Qin Jiugo heard Mu Bai’s sharp voice and her fingers trembled slightly.

She turned her head, appraising Mu Bai from his face down to his narrow waist, and finally resting on the jade pendant hanging from the end of the red cord.

The jade pendant was of excellent quality, its whole body lustrous and bluish-green, carved into the shape of a lotus.

That was…

Qin Jiugo’s eyes brightened.

The green-blue lotus jade pendant, symbolizing the identity of the Lord of Qinglian Valley.

It was also the only item the young master still had on him when he went missing.

She quickly suppressed the barely perceptible joy between her brows and grabbed Mu Bai’s wrist: “Miss, where did this jade pendant of yours come from?”

Mu Bai was startled by the action and stepped back a little, then thought for a moment and said, “It’s my personal belonging; I’ve worn it since I was a child.”

Qin Jiuge looked up at him, as if about to say something; she opened her mouth but swallowed it back, then suddenly yanked Mu Bai’s hand: “Come with me.”

“Eh?”

–

With two people in tow, Qin Jiuge couldn’t use lightness skills, so she rented a carriage in the nearest town. After riding for about half an hour, they finally reached the foot of the mountain.

Qinglian Valley kept a low profile and had a predominance of female disciples. Their cultivation emphasized medicine with swordplay as a supplement, making them the most skilled healers among the jianghu sects.

Travelers in the martial world all suffer bumps and bruises; for other sects and even officials in the court, whenever there were difficult illnesses or injuries, they would seek help from Qinglian Valley.

So even without great martial might, Qinglian Valley was an exceptionally unique presence in the jianghu. Since the founding elder established the sect, they had carved out a sanctuary alone amid the mountain’s spirit and flowing waters, remaining undisturbed for years.

The two disciples guarding the mountain gate saw Qin Jiugo and Mu Bai’s group from afar and, taking three steps as two, came to meet them along the narrow stony path winding through the mountain, hopping and skipping.

“Senior sister!”

Qin Jiugo nodded and showed them her token.

“Hi, no need to look.” The gate disciple waved his hand. “Who doesn’t recognize Senior Sister?”

“Rules can’t be broken.” Qin Jiuge said.

She glanced back, pushed Mu Bai in front of the two disciples, and instructed, “Take him to wash his face, change into clean clothes, then come find me at the tree sea.”

Having said that, Gu turned and led the knocked-out man up the mountain.

The two gatekeeper disciples looked at each other, stared at Mu Bai for a moment, and one of them couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter: “Miss, are you about to go perform in the opera like that? Hurry up and come with me to wash.”

Mu Bai said nothing, lifted his skirt and followed her up the mountain path.

Lin Ye scattered shards of light across the slippery mountain path, passed through the woods, and soon came upon a babbling stream.

Clear water flowed over the river rocks, so lucid it gleamed; Mu Bai scooped up a handful, splashed it on his face, and casually wiped twice.

The water traced down the bridge of his nose and the corners of his temples, outlining his features.

The gatekeeping disciple beside him stood there stunned.

Although her face still bore traces of white powder, her profile—its lines nearly perfect—made it clear she was destined to be a beauty.

Mu Bai wiped her face clean, slightly raised her head, and the droplets clinging to her eyelashes fluttered down.

“Ahem! Ahem…” The gate disciple looked away, covered his mouth and coughed, no longer looking at Mu Bai. “I’ll take you to change your clothes.”

He took two steps, then added in a low voice, “Miss, be careful, the mountain paths are slippery—don’t hurt yourself.”

Mu Bai found his sudden politeness puzzling.

The female disciple led the way ahead, saying nothing, secretly thinking: where did Senior Sister bring such an androgynous beauty from? It made her feel embarrassed to speak.

Silence continued until the two of them passed through the woods and reached the resting quarters of the Qinglian Valley disciples.

From outside the mountain gate, it was hard to imagine that there were dwellings hidden deep within the forest.

It was broad daylight; aside from the two guarding the gate, the other disciples were training elsewhere, and most of the tree houses stood empty.

A female disciple led Mu Bai into one of them and took out a stack of neatly folded, brand-new white robes, squarely arranged, with a similarly tidy, clean aquamarine silk ribbon laid across the top.

“These are spare clothes for disciples of Qinglian Valley. Miss, you can wear these for now.” The gatekeeper handed the clothes to Mu Bai, then bustled, “I’ll go heat a bucket of water for your bath. Don’t leave this place.”

Having said that, she hurried out of the room with brisk steps.

Mu Bai watched her go, recalling that in the original account Qinglian Valley disciples usually bathed in mountain springs and streams, and only on festival days did they use buckets for bathing.

She quickly fetched back a wooden tub half her height, still clutching a basket of petals.

After the water was boiled, white steam curled through the treehouse. The female disciple scattered the petals into the tub, set a plate of delicate pastries on the tea table, then took the empty bamboo basket and stepped to the door. “I’ll wait outside,” she said. “Miss, just call if you need anything.”

The wooden door slowly closed.

Light leaked in through the window hole in the treehouse roof. Mu Bai made a circuit around the wooden tub, leaned against the tea table, picked up a pastry and tossed it into his mouth. He dipped his index finger into the water and lightly tested the temperature.

“Hiss.” He pulled his finger back, blew on it a few times, and held it to his earlobe.

Luckily I’d heard that girls usually keep the bathwater very hot, so I didn’t jump in rashly — otherwise I’d probably have been scalded clean off a layer of skin.

After all, back in the day he used to take summer showers by turning on the sprinkler and dousing his head with cold water.

Mu Bai picked up the white porcelain plate holding the pastries and walked to the other side of the treehouse.

This place originally seemed to have been lived in by someone unknown; a row of bookshelves stood to the left.

Most of Qinglian Valley’s collection consisted of anatomical atlases and herbal guides. When Mu Bai finally found a sword manual and pulled it out to flip through, he discovered the pages were all blank.

The original book seemed to mention that Qinglian Valley’s secret sword-intent manual had already been lost.

So this was just a prop?

Mu Bai flipped through it from start to finish, found no clue at all, and shoved the book back as it was.

The water had cooled considerably; he took off his clothes and soaked into the tub.

Mu Bai had read the original, but only the first part thoroughly. The later chapters devoted a lot of space to romantic developments—being someone who had never had a relationship, he couldn’t put himself in those scenes and even found them a little embarrassing—so he skimmed through them quickly and had almost no memory of them now.

However, a manual’s existence in a martial arts novel usually means something—even if it’s lost, it’s very likely to be found by someone destined, who will then cultivate a peerless divine skill.

He wondered where Qinglian Valley’s sword manual might have gone.

Mu Bai thought back over the original book’s plot for a while, found no clues, then climbed out of the tub and changed into clean clothes.

He turned once in front of the mirror, and only after feeling the scarf tied around his neck did Mu Bai open the door.

“Miss, are you done washing?” The disciple guarding the door glanced at him, immediately dropping his gaze and whispering, “We usually think these clothes too plain, but I didn’t expect they would look so good on you.”

Mu Bai smiled and his eyes curved when she praised him.

But constrained by the original persona, he demurely nodded to accept the compliment.

The female disciple led him out of the treehouse, walking ahead as she said, “Our Qinglian Valley is surrounded by mountains on all sides. To the east are the treehouses where everyone lives, to the west is the place for practicing martial arts and strengthening the body, called the Emerald Bamboo Grove, and to the north is a peach blossom forest.”

“As for the sea of trees to the south, it’s where medical techniques are practiced and examined, and it was also the old valley lord’s original residence.”

“Years ago the old Valley Lord traveled the jianghu healing the world and saving people. Rumor has it her medical skills could bring the dead back to life and make flesh and bone whole again, miraculous beyond belief, so outsiders call the place the Hidden Divine Sea of Trees.”

“Though the tales are embellished, to disciples like us it’s nothing more than a school.”

As she spoke she glanced back; Mu Bai quickly nodded to show he was listening.

The female disciple thought for a moment, then pointed in a direction and said, “Oh, and there’s a cliff on the far side of the tree sea that’s extremely dangerous. Miss, be careful—don’t go near it.”

Mu Bai’s eyes brightened.

He had seen countless plots where the protagonist, after falling off a cliff, is guided by a master or acquires rare materials and martial arts manuals, so when he heard there was a precipice in Qinglian Valley, the first thought that popped into his head was: jump off and see.

But now was clearly not the right time.

Mu BaiChao glanced in the direction the gatekeeper disciple pointed, memorized the location, and followed her through the sea of trees to the place where Qinglian Valley disciples practiced medicine.

Qin Jiuge was supervising there; upon seeing Mu Bai, she led him in front of everyone and cleared her throat.

The disciples who had been reciting, grinding herbs, and taking notes all stopped their tasks.

Mu Bai had the appearance of a young man; his masculine features were not especially pronounced at first glance, but dressed in women’s clothing he looked particularly dashing and spirited—so striking that even without makeup he could catch someone’s eye at once.

The disciples of Qinglian Valley, seeing such an androgynous beauty for the first time, all praised silently in their hearts and, out of restraint, did not speak.

Qin Jiugo glanced around, saw everyone staring at Mu Bai without blinking, nodded, and asked him, “What’s your name?”

Mu Bai felt a bit uncomfortable, rubbed his throat with his hand, and answered softly, “Mu Bai.”

“What?”

“Mu Bai.”

The senior sister frowned: “You haven’t eaten?”

“I said—my name is Qin, Mu, Bai.”

The sharp voice startled the birds; the sea of trees fell silent at once.

All the disciples looked at one another: such a fine young lady, if only she hadn’t a mouth that couldn’t be stopped.