The sky was streaked with crimson, as if blood had been spilled, staining half the sky. As far as the eye could see, the sea of dark-green forests was ablaze, with golden-red magma erupting in all directions, spurting like fountains a hundred feet into the air. The spewing lava flowed like rivers, carving deep scars into the mountainside. Below the cliffs, it looked as if countless massive chimneys had been erected, with billowing, steaming gray-black smoke rising straight upward, licking at the blood-red sky. The air was thick with the acrid, pungent smell of burning; Baochen Mountain, once shrouded in ethereal mist, now resembled a hellish realm of demons.
Xie Xunwei stood inside the house, silently shedding tears.
This was his master’s Ghost Realm, enveloping the entire Baochen Mountain. Within the Ghost Realm, the power of malevolent spirits was omnipresent. His master had altered the mountain’s geological structure, causing the earth to crack open as searing magma burst through the surface. Yet the disciples of the Immortal Sect were also advancing. Countless cultivators launched a charge from the foot of the mountain, their sword lights darting like snakes as they raced through the flames and magma at breakneck speed. The heads of various sects had set up magical arrays at the four corners of the mountain’s base, summoning torrential rain to wash away the barriers in an attempt to destroy his master’s Ghost Realm.
“Master…” Xie Xunwei heard his own hoarse voice.
“It’s time to say goodbye, Xunwei.”
Through his tear-blurred vision, the tall man reached out and placed his hand on the top of his head. The palm was warm, just as it always had been, and Xie Xunwei’s tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t help but think, This can’t be true—how could such a warm-hearted master possibly be a ghost? He clearly had a name and an identity. His name was Baili Jue Ming; he was the Alchemy Elder of Baochen Mountain and the junior disciple of Grand Master Wudu. He knew how to joke around, cook, perform fire-breathing acts in the marketplace down the mountain, and even concocted garlic-infused “Power Pills” to sell in taverns—only to be chased through the streets by constables while lugging his disciple along.
How could a man like that possibly be a hideous ghost?
Yet that is the truth. Master neither eats nor drinks, and he certainly doesn’t age. Xie Xunwei used to think his master had attained the pinnacle of Daoist mastery, but it turns out all of this is because he is a ghost. Master has long since died—the dead do not need food or drink, and the dead do not age.
“I can’t explain the details to you, but they’re right—I am indeed a ghost, a malevolent spirit living by possessing a corpse.” Baili Jue Ming lowered his head and drew his sword; a dazzling flash of steel cut through the dimly lit hut. “My physical form has remained incorruptible for many years, appearing no different from that of a living person, all because of the six-petaled lotus heart in my chest. Half of those traitors down the mountain are probably here because of this.”
“A six-petaled lotus heart?” Xie Xunwei asked.
“That’s right—the heart of a lotus. It keeps a dead man like me from decaying or withering. Those traitors think that if they eat it, they’ll regain their youth.” Baili Jue Ming gave a crooked smile, then suddenly grew solemn. “The other half… they’re probably here for you.”
Xie Xunwei lowered his eyes, tears falling onto his cheeks.
“You’re the orphaned daughter of the Xie clan of Wuzhong, with a birth chart of pure yin and an innate alchemical vessel. Over the years, so many scoundrels have come pretending to want to marry you, but I’ve sent them all packing. If you fall into the hands of this pack of swine, you’ll likely meet a grim end. ” Baili Jue Ming tossed aside his scabbard, bit his index finger until it bled, and touched Xie Xunwei’s forehead with it; a glint of blood shone from his fingertip. “Therefore, I, your master, will cast a curse within you. From now on, aside from me, your master, anyone who lays a hand on you shall die, and anyone who dishonors you shall perish. However, I’m afraid your chance at marriage ends here.”
“I don’t want a romantic relationship,” Xie Xunwei cried, shaking his head. “I want you to live, Master.”
“Silly child,” Baili Jue Ming patted him on the head. “I died a long time ago—so long ago that even I have lost track of my age. Not even the oldest turtle in the Immortal Sect is as old as I am; those sect leaders and elders are all my grandsons compared to me. You’re only fourteen this year—still young. There are so many things you need to do. Just remember this: all men in this world are no better than pigs and dogs. If anyone swears eternal vows to you—promising love for life after life—don’t doubt it for a second. Even a ghost’s lies are truer than that.”
Xie Xunwei was momentarily at a loss for words; his Master had apparently forgotten that he himself was a man.
Baili Jue Ming said earnestly, “The first mansion north of Lotus Bridge in Jinling—do you remember it? A grand compound with three inner and three outer courtyards, in a prime location, right next to the market. That was the dowry your master saved up for you. The deed is buried under the roots of the willow tree outside the mansion. A girl feels secure only when she has silver in her hands.”
What kind of time is this to be spouting such nonsense? Xie Xunwei choked back a sob, but this was his Master—proud and arrogant, full of hot air, and forever unreliable. This man still didn’t know that his disciple wasn’t a girl at all.
The first group of Immortal Sect disciples had broken through the wall of flame and were making their way up the mountain; Xie Xunwei could hear their battle cries. They were searching for Baili Jue Ming. Sword light sliced through the night, and amid the flames, a figure as snow-white as a silver swallow glinted. Baili Jue Ming gave him a deep look, then pushed open the dilapidated wooden gate with his sword in hand. Dazzling firelight, like flowing golden sand, surged into the narrow main hall. Half of Baili Jue Ming’s face was bathed in that light, as rich and deep as blood, and his hair, fluttering in the wind, seemed to be ablaze.
“It’s time for you to go, disciple.”
He swung his sword forward, single-handedly taking on all the disciples of the Immortal Sect who had scaled the mountaintop. An invisible barrier unfurled around him; all the talismans flying toward him like fireflies instantly dimmed and turned to ash. He spun, stepped, and thrust; the blade, heated by the intense heat of his palm, glowed red as a rainbow. Cultivators lunged at him one after another. He grabbed one by the hair as if he were holding a rabbit, and the scorching blade slit the man’s throat, sending crimson blood spattering out in a crescent arc. It was only at that moment that Xie Xunwei truly realized that the man who had breathed fire at the street corner—the man who’d been chased by constables for selling fake medicine—was a true demon. He killed people as effortlessly as he would slaughter livestock.
“Go through the back mountain. Don’t be afraid—my Ghost Realm won’t harm you. Don’t look back, and above all, don’t look at me.” Baili Jue Ming’s eyes gradually turned blood-red as he revealed his true form as a malevolent ghost. Swinging his blade as he spoke, he continued, “Remember: it was I who coerced you, I who deceived you, and I who forced you to become my disciple. From now on, you must loathe me, hate me, and spurn me—just like everyone else. You are human; I am a ghost. Our paths in life and death are not the same!”
Xie Xunwei slowly knelt down and bowed his head, trembling.
“Go!” Baili Jue Ming roared hoarsely, his blade slicing through the night.
Xie Xunwei turned and ran toward the back of the mountain, his skirt torn to shreds by the thicket. Behind him, a golden-red blaze erupted, engulfing all the sword lights in its flames. He didn’t know what kind of spell his master had cast; he only felt a surging wave of heat behind him, as if it were about to scorch his skin.
He ran down the mountain, weeping as he went. The pitch-black night was illuminated by omnipresent lava, as if the ground were covered in splattered red blood. Yet all the lava receded from his feet, and all the billowing heat avoided his body; he knew his master was shielding his path. It felt as though a pair of eyes were constantly watching him from behind. He recalled the scriptures stating that if the Realm of Ghosts were powerful enough, malevolent spirits would be everywhere—and he knew it was his Master watching his back.
“Master, Master.” Tears streamed down his face like a spring.
A thunderous roar rang out overhead, as if a bolt of lightning had struck the mountaintop. Xie Xunwei jerked his head around. The clouds above the peak had turned an iron-gray, mottled with blood-red hues. An explosion had just occurred there, and all the surrounding vegetation had been charred black by the flames. The Ghost Realm’s barrier shattered with a thunderous crash, and a torrential downpour, sharp as arrows, poured through the fissure. The gaze that had been watching him from the shadows seemed to vanish, like a kite whose string had snapped. Xie Xunwei understood what this meant: only when the evil ghost was vanquished would the Ghost Realm be broken.
“Master!” Xie Xunwei shouted.
In that moment, his mind went blank, and a searing pain gripped his chest, as if his heart had been ripped out, bloodied and raw. He cast all caution aside, wailing as he scrambled up the mountain with hands and feet. The lava was dying down; the scorching earth, washed by the rain, had become sticky, damp, and cold, with wisps of white steam rising everywhere—the result of rainwater meeting the charred soil and evaporating into a thick mist.
He finally reached the mountaintop. The charred, severed limbs of the cultivators lay scattered haphazardly, and broken swords and blades, like shattered bones, were jutted at odd angles into the ground. The small wooden cabin where he and his Master had lived lay in ruins, and the medicinal garden they had tended together had been reduced to scorched earth. Right in the center stood a charred figure, kneeling on both knees, his right hand resting on a sword. Xie Xun staggered over, knelt down, and tremblingly stroked the man’s shattered cheek.
Baili Jue Ming’s spell had burned the cultivators to death—and destroyed himself in the process. His eyes had melted away from the intense heat, leaving two pitch-black sockets. Half his body had turned to charcoal; raindrops falling on his scorching form sizzled, sending plumes of white smoke into the air.
Baili Jue Ming moved his lips and let out a long sigh. “You foolish child… why won’t you listen?”
“I won’t leave,” Xie Xunwei embraced this unrecognizable monster, sobbing uncontrollably. “I want to die with my Master.”
“Silly child, you haven’t even grown a full set of hair yet, and you don’t even understand what it means to be alive—why are you talking about death?” Baili Jue Ming smiled, his charred face twisted and grotesque. “Stop crying. You’re already fourteen—why are you still such a crybaby? Never mind. You’re a girl, so I’ll give you a few more years. Once you turn eighteen, you’re not allowed to cry anymore.”
“I’m going to cry anyway!” Xie Xunwei shouted.
“Remember to dig up the land deed, and remember to practice diligently. If you don’t practice properly, I’ll come into your dreams and spank you.” Baili Jue Ming chuckled, reaching out to push him away. “They’re almost here. Hurry up and go.”
Xie Xunwei shook his head, refusing to let go no matter what.
“Sigh… you little one… why are you so stubborn?”
Xie Xunwei heard him sigh deeply in his ear. Immediately afterward, his hand twitched, and Xie Xunwei suddenly felt a damp patch on his leg. Staring down in shock, he saw a dagger lodged in Baili Jue Ming’s chest. Thick, metallic-smelling blood overflowed from the blade’s groove, dripping onto his leg.
“Why…”
Before he could finish his question, a furious roar suddenly burst from Baili Jue Ming’s throat. “You wretched beast! You actually killed your own master with your own hands!”
The man shoved him away with a single palm strike. He was flung backward and landed in someone’s arms. A swarm of figures surged out from the sides like a flock of white doves; the second wave of Immortal Sect cultivators had finally reached the mountaintop. A rain curtain as heavy as iron stretched between him and Baili Jue Ming. He saw someone kick Baili Jue Ming; the tattered, charred, gaunt figure fell straight to the ground, splashing the ground with inky black water. Xie Xunwei, tears streaming down his face, weakly reached out, his hand grasping at the ruined shadow in vain.
“Xie Xunwei has sacrificed her own kin for the greater good! The evil spirit must be put to death!”
“Quick, seal his soul and cut out his lotus heart!”
“Miss Xunwei, Miss Xunwei, are you all right?”
Countless voices shouted in his ears, a chaotic clamor filling his ears, yet Xie Xunwei could hear nothing. All he saw was that man lying on the ground in the icy rain, as a cultivator held a sharp sword to his blood-soaked chest. The man lay motionless, like a statue cast from raw iron, his gaze stubbornly fixed in his direction. Baili Jue Ming’s cracked lips trembled, as if uttering a few words.
In the longest silence of his life, he suddenly understood what his Master had said:
“My disciple, we shall never meet again.”
It was the third month in Gusu, and the rain fell more frequently than usual.
Xie Xunwei awoke from his nightmare, drew back the bed curtain, put on his clothes, and sat before the mirrored cabinet. His gaze passed through the moon-shaped window; across the way, fine white raindrops fell upon the blue-glazed tiles of the eaves, pattering softly. He recalled that heavy downpour eight years ago, when that man had collapsed into the muddy water, the Ghost Realm fading bit by bit, his charred shadow drifting farther and farther away from him. He couldn’t help but recall his childhood, when his master would always take him to the market at the foot of the mountain to earn money. His master said he was saving up for Xie Xunwei’s dowry, so he’d have him stand under someone else’s eaves—out of the sun—draw a circle with pebbles at his feet, and instruct him not to move a single step. Then he’d go to the crossroads to perform: tilting his head back, he’d blow out a huge, brilliant red fire dragon.
Back then, he’d obediently crouch to one side, wondering why his master was so poor and so unreliable. A Taoist priest’s proper livelihood was clearly supposed to be exorcising ghosts, yet his master used his magic to perform fire-breathing stunts. Was he the only one in the world with such terrible luck—to have a master who was poor, clumsy, and had a terrible temper?
Later, he came to realize that his master was an evil ghost—yet also the best master in the world. There was no one else in this world who would go to the street corner to perform a fire-breathing dragon act just to save up for his dowry.
He stared at the rain, lost in thought.
“Miss,” came a soft call from behind him. The head maid serving his aunt stood outside the beaded curtain and spoke in a hushed voice, “The Lady says the ghost infestation in Kunshan has been mostly eradicated, with only a few low-level spirits remaining. She wants the young masters and ladies to go and practice their skills—it’ll serve as a good trial by fire. You’re always cooped up in the mansion; would you like to go out for a bit to clear your head?”
It was quiet inside. Just as the maid was peering in, the beaded curtain suddenly rustled, and a tall, slender young lady stepped out from behind it, coming to stand before her. The maid stared at her, unable to help but be transfixed. No matter how many times she saw her, she could never help but marvel at Xie Xunwei’s beauty.
The maid knew this young lady well; among all the young ladies in the mansion, she was the most beautiful, with skin as fair and flawless as a finely carved jade disc. She was always gentle and soft-spoken, and when she smiled, her even, snow-white teeth shone like a quiet, graceful beauty. She was not as spoiled and impatient as the eldest daughter of the household, nor as aloof as other young ladies from distinguished families; she always spoke in a soft, gentle voice, like the gentle rain of Suzhou in March. If one were to point out a flaw, it would likely be that she was a bit too tall—even the eldest young master barely stood level with her.
“Poor girl,” the maid couldn’t help but think. “With such a beautiful face, yet the entire Xie family met a violent end, and she herself was abducted by an evil spirit to become his disciple.” She remembered the siege eight years ago, when all the major immortal clans mobilized their full forces, and Mt. Baochen was besieged for three days and three nights. It was Miss Xunwei who, putting the greater good before her own kin, took advantage of the evil spirit’s moment of inattention and plunged a dagger into his chest and abdomen.
Good deeds go unrewarded—the young lady was cursed, and from then on, she could never marry. Perhaps because of the curse, her health was poor, and she would cough up blood at the slightest provocation. She also lacked talent in the way of the sword; after wasting these eight years, she could barely even lift a sword. With no family to rely on and no spiritual cultivation to back her up, she possessed nothing but a pretty face—which only served to make her the common enemy of the young ladies from prominent families. These past years had been extremely difficult for her; like a weed by the roadside, she was bullied at every turn. Fortunately, her aunt—the Lady of the Yu family—showed great compassion, taking in this lonely and helpless child. She even promised that once the curse was lifted, she would arrange for the young lady to marry the eldest son.
The maid took pity on her, her gaze softening slightly, and said, “Just think of it as an outing, young lady. The eldest young master is going too.”
“Very well,” Xie Xunwei replied with a smile—still that warm, flawless smile, as exquisite as ever—“Then I’ll be relying on all of you, brothers and sisters, to look after me.”
___
T/N: Yes, MC is a cross dresser.
☕ Enjoying my translation?
Buy me a $2 coffee on Ko-fi and help keep the chapters coming. ❤️
Support the translator: here.
Update: 8 Sept 2026
Leave a Reply