Atop the cliff, Clara Heart gazed down intently at the small village below.
Bathed in sunlight, a dozen scattered cottages dotted the landscape; morning glories climbed along long fences, a few villagers herded oxen in the fields, a farmwife wove cloth in her yard, and several children played by the creek. At first glance, it was no different from any ordinary mortal village.
"Is this really the only way through?"
"It is the only way, but..." Shirley Shi lowered her head, repeatedly checking the sheepskin map in her hands. After a long moment, she frowned and said, "There's no village marked here on this map."
"Where did you get your map?"
"My master Skylar Loft left it to me. He loved wandering the mountains and rivers, so he made a lot of maps, and they're usually very accurate."
"Skylar's maps, huh? How many years has it been? Not just villages—even borders have probably changed. How can we rely on them?" Clara glanced at the village again, clapped her hands, and said, "Since this is the only way, let's just wait here. The reincarnation of Golden Cicada is a monk, also called a bhikkhu. When he meets people, he’ll surely ask for alms and a place to stay. Waiting here can’t go wrong."
With that, she strode down the mountain path.
Shirley was momentarily stunned, hesitated for a bit, then sighed helplessly, "What can I do? She’s my aunt-master."
With that, she hurried to catch up.
She still felt something was off, but at least there didn’t seem to be any real danger.
Though the mortal world was now crawling with demons and tangled factions, ordinary little monsters were no match for her aunt-master.
As for demon kings with real vision, none would dare offend both Master Sage Subhuti and Lord Lao at once.
The Heavenly Court was another matter; the celestial armies and demon kings might not fear them, but true patriarchs were no joke—offend one, and you might never wake up again.
Following the winding mountain path, the two soon reached the foot of the cliff and encountered an old man chopping wood.
The old man saw them and was instantly transfixed. The next moment, as if recalling something, his eyes widened in shock, and he was left speechless.
After a brief silence, the old man dropped his axe, fell to the ground, and prostrated himself, trembling slightly.
Clara hurried over, reaching out to help him up. "Elder, what’s the matter?" she asked.
The old man blinked and said, "Are you... are you monsters or immortals?"
Hearing this, Clara couldn’t help but giggle.
Her smile was as warm as winter sunlight.
Elder, we’re just travelers passing through.
Don’t try to fool me! What kind of travelers look like you two?
What do you mean, “look like us”?' Clara asked, puzzled.
The old man trembled and stepped back twice, unable to help glancing at Clara before lowering his head in panic: “There’s no village for a hundred li around here, travelers would carry baggage. Besides, coming from afar, travelers should be dusty, not as... as... as you two...”
For a moment, the old man couldn’t find words to describe the two women before him. After a long pause, he blinked and said in a low voice, “You must be either celestial maidens from the heavens or fox spirits from these woods. How could mortals be so beautiful?”
Hearing this, Clara couldn’t help but burst out laughing, and Shirley giggled behind her.
After so many years, this was the first time Clara had left her two masters, and the first time she was meeting real mortals.
She lowered her head and pursed her lips, then said seriously, “Elder, I’m not a celestial maiden or a monster—I’m just a person, though... I do have some magic.”
With that, Clara pointed casually at the pile of firewood, and the logs began to float into the air, startling the old farmer.
Right before the old man’s eyes, the logs split in midair and stacked themselves neatly.
Clara clapped her hands, a little proud. “See? I’m not hurting you—I’m helping with your chores. Could I be a monster?”
The old man hesitated, his legs weak. He leaned against a rock, clutching his chest, unable to speak for a long time. He kept blinking, sizing up the two women.
Shirley was fine—her Daoist robe, while unusual, wasn’t too outlandish.
But Clara, to him, was someone from a completely different world.
Even just her soft green-pink dress looked extraordinary, and the simple hair ornaments she wore were nothing a wealthy family could afford.
And her face—such beauty the old man had never seen. Her bright, sparkling eyes made him afraid to look too long, lest his soul be stolen.
After a long, stunned silence, Clara gently asked, “Elder, are you all right?”
Aunt-master, let’s go back. We’re scaring them," Shirley whispered.
Clara pouted, frowning at the old man, still standing her ground.