The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Feiming, you've come too."

He Lichen stopped in his tracks.

Just as he uttered that name, a mountain breeze blew through the branches of the ancient pine tree, causing his moon-white crane cloak to flutter slightly.

The cloak was embroidered with flowing cloud patterns in silver thread, which shimmered in the dappled sunlight, making him appear like a solitary crane standing in the moonlight, aloof and noble.

A few strands of golden mimosa blossoms outside the Valley of Divine Medicine fell softly onto his shoulder.

"Didn't you used to dislike noisy places? Have you changed your mind now?"

He looked at Sheng Feiming, his voice carrying a very faint hint of surprise.

"Are you also a witness to this Medicine God Ceremony?"

He received an invitation personally signed by Liu Yaowang, a VIP seat in the center, to witness the final outcome of the Medicine God Ceremony.

Saint Feiming was dressed in a snow-white Buddhist robe, spotless and thin as mist. When the wind blew it up, it seemed as if Buddhist chants were lingering between the warp and weft.

The Bodhi prayer beads on my wrist gleamed with a warm, gentle light amidst the interplay of light and shadow, each bead resembling a lotus seed that had been bathed in moonlight for a thousand years.

He looked up at the sound, clasped his hands together, and nodded slightly to He Lichen.

no answer.

He Lichen waited for a moment, then his brows suddenly furrowed.

Sheng Feiming has always been a very polite young man, refined, gentle, and humble, and would never be so silent.

"Hmm? Fei Ming?"

He strode forward, his moon-white crane cloak brushing against the roadside herbs. The morning dew on the grass leaves was lifted by the hem of his robe and rolled down onto his boots.

"You've...lost your voice?"

He stood before Sheng Feiming, his gaze sweeping over the still clean and gentle face.

He Lichen's heart sank.

His voice trembled slightly.

"Is the 'Five Signs of Decay' already this serious?"

He knew of Saint Femme's divine retribution.

I've known this for a long time.

"Before, I just couldn't smell anything."

The first thing to be deprived of is the sense of smell.

A myriad of incense offerings, the fragrance of grass and trees, and the moist scent of earth rising after the rain.

Those most subtle sensations were the first to silently retreat from his world.

It was as if a pair of hands had quietly separated him from the most tender part of this world.

"And now, is it that you can't say it?"

The Buddha's mouth, which had once recited thousands of scriptures, could no longer utter chants, recite sutras, or even call out the name of an old friend.

Those Buddhist scriptures that he had once devoutly offered with his tongue and lips are now trapped in his throat, becoming a silent prison.

what's next?

It's hearing.

One morning, the bell rang, and all the ancient temples in the mountains awoke to its sound, but he could no longer hear it.

Next, there is the visual aspect.

The lotus lamps before the Buddha were lit, their flames dancing quietly in the glass cups, but he could no longer see them.

Finally, there is touch.

Layer by layer, inch by inch, they peeled him away from the world little by little.

When the last vestige of perception vanished, he was left all alone in the world, trapped in boundless darkness and silence.

He was oblivious to the changing seasons, day and night, and even unaware that anyone in the world was calling his name.

ignorance.

Unaware.

No light.

silent.

Upon hearing this, Sheng Feiming simply smiled faintly.

There was no resentment, no sorrow, not even the slightest bit of unwillingness.

It was as if the divine punishment hanging over his head was just a distant mountain rain that had nothing to do with him.

Come when it's time to come, leave when it's time to leave.

The moment the young holy monk lowered his eyes, his brows still held a gentle compassion for humanity, like a white jade Guanyin statue worn smooth by time.

He took half a step forward and gently waved to He Lichen.

The hand emerged from the wide sleeves of the snow-white Buddhist robe, long and slender, with fingertips gleaming almost transparently in the sunlight.

His movements were very gentle, as if he were saying: Come here.

He Lichen suppressed the bitterness surging in her heart, took a step forward following his gesture, her voice filled with doubt and worry.

"Feiming, what is it?"

Saint-Femme turned to the side and stretched out his hand.

That hand gently lifted the plain-colored curtain of the carriage behind them.

The corner of the curtain fluttered.

The morning light, like a sudden burst of silver mercury, illuminated the dim space inside the carriage inch by inch, and also the person lying quietly inside.

The spirit is at ease.

He just closed his eyes like that, so quiet it was as if he were just sleeping soundly.

Dressed in a black and white Taoist robe, he slept peacefully.

He Lichen's feet were rooted to the spot.

His white crane cloak was lifted and then fell back by the wind, but he seemed to be frozen in place, even his breath stopped for a moment.

"Senior Brother."

The usually composed and dignified Imperial Preceptor's voice trembled when he uttered those three words.

He almost stumbled and fell to the side of the carriage.

"Senior brother, it's dawn, wake up quickly."

This is the first time I've ever seen my senior brother so weak.

The senior brother who used to lie leisurely by the window of the Si Ming Hall, basking in the sun, now seemed to have been dragged down from the clouds and thrown into the dust.

He Lichen's eyes reddened instantly.

"Why...why aren't you waking up? Are you sleeping in?"

A burning, aching sensation surged up, turning his eyes bloodshot.

He reached out, wanting to touch it, but then stopped in mid-air, his fingers slightly curled.

"How did my senior brother end up in your car?"

The martial monk Liaofan stepped forward, clasped his hands together, and bowed deeply.

He was tall and imposing, standing beside the carriage like a silent iron tower, his voice deep and steady.

"Your Excellency, we encountered this benefactor on the way. He was unconscious on the rocky beach by the stream, his breath barely a thread."

"If my holy monk hadn't passed through there, I'm afraid..."

He didn't finish his sentence, nor did he mention that there were poisonous snakes lurking by the stream.

Ling Zixian is the master of the inner palace of the Si Ming Palace. She lives a secluded life and rarely reveals her true appearance to the world.

Therefore, Liao Fan did not recognize him and only thought he was a rogue cultivator in distress.

But he recognized the Imperial Preceptor He Lichen, the Imperial Preceptor revered by all of the Nine Provinces.

He was also one of the few close friends of his own holy monk, a friendship with whom he could sit and drink tea and discuss the path of immortality and Buddhism.

"Thank you, Fei Ming."

He Lichen's voice was hoarse and solemn, each word deliberate and deliberate, as if engraving a weighty promise onto a blue stone.

He turned around to face Sheng Feiming, his bloodshot eyes filled with deep gratitude.

"Huai Xian owes you a life."

His voice trembled slightly, yet remained as steady as a string stretched to its limit.

"If you ever ask for anything in the future, Huai Xian will certainly not refuse."

Upon hearing this, Sheng Feiming waved his hand gently.

The hand waved slightly in the morning light, as if to say, "Don't worry about it."

He was born with a pair of divine eyes, which allowed him to see the threads of cause and effect intertwined among all living beings.

He saw that Ling Zixian had a karmic connection with Sister Zhi.

The thread was extremely thin and strong, shimmering with a faint starlight, stretching from Ling Zixian's heart all the way to the distant void.

It seems that this calamity was incurred because she saved Sister Zhi.

After all, He Lichen and Tang Xixue's destiny stars are connected.

The two were destined to live and die together.

Once He Lichen dies and his life star is extinguished, Tang Xixue's already weak life star will be instantly annihilated, with no chance of recovery.

Ling Zixian didn't save He Lichen, but Sister Zhi.

Therefore, Saint Feiming said that he was connected with the spirit by chance.

His third eye can see the past and the future, but he cannot reveal the secrets of heaven.

If I were to speak out, it would be tantamount to meddling.

He is a person beyond the mundane world, and should remain outside the river of worldly affairs; one can only observe from the sidelines, not trespass.

But he broke the rule.

He reached out his hand and revealed the secret to Sister Zhi.

Therefore, we are now facing this calamity.

He sought benevolence and received it.

He accepted.

"Not clear."

He Lichen sighed.

He didn't say anything more about gratitude; some feelings cannot be measured in words.

He simply turned his head and glanced at Ling Zixian, who was sleeping soundly in the carriage.

"Would you mind walking with me for a while?"

His voice returned to calm.

Ling Zixian's current condition is not suitable for being moved casually; any disturbance could completely shatter that fragile life force.

His Starry Sky Chariot was too conspicuous, using stars as its guide and flowing light as its chariot. Once it entered the valley, the entire Divine Medicine Valley would probably be alarmed.

He needed to find Tang Xixue, but it was best not to make a scene, so he still needed to trouble Sheng Feiming.

Liao Fan stood to the side, his large, round eyes filled with reluctance.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to speak.

His holy monk is in such a state that he himself urgently needs to seek medical treatment. How can he afford to delay any longer?

But before he could open his mouth, he saw that Saint Feiming had already nodded slightly.

That nod conveyed an unwavering certainty.

Liao Fan swallowed back all the words he wanted to say and sighed silently in his heart.

"The holy monk is really too soft-hearted..."

"Very well. Once the holy monk has made up his mind, not even ten oxen could pull him back."

He could only suppress his helplessness and worry, silently sit in the driver's seat, his rough hands gripping the reins tightly, and following He Lichen's instructions, slowly drive the carriage towards the back mountain of Shenyao Valley.

Who has come to visit?

"The Hall of Fate".

"The Other Shore Buddhism School".

They presented an invitation from the Divine Medicine Valley.

The Temple of Fate and the Buddhist Sect of the Other Shore Divine Kingdom were indeed among those invited.

"Please come in, distinguished guest."

The disciples guarding the mountain checked the invitation, then respectfully clasped their hands in prayer, bowed their heads, and opened the mountain gate to let them enter the valley.

The wheels rolled over the bluestone mountain road.

The sound echoed through the valley, mingling with the sound of pine trees and birdsong.

"I'll show the way for the Imperial Preceptor."

A figure silently emerged from the shadows of the bamboo forest and landed beside the carriage.

The handsome man, dressed in black, was tall and slender with refined features and a narrow-bladed longsword hanging at his waist.

It was dusk.

He was sent here by Tang Xixue to meet He Lichen.

Thank you for your trouble.

He Lichen nodded slightly.

Mu Liang stepped aside to lead the way, her footsteps so light they made no sound on the fallen leaves.

If He Lichen had arrived a little earlier, Tang Xixue might have come out to greet him personally.

After all, he held a significant place in her heart.

But at this moment, she was being gently fed by the twins in the Cloud Weaving Pavilion.

Kunlun Sword Immortal Xie Jinlian sat upright to her left, his long silver hair like snow-covered willow branches, falling onto his moon-white sword robe.

He still maintained that aloof and otherworldly air of a sword immortal, but in his hand he held a plate of honey-glazed hamburgers. The amber-colored honey shimmered in the sunlight, exuding a sweet and lingering fragrance.

"Zhizhi, have another bite."

His voice was like the sound of pine trees rustling in the wind, clear and cool yet containing an irresistible tenderness.

"Mmm. This is delicious."

Tang Xixue's beautiful eyes sparkled as she tasted her favorite food.

Yuefan Saint Son Yun Boyan sat to her right, his silver hair like frost, his eyes slightly narrowed.

He didn't speak, but silently ladled out a bowl of matsutake chicken soup. The soup was golden and clear, with a fragrant aroma.

He placed the soup bowl in front of her with such gentle movement that the bottom of the bowl barely made a sound when it hit the table.

Xie Jinlian glanced at her younger brother but said nothing.

She pushed the bowl of sweet osmanthus rice balls in front of her to Tang Xixue's side. The white rice balls floated in the light pink sweet soup, with osmanthus blossoms dotting the surface.

"Zhizhi, this is what you like."

He said gently.

"Sister-in-law, try some Poria cocos cake."

Tang Xixue was sandwiched in the middle, taking the spoon from Xie Jinlian with her left hand, while Yun Boyan stuffed a plate of freshly steamed Poria cocos cake into her right hand.

She didn't even have time to put down her chopsticks, let alone get up to say goodbye.

no way.

The hardest thing to bear is the favor of a beautiful woman.

If she dares to say "go," those two jealous people will probably overturn the whole thing.

A person with a cool and aloof demeanor, yet whose eyes could freeze everything in the world into ice shards.

The other one is even more outrageous.

Despite having no official status or position, he is incredibly jealous and will draw his sword at the slightest provocation.

He Lichen, Tang Xiye, and Beichen Ji have all experienced it!

The sword intent of the Holy Son of the Moon is as clear and cold as water, as frigid as frost. It strikes without warning, without mercy, and cuts without hesitation.

Tang Xixue's sleeves twitched slightly.

A silver dragon peeked half its head out from her sleeve, its silver whiskers swaying gently.

It silently tucked its head back in, curled up into a ball, revealing only two small dragon horns.

It remained peacefully hidden in his sleeve, free from the clash of swords.

On the windowsill, Yin Kong was nestled in a soft cushion warmed by the sunlight.

Its tail drooped lazily, with the tip occasionally flicking up slightly, as if it were dreaming about dried fish.

Sunlight filtered through the peach blossoms, falling on it and warming it so much that it rolled over, revealing its furry belly.

Life is carefree, with gentle breezes and light clouds.