Chapter 43 Part 2
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This chapter is edited by Farouq Omileye. Thank you for your contribution!
Chapter 43: An Lan and Little Bai Lian (2)
Just like in the wasteland, An Lan wasn’t truly angry or intent on harming her. The ruler in her hand was only a tool to guide, not punish.
Yan Yue, silly as she was, needed a little nudge in the right direction.
An Lan just hoped she would work harder!
Yan Yue, now moved beyond words, dared not resist. She obediently let An Lan tap her bottom with the ruler, frustration evident in every flick of the wrist.
Hmm.
“Let this serve as a reminder,” Yan Yue whispered, a mix of guilt and determination flickering in her eyes.
“This…”
Although Yan Yue wore the expression of a penitent, Bai Lian couldn’t help but feel it was unnecessary.
She stepped forward, trying to pull her master out of her fierce mood. “Master, everyone has their own aspirations. We shouldn’t force others against their will.”
Hmph!
Am I mad about this?
An Lan’s frustration wasn’t what it seemed. She wasn’t angry about Yan Yue’s lack of ambition—it was something deeper. Yan Yue had been meddling with things she shouldn’t, especially where Bai Lian was concerned!
But she couldn’t say that aloud.
Instead, An Lan retorted coldly, “This is for her own good!”
Good intentions, however, could sometimes hurt. Bai Lian wanted to voice her opinion further, but before she could, Yan Yue interjected, “It’s all right, Bai Lian. It’s really not a big deal.”
Bai Lian frowned.
Yan Yue sighed deeply. “I understand.”
Her eyes shimmered with regret, remorse, and gratitude as she glanced at An Lan. “If I’ve done wrong, then I must accept the consequences.”
Without hesitation, An Lan accepted her proposal.
That’s right. Yan Yue truly is a silly woman.
See?
An Lan struck her twice with minimal force, and Yan Yue immediately grasped her mistake. From now on, she wouldn’t lower her guard against her. Yan Yue needed occasional “reminders” like this—a buff of sorts.
Pleased with herself, An Lan felt a surge of pride.
She had deftly addressed Yan Yue’s troublesome behavior towards Bai Lian without sparking resentment.
Indeed, she was a wise and capable woman. This was the power of the Heavenly Lord!
—
Later, as Bai Lian made her way back, she felt a mix of emotions. Yan Yue seemed to find some strange comfort in An Lan’s discipline. If that was the case, what more could she say?
After all, Bai Lian herself had no interest in such things.
—
When An Lan’s emotions finally settled, Yan Yue rose to her feet. Despite having been “punished,” she still thanked An Lan and left Qiongming Peak as instructed.
An Lan’s words lingered in her mind.
Right now, her top priority was to calm the Blood Tree Patriarch. He had been restless for over two months because of her actions.
Thinking about how she had caused unnecessary worry, Yan Yue felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.
Oh, how things have changed.
For An Lan’s sake, for Bai Lian’s sake, and even for herself, Yan Yue resolved to turn over a new leaf. She would live an optimistic life, leaving behind the shadows of her past.
She would embrace her responsibilities, revitalize Zhuyan Peak, and let go of unpleasant memories—at least for now.
—
In the forest of Zhuyan Peak, Yan Yue stood under a towering tree, her expression blank as she messaged the Blood Tree Patriarch.
Her trust in An Lan remained firm.
When An Lan claimed not to be Gong Xuexin, there had been a moment of hesitation. That hesitation was unusual—An Lan, after all, was always straightforward.
This hesitation must mean something. Perhaps An Lan was Gong Xuexin, but she chose to deny it to spare Yan Yue from some painful truth.
“What kind of memory could that be?”
Yan Yue tried to recall, but her mind was blank.
If her suspicions were correct, those memories had likely been “taken away” by An Lan herself.
“She always does this…”
Yan Yue murmured softly, curling up beneath the large tree.
The evening wind swept through the forest, tugging at her robes. But despite the chill, Yan Yue felt warm inside.
She closed her eyes and thought of An Lan and Bai Lian—one at her side, one at her back, protecting her without fail.
That warmth filled her heart, pushing away the cold.
“Yes,” she whispered to herself. “The story of Gong Xuexin ended long ago. I am me—I am Yan Yue, the master of Zhuyan Peak!”
“What Xuexin?”
A weary voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
Startled, Yan Yue looked up and exclaimed, “The Blood Tree Patriarch!”
Her clear, sharp voice pierced the silent night, carrying a sense of resolution.
The Blood Tree Patriarch, returning from Yunluo Peak, paused in surprise.
Then, seeing her, his expression softened into a bright smile.
“Welcome back, Yan Yue.”
—
The red candle flickered faintly.
An Lan stood tall, her posture firm. Bai Lian sat quietly, her gaze hesitant.
The two looked at each other for a moment before quickly glancing away.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy with unspoken words.
An Lan lingered, lost in thought. Now might be the perfect moment to give Bai Lian some “adult” advice.
Nearly twenty years old, yet still so naïve. Why can’t you keep your distance from troublesome women?
She sighed inwardly, her worry mounting.
Before An Lan could say anything, Bai Lian broke the silence.
“Master, I have a question.”
“Ask.”
Just as Bai Lian was about to speak, a system prompt appeared in her mind:
Task 1: Mention Yan Yue’s name (Reward: Burning Thorns).
Task 2: Refer to Yan Yue as Master Yan Yue (Reward: +1 Soft Skill).
Bai Lian froze.
That was close! She almost forgot how petty her master could be.
Clearing her throat, Bai Lian lowered her voice. “Master, is Master Yan Yue really not the reincarnated Master Gong Xuexin?”
An Lan’s answer was shockingly direct.
“She is.”
“Then…”
Without another word, An Lan waved her sleeve, and a small Past Stele appeared in the room.
“You’ll know if you look for yourself.”
She hadn’t erased Yan Yue’s memories entirely. Instead, she had extracted them and stored them in the Past Stele.
Bai Lian nodded and extended her Divine Sense into the stele.
—
In an instant, she was transported thousands of years into the past, the power of the Past Stele guiding her vision.
It was as if she were watching a vivid holographic projection.
On the screen, an old Taoist priest knelt before the Past Stele, a brush trembling in his hand.
Again and again, he wrote the name “Gong Xuexin.”
His face bore a look of unwavering determination.
Finally, the name took form, etched into the stele as though it were alive.
The priest smiled faintly, his work complete.
Though frail and leaning heavily on his staff, he stood tall and bowed deeply before the stele, paying his respects to the one he had brought back to life.
