Chapter Forty-Two: The True and False Lingyan, Enchantress of All Beings

The two of them treaded carefully toward the far end of the forest, gazing up at the ancient trees that seemed to pierce the sky, their thick vines as stout as a child’s arm. It truly felt as if they had stepped into a primeval woodland. The atmosphere within was so unnaturally tranquil that, after walking several dozen meters, Bai Mu felt his scalp tingling.

What unsettled him most was the increasingly pungent, fishy odor lingering in the air. Its stench was reminiscent of the serpent on Dongwang Mountain, yet subtly different. While Bai Mu puzzled over this, a sudden, sharp sound sliced through the silence—“whoosh”—issuing from the woods to their left.

“Who’s there?” Bai Mu cried out, startled like a bird shot with an arrow.

Ling Yan reacted instantly, leaping gracefully toward the source of the sound. Her green gauze robes flickered in the pale morning mist, her form lively and striking. Bai Mu, following behind, found himself momentarily entranced.

When he regained his senses, Ling Yan had vanished into the thickening white fog. The mist had grown so dense that nothing could be seen within two meters, as if the sun itself were blotted out.

“Trouble…” Bai Mu thought anxiously. He quickly raised his Azure Dragon Sword before his chest and, with cautious steps, pressed onward in the direction where Ling Yan had disappeared.

The further he walked, the more an inexplicable chill crept into his heart—a cold, unsettling sensation, as if something lurking within the dense fog watched him hungrily, ready to feast at any moment.

Another ten meters onward, Ling Yan’s figure remained absent, just as he’d feared. Only the ancient trees and thick vines surrounded him, nothing more.

His footsteps crunched the dry leaves beneath, their crisp rustle echoing like the grim summons of a soul reaper from the underworld, sending cold sweat trickling down his back.

“Ling Yan?” Bai Mu gathered his courage and called softly, holding his breath as he waited for her reply.

But after several seconds, the only sound was his own pounding heart. Ling Yan, who had been at his side moments before, now seemed to have vanished from the world.

Of course, Bai Mu wasn’t truly worried for her safety. After their days together, he knew well the depth of Ling Yan’s cultivation. Defeating Xuan Yuan was child’s play for her; with such profound abilities, how could a mere forest entrap her?

“Ling Yan, are you still there?” Bai Mu called out again, forcing his voice louder than before, perhaps to bolster his own courage.

“I’m right here!” came Ling Yan’s crisp reply from behind him.

At her words, Bai Mu’s heart leapt with joy, and he quickly turned to look.

In the thick white mist, beside a vine as stout as a child’s arm, Ling Yan stood quietly in her green gauze robe, a serene smile on her lips. She seemed like a mountain sprite, graceful and radiant.

“Ling Yan, where did you run off to just now? You nearly scared me to death!” Bai Mu rushed forward, grumbling anxiously.

“Was it only a few moments apart, and you already missed me?” Ling Yan teased, smiling slyly and flashing eight tiny white teeth—adorable, indeed.

Bai Mu scratched his head, feeling awkward, unsure how to answer.

To say he hadn’t missed her would be a lie.

But he couldn’t simply blurt out that he missed her; after all, they were still young, and such words felt embarrassingly sentimental.

After a brief silence, Ling Yan, seeing he hadn’t answered, laughed again and asked, “Do you like me?”

“I cert—” Bai Mu almost blurted out, “I certainly like you,” but as the words hovered on his lips, something felt amiss.

With Ling Yan’s usual aloofness, she rarely spoke to him, let alone ask such a shy question without reason. It was too strange.

Since leaving Dongwang Mountain, Bai Mu had weathered many storms and was no longer the naïve youth he once was.

Moreover, his harsh upbringing on Dongwang Mountain had instilled in Bai Mu a keen vigilance. When faced with something unusual, his sense of caution naturally flared.

At this thought, Bai Mu wisely held his tongue and began to scrutinize the Ling Yan before him.

After a careful inspection, he discerned several subtle clues.

Though this woman’s appearance was identical to Ling Yan’s, their auras were utterly different. As the daughter of the Celestial Emperor, Ling Yan possessed an innate nobility that could not be feigned or cultivated.

Yet this woman lacked that regal bearing; up close, she exuded a seductive vulgarity, completely at odds with Ling Yan’s usual cool demeanor.

Most laughable of all was her cultivation. Bai Mu was no master, but as a true divine heir, he stood out among ordinary folk.

The woman before him, however, possessed pitifully weak spiritual power—less than even the family’s pet rabbit.

If the difference in aura could be blamed on the fog, which might distort both sight and perception, then the disparity in cultivation was unmistakable.

When with Ling Yan, Bai Mu could never gauge her strength, knowing only she was far superior. But with those weaker than himself, he could easily sense their level—and this woman, identical in appearance, was clearly a fraud!

Still, Bai Mu, ever playful by nature, didn’t rush to expose her. Instead, he gave her an amused smile and feigned curiosity, asking, “Ling Yan, why are you suddenly asking such awkward questions today?”