Just call me brother-in-law’… Ugh, I’ve never felt so wounded.”

“…”

Sang Ji studied Yan Gan thoughtfully.

Slowly, he said, “Bro, I’ve got a way to make that moment hurt less.”

Yan Gan perked up. “What way?”

Sang Ji warned, “It’s not a proper way.”

Yan Gan pressed, “What way??”

Sang Ji added, “You can’t kill me after.”

Yan Gan nearly shook him by the collar. “What way?!”

Sang Ji cleared his throat and mimicked Wu Manshuang’s tone—restrained yet brimming with glee—declaring crisply:

“Bro, no need for formalities between us. Actually… you can just call me your sister’s husband.”

Yan Gan: “!!!”

His expression suggested he’d been struck by lightning.

Sang Ji tossed his rag into the basin, planted his hands on his hips, and laughed uproariously:

“HAHAHAHA—just kidding! You actually believed me?! Bet that makes the earlier sting feel smaller, huh? HAHAHA!”

Yan Gan: “…”

Truth be told, Sang Ji had been a bit miffed too.

But since Yan Gan had volunteered as the sacrificial lamb, Sang Ji now felt much better.

In the blink of an eye, Yan Yu heard a crash behind her.

She turned to see Yan Gan brandishing a broom like a weapon, chasing Sang Ji around the yard in a frenzy.

“I’LL MURDER YOU—!!!”

“HAHAHA—c’mon, bro, you promised no killing! Can’t take a joke?~”

Yan Yu pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath—though an affectionate smile tugged at her lips.

“Honestly, you two… Now I’ll have to clean again.”

Just then, a paper crane fluttered into the courtyard and landed in Yan Yu’s palm.

She unfolded the letter, and her eyes crinkled with deepening warmth.

"Alright, stop fooling around." She clapped her hands to grab her two younger brothers' attention. "Yan Luoyue said she’s bringing her friends over soon."

"—Huh?!"

"Wait, friends? As in multiple?"

...

Surprisingly enough, when Yan Luoyue said "friends," she really meant a lot of friends.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, the once-quiet courtyard of the Turtle Clan was packed with companions from all corners of the land—friends from distant realms and different worlds, gathered together in joyous celebration.

Yan Luoyue, Wu Manshuang, Wu Ti the fire spirit, Chu Tiankuo and his junior siblings, Cen Mingxiao (who had somehow joined the group along the way), Mi Jichen (who had just barely condensed half a human form and now hung smiling from a plum tree branch)...

And then there was Jiang Tingbai, who had rushed over on his sword after receiving the news, and Ling Shuanghun, who was hitching a ride with Ji Qinghong and speeding their way here...

Whether they had arrived early, late, were still en route, or had bumped into each other mid-journey—every single one of them wore unrestrained smiles of pure happiness.

If anything had spread faster than Yan Luoyue’s message, it was the news of their overwhelming victory.

—The battle was over!

—They had won!

—From now on, the lingering scourge of the Demon-Subjugation War would be no more!

At this moment, the cheerful courtyard of the Turtle Clan seemed like a tiny reflection of the entire world.

Fine wine filled the air with its fragrance, delicacies were piled high, and—somehow—there was even a pair of pants fluttering in the wind.

...Which Yan Gan promptly snatched out of the air.

His bewildered gaze swept the crowd before finally landing on Cen Mingxiao, who, in his drunken revelry, had turned semi-transparent.

"Hey, buddy, watch yourself," Yan Gan said, horrified. "My little sister’s here!"

"My apologies."

Cen Mingxiao laughed heartily, solidifying back into his usual form in an instant. Without so much as a gesture, his clothes reappeared on his body.

With the boldness of a seasoned social butterfly, he clapped Yan Gan on the shoulder, slightly tipsy and already acting like they were old pals.

"Though we never fought side by side, we stood against the same enemy on different battlefields... Hic... Today, I owe you for catching my pants. I’ve decided—from now on, you’re my sworn Pants Companion..."

Yan Gan: "???"

Yan Luoyue, who happened to be passing by and overheard this declaration: "..."

Wow. ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌‍What an interesting way to bond over airborne trousers.

With the long-standing threat over the spirit realm finally lifted—and friendly ties established with the cultivation world—it was like a weight had been lifted from Cen Mingxiao’s heart while also landing him a massive slice of good fortune.

No wonder he was in such high spirits today.

At some point, Wu Manshuang had finished helping Yan Yu and now stood silently beside Yan Luoyue, a pouch of specially made fish jerky tucked at his waist.

He took Yan Luoyue’s hand, smiled, pressed the snack into her palm, and then turned to deal with the increasingly inebriated Cen Mingxiao.

"Uh, Manshuang, what are you...?"

With an utterly straight face, Wu Manshuang replied, "Brother Cen is drunk. I’m finding him a place to rest."

Yan Luoyue hesitated. "But you don’t have to..."

Wu Manshuang solemnly clarified, "I was worried he might float away unnoticed if he passes out. I considered tying a string to his wrist."

"But if he turns spiritual, the string would just slip off," Yan Luoyue pointed out, swallowing hard. "Also, this looks more like you’re trying to..."

"True, a string wouldn’t hold him. So for now, Brother Cen will have to make do here." Wu Manshuang nodded seriously.

He believed his chosen spot was ideal—warm, soundproof, if a bit cramped.

And if Cen Mingxiao found the light too harsh for sleeping, Wu Manshuang could always put a lid on it.

Yan Luoyue was speechless. "No, even so, you can’t just stuff him into a vat. Unless someone in our yard is named Simba Guang..."

Remarkably, Cen Mingxiao didn’t protest even as he was nearly sealed inside the vat—proof that he was already dead drunk.

Yan Luoyue stifled a laugh, tugged at Wu Manshuang’s sleeve, and led the way to the guest room for proper accommodations.

She whispered teasingly, "Manshuang, be honest—have you been side-eyeing the Pants Companion for a while now?"

Wu Manshuang replied nonchalantly, "It’s not about that. I just thought... maybe some time in the vat would help Brother Cen lighten up a bit?"

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Oh-ho! So he is still hung up on the chocolate milk thing!

Grabbing Wu Manshuang’s collar, she pulled him closer, arched a brow, and rose onto her tiptoes.

Some time later, the two finally parted.

Eyes glimmering with mischief, Yan Luoyue teased, "Manshuang, you’re so sour."

Wu Manshuang slowly licked his lips and murmured, "That’s fine. You’re sweet enough for both of us."

...

After stealing a few more quiet words inside, Wu Manshuang was abruptly ambushed by Yan Gan and Sang Ji, who materialized out of nowhere to flank him.

The two brothers slung their arms around Wu Manshuang’s shoulders, grinning with all the warmth of a blizzard in the dead of winter.

"Come on, brother-in-law, let’s drink. A hundred jars or so—until death do us part!"

"Hahahaha, don’t worry, brother-in-law! If you get so drunk you fall into a ditch and break your legs, it’s fine! We just happened to buy a wheelchair last year while shopping..."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

That kind of reassurance isn’t reassuring at all.

But when she tried to follow the trio, Yan Gan and Sang Ji gently pushed her back, their smiles now as tender as a spring river, brimming with brotherly affection.

A stark contrast to the looks they’d given Wu Manshuang moments ago.

"Little sis, have some candy—you haven’t eaten much since you got back. Oh, and go easy on the alcohol."

"Are you tired? You just traveled all the way from the demon realm—it must’ve been exhausting. If you’re worn out, just say the word! We’ll take turns pushing you! We just happened to buy a wheelchair last year while shopping..."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

The blatant disparity in treatment made her cover her face in exasperation.

Wu Manshuang, however, remained unflappable. He calmly followed the brothers to a corner of the yard, watched as they gleefully lined up a dozen enormous wine jars, and then proceeded to drink both of them under the table without breaking a sweat.

Yan Gan: "..."

Sang Ji: "..."

Naturally, Wu Manshuang took the opportunity to reason with them—patiently and thoroughly.

For instance...

With utmost sincerity, he posed a question: "If you’re dissatisfied with me as a brother-in-law, that’s understandable. So allow me to ask—"

"Would Wu Ti, who squawks all day and specializes in insults, make a better candidate?"

Wu Ti’s sharp ears caught this instantly. Enraged, it dive-bombed the trio, pecking at them furiously.

Yan Gan waved his hands frantically. "No way! Absolutely not!"

With such a temper, how could you treat your younger sister well?

Wu Manshuang pondered deeply and said, "In that case, what about Brother Cen Mingxiao? He has well-developed pectoral muscles and is always 'enfeoffing consorts'—could he be a brother-in-law?"

Sang Ji had witnessed firsthand how Yan Gan became the "Pants Consort."

If he hadn't run fast earlier, he might have been casually bestowed with a title like "Tooth Consort."

Thus, Sang Ji decisively waved his hand. "No, that won't do. The customs are just too different."

Wu Manshuang seemed thoughtful and exchanged a glance with Chu Tiankuo in the distance.

Then, under Chu Tiankuo's horrified gaze, Wu Manshuang enunciated each word clearly:

"In that case... there's Senior Brother Chu—open-minded, carefree, fond of good food, quick to jest and laugh..."

Yan Gan and Sang Ji nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Chu Tiankuo hurried over with a wine cup and interjected, "No, no, no, Junior Brother Wu, I’m missing two kidneys."

"—Precisely because he’s missing two kidneys," Wu Manshuang slowly repeated Chu Tiankuo’s words. "Hmm, could he be a brother-in-law?"

"...Absolutely not!"

Sang Ji and Yan Gan exchanged a look and spoke simultaneously.

"That really won’t do!"

"Then, there’s one more person," Wu Manshuang said leisurely. "He and Luoyue grew up together, innocent and inseparable, sharing mutual affection and unwavering devotion. They were destined in past lives and pledged their love in this one. No matter what hardships they face, they vow to advance and retreat together, sharing life and death—could this person be a brother-in-law?"

By now, Yan Gan and Sang Ji were thoroughly drunk.

Yan Gan mumbled incoherently, "I feel like... this guy sounds reliable?"

Sang Ji pressed his temples, dazed. "He does sound familiar, though..."

Chu Tiankuo, suppressing a laugh, chimed in, "Familiarity breeds reliability."

"Right, right," Sang Ji suddenly slapped the table. "Then it’s settled—him!"

Yan Gan echoed immediately, like a reverberation. "Him it is!"

Wu Manshuang rose with a smile and bowed to Yan Gan and Sang Ji in turn. "Then, thank you both for your approval."

Exchanging a wordless glance of gratitude with Chu Tiankuo, the newly official brother-in-law Wu Manshuang brushed his sleeves and departed, leaving his achievements unspoken.

Behind him, Yan Gan and Sang Ji stared at each other through drunken eyes.

About the time it took to drink a cup of tea later, Yan Gan suddenly realized belatedly.

"That brother-in-law we just agreed to—wasn’t he the same one we’ve been refusing all along?"

The phrasing was a bit convoluted, but that didn’t stop Sang Ji from grasping the meaning instantly.

Sang Ji sucked in a sharp breath!

At this moment, Yan Gan borrowed all the wisdom he’d accumulate in the next hundred years, piercing through the truth with sharp clarity.

"Wait, brother," Yan Gan said gravely. "Why do we even need a brother-in-law?"

He’d never had a brother-in-law before, and he’d been just fine.

Sang Ji’s eyes widened in shock.

Right—why did they need a brother-in-law at all?

They’d been tricked into this!

Chu Tiankuo had been waiting for this very moment.

Seeing the two foolish brothers finally awaken to the truth, he laughed heartily and handed each of them a wine cup.

"Come on, come on, let’s drink at my place," Chu Tiankuo said cheerfully. "Welcome to the Hammer Alliance—from now on, you’re all just hammers!"

Today, everyone was a hammer.

......

Some time later, Jiang Tingbai arrived on his flying sword.

Leaping down from the silvery blade, the dust of battle still lingered on his faded sword robes.

Jiang Tingbai, Sword Venerable of the Guiyuan Sect, had just led twenty-three swordsmen to defend the mountain gate, summoning ten thousand swords to return to their origin, reviving the Sword Pavilion, and winning a battle unseen in three thousand years.

Yet even so, when his feet touched the ground of this small courtyard, the smile on his face remained gentle and humble.

"Junior Sister, Junior Brother," Jiang Tingbai called them in turn. "And... Second Junior Brother."

Now, apart from their master, Ji Qinghong, the entire lineage of their peak was finally reunited.

Jiang Tingbai tucked a white jade hairpin into Wu Manshuang’s crown, then draped an arm around Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang’s shoulders.

Just like that, all three of his junior siblings were gathered in his embrace.

Jiang Tingbai said softly, "You’ve all worked hard."

"Not just us," Yan Luoyue laughed, looking up and giving her senior brother’s back a firm pat. "I’ve heard all about Senior Brother’s heroic deeds—you’ve worked hard too!"

The four master and disciples looked at each other and laughed joyfully.

There was no need to voice their mutual gratitude—the rewards of today were the perfect recompense for yesterday’s efforts.

Jiang Tingbai glanced around the courtyard and its assembled guests.

Yan Luoyue followed his gaze and suddenly raised her eyebrows in realization.

"Senior Brother, what a coincidence."

Jiang Tingbai arched a brow in agreement. "Truly a coincidence."

A most amusing fact was that every person present in this courtyard was not only a friend or relative of Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang—they had also all crossed paths with Jiang Tingbai.

Cen Mingxiao? Jiang Tingbai had met him through Guiyuan Sect affairs.

Mi Jichen went without saying, and Chu Tiankuo’s trio had shared drinks and games with him.

As for Yan Gan and Sang Ji, they had once been Jiang Tingbai’s students.

And Sister Yan Yu? Not only had she met Jiang Tingbai as Yan Luoyue’s guardian, but she’d also granted his request to pluck a branch of plum blossoms from Yan Luoyue’s windowsill.

Wow, talk about a shared social circle.

Speaking of plum blossoms—

Jiang Tingbai’s gaze followed his memory to the plum tree by Yan Luoyue’s window.

Summer was approaching, far from the season for plum blossoms.

Yet a feast without flowers lacked a touch of elegance.

Jiang Tingbai smiled. "Today, the world drinks in celebration—let us invite the Flower Goddess to join."

As he spoke, he flicked his fingers, sending a sword aura toward the red plum tree.

Most sword auras were sharp and fierce, carrying intent before killing intent.

But the aura from Jiang Tingbai’s fingertips was as gentle as the first spring breeze between late winter and early spring—his second sword intent: Spring in All Things.

Though winter plums bloom only in cold, a spring wind can thaw even a frozen heart.

In an instant, purple-brown branches sprouted buds, blooming slowly before their eyes.

A long wind scattered the crimson petals, their fragrance and hue adorning wine cups, lapels, and hair alike.

Jiang Tingbai withdrew his hand and said serenely, "If Junior Sister likes plum blossoms, you could transplant one by your window when we return to the peak."

Yan Luoyue, mischievous, teased, "Then will Senior Brother choose it for me?"

Normally, Jiang Tingbai’s frugal nature would prompt him to suggest, I’ll find a sturdy wild plum tree to transplant—no need to spend money.

To my surprise, Jiang Tingbai merely pondered for a moment before nodding. "If you truly want it, Junior Sister, go pick one from the Alchemy Peak."

Huh? If I recall correctly, weren’t the saplings on Alchemy Peak all accounted for in the ledgers?

Yan Luoyue blinked, casting a slightly surprised glance at Jiang Tingbai.

Jiang Tingbai cleared his throat, the corners of his lips curling upward ever so slightly.

Clearly, the next words he was about to say struck even him as amusing.

"The hundred-year term has ended... Well, so your senior brother now has an income."

Indeed, the ticket fees for Sword Peak could now be shared with Jiang Tingbai.

Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang exchanged a look before letting out a long, drawn-out "Wow—"

In the next moment, the four members of their sect glanced at one another, suddenly overcome by the same inexplicable feeling, and burst into laughter.

Even their eldest senior brother had become wealthy—from the past until now, they had truly walked a long road together!

...

The last two guests to step into the courtyard were Ji Qinghong and Ling Shuanghun.

Ling Shuanghun had hitched a ride on Ji Qinghong’s "wind chariot."

As a master artificer of their era, Ji Qinghong’s flying vessels were naturally extraordinary, often changing form according to his whims.

Today, for instance, his chosen mode of transportation was a kite.

As for Ling Shuanghun—this diligent crane historian—he had not only used the journey to straighten his robes, retie his jade crown, and wipe away the bloodstains, revealing once more the striking vermilion mark on his forehead,

but he had also seized the opportunity to compose an impromptu chronicle titled The Tale of Ji Qinghong’s Kite.

Ji Qinghong: "..."

Recalling Ling Shuanghun’s earlier earth-shattering introduction—"This is Ji Qinghong; don’t be afraid if you see him smile"—

his sheer dedication left even Ji Qinghong speechless, prompting him to wonder why he hadn’t taken this little white crane as a disciple back in the day.

The moment Ling Shuanghun hopped off the kite and thanked Ji Qinghong, he eagerly rushed over to join Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang.

During the recent great battle, Ling Shuanghun had danced on the edge of life and death.

Now, having narrowly escaped death and emerged victorious, looking back on the experience filled him with a thrilling sense of exhilaration.

But even more noteworthy than his own ordeal was—

Ling Shuanghun unfurled his bamboo scroll, displaying it to Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang from a distance.

Clapping his hands, he declared, "Little Yan, Little Wu, you won’t believe how much material I’ve gathered for my records this time."

Given time, Ling Shuanghun could compile these accounts into a historical chronicle.

With luck, it might even be archived in the libraries of major sects like the Guiyuan Sect, preserving these intricate human tales for future generations to uncover.

Yan Luoyue borrowed the scroll for a quick glance, and a sudden thought struck her.

"By the way, Little Ling, how did you write The Biography of Yan Luoyue?"

Ling Shuanghun’s scroll was a unique artifact. Apart from crane historians, others could only view the pages the owner chose to show them.

"You want to see that?" Ling Shuanghun leaned closer, flipping through the butterfly-bound pages with a rustle.

"Well, regarding your biography, I’ve revised it three times. The first was The Biography of Yan Luoyue, the second combined you and Little Wu into a joint biography, and the third..."

Ling Shuanghun trailed off vaguely. "Well, I changed the joint biography to The Tale of Luoyue and Manshuang."

Yan Luoyue knew exactly what he was omitting.

The crane had altered the title only after learning of her and Wu Manshuang’s true identities as divine entities.

Sometimes, history worked this way: official records might gloss over certain truths, but unofficial histories always preserved traces of them in subtle ways.

Until Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang chose to reveal their identities publicly, Ling Shuanghun wouldn’t explicitly document their origins as the "Wood of the Falling Moon" and the "Stone of the Frost."

But someday, if future scholars traced back the clues, they might discern hints of the past from these three revisions.

—Ah, so Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang hadn’t concealed their true natures from their closest friends!

Ling Shuanghun chuckled as he closed the scroll. "And these traces left behind by predecessors, along with the process of uncovering them later—that’s the romance of us historians."

Yan Luoyue’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she whispered something into Ling Shuanghun’s ear.

At first, Ling Shuanghun listened intently—then his eyes widened in shock.

"This..." The crane murmured, "I may write unofficial histories, but this is too unofficial!"

Yan Luoyue grinned. "So, will you agree?"

"...Let me think." Ling Shuanghun straightened, adopting a solemn tone. "This matter requires careful consideration."

While Ling Shuanghun deliberated, Yan Luoyue slipped over to Yan Yu’s side.

She hadn’t had the chance to share the news earlier, but now, at last, there was time.

Just like when she was little, Yan Luoyue sat beside Yan Yu, wrapping her arms around one of her sister’s.

She rested her head against Yan Yu’s soft shoulder, breathing in the faint fragrance wafting from her sister’s sachet.

"Sister Yu, listen—I have a story to tell you..."

It was a tale about Yan Luoyue, about Wu Manshuang, about the Wood of the Falling Moon and the Stone of the Frost standing together through time, and their decision to craft mortal forms when their world faced invasion.

At the end of the story, Yan Luoyue exhaled deeply.

"So, Sister Yu, I wasn’t actually the egg left behind by Yan Feng and his wife."

As the words left her lips, her heartbeat quickened, a rare flutter of nervousness rising in her chest.

Yan Yu turned to look at her, her gaze as tender as ever—like crystal, like pearls, like the tranquil surface of Yunning Great Marsh in spring.

Then, suddenly, the water stirred, as if someone had skipped a stone across it, sending ripples dancing in quick succession.

Yan Yu smiled. "Then I understand now."

"—You’re the little sister the Wood of the Falling Moon gifted to me."

Yan Luoyue’s eyes lit up.

In the next instant, she was pulled into Yan Yu’s warm embrace.

Yan Yu murmured, "You haven’t told your brothers yet?"

"Mm. They drank themselves to sleep. I’ll tell them when they wake up."

"Good." Yan Yu nodded in satisfaction. "Important news should always be shared with your sister first."

Yan Luoyue: "???"

This was so unlike Yan Yu’s usual demeanor that Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but peek out of her sister’s arms, half-wondering if she’d been replaced by an imposter.

Recognizing the look in her eyes, Yan Yu burst into laughter.

Softly, she explained, "Ah, you’ve always been close in age, playing together so well—I’m happy for you. But sometimes, when you share big news with me first, your sister can’t help feeling a little proud."

Yan Luoyue: "!!!"

This was truly beyond her expectations.

I never expected Sister Yu to have such a side to her.

Yan Yu gently smoothed Yan Luoyue’s hair and spoke leisurely:

"At first, I took you in because my sworn brother Yan Gan picked you up. And the reason he picked you up was that he mistook you for Uncle Feng’s child."

"But fate works in mysterious ways. The beginning of a bond may be a mere coincidence, yet the outcome is always perfectly serendipitous."

A single dropped eggshell had tied the threads of destiny between the three of them.

Yan Yu smiled softly. "And now, my sworn brother and I love you simply because you’re our little sister."

And that—this was destiny’s finest arrangement.

……

Perhaps today truly was an extraordinary day, or perhaps Ji Qinghong had been infected by the joyous atmosphere around him.

Against all expectations, Ji Qinghong accepted every cup of wine offered to him.

At first, only Jiang Tingbai kept him company, sipping quietly.

Then, Mi Jichen joined the toast.

Soon after, Chu Tiankuo—ever the adventurous one—followed suit, along with Cen Mingxiao, who had woken from his drunken stupor only to dive into a second round, and Yan Gan and Sang Ji, who had been forcibly roused to join the revelry…

Yan Luoyue specifically asked Ling Shuanghun to record this moment. Heh, once her two ridiculous brothers sobered up, they’d probably brag about this for half a year.

—"Can you believe it? That Ji Qinghong—we chatted and laughed with him, even cheated at drinking games to get him drunk!"

—"And we walked away alive!"

Time slipped by unnoticed. As Yan Luoyue stood beneath a plum tree, admiring the blossoms overhead, Ji Qinghong approached leisurely.

A white jade wine cup dangled between his fingers, its hue nearly indistinguishable from his pale hair and skin.

There was no trace of intoxication about him—only his crimson eyes, burning like the vibrant red plum blossoms, held a faint glimmer of amusement.

"Last time…" Ji Qinghong began slowly, "during the battle at Hongtong Palace, you asked me about my flame of affection…"

Yan Luoyue clasped her hands behind her back and turned to face him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

After a brief pause, Ji Qinghong added, "Just now, I overheard Cen Mingxiao mention that the Wood of Falling Moon harbors fragments of cultivators’ souls—those who call themselves ‘players.’ Hmm, and that paper crane you sent me earlier…"

Yan Luoyue grinned and nodded without hesitation. "Yes, that’s right."

She raised an eyebrow teasingly. "I thought you’d ask me about it the moment you arrived."

Ji Qinghong swirled his wine cup unhurriedly. "I figured a few drinks would make for a better conversation."

Catching his implication, Yan Luoyue was genuinely surprised.

She blinked. "So even someone like you needs liquid courage?"

Ji Qinghong chuckled softly, closing his eyes with rare sincerity.

"Even the closest to home hesitate… In the end, I’m only human."

The infamous Demon Venerable Ji—known for his heartless whims and infuriating antics—had finally descended to mortal earth.

Three thousand years might as well have been a fleeting moment, yet the weight of his solitude seemed to dissolve in that simple nod.

Yan Luoyue studied him, recalling the flame that had burned undimmed for millennia, and felt a surge of respect.

"Alright, I’ll tell you—I was planning to anyway. Keeping secrets any longer would’ve driven me mad first."

Her words alone were already the best answer.

Still, Yan Luoyue grinned. "How about this? A trade—one answer for another."

Ji Qinghong opened his eyes. "What do you want to know?"

She tilted her head playfully. "Before I left, I didn’t get a chance to see the new name you gave our peak."

"What did you rename it this time? Or should I say… what’s your latest ‘personal tagline’?"

Given Ji Qinghong’s usual flair, the peak’s name before the final battle was likely anything but conventional.

Perhaps something like "Run All You Want, Today Only One Side Leaves This Peak," or "Daring to Challenge Me? Bold. Let’s See Who’s the Real Peak Here."

With Ji Qinghong’s eccentricity, even "The Armstrong Spiral Accelerator to Heaven Peak" wouldn’t have been surprising.

At the question, Ji Qinghong suddenly smiled.

"Ah, that." He replied lightly, "The new name is ‘Eternal Reunion.’"

—A springtime feast, with wine and song aplenty. May we be like the swallows on the beam, meeting again year after year.

May this scene reunite eternally. May this year’s company reunite eternally.

Within the courtyard and beyond—mortals, demons, spirits—every soul celebrating in this moment, every second fought for in the past, seemed to converge within those three simple words.

Ji Qinghong smiled. "It’s a plain name."

As though the story had reached its perfect ending, Yan Luoyue sighed in contentment.

"But it’s a good one."

Having gotten her answer, Yan Luoyue spoke without reserve.

"Then, Master, I won’t hide it anymore. About Yun Sulü…"

Beneath the plum tree, Yan Luoyue’s lips moved softly.

And for once, Ji Qinghong set aside all amusement, listening intently.

When the truth was finally unveiled to the world, a sudden breeze shook half the blossoms from the tree.

After delivering her message, Yan Luoyue waved at Ji Qinghong and skipped out from under the plum tree’s shade.

Not far away, Wu Manshuang stood waiting, smiling as she approached.

When she looped her arm through his, he leaned down and fed her a crisp pickled plum.

As for Ji Qinghong? He tilted his face upward, letting the falling blossoms dust his silver hair like snow.

The crimson plum blossoms burned as bright as blood—as radiant as a devotion unshaken for three thousand years.

……

"So, Little Ling, what do you think of my proposal?"

The feast had wound down, the moon hanging high in the sky.

Three lounge chairs sat side by side in the courtyard, occupied by Yan Luoyue, Wu Manshuang, and Ling Shuanghun.

Yan Luoyue reclined in the center chair, chin propped on one hand as she watched Ling Shuanghun, her other hand still clasped with Wu Manshuang’s.

Ling Shuanghun wiped his brow. "I still think it’s too outrageous."

After a pause, he couldn’t help asking, "Even if… well… that name…"

Yan Luoyue’s eyes curved mischievously, like a cat that got the cream.

"Once I refine that puppet’s emotional net and open the spatial channel, you’ll understand… Ahem, anyway, that’s just how some alternate-history stories name things."

Ling Shuanghun shot her a skeptical look, still half-convinced she was pulling his leg.

But then again…

The white crane sighed in resignation, half-yielding, half-confirming. "You’re sure about this?"

"Mm. Absolutely."

Ling Shuanghun stroked his chin, beginning to see the humor in it. "Fine, but I’m only drafting an outline."

"Mm-hmm, no problem."

Ling Shuanghun emphasized again, "Don't tell anyone I wrote this."

Yan Luoyue chuckled and nodded repeatedly, "Got it, got it."

"Fine then..." Ling Shuanghun helplessly spread open his palm. "You and Wu Manshuang—I’ve really boarded your pirate ship now."

"Then it's settled." Yan Luoyue clenched his right fist and lightly tapped it against his palm.

"—Starting today, the alternate-world version of The Legend of Luoyue and Manshuang will officially be renamed I Overpower the Cultivation World with My HP Bar!"