Return to Before the Villain’s Corruption

The rain drizzled lightly as Qiu Shi and Song Yunhe returned to the main city manor one after the other.

Qiu Shi, preoccupied with the half-missing character on the ancient map, turned toward the manor’s library, while Song Yunhe headed to the study in the council hall to deal with the remaining pile of messy affairs.

The library stood in the southeastern part of the main city manor, occupying a sizable area with four levels in total. The lower two floors housed tens of thousands of records on demon clans—their origins, habits, and racial traits—guarded and registered by specialized sentries. The upper two levels preserved rare historical accounts and peculiar legends passed down from ancient times, accessible only to a select few under the constant watch of elders.

Qiu Shi had always been fond of studying such materials. Though her Baitang Courtyard also had a study, its collection paled in comparison to the manor’s library. Some precious, one-of-a-kind texts existed only here, which was why she had immediately brought the ancient map to this place.

She was a frequent visitor to the library. Today, the entrance to the third floor was guarded by a closed-door disciple of one of the elders. Recognizing Qiu Shi, the disciple hurriedly bowed and, without further questions, simply recorded her spiritual aura before letting her pass.

Within the main city manor, only a handful—including the elders—were permitted access to the library’s upper levels. Thus, when Qiu Shi stepped inside, the vast third floor stood empty and silent. Unflickering spirit lamps glowed in the four corners, and the air carried the aged scent of pine from ancient tomes.

Dozens of towering wooden bookshelves stood like sentinels, their countless volumes quietly displayed. Qiu Shi moved with practiced ease toward the last two rows of shelves, her fingertip brushing against the spine of an old book before she pulled it free.

The pages revealed intricate symbols and patterns—none of which matched the script commonly used across the six realms. Even the dozen or so lines on the title page strained her eyes, forcing her to decipher each character one by one, piecing them together in her mind to form coherent sentences.

The library’s collection was simply too vast. If she were to flip through every book one by one, she wouldn’t finish even half before the Luyuan Secret Realm opened.

So Qiu Shi only skimmed the introductory text, at most glancing at the first page. If it wasn’t what she sought, she immediately moved on to the next book.

Even so, before long, her vision blurred from exhaustion.

Leaning against the corner of a bookshelf, she held the book in one hand while pressing the other to her brow, forcing herself to continue.

At times like these, two hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Just as Qiu Shi frowned and returned another book to its place, the sound-transmitting jade pendant at her waist flickered faintly, growing warm as it emitted a soft glow.

Her fingertips curled slightly as a wisp of spiritual energy seeped into the jade. Sensing the aura within, her spine straightened from its relaxed slouch against the shelf, and a flicker of surprise passed through her clear, expressive eyes.

Qin Donglin’s sword intent was far too distinctive—she didn’t even need to focus to recognize it was him.

In the past, whenever the two communicated, nine and a half times out of ten, it was Qiu Shi who initiated contact. The remaining half-instance usually occurred only when he was utterly exasperated by her persistence and had no choice but to respond. But after the incident with Cheng Yi, things had grown even more strained—he hadn’t given her a single pleasant look since, and whenever she tried reaching out via the sound-transmitting jade, he simply acted as though she didn’t exist.

Qin Donglin was a bona fide cultivation fanatic. In his eyes, something like a sound-transmitting jade was nothing but a nuisance. Had Qiu Shi not repeatedly insisted, he would never have carried one on his person.

For him to contact her now, out of the blue, there had to be something important.

Qiu Shi lifted the jade, and when no sound came from the other end, she tentatively hummed in question before calling softly, “Qin Donglin?”

“It’s me.”

This time, his voice—cool and precise—reached her ears clearly. Without preamble, he asked, “Where are you?”

“Me?”

Qiu Shi blinked, her gaze sweeping over the shelves before her as she pressed a hand to her temple, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. “I’m in the main city’s library. I’ve been flipping through ancient records all day, but none of the mentions of the Luyuan Secret Realm match.”

“In fifteen minutes.”

Qin Donglin abruptly cut in with those words: “I’m coming up.”

Before Qiu Shi could process his statement, the jade in her palm had already fallen silent.

Outside Baitang Courtyard, Ming Yue stood frozen like a statue as she stared at the tall, bamboo-straight figure in the distance.

Qin Donglin, rarely seen in white robes, resembled jade beneath the moonlight—his shoulders narrow, his waist slender, his entire being exuding an austere sharpness. Wherever he stood, he naturally became a sword unto the world.

Among demons, bloodline held immense weight. The pressure exuded by those of higher status felt like an entire mountain pressing down on the shoulders of their inferiors.

Ming Yue’s legs trembled uncontrollably.

Qin Donglin seldom visited the main city manor. As the young master of Liugi Mountain, his daily responsibilities were no fewer than Song Yunhe’s—there were duties he couldn’t escape, all while balancing his relentless cultivation. Every day, he seemed to wish for forty-eight hours instead of twenty-four. The mere thought of Qiu Shi gave him a headache, so the idea of him voluntarily appearing before her was practically unthinkable.

Qin Donglin appeared silently at the entrance of Baitang Courtyard. Ming Yue welcomed him inside, but he shook his head faintly, his gaze fixed intently toward the southwest.

Following his line of sight, Ming Yue’s pupils contracted slightly, not daring to speak.

That was the direction of Dongheng Courtyard—now reduced to rubble, undergoing reconstruction these past few days.

Those of lower bloodlines couldn’t sense the faint traces lingering in the air, but Qin Donglin could perceive them clearly.

The aura of that black dragon clung stubbornly to the surroundings like an unshakable parasite, refusing to dissipate.

After a long pause, Qin Donglin raised his slender, pale fingers unhurriedly, pointing into the empty air. An invisible surge of energy rippled out, causing his sleeves and robes to flutter.

A moment later, he withdrew his hand, took a step forward, then turned and headed toward the direction of the library.

Ming Yue exhaled in quiet relief, her shoulders relaxing slightly. When she looked southwest again, the atmosphere had completely transformed—now pure, harmonious, and brimming with the imperial clan’s oppressive might, thoroughly erasing the previously lingering traces of that snow-like, pristine aura.

As the young lord of Liugi Mountain and the future husband of the main city’s only princess, Qin Donglin moved unhindered through the main city’s administrative halls after presenting his identity token. In less than a quarter of an hour, he reached the third floor of the library.

His footsteps were light, like a drifting leaf in the vast, silent library, making no sound at all.

Qiu Shi had shifted to lean against another bookshelf, the hem of her long skirt brushing lightly against her snow-white ankles—a fleeting touch, like a dragonfly skimming water. Her swan-like neck bent slightly as she read, her raven-black hair cascading over the pages of the book in her hands.

Quiet and graceful, she looked utterly well-behaved.

Whenever she focused on something without speaking, Qin Donglin always had the illusion that she was truly like this—elegant, dignified, and naturally poised, no different from the noble ladies of prominent families.

Not the type to cling like a little beast, whining and making it impossible to escape, nor the kind to pester him endlessly over some treasure.

Yet the moment she opened her mouth, that serene illusion shattered like a bubble—

"You’re here?"

Qiu Shi sensed his presence and shifted her gaze from the book to Qin Donglin’s handsome face. She blinked lightly, glanced behind him, and let out a soft, curious hum before asking cheerfully, "Where’s Wu Fei? Did you ditch him?"

Qin Donglin neither confirmed nor denied it. His eyes fell on the ancient text in her hands, and his brow arched slightly. "What are you reading?"

"Some war histories from the ancient era."

Qiu Shi closed the book, her ten slender fingers resting on the yellowed pages, looking delicate and fragile—like tender green shoots that might snap at the slightest pressure.

"Why did you come all of a sudden?" she asked.

"Didn’t I tell you to look into records from before the ancient era—the Primordial Age?"

Qin Donglin wasn’t the type to visit without a purpose. His sudden arrival at the main city’s administrative halls could only mean one thing.

The moment she heard he was here, Qiu Shi had already guessed why.

"Wait."

She placed the book in her hands onto his palm, then turned and walked to the last row of bookshelves. Before long, she returned with three or four ancient texts, stacking them into Qin Donglin’s arms. Lifting her chin slightly, she declared, "These are the only four books in the entire library that mention the Primordial Age. Read them yourself."

Qin Donglin picked up one of the books and flipped to a random page. His deep eyes paused for a moment.

"You’re the perfect example of someone who talks without understanding the effort," Qiu Shi muttered, poking at the page with her finger. "Finding it is one thing, but actually making sense of it is another."

"If you could read it, I’d let you take over."

Qiu Shi grumbled under her breath, "Even the ancient scripts are hard enough to decipher. The Primordial Divine Language is so obscure and bizarre—half the characters can’t even be traced anymore. It gives me a headache just looking at them."

The Primordial Age was the most mysterious era, shrouding many of the Six Realms’ unsolved mysteries—the fall of Zhongzhou, the demise of the Demon Emperor, the fracturing of the continent—all veiled in shadow. Even now, many events lacked clear explanations.

This mystery extended even to the written language.

The twisted, serpentine characters—some spaced far apart, others densely packed—resembled little more than chaotic scribbles at a glance.

Qiu Shi summoned a small stool with a wave of her hand, then retrieved the relic map from her spatial ring, spreading it flat on the surface. Aside from the central character-like mark that had been slashed apart, the rest of the black lines looked like grotesquely blooming demonic flowers.

"Cross-reference this character and note down any possible matches," she said, tilting her head to meet Qin Donglin’s gaze. "If we can actually figure this out, once the Luyuan Secret Realm opens, we’ll head straight for the location marked on the relic map and take everything inside—not even leaving a single blade of grass behind."

Much of Qiu Shi’s personality had been shaped by Qin Donglin’s influence over the years.

So ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‍when she said things like this, Qin Donglin saw no issue with it.

After all, it was exactly what he would have done.

For the next three and a half hours, from dusk until deep into the night, the two of them frowned over their books, occasionally glancing at the characters on the diagrams for comparison.

By the end, Qiu Shi snapped her book shut, paused for a moment, and then proposed earnestly: "In the Luyuan Secret Realm, the lives of disciples from all clans are left to fate. No matter what happens, no clan or realm may interfere. Why don’t we plan ahead and snatch their diagrams as soon as we enter?"

Qin Donglin readily followed suit, closing the ancient text in his hands. The crease between his brows eased slightly as he replied, "That could work."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added leisurely, "By the way, that black dragon who once saved you—this noon, it also rescued Mo Ruanruan."