After leaving the basin, Bai Heng continued heading south.
She did not deliberately increase her pace, keeping the same cautious and unhurried rhythm as before.
She traveled by day and sought out secluded spots to cultivate at night, occasionally studying Lin Wan’s medical texts and pill-refining arts or practicing finer control over the Heavenly Fox True Fire.
The brief clash with the Yu Ling Sect cultivators that day, though only a flash of lightning and spark of flint, had given her a clearer sense of her own strength.
The诡谲 nature of the Heavenly Fox True Fire, the precision of her spiritual sense manipulation, and the fourth-tier pressure illusion created using Mu Xuejun’s bone fragment—these techniques, when applied skillfully, could compensate for gaps in cultivation under the right circumstances.
But that was all.
She understood perfectly that escaping unscathed that day had depended far more on borrowing Mu Xuejun’s authority and Liang Lu’s interference. If she had truly faced a mid-stage Foundation Establishment opponent head-on, she would have stood little chance of victory.
She needed to grow stronger.
She silently pressed this realization into her heart, turning it into an extra measure of focus and patience in her daily cultivation.
Several more days passed. She reached a region of gradually flattening hills where signs of human presence grew more frequent. This was the southern edge of Lan Province; continuing southeast for another ten days or so would bring her into Ping Province territory.
That night, she took shelter in an abandoned mountain god temple.
The temple was small, consisting of only a main hall and a half-collapsed side room. The statue in the main hall had long since become mottled and unrecognizable, and the offering table was thick with dust, clearly untouched for years. At least the roof was still intact, enough to keep out the night dew.
Bai Heng found a relatively clean pile of dry grass in a corner of the main hall, settled down, and prepared to begin her evening cultivation.
When the moon reached its zenith, she suddenly opened her eyes.
Her divine sense detected extremely light footsteps outside the temple, along with an aura she recognized yet found strikingly out of place in this moment.
The aura was suppressed exceptionally well. Had she not maintained a vigilant perimeter of thirty zhang around her, she would have barely noticed it.
A moment later, a young man in a faded light-cyan daoist robe, with an ordinary wine gourd hanging at his waist, stepped into the mountain god temple under the moonlight.
He saw the white fox curled in the corner and showed just the right amount of surprise, which quickly turned into a gentle smile.
“What a coincidence.”
Lu Liang—or rather, the person who should be called “Lu Liang” in this appearance—spoke as naturally as if greeting an old friend.
“To run into a fellow Daoist in these remote mountains and wild ridges is truly a matter of fate.”
Bai Heng watched him quietly without speaking.
Moonlight slanted in through the broken window lattices, stretching his shadow long across the floor. He still wore the same faded cyan cloth daoist robe and carried the same humble, low-key rogue cultivator air, utterly different from the blue-robed noble young master with the gold-speckled folding fan from several days ago.
She did not ask why he had changed back into this outfit, nor why he had appeared here.
She simply watched him in silence, waiting for him to speak first.
Lu Liang waited a moment. When no response came, he showed no embarrassment. He found a relatively clean spot in front of the offering table, sat down, unhooked the wine gourd from his waist, pulled out the stopper, and took a long drink.
“Good wine.”
He smacked his lips and shook the gourd toward Bai Heng.
“Care for a taste, Daoist friend? I brewed it myself from wild mountain fruits. It’s not strong.”
Bai Heng still did not respond.
Lu Liang smiled and did not press the matter, simply hanging the gourd back at his waist.
Silence stretched between them.
Outside the temple, insects chirped steadily. Moonlight flowed like water.
After a long while, Lu Liang suddenly spoke, his tone casual, as if talking to himself.
“After everyone left that day, I went back for another look.”
Bai Heng’s ears twitched slightly.
“The Yu Ling Sect people didn’t return, but others came.”
He paused.
“Three late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators with over a dozen Qi Condensation disciples. They turned the entire basin upside down. They found the two corpses and searched for a long time, but ultimately came up empty-handed.”
He turned to look at Bai Heng.
“Your methods that day were very clean, Daoist friend. You left no traceable marks behind.”
Bai Heng remained silent.
Lu Liang did not mind her silence and continued.
“As for Miss Hong Jin, she should have reached Qixia Mountain safely by now. I kept an eye out along the way; no one from Yu Ling Sect headed north in pursuit.”
After saying this, he fell quiet again, simply gazing at the moonlight outside the window.
Another long silence passed.
Bai Heng finally spoke.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her voice still carried a slight awkwardness, yet it sounded especially clear in the quiet night.
Lu Liang turned his head and looked at her, his expression growing more serious.
“Because I want you to know that the events of that day won’t leave any future trouble. Not for Miss Hong Jin, and not for you.”
“Though my identity changes often and I switch names frequently, there is one habit I have—anything I handle, I finish cleanly, without leaving loose ends.”
He spoke openly, his gaze clear and direct.
Bai Heng met his eyes for a moment.
“You’ve been following me.”
She used a statement, not a question.
Lu Liang blinked in slight surprise, then smiled.
“Daoist friend is indeed perceptive.”
He did not deny it.
“I have been escorting you from the shadows. Not because I have any designs on you, but simply because our paths aligned, and I found it interesting. I wanted to see which route you would take and where you would stop to rest.”
His tone was light, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
“But rest assured, I mean you no harm. If I truly wished you ill, I would not have stepped forward when the Yu Ling Sect people attacked that day.”
Bai Heng was silent for a moment.
“You appear to be mid-stage Foundation Establishment. If it came to a real fight, I would not be able to stop you.”
She spoke calmly, stating a simple fact without self-mockery or wariness.
Lu Liang shook his head.
“Daoist friend is being far too modest.”
He looked at Bai Heng, his expression earnest.
“The fourth-tier demon qi you released that day may have come from an external object, but the ability to conceal your aura so perfectly and silently kill two late-stage Qi Condensation cultivators was genuinely your own. And that flame—if I am not mistaken, it should be the inherited fire of the Heavenly Fox race.”
He paused, a note of admiration entering his voice.
“Though your cultivation is only second-tier, your methods are cunning and your mind meticulous, far beyond what an ordinary demon beast could manage. If it truly came to a life-or-death struggle, the outcome would be far from certain.”
Bai Heng did not reply.
This person’s assessment of her was accurate to a fault.
She recalled how he had casually pointed out the location of the corpses that day, and how he had just now described how the aftermath had been handled. The information this man possessed far exceeded what an ordinary rogue cultivator should know.
“Who exactly are you?”
She asked directly.
Lu Liang fell silent for a moment at the question.
Then he let out a soft sigh.
“It’s a long story.”
He tilted his head back for another drink, gazing at the moonlight outside the window with a distant look in his eyes.
“I am indeed from the Liang family of Wu Province. At least, by blood.”
“The Liang family suffered a great calamity three generations ago and has since declined. We are now little more than a rundown noble house clinging to our old residence and ancient books to survive. I disliked the clan’s rules from a young age and had no wish to be bound by its reputation, so I left Wu Province early and began wandering the world.”
“This daoist robe.”
He glanced down at himself.
“I picked it up while staying at a small daoist temple in Lan Province. The old abbot there was an interesting fellow. I helped him with a few small tasks, and he gave me these clothes. He even said that if I ever wanted to take the tonsure, he would accept me as his disciple.”
He smiled, a trace of nostalgia in his voice.
“As for names—Lu Liang, Liang Lu, they are merely labels. When traveling the mountains and wilds, changing one’s name from time to time can spare a great deal of trouble.”
He turned back to Bai Heng.
“That is my background. It sounds rather ordinary, doesn’t it?”
Bai Heng did not answer his question. Instead she asked,
“Why did you save Hong Jin?”
Lu Liang blinked, then considered the question seriously.
“Why did I save her…”
He thought for a moment.
“Perhaps because I couldn’t stand it.”
“Those Yu Ling Sect people constantly claim that controlling spirits is their sect’s Dao, yet when have they ever shown the slightest respect to demon cultivators who have awakened their intelligence? All those filthy words, that contempt and arrogance… I couldn’t stand it.”
“If I can’t stand something, I step in. It’s that simple.”
He spoke plainly, his eyes clear and honest.
Bai Heng watched him quietly.
After a moment, she looked away.
“You really are a strange person.”
She paused.
“But… thank you.”
The words of thanks were spoken softly, yet clearly.
Lu Liang’s eyes lit up with a smile.
“It’s rare to hear Daoist friend say thank you. I feel rather honored.”
He stood up and brushed the dust from his robe.
“The moon is lovely tonight, and there is still half a gourd of wine left. If you do not wish to speak, I will simply sit here quietly for a while and not disturb you. At dawn, we will each go our own way.”
He truly sat down cross-legged beside the offering table and said no more, simply gazing at the moonlight outside the window.
Bai Heng did not speak either.
She settled back down, resting her head on her front paws and half-closing her eyes.
Silence filled the temple, broken only by the soundless flow of moonlight.
When dawn arrived, Bai Heng opened her eyes.
The space beside the offering table was empty. Only an empty wine gourd remained, placed neatly there.
Beneath the gourd was a tree leaf with tiny characters written on it:
“Until we meet again.”
Bai Heng stared at the gourd for a moment in silence.
Then she stood up, shook out her fur, and walked out of the mountain god temple.
The morning light was faint, and the mountain path wound into the distance.
She did not look back.
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