Chapter Forty-Five: The Ancient Ocarina by the Lakeside Tells of Heartbreak

A delicate fragrance wafted from the woman, soothing and refreshing, and her mysterious visage finally emerged before his eyes.

Her face was slender and sharp, paired with lips as small and red as cherries. Her nose soared high, reaching from the bridge up to her forehead, and her skin was flawless, glowing with a rosy sheen. Between her brows, a vivid crimson mark rested, bright as blood—a touch that drew attention to her already exquisite features like a painter’s final stroke.

Her white gauze robe trailed serpentine to the ground, its cuffs adorned with a few red plum blossoms. With her graceful, shapely figure, she embodied the phrase: “In the north, a beauty stands alone, untouched by the world.”

“Who are you?” she asked, her gaze curious as she studied Bai Mu. Her voice was as sweet and melodious as a golden oriole singing in the valley.

“I… I am Bai Mu. I came to pay my respects to the God of War, Fanxian, and lost my way in the second trial of the Returning Void Sanctuary. May I ask who you are?”

“You need not know who I am,” she replied coldly, without a hint of expression on her frosty face. “But if you wish to see Fanxian, I advise you to give up that hope!” Her refusal was swift and absolute, her demeanor icy and aloof, so much so that even in rejection her face betrayed no sign of emotion—a true beauty, yet so distant it chilled the heart.

“Why?” Bai Mu pressed, feeling a sting of annoyance rise within him.

This woman’s beauty rivaled Ling Yan’s, yet her temperament was even colder, making her almost unbearable.

“There is no need for so many whys. If you have any sense, turn back at once. If you ignore my warning, you will lose your life here—do not say I did not warn you!”

Bai Mu shrugged helplessly, inwardly resolving to leave this place quickly. To linger and tangle with this woman would only waste time in a place fraught with danger. For all he knew, she could be a beast in disguise.

With that thought, Bai Mu looked her over once more. She stood cold and distant, holding an ancient ocarina, her brows and eyes carrying an air that kept others at a thousand miles’ remove. Knowing it was pointless to argue further, he turned briskly and started walking away.

He had taken only a few steps when the woman called out sharply, “Wait.”

Startled, Bai Mu wondered if she might intend to harm him.

His usual instinct was to flee when outmatched, but to bolt so abruptly before such a peerless beauty seemed beneath him. So, steeling himself, he turned back and asked, surprised, “Is there something you wish of me, Lady?”

The woman paused for a moment, then asked without hesitation, “That poem you recited earlier—what is its name?”

---

Oh…

Bai Mu breathed a sigh of relief, answering thoughtfully, “The poem I recited comes from the Book of Songs. Its name is lost to history.”

“All I know is that the Book of Songs contains verses and melodies improvised by the people of the wild lands during their daily labors.”

“Would you recite it again for me?” The woman looked at him with hope, her beautiful eyes reflecting sorrow and longing, and perhaps a hint of resentment.

Touched by her emotion, Bai Mu boldly asked, “Just now, the melody you played on your ocarina was mournful and lingering, with a sense of distant yearning. Are you missing your family, Lady?”

Alas…

The woman sighed, shaking her head with a bitter smile. “I never imagined even a stranger such as yourself could see the sorrow hidden in my heart, while my own father remains blind to it. He has cultivated arduously for tens of thousands of years, yet cannot grasp the meaning of ‘emotion.’ Truly tragic, truly lamentable.”

Seeing the sadness on her face, Bai Mu felt a pang of bitterness himself.

Though her life might not be entirely content, at least she had her father’s protection—and her father was a being of divine power. As for himself? Since birth, now sixteen years old, he had no idea what his parents looked like. Aside from the bond with his master, he had never known the warmth of family.

Alas…

Moved by the moment, Bai Mu sighed aloud before her.

“Why do you sigh?” The woman’s sorrow vanished, replaced by a feigned seriousness as she questioned him.

“For you, and for my own fate,” he replied. “Though we are but fleeting acquaintances, when you played your melody, it felt as if I had met a kindred spirit.”

Smooth-tongued!

The woman glared at Bai Mu in displeasure, then scrutinized him even more closely.

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As her gaze fell upon the ancient Azure Dragon Sword in his hand, her expression changed instantly, and she cried out, “How is the Azure Dragon Sword in your possession?”

“Eh…” Bai Mu was equally surprised, shaking the sword in his hand. “How do you know this is the Azure Dragon Sword?”

Instinctively, Bai Mu took two steps back, wary lest the woman try to snatch the weapon.

He knew the sword’s history well from his master and Ling Yan. The child who divined the Dao had stressed: “Born of transformation, defeated by the Azure Dragon.” Its importance was self-evident.

What puzzled Bai Mu most was the woman’s extraordinary discernment. Not even the ancient demon Gray Crane Ancestor, nor the famed Sword Immortal of the wild lands, had recognized the Azure Dragon Sword. Yet this woman, with a mere glance, knew its name—how could one not be suspicious?

“Where did you obtain this sword?” The woman studied Bai Mu intently, then in an instant glided three feet forward, her fragrance swirling as she appeared before him. Now, the distance between them was no more than a single fist.

He could clearly smell the faint scent of orchid from her.

From the first moment he saw her, Bai Mu knew well that the white-robed woman’s cultivation far surpassed his own, which was why he had wanted to leave quickly.

Now, as she approached him so suddenly, Bai Mu tensed, tapping his foot and retreating three feet to reestablish distance.

Trying to flee?

The woman sneered, showing a trace of disdain. Without any visible movement, her entire figure seemed to flicker like a phantom, closing the gap between them in the blink of an eye—once more, only a fist apart.