Chapter 93

Villages of mortals rarely possess the spiritual energy needed for cultivation, making it impossible to practice.

After completing the peacock painting, Bai Zihao rediscovered the joy of creation. Each day, he would listen to the sounds of reading from next door while diligently working on his art. Kong Muhua frequently dropped by, watching him paint, pilfering his snacks, and coaxing him into all sorts of antics. Though these visits often turned chaotic, life became far more interesting.

A young girl would eventually grow up, and it was improper for her to constantly frequent a man’s home.

To avoid suspicion, Bai Zihao had no choice but to open the courtyard gate whenever Kong Muhua arrived, moving his painting desk to the shade of a tree in the yard.

Passing villagers would often praise his artwork, and maidens and married women frequently brought him food, requesting embroidery patterns—requests he never refused.

Kong Muhua loved to sit on the swing, basking in the sun while drawing him into whimsical conversations: how Granny Wang’s rooster stopped crowing due to heartbreak, two sparrows by the river making bets, or whether the figure in the field was a scarecrow or a farmer…

Bai Zihao didn’t quite grasp the appeal of these topics, but seeing Kong Muhua laugh so hard she nearly tumbled off the swing, he couldn’t help but join in.

He found Kong Muhua to be an eccentric yet endearing girl, utterly obsessed with her appearance. She carried a mirror everywhere, constantly checking her reflection. Beyond dressing up and grooming, she seemed to care about nothing else. While her needlework for making her own dresses was surprisingly good, her other skills left much to be desired. She once tried to help Bai Zihao with chores, only to set the kitchen on fire, smash the laundry mallet, collapse the grape trellis, and spend half an hour gazing at her reflection in the well while fetching water. Bai Zihao, fearing she might jump in, rushed to pull her back, reasoning with her at length.

Kong Muhua blushed, “I just thought my reflection in the well water was so pretty—I wanted to admire it a little longer.”

Bai Zihao: “…”

Kong Muhua: “Zihao-gege, you’re also very pretty. You should look in the mirror more often.”

Bai Zihao: “…”

He should have known better than to worry about this mischievous child.

Bai Zihao attempted to introduce Kong Muhua to culture, hoping to cultivate her refinement and make her a beauty both inside and out. However, she snapped three strings while playing the zither, chewed through two brushes while painting, her calligraphy was mere scribbles, and she’d fall asleep after reading three lines. Forget poetry and prose; she couldn’t even grasp the simplest riddles, often making hilariously inappropriate remarks.

Eating, however, was her forte. She could devour an entire pot of food per meal, shell melon seeds at lightning speed (two pounds in one sitting), and had a particular fondness for locusts. She’d often bring back large quantities for Bai Zihao to fry or roast. Though the taste wasn't bad when Bai Zihao was coaxed into trying a bite, he couldn't overcome the mental barrier and gave up.

Bai Zihao grew somewhat concerned about this mischievous child’s future…

“It’s fine. I’m beautiful—no one would ever dislike me. And if they do, they’re blind. Why bother with blind people?” Kong Muhua possessed an unwavering self-assurance, even turning to encourage Bai Zihao with her peculiar golden sayings:

“If I attract bees and butterflies, doesn’t that prove I’m fragrant? If no one pays me attention, I’d be too ashamed to call myself a beauty.”

“What flaws? I just have some endearing eccentricities.”

“Hah? If someone amazing falls for me, it’s because my charm bewitched them. Why would I feel inadequate?”

“I’m this outstanding, yet I’m drawn to you—finding you both handsome and captivating. You should have more confidence in your own charm.”

“That idiot dares say a beauty like you isn’t good enough? Ditch him for someone who knows quality!”

“Zihao-gege, my taste is impeccable.”

“…”

After years of being drawn into Kong Muhua’s antics, Bai Zihao not only rediscovered childhood skills like climbing trees for fruit and fishing in rivers but also, without formal training, learned to roast insects, catch butterflies, ward off aggressive dogs, and deal with ruffians. He gradually became familiar with more villagers, occasionally joining them for local operas or helping with harvests.

Later, when the village’s elderly schoolmaster retired, Bai Zihao, at the villagers’ request, became the new teacher. The children adored his gentle patience and admired his profound knowledge, constantly surrounding him, bringing him eggs, homegrown vegetables, and wild mountain flowers. Many girls blushed in his presence, but Kong Muhua, a master of romantic competition, skillfully thwarted every advance, whether bold, subtle, pitiful, sweet, or scheming.

Kong Muhua flounced her floral skirt, brimming with confidence: “Only good things get fought over. If a man lacks the courage to face rivals and instead finds fault or resents his beloved’s popularity, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself. Such trash doesn't deserve to live. Right, Zihao-gege?”

Bai Zihao’s brush paused. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to Kong Muhua’s wild pronouncements, no longer taking them to heart. Yet, hearing them so often, he began to realize that some of her blunt words held a certain truth, and he gradually accepted parts of her philosophy. Smiling, he asked, “What if you can’t win the fight?”

Kong Muhua answered decisively, “Then retreat with your tail tucked. Why stick around to embarrass yourself?”

This was how mating rituals worked among their bird kin: if you lost, it meant you weren’t beautiful or skilled enough. What did that have to do with the one being fought over? Even the exalted Divine Lord followed this rule. Males must compete beautifully for favor—if looks failed, strength could suffice. Dispatching rivals, stripping their plumage, lowering the competition—any method was fair, but never bullying the one you loved or badmouthing them. That was utterly beneath contempt for a bird.

Why love someone unworthy? If you loved them, shouldn’t you cherish them?

Kong Muhua struggled to comprehend some human behaviors.

Though peacocks weren’t known for monogamy, he prided himself on his beauty and status as an Ancient Great Demon, disdaining the indiscriminate mating of ordinary peacocks. He wanted only the best—yet years of pickiness had left him unsatisfied.

That day, when everyone expected the Divine Lord to kill Bai Zihao, Kong Muhua saw him nearly assaulted, his clothes in disarray, and felt a pang of pity. He tossed him an old robe so he could die with dignity.

Even facing imminent death, Bai Zihao expressed his gratitude with perfect manners.

Kong Muhua suddenly became fascinated.

When the Divine Lord unexpectedly spared Bai Zihao and assigned him strange tasks, Kong Muhua volunteered to join. At first, it was merely for amusement, but the closer he got, the more his heart stirred. He saw Bai Zihao’s beauty, but more than that, his gentle demeanor—like a clear forest stream, easy to overlook at first, but growing more precious with time until he couldn’t look away. It became a habit, a longing to stay by his side forever, until the end of time.

No wonder that scoundrel, who’d plucked countless blossoms, had fallen for this one…

Good things must be seized quickly. Once they returned to Indestructible Peak, competition would intensify. Though confident in his beauty and power, Kong Muhua knew there were rivals nearly his equal—what if Bai Zihao preferred the domineering type like the Roc Clan or the aloof elegance of the Vermilion Bird?

Determined, Kong Muhua resolved to seize the opportunity, steal Bai Zihao’s heart, and thoroughly cuckold that scoundrel.

Patiently, he adjusted his appearance to match human aging, then at eighteen, reverted to his true form—radiant beauty, a slender waist, a voice like birdsong, breath like orchids, and mastery of dance. In any royal harem, he’d be the bewitching consort who toppled kingdoms. Fortunately, peacock illusions masked his true allure, making him merely a pretty village girl in others’ eyes, thus avoiding a major sensation.

Bai Zihao, himself a beauty surrounded by stunning faces, had dulled aesthetics and noticed nothing amiss.

Kong Muhua deployed endless flirtations, inventing new ways to praise his beloved daily.

Bai Zihao flushed under the attention, torn between shyness and secret delight. As a child, he’d assumed he’d marry a woman—but before he could develop such feelings, he was tricked into the cultivation world and sold. Later, with Jin Feiren, he confirmed his body only responded to submission, leaving him ashamed and afraid to desire women.

He’d never felt attraction toward women—until now.

If he was moved by Kong Muhua’s affection, even physically… did that mean he could still be a normal man? Just one who liked tall girls with flat chests, long legs, cheerful personalities, and speech patterns that sometimes sounded boyish?

A cold shower dispelled his unrealistic fantasies.

He had a male partner. He couldn’t harm others.

Swallowing his shame, Bai Zihao found an opportunity to confess his past to Kong Muhua: “My partner is a man. I’m accustomed to… submitting. So I can’t get close to you. We’re not suited—”

Before he finished, Kong Muhua kissed his cheek and chirped, “If your partner’s been gone this long, he’s probably fooling around—or dead. Don’t mourn him. Try me instead. We won’t know if we’re suited unless we try.” As a proud peacock, he had to win in every way.

(The Divine Lord had long since fed that scoundrel’s… equipment to the dogs. Kong Muhua had peeked—pfft, human sizes were unimpressive…)

Though inexperienced, his innate male instincts assured him he’d master the art swiftly, pleasuring Bai Zihao thoroughly in bed before defeating all rivals to claim him.

The proud peacock radiated his usual unshakable confidence.

Touched yet despairing, Bai Zihao found himself falling deeper for Kong Muhua despite knowing his past. To suppress these feelings, he immersed himself in calligraphy, music, and studies—but Kong Muhua, who knew no rejection, devised endless excuses to drag him out.

Sometimes for picnics, sometimes lantern festivals, sometimes boating, sometimes peacock-watching at Mirror Lake…

Every day was filled with laughter and joy.

Bai Zihao knew this was wrong—but he was addicted, drowning in happiness, forgetting all sorrows. He even greedily wished the ten-year agreement could stretch longer, time slowing just a little…

Yet the more he wished for time to slow, the faster it seemed to fly.

At last, the Divine Lord’s envoy arrived.

That day, the Kong family's gate was tightly shut, and Kong Muhua was not home. Bai Zihao could only leave his farewell letter along with a golden peacock feather reluctantly on the painting desk. In the letter, he laid bare his background, his shameful past, his foolish feelings, his humiliating marriage, the future he faced, and the secrets he could never bring himself to say. He then asked Kong Muhua to forget him and seek better happiness elsewhere... As for that hidden, forbidden affection, he hesitated for a long time but ultimately couldn't bring himself to write it.

Bai Zihao followed the Divine Lord's messenger, boarded the magic boat, and returned to Indestructible Peak.

With each step, his heart grew heavier.

He realized he hadn’t thought of Jin Feiren for so long that he could hardly picture his face—only the pain of being tormented and carelessly degraded in bed. Having tasted true sweetness and joy, he now understood how bitter and disgusting the candies Jin Feiren gave him after wielding the whip truly were.

The diamond-shaped mark on his collarbone burned faintly, throbbing with unspeakable pain.

He was already married to Jin Feiren and had no choice. Jin Feiren was a vain man who would never allow him to leave. The slightest hint of betrayal, and he would end up like the red bird he once admired—played with and broken beyond repair. He wasn’t strong enough to endure such suffering.

But a lifetime was so long... He didn’t know how he could endure it...

…

Bai Zihao struggled forward into the main hall of Indestructible Peak and threw himself to the ground once more before the Divine Lord, the master of his fate.

The Divine Lord had a tray brought in, upon which lay a beautiful, exquisite dagger.

The dagger was sharp—suitable for killing, or for ending one’s own life.

Bai Zihao laughed bitterly through his tears. The Divine Lord had been merciful, allowing him to taste sweetness before death, to meet that lovely person, and to understand what true affection felt like. That was enough. Now, he no longer wished to sink back into endless suffering—death was the only way out.

Gratefully, he kowtowed three times to the Divine Lord, then tremblingly picked up the dagger. He turned the blade toward his own heart—only for red vines to suddenly coil around it, halting his next move. The vines slowly pulled the blade away and turned it in another direction.

At last, the Divine Lord spoke: "I give you three choices."

Bai Zihao looked up in shock.

"You may choose loyalty and spend your life with him in the dungeon."

"You may choose death, and I will ensure he shares your fate."

"Or you may abandon your principles, cast off the shackles in your heart, and live only for yourself..."

The Divine Lord’s voice was like a demon’s whisper, seeping straight into the deepest recesses of his heart, dispersing the fog to reveal a black gate he had never dared imagine.

Bai Zihao stared at the dagger in his hand—as if holding the key to that door.