I Ruined the Long Ao Tian Script-Chapter 144
Two Funerals
For the next part of the journey, Xu Shulou said she wanted to walk alone.
Though Bai Roushuang was reluctant to part, she understood that some paths in life must be taken alone.
She bid farewell to Xu Shulou amidst the most beautiful scenery of summer.
Bai Roushuang had no way of knowing where her senior sister had gone. She only knew that when Xu Shulou returned to Bright Moon Peak to enter seclusion, she carried an air of serene tranquility.
This seclusion lasted an exceptionally long time. In the blink of an eye, decades had passed in the mortal world—a new emperor had ascended the throne, and Bai Roushuang had grown into a cultivator capable of standing on her own. She had earned the title "Violet Lightning and Clear Frost" in the cultivation world, often praised as a righteous heroine. Some even called her "Fairy Clear Frost," a moniker that never failed to amuse her.
She still felt like the little junior sister who had once trailed obediently behind her senior sister.
The landscape of the cultivation world was ever-shifting. Black Tortoise Tower and the Joyous Union Sect rose to prominence unexpectedly. After news of Luo Hongtang's passing spread, some in the cultivation world saw the Joyous Union Sect—a sect known for dual cultivation—as an easy target. But the new sect leader, Luo Fusheng, proved unexpectedly ruthless, responding to all aggressors with bloodshed. With the backing of Black Tortoise Tower, the Joyous Union Sect carved a chapter into the annals of cultivation history known as the "Bloody March."
Both sects eventually secured their places among the top ten major sects of the cultivation world. Meanwhile, the Lingxiao Sect, plagued by internal strife over leadership, fell far behind. Years earlier, a senior elder had left with his disciples to establish his own sect, and soon, more followed, with even junior disciples defecting to other sects.
Bai Roushuang later encountered Lu Beichen once more. To her surprise, he had accepted the situation with remarkable composure. When she asked him about his plans, he merely shook his head with a bitter smile and said, "No grand schemes. Just focus on cultivation. One day, I’ll restore the sect to its former glory."
This left Bai Roushuang with a revelation—everyone could grow silently in the unnoticed corners of the world.
When Xu Shulou finally emerged from seclusion, she paid no attention to the turbulence of the cultivation world.
After sending letters to her junior brothers and sisters, she went straight to the mortal realm.
Amidst the blossoms of March, Xu Shulou visited a grave.
Lord Su’s tomb was situated in a prime location near the capital, not far from the imperial mausoleum—a testament to the honor he had enjoyed in life.
Even the epitaph had been personally composed by the emperor of Xiao.
The tombstone was older than she had expected, likely erected a decade prior. Reading the inscription detailing his life, Xu Shulou learned that over thirty years ago, Lord Su—then serving as the Imperial Censor—had personally overseen flood relief efforts in the south. During the mission, he had fallen into the water, an accident that left him with lasting health issues. In his later years, his condition worsened, and shortly after becoming chancellor, he passed away.
Servants found him slumped over his desk in the study, having just finished reviewing an official document.
Even in death, he had remained at his post.
His life was summarized succinctly on the tombstone, with no mention of the fleeting encounters he had shared with a certain woman.
Xu Shulou placed a branch of blooming apricot flowers before the grave. "I wonder if I’ll be fortunate enough to meet your next incarnation."
After leaving the capital, she received a letter from her second junior brother containing only a few words: "Sheng Wuyou is nearing her end."
So, she hurried to the Sheng residence in Yunzhou City.
Sheng Wuyou, now white-haired, lay peacefully in bed, her face bearing the serene contentment of someone who had lived a full life.
True to the name her parents had given her—Wuyou, meaning "without sorrow"—she had indeed lived a life free from regret.
The scars left by the brief interlude with Feng Jiuyou and Qi Wutong had long since healed over the decades, mended by an abundance of love.
Song Ping sat quietly beside her, holding her hand.
Xu Shoulou could tell at a glance that they had already said their goodbyes.
Sheng Wuyou’s eyes, though clouded with age, brightened slightly at the sight of her. "Miss Xu?"
"It’s me," Xu Shoulou took her hand. "It’s been a long time."
"I remember you came to say goodbye before your seclusion," Sheng Wuyou smiled. "And now, so many years have passed."
Her smile deepened the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but her gaze still held a trace of the charm from her youth.
"I promised I’d visit you after emerging. I’m glad I made it in time."
"Don’t grieve for me," Sheng Wuyou said, struggling to keep her eyes open as she looked at everyone present. "I made the right choice back then. This life was worth living—no regrets."
"I understand." Xu Shoulou leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sheng Wuyou’s forehead.
——
Sheng Wuyou was buried in the Sheng family cemetery, beside her parents.
Song Ping stood silently before the tombstone, his appearance unchanged from all those years ago.
Xu Shoulou retrieved a delicate golden hairpin from her Qiankun Bracelet—one Sheng Wuyou had crafted for her when she had been magically shrunk to the size of a palm. Many tiny clothes and blankets, also made by Sheng Wuyou, still lay undisturbed in a corner of the bracelet.
She had kept them all this time, but now, she placed the hairpin on Sheng Wuyou’s grave.
"Are you alright?"
Song Ping nodded silently.
Xu Shoulou stood and embraced him. He didn’t speak, but his arms tightened around her.
——
They returned to Bright Moon Peak together.
Song Ping spoke little, often practicing his sword in solitude.
The others watched him from afar, their concern palpable.
Occasionally, Feng Yi would play a tune on his flute, and they would listen in silence.
"I think Second Brother might be cultivating the Path of Emotionless Ascension," someone murmured.
"Third Brother," Bai Roushuang asked, "what exactly is the Path of Emotionless Ascension?"
Feng Yi lowered his flute and answered softly, "A path that seems devoid of emotion, yet is steeped in it."
"..."
As these words fell, the sky darkened abruptly. Thick, ink-black clouds roiled overhead, blotting out the sun.
As cultivators, they recognized the omen immediately and turned to Xu Shoulou.
"Senior Sister, your Heavenly Tribulation is coming!"
Xu Shoulou looked down at her fingertips. "Yes."
In a way, the Heavenly Tribulation was considerate—it gave warning before striking, allowing the cultivator time to prepare.
Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled into action.
"Someone fetch the sect leader! He loves overseeing tribulations—he’ll be disappointed if he misses this!"
"..."
"Defensive artifacts, hurry!"
"Done! The barrier’s up!" someone shouted. "Northeast corner, Senior Sister! If it gets too much, take cover there! Don’t push yourself—if you fail this time, there’s always next time!"
"..."
"Where are the supplies?"
"Here, here!"
Amid the chaos, someone draped a bright red robe over Xu Shulou’s shoulders and fastened a sash adorned with a large red flower around her, cheerfully declaring, "Dress festively—it’ll boost your chances of surviving the tribulation!"
"……" Xu Shulou stood frozen in place, a giant red flower pinned to her chest and colorful ribbons fluttering around her, resembling nothing so much as the exuberant head of a lion in a traditional dance performance.
Bai Roushuang’s temple twitched, all her sorrow and worry abruptly lodged in her throat.
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