Junior Sister is skilled in subduing demons.

Chapter 199 Turning the mountain
The red-robed monk is dead.

Shen Anzhi knelt in the snow, trembling with anxiety. He took out the crystal-clear snow lotus from his storage ring. It was a treasure picked from the Lingyuan Mirror Lake, and the ice crystals on the petals still contained pure spiritual energy.

She quickly broke open the snow lotus and put it into the monk's mouth.

Snow lotus is the rarest spiritual plant in the snowy plateau, with the effect of bringing the dead back to life. It is said that one can only see its true form at the top of the snowy plateau. It is fate that I was able to pick one in Lingyuan Mirror Lake this time.

The monk's face began to regain color, and soon he had a faint breath, but the dark purple demonic energy seeping from the blood hole in his chest was still slowly devouring his life force.

"It's useless..." The monk, having recovered, gasped for breath, his voice as faint as a candle flickering in the wind: "The demonic arrow that kills gods is tempered with the demonic energy of the Nine Netherworlds... Those struck by it will have their souls scattered, and the snow lotus can only provide temporary relief." He looked at Anzhi with his cloudy eyes: "Little girl, do you know... why the sacred mountain can become the spiritual vein of the snowy region?"

Anzhi shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and freezing into tiny ice beads on her chin.

Ge Wensong sat cross-legged behind the monk, continuously transferring his meager spiritual power to him. However, the spiritual power turned into white smoke as soon as it touched the demonic energy, and even his fingertips turned bluish-black.

“Because this place… is a place of atonement…” the monk began slowly, his voice carrying the chill of the snow-capped mountains. “Every year, countless believers come on pilgrimage, prostrating themselves every step of the way, circumambulating the mountain three times… They don’t seek immortality, they seek peace of mind. Those who do wrong must pay the price…” He paused, then suddenly stared intently at Anzhi: “Do you… feel pain?”

An Zhi was stunned, the snow lotus in his palm was icy cold: "Master means..."

“I mean,” the monk said, each word like an icicle piercing her heart, “you are a deeply sinful person, don’t you… feel any pain?”

“I…” Anzhi slowly stood up, memories of her time at Sanqing Mountain flooding her mind. She looked at the monk, her eyes red: “I was used by the Black Python. My beloved Uncle Fan Jin, my best friends Kui Ran and Kang Qing, Liu Yulin who promoted Jingdezhen porcelain, and…”

The monk laughed after hearing this, a desolate and helpless laugh: "Hehe, you, you have original sin on your body. Although you have gradually forgotten some things under the guidance of a master in the past three years, you must remember that this is your debt, an inescapable debt. You are now a ten-coin demon slayer, and you cannot obtain the demon-slaying sword while carrying this debt."

"The Demon-Slaying Sword has been sealed on the sacred mountain for thousands of years, waiting for its new master to appear. The master that the Demon-Slaying Sword must accept must be a person as pure as this snowy region. You, you are not yet ready... cough cough cough cough." After saying this, the monk struggled to sit up and began to meditate.

"Then... what should I do?" Anzhi's voice trembled with tears, which mingled with snowmelt and seeped into her collar, making her shiver. Like a lost child, she felt for the first time waver in her unwavering faith in the Dao. "Pray sincerely." The monk took out a string of Bodhi seeds from his robes, the beads gleaming from years of handling, bearing the marks of countless fingerprints. He placed the Bodhi seeds in Anzhi's hand: "Take these, and circumambulate the sacred mountain. With each step, remember your mistakes, and with each step, ask yourself, if you could do it all over again, what would you do? When you truly understand the weight of the word 'sin,' perhaps... it won't be too late."

Anzhi held the Bodhi seed in her hand, the warm, smooth beads against her palm, yet they felt as heavy as a branding iron. She glanced at Ge Wensong, whose eyes were filled with worry, but he did not stop her; then she looked at the dying monk, who had closed his eyes again, his lips still moving slightly, as if reciting scriptures.

Finally, she took a deep breath, turned around, and stepped into the swirling snow.

The first lap around the mountain was the most agonizing. The fierce wind whipped snowflakes against her face, stinging her eyes. Every step felt like walking on a red-hot iron plate. Images of the ruins of Sanqing Mountain and Jingdezhen replayed in her mind—corpses strewn everywhere, victims of demonic acts, and crumbling walls.

As they reached the second lap, darkness began to fall. Illusions began to appear in the snow: Elder Fan Jin of Sanqing Mountain, on his deathbed, still sat on the stone threshold outside the gate of Sanqing Blessed Land, gazing into the distance, anxiously awaiting Shen Anzhi's return; Kui Ran, corroded to death by the black python's aura, died in agony; in a pavilion in Jingdezhen, Liu Yulin, transformed into porcelain after his death, silently watched the development of Jingdezhen…
Although three years had passed, Anzhi still couldn't let go of the guilt. How could she possibly forgive such a mistake so easily? Anzhi walked and cried, her sobs torn apart by the wind and snow, leaving only a choked sob in her throat. She finally understood that the "sin" the monk spoke of did not refer to her inherent evil nature, but rather to her carelessness and negligence in dealing with the "Black Python," which, like toppled dominoes, triggered a series of irreversible disasters.

As she walked halfway through the third lap, dawn was breaking. Anzhi's boots were already frozen solid, each step leaving bloody footprints in the snow. She suddenly stopped at a precipice—from here she could see the direction of Qiang City, where towering flames could be faintly seen in the night. She remembered that General Black Python was currently leading demons to wreak havoc in Qiang City, and her heart felt as if it were being clenched by a giant hand.

She wasn't trying to escape her sins; she was trying to pay for them. Anzhi knelt in the snow, bowing deeply towards the direction of the sacred mountain. Her forehead struck the frozen earth with a dull thud. She stopped crying; the confusion in her eyes was replaced by a resolute determination. She wanted to obtain the Demon-Slaying Sword not to prove her innocence, but to personally slay the evil she had unleashed; she was going to Qiang City not to be a hero, but to protect those lives yet to be swallowed by disaster.

When she returned to the platform after circling the mountain three times, the rising sun was just behind the snow-capped peaks, its golden rays bathing the snow-covered ground. Anzhi's eyelashes were frosted with ice, yet her face held an unprecedented serenity. She walked to the monk's side, gently placed the Bodhi seed on his chest, and then bowed deeply before his remains.

“Sister Anzhi…” Ge Wensong came up to her and, seeing the clarity in her eyes, suddenly breathed a sigh of relief.

Anzhi turned around, the morning light gilding her face. Her hand rested on the demon-refining gourd at her waist, her voice soft yet exceptionally firm: "Wensong, go fetch the demon-slaying sword."

Ge Wensong looked at her and suddenly noticed that her eyes shone with an astonishing brightness, like stars that had been tempered in fire. He knew that Shen Anzhi, who was trapped by "sin," had disappeared into the wind and snow of the mountain pilgrimage, and in his place was a practitioner who dared to face his mistakes and was determined to atone for them through action.

The mountain wind rustled through the prayer flags, as if bidding them farewell. Anzhi gazed into the depths of the sacred mountain, where the demon-slaying sword lay hidden, along with her sins and the responsibilities she had to bear.