Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Only Daughter of the Hidden Clan

There was no time to see what had happened—Jun Muxuan was shoved out, his whole body crashing heavily to the ground, his back bruised painfully by the stones. How could Ning Xue’er, a young maiden, possess such strength?

Before he could ponder this, Ning Xue’er was caught up by a vine, bound and suspended in midair.

“Ning Xue’er, are you alright?”

Fortunately, she was only bound. “I’m fine, Brother Xuan. Go, quickly! We can’t match the tree demon with our abilities. Hurry!”

Jun Muxuan hesitated, gazing at Ning Xue’er hanging in the air, bound by the tree demon. He took two steps back, then left directly.

Ning Xue’er stared blankly in the direction Jun Muxuan had gone, murmuring, “It’s good that he left, good that he left… Xue’er has no regrets…” A pale and feeble, yet contented smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

The ancient temple, by its present state, must have been built by the followers of the goddess Chonglian as her shrine.

[Master seems to still need much more time. What if someone barges in now?]

Little Mischief was worried.

An ethereal elder’s voice sounded, the words piercing directly through the portable realm, “Before the goddess completes her inheritance, no creature of the Withered Wood Forest will let outsiders into the goddess’s shrine!”

[Are you the guardian of the temple?]

The elder laughed lightly. “Me? You could say so…” Then his voice faded.

The ancient painting hung suspended in midair, surrounded by spiritual energy transformed into mist, a milky white fog encircling the painting tightly.

Time ticked by second after second. Once the painting had fully absorbed the spiritual resonance from outside, it should awaken.

At this moment, the painting retained its clarity of consciousness.

Dense white mist enveloped its surroundings, and before its eyes, four figures slowly materialized.

“Brother, why hasn’t our little sister emerged yet? She’s been asleep for two hundred years.”

Chong Zi sat before a black lotus bud yet to bloom, speaking to the two young men beside her.

Chong Ye gently rubbed the crown of Chong Zi’s head. She and he were siblings born from the same red twin lotus, closer to each other than to Chong Hua.

“If Little Zi wants her sister to be born soon, then let’s all channel our spiritual power into the bud together. When the time comes, she’ll emerge.”

Their faces were veiled in white mist, making their features impossible to discern.

The scene shifted. The three figures were now joined by a barefoot little girl—the same child seen before in the Xuanming Continent, presumably Chonglian in her infancy.

“Chong Hua, Lian is still so young. Why don’t you teach her some magic?” Chong Ye watched Chonglian playing wildly with Chong Zi and spoke to Chong Hua at his side.

Chong Hua frowned. “Why don’t you take Chong Zi along and teach them both?”

“Just one Chong Zi gives me a terrible headache. We were all born of chaos, so do me a favor, will you?”

Unable to refuse Chong Ye, Chong Hua scooped up Chonglian and vanished with her in an instant.

Following Chong Hua’s steps, the painting saw a palace towering ahead—not as splendid as those in the mortal realm, but soothing to the eye, its decor all in simple pale blue.

“Study this book. If you don’t understand, ask me. From now on, you can only leave this palace once you’ve mastered all the spells within.”

He dropped the book and disappeared, leaving young Chonglian bewildered, shifting from one foot to the other.

The painting couldn’t see his expressionless face, or it would surely have made some sarcastic remark.

Time shifted again. Before the painting, Chonglian had grown as tall as the crabapple tree in the courtyard—delicate and charming, yet with quite a temper.

Chonglian stood, hands on hips. “Chong Hua! Let me out! I want to find Sister Zi!”

Though Chong Hua’s expression was unclear, his helplessness was palpable. “Have you finished your lessons? Have you comprehended ‘Purify the World’?”

Chonglian instantly wilted like a frostbitten eggplant, her head drooping as she muttered, “No…”

“Then stay in Changhua Hall and watch the constellations with me.”

Chong Hua now appeared as elegant as a jade tree, wholly transformed from his cold, aloof childhood.

Chonglian gestured wildly behind his back, and Chong Hua’s soft laugh drifted forth. Chonglian quickly straightened up and followed him obediently, no longer causing trouble.

In the blink of an eye, the scene vanished.

The spiritual resonance surrounding the painting had been completely absorbed. It drifted lightly to the ground, slowly opening its eyes. Black pupils revealed the transformation wrought by the inheritance.

With a wave, the situation outside the goddess’s shrine in the Withered Wood Forest appeared vividly before her.

“How long did the inheritance take?”

[Master! An entire day! They’re all crowded outside. Thank goodness for the old man!]

The aged voice sounded again. “Your Excellency, my task is complete. The goddess’s shrine… must disappear with me…”

“Thank you, elder,” replied the painting, now understanding that this was power left behind by Chonglian. As her strength was withdrawn, the shrine would vanish accordingly.

The painting hid within her portable realm; there were too many people outside now, and appearing would only invite trouble.

Those outside had struggled to reach this place, only to see the ancient temple dissolve into powder and vanish in a gust of wind.

“Where’s the temple? Has someone already received the inheritance?!”

A disciple from a hidden family surveyed the surroundings. “The temple just vanished. That person can’t have gone far. Everyone, search quickly!”

The others had waited here for a day and a night—they wouldn’t leave so easily. A chase began in the Withered Wood Forest.

Meanwhile, as the crowd dispersed enough, the painting emerged from her realm and hurried toward the exit.

“Little Mischief, this path seems different from the one we took coming in?”

[It’s a shortcut, and I sense a lot of resentment swirling overhead. Since you’re practicing ‘Purify the World,’ you’ve absorbed some power from your past life. If you wave your hand, that resentment will be calmed.]

The painting didn’t want to meddle unnecessarily, but since Little Mischief insisted, she would go see—curious to know just how powerful she had been in her past life. At least a high deity, having inherited part of the divine power, she couldn’t be too weak.

“Lead the way.”

[Yes, Master! Just keep going straight, then take a turn!]

The further she walked, the darker it became. Apparently, she’d only been to a corner of the Withered Wood Forest earlier. The spiritual energy here grew increasingly thin, and the air now carried a foul stench.

Suppressing the urge to retch, she heard cries for help: “Help! Is anyone there? Help! Brother Xuan, hang on! Someone will come! Help!”

[That voice sounds familiar…] Little Mischief mused, letting her see a hundred meters ahead.

There was a swamp. A filthy figure was desperately pulling another from the mire, barely keeping them from sinking, clinging to the last bit of strength.

“Ning Xue’er?!”

[Master! It’s Ning Xue’er!] Little Mischief shouted the name, and the painting finally recognized the familiar voice.

Gathering her spiritual power, she passed through the low thicket blocked by trees and landed beside Ning Xue’er. “Give me your hand!”

Ning Xue’er froze at the sound, and seeing Jun Muxuan’s outstretched hand, quickly made room for the painting.