Chapter 6: Who Let the News Slip?

Among the group of disciples dressed in blue, one of them muttered under his breath as he ran, “Why isn’t that ugly woman wearing her mask today? She looks terrifying—who’s she trying to scare to death?”

Hearing this, Chu Yuyao instantly turned her head, only to see that the disciple had already run off into the distance. She reached up to touch the left side of her face; the sensation beneath her fingers was enough to raise goosebumps all over, making her snatch her hand back instantly with a low sigh. The silver mask she had worn before had been shattered by Ji Ciyuan, and she’d forgotten to find a replacement—no wonder she’d frightened someone. She glanced once more in the direction the disciple had fled, frowning, but she had no intention of giving chase. This face of hers was already hideous—was she not to allow others to speak of it?

Retracting her gaze, she paid no further attention to that side. The original owner’s storage ring contained no shortage of masks, all in various styles. She retrieved a half-mask from within and fastened it to her face. It was a deep gold, etched with delicate patterns and inlaid with tiny gems—understated yet lavish. At last, the withered, ghostly half of her face was concealed, making her appear far less frightening. To someone who had never seen her before, she might even seem a great beauty at first glance.

She tugged at the corner of her mouth, finding amusement in her own misery. Just as she was about to take a step forward, she found herself uncertain where to go. Her stride faltered. She recalled that the original owner’s courtyard had been utterly destroyed, the furniture all gone, making it utterly uninhabitable. She might as well head to the sect’s market to buy some things. The original owner had plenty of spirit stones; though Chu Xiong detested her, he had not deprived her of what was due—everything that should be given, had been.

The sect’s marketplace was located in the inner sect, at the foot of Pure Heart Peak, spread across a wide, open area. It was run by the sect itself, but disciples often set up stalls there as well, selling all manner of goods. Whatever people lacked, they would come here to buy. It was one of the liveliest places in the Heavenly Dao Sect.

She headed straight for the market, arriving soon after. Immediately, the bustle and clamor washed over her—the dazzling glimmer of spiritual light, crowds flowing back and forth, and the constant calls of hawkers.

“Don’t miss out—top-quality spirit swords, only available here!”

“Fairy, take a look at this new batch of spiritual silk—absolutely affordable!”

“Centuries-old lightning-struck wood, clearance prices—miss it and regret it for ten years!”

Chu Yuyao walked through the market, taking everything in with a multitude of emotions. The marketplace of the cultivation world was much like the mortal world’s fairs, only the mundane wares had become cultivation resources.

The original owner lacked for nothing in terms of cultivation materials—everything she needed, she had. She made her way directly to the residential section; what she urgently needed now was a set of furniture, as there wasn’t even a place to sleep in her room. As long as it wasn’t made from spiritual wood, everything was cheap—a single lower-grade spirit stone could fill her house with sturdy, elegant pieces.

Wearing the newly found half-mask, only her elegant jawline and a pair of cold, clear eyes were exposed. Even so, wherever she went, the crowd parted before her as if by instinct.

“Tch, what bad luck...” someone couldn’t help but mutter.

“Shh, keep your voice down—that’s the sect leader’s adopted daughter,” another quickly tugged at them.

“So what if she’s adopted? She’s still ugly and useless, with a vicious heart. Even Young Master Ji and the others were driven away by her—I wonder how long she can keep this up.”

“Exactly. I heard she even dared to divorce her husband—must be something wrong with her head.”

Though they tried to keep their voices low, their words reached Chu Yuyao’s ears clearly. She didn’t even furrow her brow, treating it as nothing more than a dog barking. Yet she found it odd—how had news traveled so quickly? Who had spread it?

It couldn’t have been Ji Ciyuan and the other four—it was such an embarrassing matter, they would sooner bury it than let it out. Even if word got out, it would be that the contract was dissolved by mutual agreement, or that they had left her, not that she had divorced them.

Chu Ruoyan? That was possible. After all, the news being exposed benefited her the most—she could step on Chu Yuyao and openly pursue those men, killing two birds with one stone. That white lotus was adept at playing the victim, currying sympathy. She was probably already acting aggrieved before one of the men.

Chu Yuyao sneered inwardly and, expressionless, made her way through the crowd to a store selling mundane furniture.

Meanwhile, Ji Ciyuan and the other four had already left the Heavenly Dao Sect, but instead of returning home immediately, they went to “Leaf of the Grand Void.”

“Leaf of the Grand Void” was no ordinary teahouse; it was the most mysterious gathering place for high-level cultivators in the cultivation world. Rumor had it the establishment was founded by a tribulation-crossing cultivator, with the principle of “one leaf, the grand void”—to glimpse the ultimate truths of the Dao within a single cup of tea.

The teahouse stood at the easternmost edge of Qixia City, the closest city to the Heavenly Dao Sect, surrounded by mountains and water, with no other shops nearby. Mortals were forbidden entry, and only low-level cultivators could drink tea on the first and second floors. Only those who had reached the Golden Core stage could ascend to the third, Nascent Soul to the fourth, and so on. If one attained the Tribulation Crossing stage, they could reach the top—the ninth floor.

Of course, the prices inside were astronomical. A single cup of ordinary spiritual tea cost several hundred spirit stones, and the smallest meal would set one back thousands or even tens of thousands.

Within a private room on the third floor, the scent of tea wafted through the air, filling the quiet chamber. Su Qinghan, Yan Jingchen, Ji Ciyuan, Shangguan Yuheng, and Ye Cangming each sat in silence, the atmosphere heavy and strange. Though all five were prominent figures of the cultivation world and knew one another, they were not close. This gathering, forced by the matter of Chu Yuyao, was one of necessity.

Yan Jingchen idly played with the jade-bone fan in his hand, his eyes glimmering with teasing amusement. “Gentlemen, we’ve all been played for fools by that ugly woman. If word gets out, we’ll be the laughingstock of the cultivation world.”

Ye Cangming’s eyes narrowed, a bloodthirsty curve to his lips. “I’d like to see who dares laugh.”

Ji Ciyuan cast him a cool glance, about to speak, when a black-clad guard entered. Tall and imposing, his face was sharp and cold—clearly a man well-trained. This was Ling Ce, Ji Ciyuan’s personal shadow guard.

Knowing his young master’s aversion to uncleanliness, Ling Ce stopped a respectful distance away, then dropped to one knee to report. “Young Master, news from the Heavenly Dao Sect—Chu Yuyao’s divorce has become the talk of the sect. By now, nearly everyone knows, and no doubt in a few days it will spread throughout the entire cultivation world. When that happens…”

He hesitated, sneaking a glance at Ji Ciyuan, wanting to say that they would all be thoroughly humiliated, but dared not finish his words.

The five men instantly understood what he meant, their expressions growing uglier by the moment. The atmosphere in the tea room grew icier still.

“Heh… the talk of the sect?” Ji Ciyuan crushed the jade teacup in his hand to powder with a snap, the cinnabar mark between his brows growing more vivid with ire. His voice was cold as frost. “Who spread the word?”

Ling Ce bowed his head lower, trembling as he answered, “We… we haven’t determined that yet. But everyone is saying that you five… that you five were divorced by Miss Chu.”

The last few words were murmured so softly as to be almost inaudible, but the five men heard them all the same.

The air grew colder still.