They walked slowly forward under the moonlight, the long street silent.
The evening breeze carried the faint scent of grass and trees, brushing a few strands of hair from Luo Qingci’s temple.
She instinctively raised a hand to tuck them back, her gaze inadvertently falling on Xiao Han’s back.
The young man stood tall and straight as a pine, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his plain robes appearing ethereal under the moonlight.
For a Golden Core True Person of such profound strength, he showed none of the arrogance typical of other cultivators.
Instead, he carried an air of casual ease… well, a bit like her master.
Luo Qingci felt even more guilty, thinking to herself that her earlier suspicions of his ill intentions were far too narrow-minded.
“By the way,” Luo Qingci suddenly remembered something, speaking softly, “that handkerchief you gave me, I’ll wash and dry it when I get back, and return it to you another day.”
Xiao Han waved his hand dismissively.
“No need to return it specially. Since I gave it to you, it’s yours.”
“How can I do that?”
Luo Qingci immediately shook her head, speaking seriously.
“That handkerchief was made of precious material, embroidered with hidden patterns. It certainly wasn’t ordinary. How could I just accept it like that?”
Xiao Han turned his head to look at her, thinking to himself, ‘How am I supposed to know if something from the system’s lottery draw is ordinary or not?’
He waved his hand casually and said, “It’s just a handkerchief. Keep it.”
Luo Qingci had no choice but to agree, thinking she’d wash it clean and return it to him later…
As they spoke, they had already reached the long alley outside the City Lord’s Mansion.
The vermillion gates were tightly shut, and the night lantern hanging from the eaves swayed gently in the wind, casting a warm halo of yellow light.
“We’ve reached the City Lord’s Mansion.”
Luo Qingci stopped, turned around, and gave Xiao Han a slight bow.
“Thank you for accompanying me all the way today. I’m fine from here.”
Xiao Han also halted, his gaze falling on the mansion’s plaque.
He gave a faint nod.
“Go on in. Be careful in your business tonight. Once you’re done, return to the sect as soon as possible.”
“I understand.”
Luo Qingci nodded obediently, then solemnly performed a bow.
“I will never forget your life-saving grace today, and I will repay it someday.”
Even as she said this, she wondered what a Golden Core cultivator would need help from a Foundation Establishment cultivator like her for.
With his talent—going from Qi Refining to Golden Core in a few months—what could she possibly do for him?
“Then I’ll go in now.”
Luo Qingci pinched the storage pouch at her waist, glanced up at him again, hesitated for a moment, then still added, “You should rest early too. The night wind is cold.”
With that, she turned, walked slowly to the City Lord’s Mansion gate, and knocked on the door ring.
Behind her, Xiao Han stood in the moonlight, watching the girl’s retreating figure, and let out a low chuckle.
Soon, movement came from inside the gate.
The servant opened the door and, seeing it was Luo Qingci, quickly bowed.
Before entering, Luo Qingci looked back at the long alley.
Moonlight paved the ground, the night wind swayed, and Xiao Han still stood where he was, his figure handsome and refined, quietly watching her.
‘What is this, the look of a father sending his child to school…?’
As the mansion gate slowly closed, Xiao Han withdrew his gaze and looked up at the stars in the night sky.
He turned leisurely and walked toward the city under the moonlight, his figure quickly dissolving into the quiet night.
But whenever she recalled Xiao Han’s open and composed demeanor, his gentlemanly integrity of not coveting her special constitution, and the gentle way he had silently escorted her all the way, a strange fondness grew in her heart.
What a pity.
This Xiao Han was truly a gentleman worthy of deep friendship.
If she were still a man, she would definitely swear brotherhood with him.
She steadied herself, composed her thoughts, picked up her storage pouch, and turned toward the City Lord’s study.
The study was deep within the mansion.
Passing through two corridors, a rockery, and a grove of bamboo, she finally saw the lit lamp.
The light was dim, seeping through the paper window to form a warm yellow glow, like a sleepy firefly in the night.
Luo Qingci knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
The voice inside carried a hint of exhaustion.
She pushed the door open.
The study was not large.
Three of the four walls were lined with bookshelves, neatly packed with various texts and documents.
By the window stood a large desk, piled with stacks of papers.
A copper lamp sat at the corner of the desk, its wick already a bit long, the flame flickering.
The City Lord sat behind the desk.
He was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a thin face and a small goatee on his chin.
He wore a dark green official robe, and a cyan City Lord’s token hung at his waist.
With cultivation at the Qi Refining Mid-Stage, he was considered top-tier in this mortal city.
He looked up at Luo Qingci, startled at first—probably because she was covered in dirt, with bloodstains on her robes—then he quickly stood up from his chair, came around the desk, and approached her.
“Fairy Luo! You’re back!”
His voice carried obvious relief.
“I thought—”
“Thought I died in the sewer?”
The City Lord’s eyelid twitched.
“How could that be? Fairy Luo is powerful. There’s no way you’d die from mere Qi Refining stage rats.”
“The task is complete,” Luo Qingci said, her tone flat, though she knew it was feigned calm.
Her hands were still trembling slightly—not from fear, but from slapping that old man too hard earlier.
Her knuckles still ached faintly.
“The Bone-devouring Rats have been cleaned out. Not one left.”
The City Lord didn’t ask any more questions.
He took a cloth pouch from his desk drawer and handed it over with both hands.
“Two hundred low-grade spirit stones. Please count them.”
Luo Qingci took the pouch, weighed it casually in her hand, didn’t count, and directly stuffed it into her storage pouch.
Two hundred spirit stones.
In the past, she would have thought that was a lot.
But now, with several hundred spirit stones from Huigu Laozu’s share lying in her pouch, two hundred didn’t seem so important anymore.
“The task is done. I’ll return to the sect tonight,” she said.
“Tonight?”
The City Lord was surprised.
“It’s already late night, Fairy Luo. Why not stay the night and leave at dawn tomorrow? I’ll have someone prepare hot water and clean clothes for you—”
“No need.”
Luo Qingci cut him off.
It wasn’t that she was ungrateful; she just felt uncomfortable all over.
The bloodstains on her clothes, the dust in her hair, the dirt under her nails, and that stench of the sewer seemed to cling to her skin, impossible to shake off.
She wanted to return to Lingyun Peak, boil a big pot of water, and wash herself clean from head to toe.
Seeing she was determined to leave, the City Lord didn’t insist.
He took off a token from his waist and handed it to her.
“This is the pass token for Dusk Cloud City. From now on, whenever Fairy Luo comes to Dusk Cloud City, you can stay at the City Lord’s Mansion for free with this token. Consider it a small token of my gratitude.”
Luo Qingci took the token and looked at it.
It was cyan, with “Dusk Cloud” engraved on the front and a small “Token” character on the back.
The craftsmanship wasn’t delicate, but it was solid.
She put the token into her storage pouch, said “Thank you,” and nodded before pushing the door open to leave.
On the way back to Lingyun Peak, Luo Qingci rode her flying sword through the night wind.
The Cangwu Mountains stretched and rolled beneath her, like a sleeping giant.
The moon hung over the western ridge, big and round, bathing the mountains in silver-white light.
The night wind was strong, making her robes rustle and her hair stream behind her like a black banner.
She squinted at the peak growing closer ahead—Lingyun Peak.
She put away her sword, stepped onto solid ground, and let out a long breath.
The osmanthus tree swayed gently in the night breeze, its leaves rustling as if to say, “You’re back.” She stood under the tree for a while, looking up at it.
A few months ago, it had only reached her waist.
Now, thanks to the spiritual energy, it was taller than her, with lush foliage casting a thick shadow under the moonlight.
Luo Qingci stood under the osmanthus tree and thought carefully in her heart.
He was a true gentleman.
He didn’t covet her constitution, didn’t take advantage of her in her moment of weakness.
He saved her life and even shared the spoils with her.
He had talent, strength, integrity, education, good looks, and a pleasant voice.
If he were a rogue cultivator, she would definitely swear brotherhood with him—drink blood wine, burn yellow paper, share blessings and hardships.
But…
She looked down at herself.
Her waist was too slender, her shoulders too narrow, her hands too small.
Her chest was a bit cumbersome.
Her hair was too long, her voice too soft, her eyelashes too long, her skin too fair.
No matter how she looked at it, she was a woman—and a very attractive one at that, the kind that drew extra glances on the street, the kind people were too shy to stare at but couldn’t help wanting to look at.
Sworn brothers?
What man would swear brotherhood with a girl who looked like this?
Luo Qingci looked up at the osmanthus tree above her.
She took a deep breath, chased those messy thoughts out of her head, and turned toward her wooden cabin.
Back in her cabin, she closed the door and lit the lamp.
The dim yellow light filled the entire room, illuminating the cracks and stains on the walls.
She placed her storage pouch on the table and began taking things out one by one.
Low-grade spirit stones, mid-grade spirit stones, high-grade spirit stones—she sorted them neatly.
Magic artifacts, elixirs, talismans—she inspected, categorized, and stored them one by one.
Finally, she took out the handkerchief from her storage pouch.
It was dark blue, folded neatly.
She unfolded it and held it up to the lamp.
The fabric looked even more precious under the light—soft and delicate.
The hidden patterns embroidered along the edges were only visible in the lamplight: pine branches and flowing clouds, with fine, smooth stitches, clearly the work of a master.
She turned the handkerchief over.
A small character was embroidered on the corner.
“Han.”
Luo Qingci looked at that character, gently rubbing the edge of the embroidery with her finger.
‘I’ll wash this handkerchief clean tomorrow, fold it neatly, and put it by my pillow. Next time we meet, I’ll return it to him. If he refuses, I’ll say, “If you don’t take it, I’ll throw it away.” Then he’ll definitely take it…’
She folded the handkerchief and set it aside.
Then she fetched water, closed the doors and windows, spread out the screen, and partitioned off a small bathing area.
The water was cold.
She poured a kettle of hot water from the kitchen stove into it, testing the temperature with her hand—warm, but not hot enough.
She fished a fire-attribute talisman out of her storage pouch and dropped it into the water.
The talisman emitted a faint red glow in the water, bubbling a few times.
Now she was satisfied.
She stepped into the wooden tub and sank into the hot water, letting it rise to her shoulders, submerging all those lines.
Luo Qingci buried half her face in the water too.
The warm water surrounded her from all sides.
She blew a string of bubbles underwater, which rose up gurgling, bursting on the surface with a faint sound.
She washed for a long time—so long that the water was almost cold—before she finally got out of the tub.
Drying her body, putting on clean clothes, she wrung her wet hair repeatedly with a dry cloth until it no longer dripped, then let it loose.
Her hair fell over her shoulders, damp and cool.
Then she blew out the lamp, lay down, and soon fell asleep.