Chapter Twelve: The Return Journey

Yue Dong: “You seem to know so much—who exactly are you?”

Suddenly, Citrus Bird interrupted him, its figure flickering before settling back into its usual casual, aloof demeanor. “Don’t ask so many questions. Once you leave here, it’s best you don’t mention having seen me.”

Yue Dong: “...”

Qing Lan gradually returned to the cave dwelling. What had just transpired felt like a dream; only the scroll of cultivation techniques quietly drifting through her mind and the soul seed at her brow reminded her that it was all real.

In just a few days, she had encountered Yue Dong, Citrus Bird, and Purple Robe—people who showed her kindness.

Indeed, only after stepping out from under the protection of the Mu family’s umbrella did she realize it hadn’t rained at all outside.

She descended from the stone platform and approached Citrus Bird with a respectful demeanor, bowing lightly. “Thank you, senior, for your guidance.”

Hearing her mention guidance confirmed that the inheritance had been passed on. The bird was pleased—hmpf, naturally, it was confident in its own insight.

Thinking of Purple Robe’s approval, it felt a surge of pride.

Citrus Bird puffed out its chest proudly. After receiving Qing Lan’s bow, it clicked its tongue and said, “I promised this. Since you spared the Azure Wolf, I won’t be stingy.”

In an unusually good mood today, it spread its wings lightly and pointed toward the piles of spirit stones and treasures in the cave, its tone brimming with generosity. “Yue Dong just cleared everything out. Take it all with you.”

Citrus Bird envisioned the cave renewed, serene, and refined, already anticipating a new life—forget organizing and tidying, that was nonsense.

No matter how you arranged things, it was useless. Throwing everything out was the only correct solution!

However, Qing Lan and Yue Dong exchanged a glance and quickly shook their heads. “This won’t do. We dare not accept such a generous gift, senior.”

Their interruption cut off Citrus Bird’s delightful fantasy. Its smile vanished abruptly; growing impatient, it flapped its wings decisively, voice firm and unyielding: “Whether you accept it or not is not up to you!”

No sooner had it spoken than Citrus Bird flapped its wings. Though small—only palm-sized—they stirred the air like rolling clouds, whipping up fierce gusts.

Boom!

With a thunderous roar, Qing Lan and Yue Dong felt the world blur before their eyes, and they, along with their belongings, were swept away.

Buried beneath towering heaps of spirit stones, they struggled to dig themselves out. Their clothes were disheveled, hairpins loosened—somewhat bedraggled. Looking back, the silver barrier had already risen.

They exchanged glances. Yue Dong looked at the scattered spirit herbs, mystic crystals, and spirit stones, a helpless smile on his lips. “Suddenly becoming this wealthy feels a bit strange.”

Qing Lan smiled softly. “Keep them. It’s a goodwill gesture. The path of cultivation is long—these will certainly come in handy.”

Yue Dong: “Shall we split it fifty-fifty?”

Qing Lan nodded.

The two packed all the spirit stones and treasures, nearly filling their storage pouches to capacity.

After tidying up, Qing Lan let out a long breath, her eyes igniting with a spark of battle spirit. “Alright, let’s go. We have matters to attend to and people to kill.”

Yue Dong scanned the pouch with his divine sense and found a long-forgotten treasure tucked in a corner. He paused for a moment before retrieving it.

A dark green thorn, over half a zhang (about five feet) long, appeared in his hand. It was as straight as a sword, gleaming with a cold, forbidding light. Every inch was covered in dense, sharp spikes, yet the handle was carefully polished—a Thorned Blood Spike, a top-tier weapon just below spiritual artifacts.

Qing Lan raised her eyebrows, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes.

Yue Dong studied it for a moment, then extended it toward Qing Lan with both hands. “This is called the Thorned Blood Spike. It suits you well. Consider it a gift.”

His words drifted away softly. “I hope it keeps you safe.”

Qing Lan was momentarily stunned, then understood and accepted the weapon.

“Thank you.”

…

Yue Dong: “Let’s see, by now they should have returned to Qing Shi Town.”

Qing Lan smirked playfully. “I don’t think they’ve reached Qing Shi Town yet.”

Yue Dong: “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Remember those people you trapped during our battle with the Azure Wolf?”

“The Mu family’s hall leader and five disciples?”

“Yes. Before they left, I sealed them with spirit energy. I can sense them nearby Qing Shi Town, but they’ve been lingering. They won’t give up on obtaining the Fire Gold Vine. I suspect they’ve already clashed with Chen Ying.”

Yue Dong understood. “So next, not only must we settle accounts with Chen Ying, but also with those from the Mu family?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, then let’s go.”

…

The cave was deep and tranquil.

After sending the two away, Citrus Bird paced back to its somewhat dusty, slightly aged nest.

It gently tilted its head against its back, preparing to close its eyes and sink into the deep slumber it repeated day after day.

It was no longer young. Dealing with these two youngsters had left it somewhat weary.

Yet just then, it noticed an unfamiliar light within the cave, making it feel uneasy. It glanced sideways—the luminous night stone was still embedded in the rock wall, radiating a gentle, peaceful blue-green glow.

For some reason, Yue Dong hadn’t taken it.

Oh, right—it had driven them off and hadn’t had time.

Citrus Bird quietly gazed at the stone. After a moment, it turned away and slowly drifted off to sleep once more.

…

In its memories, night had fallen low by the Black Water’s edge, inside the Starfall Pavilion.

A middle-aged man in purple-gold black robes, eyes deep and clear, sat leisurely at the pavilion’s eastern corner. Opposite him, a woman clad in elegant purple garments, gentle and composed, calmly focused on the black-and-white world before her.

Nearby, a reserved young girl in green quietly leaned against a pavilion pillar, cradling an ancient tome, dozing between moves in the chess game.

This peaceful scene was soon shattered by two lively figures—a little red bird and a boy with a youthful face—chirping noisily beside the players, offering chaotic, foolish advice.

The commotion continued until the girl frowned, opened her eyes sharply, clenched her fists, and stood to give both troublemakers a good scolding.

…

As Citrus Bird reminisced, it naturally nestled its head in its small nest. After hundreds of years, it still cherished the feel of these branches.

Many years had passed; no one else now wove its nest from soul-soothing wood…

…

Night deepened. Ding Lin stood just ten miles from Qing Shi Town, amidst the quiet forest.

Her breathing had steadied somewhat, but her heart remained unsettled.

Chen Ying’s order was clear: acquire the Fire Gold Vine at all costs, ignore everyone else, and retreat immediately.

She felt sorry for Qing Lan. She gazed into the distance with a sigh, her eyes tinged with helplessness.

Soon, the sound of rushing wind came through the trees. Chen Ying appeared, bloodied, accompanied by Zhu Yan. Seeing them, Ding Lin finally relaxed her tense heart.