Ouyang Lin was completely thrown off by Mu Zixu's reaction.
He blinked in confusion, then stammered, "Her name's Song Wanníng. The Wan from gentle, the Ning from gaze."
The moment his words fell, the air inside the room shifted.
Ouyang Lin looked up and froze when he saw his master's terrifying expression.
Ever since he'd entered the sect, he'd never seen Mu Zixu look like this. It was downright scary.
"Song Wanníng?"
Mu Zixu repeated the name coldly, his aura plummeting as the pressure around him grew suffocating.
The "Song Wanníng" that Mo Yang Xiānzūn cared about—other than the one from the lower realm, who else could it be?
But hadn't she died?
A dreadful thought surged up in Mu Zixu's chest, followed by a wave of burning rage that drowned out everything else.
With a loud crash, the herbs on the table were swept to the floor, startling Ouyang Lin so badly he almost jumped out of his skin.
"Master, what's wrong?"
He looked heartbroken and panicked at the scattered herbs, quickly bending down to pick them up.
But Mu Zixu didn't seem to hear him at all. His mind was already engulfed in fury.
Song Wanníng dared to trick him?
No way. He had to see for himself if it was really her.
In the blink of an eye, Mu Zixu vanished from the room.
Though he still clung to a shred of denial, deep down, he already knew the truth.
He'd been played.
Played by Song Wanníng.
Just thinking about it made his blood boil. Every time he ran into that woman, nothing ever went his way. Was it that she'd faked her death to fool them, or had they all worked together to make a fool of him?
Clenching his fists tight, Mu Zixu's killing intent flared. He had to see Song Wanníng—now.
On the Lingxu Peak, Song Wanníng had already chosen her residence.
It was a small three-story courtyard, fully equipped with a rest chamber, a training room, and an alchemy lab. Its location was perfect.
This peak belonged exclusively to true disciples. Inner and outer disciples were stationed on other mountains and couldn't easily come here.
The quietness of the place made her genuinely like it.
She'd barely arrived when several curious neighbors peeked over from their own courtyards.
Before anyone could greet her, though, they saw Mu Zixu flying toward her in a rush.
Sensing something, Song Wanníng lifted her head. Her gaze met Mu Zixu's furious eyes midair.
The instant their eyes locked, his hands started to tremble with anger.
It was her. That damned Song Wanníng.
She was alive?!
Then what had all his relief been for?
Mu Zixu suddenly felt like a complete fool.
And the worst part was, Song Wanníng even smiled at him—her lips curling with open provocation, smugness written all over her face.
"Song Wanníng!"
Mu Zixu ground out her name through clenched teeth, the murderous aura around him exploding and spreading like wildfire.
The nearby true disciples gasped in shock.
She'd just ascended, and she'd already offended Mu Zixu?
That was no small matter. Mu Zixu was a grandmaster alchemist. His position in the Wují Sect wasn't something ordinary disciples could compare to. Everyone had to give him respect, because sooner or later, they'd need his pills.
Song Wanníng might've just brought herself a whole lot of trouble.
"Mu Zixu, long time no see."
Song Wanníng smiled, her expression as radiant as spring blossoms.
"Surprised to see me?"
Her head tilted slightly, sarcasm glinting in her eyes.
Back then, Mu Zixu had gone all out trying to kill her. And now, seeing her perfectly alive and standing right before him—she bet he was about to choke on his own rage.
Her lips curved higher, her eyes full of mocking amusement.
"Heh."
Mu Zixu's jaw tightened as he fought the urge to strike. The veins on his forehead bulged violently.
"You've got guts!"
His voice was rough, every word bitten out hard. Hatred surged in his eyes like crashing waves, and he looked as if he wanted to tear her to pieces.
Song Wanníng didn't flinch. She stared straight back at him, defiant.
"Thanks for the compliment."
The grudge between them was already set in stone. There was no turning back. They were bound to clash one day, and only one of them would walk away alive.
But this wasn't the time.
Now that they were both members of the same sect, killing a fellow disciple was forbidden—at least on the surface.
Besides, after crossing paths with him so many times, she already knew what kind of person Mu Zixu was. He was prideful, obsessed with his reputation, and believed that as a grandmaster alchemist, his status put him above everyone else.
He loved being flattered and obeyed.
The moment anyone went against him, he'd lose his temper.
Petty to the core.
So just killing him wouldn't be enough.
If she could, she wanted to destroy everything he cared about, piece by piece, until he knew what true despair felt like.
After all, back then he'd been an immortal while she was still a lower-realm cultivator, and he'd still struck at her without mercy. That kind of threat had been lethal.
Now the air between them sizzled with invisible sparks.
After a while, Mu Zixu sneered.
"So what if you were strong in the lower realm?"
He looked her up and down, cold and arrogant.
"Here in the Immortal Realm, you're still no match for me."
But Mo Yang Xiānzūn's protection of her complicated things. He didn't dare to act rashly.
Still, she had to die.
If Song Wanníng grew stronger, he'd be the one buried instead.
It was a deadlock. He needed a plan.
"Song Wanníng, I'll give you a word of advice," he said, his tone dripping with contempt. "Don't get too full of yourself."
"We'll meet again soon."
He bit down hard on every syllable, as if forcing the words through his teeth.
Song Wanníng wouldn't stay in the Wují Sect forever. Sooner or later, he'd get his chance.
But even as he thought that, the memory of Mo Yang Xiānzūn made his stomach twist. If that madman had left even a single trace of his Primordial Soul on her, one encounter would be enough to kill him outright.
No, he had to raise his cultivation as fast as possible.
Otherwise, he'd always be stuck under someone's thumb.
Thinking that, Mu Zixu's rage deepened. What rotten luck.
First Dao Qing, now Song Wanníng.
"Looks like we're fellow disciples now. Guess we'll be seeing each other often, right, Senior?"
Song Wanníng blinked innocently, her tone sweet, but her challenge couldn't have been clearer.
Mu Zixu's fists never unclenched. This woman was infuriating beyond belief. He glared at her one last time, then turned sharply and shot into the sky.
"Take care, now!"
Song Wanníng called after him, waving with a bright, mocking smile.
In midair, Mu Zixu's figure jerked for a split second before he flew even faster, vanishing from sight.
Only after he was gone did Song Wanníng drop her smile. Her expression turned serious. She might've looked calm on the surface, but she knew very well—Mu Zixu had deep roots in the Immortal Realm, and he'd have no shortage of tricks up his sleeve.