Return to Before the Villain’s Corruption

Emerging from the high pavilion where Cheng Yi resided, Qiu Shi turned southward, then abruptly veered her steps, stepping into a rift in the void that transported her directly before the towering spire at the heart of the main city.

The spire stood as the grandest and most imposing structure in the city, its gray walls weathered with age and exuding an archaic charm. When one stood at its base and gazed upward, they felt as insignificant as a grain of millet, an indescribable weight pressing upon their shoulders, as if the very spine might buckle beneath its presence.

The spire was divided into nine levels, each containing isolated pocket realms sealed off from one another, intertwined with countless layers of restrictive enchantments. Members of the Elder Council took shifts guarding it, rendering the tower impregnable inside and out.

The moment Qiu Shi set foot on the steps leading to the spire’s entrance, she sensed several obscure ripples of energy interlacing in the air, carrying an air of stern scrutiny.

Yet in the blink of an eye, those watchful gazes dissipated. And before the spire, as if materializing from thin air, stood a hunched, elderly figure.

The old man seemed ancient beyond measure, his eyelids drooping heavily as though weighed down by a thousand pounds, barely able to lift them. There was no trace of spiritual energy emanating from him—his entire body leaned heavily upon the cane he clutched.

"Elder Gu."

Qiu Shi paused at the foot of the spire, entirely unfazed by the sight. Her eyes crinkled into crescents as she approached the elder.

She was a frequent visitor to the spire, and over time, she had grown familiar with this venerable guardian who had stood watch for countless years.

Elder Gu, as if finally stirred by the glow of lanterns in the night, slowly cracked open his eyes. He gave Qiu Shi a nod, his voice hoarse from disuse: "Young Mistress."

"I’ve come to see the ancient zither," Qiu Shi replied, taking the register from his palm and inscribing her name with a specially crafted gilded brush.

Such was the rule of the main city—anyone wishing to enter the seventh level of the spire and approach the Demonic Moon Zither must do the same.

Elder Gu had guarded the zither longer than anyone. He had witnessed countless prodigies stand before the Demonic Moon Zither—some mighty, some tenacious, some enduring in silence—yet the zither had never responded to any of them. This young mistress of the main city was the sole exception.

If the Demonic Moon Zither refused to acknowledge a master, even this exception might soon be forced to choose another path.

Given Qiu Shi’s status, even if she were to abandon this path, she would only take up another celestial-grade secret art.

Celestial-grade arts carried their own pride—they could not coexist. The moment Qiu Shi turned to another, she would lose all chance of comprehending the Demonic Moon Zither’s melodies.

"Young Mistress."

Just as Qiu Shi turned to step into the spire, Elder Gu rasped out, his voice like rustling parchment: "Speak well with the zither’s spirit."

Qiu Shi let out a soft "Hm?" and glanced back in puzzlement. After a long silence, the elder added, "The essence of the zither lies in its spirit."

"Understood."

Qiu Shi nodded, her smile bright as the sun. "Thank you for your guidance, Elder."

None of them had ever truly interacted with the zither’s spirit, and given its millennia-long refusal to choose a master, their understanding of it was riddled with misconceptions. Such advice was something Qiu Shi had heard from many lips already.

With a hand seal, Qiu Shi passed unimpeded into the seventh level’s pocket realm. Each floor of the spire was vast, housing all manner of trial grounds and archives brimming with secret techniques and cultivation manuals—yet none compared to the uniqueness of the seventh level.

The realm sprawled endlessly, adorned with mountains, rivers, clouds, and lakes, its lush greenery shimmering like jade.

A far cry from the last time she had visited, when flames had raged and molten rock had erupted from the earth.

Qiu Shi, unbothered, settled onto a small swing woven from vines, her eyes half-lidded, feigning exhaustion.

Before long, vines cascaded like flowing water, coiling together to form a miniature swing beside hers. A slight weight settled next to her.

When she didn’t react, a plump little sphere rolled over cautiously, then—whoosh!—latched onto the hem of her skirt, swinging playfully in midair.

Qiu Shi’s lips twitched upward. She opened her eyes and reached out to grab it, only to clasp empty air yet again.

The tiny, fleshy orb vanished into the atmosphere without a ripple—yet Qiu Shi’s ears distinctly caught the sound of its muffled, gleeful laughter.

It swung back and forth, the stirred breeze tousling her hair. These near-imperceptible movements were its way of announcing its presence.

It seemed to be in high spirits today—Qiu Shi couldn’t help but draw that conclusion.

She recalled her last visit, when rivers of scorching magma had chased her relentlessly, and it had even sealed the exit from the pocket realm. She had dodged and wearied herself trying to placate it, and by the time it finally deigned to reopen the passage, she had stumbled out, covered in soot and weak-kneed.

After indulging in this game for a while, it seemed to grow bored. Slowly, it materialized before Qiu Shi.

A tiny head, tiny hands and feet, elongated pointed ears as delicate as cicada wings—its entire body was round and plump, like an oversized, pink dumpling adorned with elfin ears.

Who could have guessed that the infamous, finicky spirit of the ancient zither would take such a form?

The first time Qiu Shi saw it, she was still very young, just beginning her journey into cultivation. At that time, Song Chengshu held her hand as they entered the seventh level. Both little beings were wary—the Demonic Moon Zither's spirit only revealed its head, while Qiu Shi peered at it with wide eyes from behind Song Chengshu.

Later, when she officially began practicing the Demonic Moon Zither score, she visited the seventh level more frequently and gradually grew familiar with it.

The zither's spirit would hop onto the pages of her scorebook while she sat reading, or land on the leaf closest to her when she dozed beneath a tree. Yet, it never allowed her to touch it. Time and again, Qiu Shi extended her palm toward it, but never once received a response.

Its eyes were large, with pupils a pure, gem-like shade of gentle green. When it fixed its gaze on someone, it gave the impression of earnest focus. Paired with its chubby, pink-cheeked little face, it looked utterly adorable—nothing like the aloof, cold demeanor rumored outside.

As they stared at each other, Qiu Shi reached out a finger, wanting to poke its cheek, but the spirit swiftly dodged.

"Pa…suo."

The zither spirit was unaccustomed to speaking, its words unclear. Sensing this, it paused before repeating, deliberately enunciating each syllable: "Pa…suo…Sword."

This time, Qiu Shi understood.

As fellow celestial-grade treasures, it was natural for spiritual artifacts to sense one another. Moreover, the night Qin Donglin arrived, the commotion had been far from subtle—noticeable for miles around, with the zither spirit bearing the brunt of it.

"It's alright. The matter's already been resolved, and the main city wasn't affected," Qiu Shi replied, assuming it was concerned about the city's condition.

The zither spirit shook its head like a rattle drum. Frustrated with speech, it simply sank into Qiu Shi's consciousness and explained, "The Pa Suo Sword's spirit is gravely injured and remains dormant."

Qiu Shi froze. "How?"

"It fell into slumber after recognizing its master. From now on, its owner must supply it with vast amounts of spiritual treasures to aid its recovery."

The zither spirit continued seriously, "Barring unforeseen circumstances, the dragon core you wanted has likely already been consumed by it."

Qiu Shi frowned, though not over the dragon core. "How was the Pa Suo Sword's spirit injured? When Qin Donglin brought it, it seemed perfectly fine."

"Fool."

The zither spirit fixed its round eyes on her, puffing out its chest slightly as she looked back. "Aside from its master and a few other primordial spirits, no one can perceive its true state. And the celestial phenomena caused by the Pa Suo Sword being unsheathed don’t necessarily mean it’s at its peak—the Demonic Moon Zither and other sacred artifacts can produce similar effects."

"The Pa Suo Sword is the most formidable offensive artifact in existence. If its spirit weren’t dormant, and its wielder didn’t deliberately restrain it, that night would’ve shattered the entire city manor."

After listening, Qiu Shi asked, "Why would a sacred artifact sustain such severe injuries?"

Celestial-grade treasures are born of heaven and earth, each with its own strengths. Without exception, their ability to hide and escape is unparalleled. If they don’t wish to appear, no one can find them; if they refuse to acknowledge a master, none can force them.

The zither spirit fell silent for a long moment before answering vaguely, "Among the Seven Sacred Artifacts, most of the unmanifested ones are still recuperating. The Pa Suo Sword was the most heavily injured—I don’t know why it suddenly emerged to recognize a master."

"I haven’t been in contact with the Pa Suo Sword’s spirit for a long time, either."

"The Demonic Moon Zither is injured too?" Qiu Shi seized the key point, her brow furrowing. "Was someone targeting all Seven Sacred Artifacts at once?"

Who could possibly wield such power?

It was unlikely that the elders of the Heavenly Clan would abandon all their duties to search day and night, nor would the rulers of other realms remain oblivious and indifferent.

"The Demonic Moon Zither isn’t injured."

At this topic, the zither spirit seemed somewhat displeased.

The mountains and rivers in its eyes shattered, crumbling into dust. The lake waters boiled, cliffs collapsed, and waterfalls flowed upward—the picturesque scenery transformed in an instant.

Qiu Shi stood in the misty Mirror Lake, shallow water lapping at her feet. When she looked down, she could see her own reflection on the surface.

Not far away, a pipa zither hovered midair.

In that moment, Qiu Shi knew—this was the true Demonic Moon Zither!

Then what was that other, more exquisite pipa zither with the stronger spiritual fluctuations displayed outside?

Her gaze locked onto the ancient zither, unable to look away.

She had practiced the Demonic Moon Zither score since childhood—there was no mistaking this resonance!

"Take the Demonic Moon Zither to the Luyuan Secret Realm."

The zither spirit lazily flapped its wings, covering its tiny mouth as it yawned. Before retreating into the zither, it bared its little fangs in a mock threat: "Don’t tell anyone!"

As its voice faded, the Demonic Moon Zither floated toward Qiu Shi. With a single lift of her hand, she could cradle it against her chest.

Her fingers stiff, Qiu Shi caught it.

The moment her fingertips brushed its strings, an ancient, primordial energy surged forth—unrestrained and unmistakable.

Holding it, Qiu Shi even felt like she could knock Qin Donglin flat on his back.

Even if it was an unclaimed sacred artifact, with the approval of its spirit, one could still unleash its divine power in critical moments.

In the Luyuan Secret Realm, where the strongest gathered, this was an ultimate weapon.

========

When Qiu Shi stepped out of the seventh layer of space, her mood was exceptionally bright.

In her dream, she had been so preoccupied with sheltering Cheng Yi and evading the overwhelming pursuit of the city’s guards and spies that she not only missed Song Chengshu’s birthday but also the once-in-fifty-thousand-years Luyuan Secret Realm—a legacy from the primordial era, the most important and treasured opportunity reserved solely for the younger generation.

She had been anticipating this event since ten thousand years ago.

She could easily imagine how deeply the dream version of herself must have regretted missing such a chance.

Qiu Shi had an easily contented nature. Whether it was temporarily bringing the Demonic Moon Zither into the Luyuan Secret Realm or the fact that reality was infinitely better than her dream, everything filled her with joy. So much so that when Wu Fei contacted her via a voice-transmitting jade, she was still smiling.

"Bring everything you own and come to Fuyu Zhai in Lin'an City."

The noise on the other end was deafening, and Qiu Shi could only make out that single sentence after straining to listen.

Not long after, another message came through.

"See if Song Yunhe is free—if he is, drag him along too."

After hearing this, Qiu Shi hung the voice-transmitting jade back at her waist, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing, with no intention of humoring him.

Fuyu Zhai was the largest spiritual treasure exchange in Lin'an City, and this auction was being held there.

Unlike the others, Wu Fei had been obsessed since childhood with collecting bizarre, useless trinkets, spending money like water on things that were all flash and no substance. At the height of his obsession, he had even racked up a mountain of debt.

Just then, the final words came through the shimmering spiritual light.

—"Stop playing dead. It's not for me this time."

—"Qin Donglin asked for you to come."

Qiu Shi froze for a moment.

Qin Donglin had never shown interest in such external luxuries, but times had changed. Now he had to sustain a slumbering Sword Spirit of Posa—a bottomless black hole of expenses. It was understandable if his pockets were feeling light.

So, with patience, Qiu Shi replied, "I’ll be right there."