Chapter 32
Gu Buqi’s gaze pierced through the sky, settling on Qingxuzi’s faintly trembling hand. A quiet sigh rose in his chest.
Could his little disciple be wrong?
The chances were… almost nonexistent.
Below, the beautiful female cultivator couldn’t see Qingxuzi’s expression, but she had come prepared. Not a trace of hesitation showed in her voice.
“I have a way to prove I am the sect leader’s biological daughter.”
Her words rang out, clear and steady.
High above, Qingxuzi looked at her, emotions tightening into a knot.
His daughter’s frail body on the ice bed, pale from poison…
Her tearful grief after Wen Niang’s death…
The quiet warmth they had rebuilt, piece by piece…
The memories spun past like a revolving lantern, each one sharper than the last.
Had he really… been deceived?
Seeing that Qingxuzi still hadn’t recovered, Elder Wei Tu stepped forward, his voice rolling like distant thunder.
“What method?” he demanded. “Speak.”
The woman lifted her gaze toward the sky. She knew exactly where her audience was.
Emotion surged within her, threatening to spill over—but she forced it down, pressing it flat with sheer will.
This time… there could be no mistakes.
She drew in a steady breath.
“It’s simple. We each take a drop of heart’s blood and examine it with a secret method. The result will speak for itself.”
A blood test.
The moment the words fell, those familiar with such techniques immediately understood.
This method originated from ancient bloodline arts—once used to protect inheritance and verify lineage.
In truth, it was rarely needed. After all, who couldn’t recognize their own kin?
But here and now—it was the most direct, most irrefutable proof.
No explanation could surpass it. No token could rival it.
High above, Qingxuzi’s gaze darkened. He remained silent for a long time.
Heart’s blood… far more vital than ordinary essence blood. Losing even a single drop required a long recovery.
But that wasn’t what troubled him.
He didn’t fear the loss.
He feared the answer.
Off to the side, Lou Yuqing listened to Gu Buqi’s explanation, her confidence in the system’s mission rising sharply.
A bloodline test would expose everything.
She hadn’t even needed to act—the “real heiress” had practically handed her the solution.
Her favorability shot up on the spot.
Delighted, Lou Yuqing scrolled through her list of gossip targets, already planning what to “eat” next after collecting that sweet ten-thousand-point reward.
The system had said the more gossip it consumed, the more energy it gained.
As a responsible host, she had to keep it well-fed.
No way she was letting it fall back into hibernation again.
“…Huh?”
Her finger paused.
Something felt off.
She scanned the list again—once, twice.
Song Li’s name… wasn’t there.
A sharp thought struck her.
Slowly, she lifted her head, staring at the beautiful female cultivator, disbelief creeping in.
…Wait.
Don’t tell me—
Could she be fake too?
The woman seemed to sense her gaze—but dismissed it entirely, as if Lou Yuqing were nothing more than background noise.
Above, Qingxuzi continued to watch her.
Her face bore no resemblance to Wen Niang.
But that expression—that stubborn clarity, that unyielding strength—it was exactly the same.
It was what had drawn him to Wen Niang in the first place.
“Sect Leader,” Madam Hongyan said decisively, cutting through the tension, “call Song Li here to confront her. If this isn’t clarified on the spot, her reputation will suffer. And if this girl is telling the truth, we must correct matters immediately.”
Meng Zonghan nodded. “Things have already reached this point. We have to see it through. Avoiding it won’t solve anything.”
Those entangled in a matter often lost sight of the truth.
Only bystanders could see clearly.
Now was not the time for hesitation.
Qingxuzi let out a bitter breath. “I know.”
At that moment, in the sect library—
Song Li stood among towering shelves, flipping through ancient records.
Ever since obtaining that secret method to improve her aptitude from the Enforcement Hall, she had been searching for its required materials.
Some of them, she had never even heard of.
Asking her adoptive father wasn’t an option.
So she could only dig through the archives herself, piecing together clues bit by bit.
Then—a summons arrived.
“The Spirit Testing Conference is today… why call me there?”
A thought flashed through her mind—sharp and thrilling.
Could it be…
Was her adoptive father finally planning to reveal her identity in front of everyone?
Her heart skipped.
Compared to being an unknown daughter hidden in the shadows—she wanted recognition.
She wanted her name etched into every disciple’s mind.
Only then could she claim greater benefits.
Without hesitation, she mounted her sword and flew toward the plaza.
When she arrived, the sight before her only confirmed her suspicion.
So many people… gathered, waiting.
Her pulse quickened.
If she could command this kind of attention—
Her breath hitched.
No. Careful.
Afraid her thoughts might show, she forced herself to calm down, smoothing her expression before bowing toward the sky.
“Father.”
Her voice rang out clearly.
But she didn’t notice—
The unnatural silence.
The strange looks.
The tension stretched tight across every face.
The beautiful female cultivator saw her—and joy surged in her chest.
So it really wasn’t Song Li.
The resemblance was close… but not enough to fool those who truly knew her.
The clouds parted.
Five figures revealed themselves, their presence pressing down like mountains.
Qingxuzi looked at Song Li, his voice calm—too calm.
“Li’er. You’ve come at the right time. There is something you must answer truthfully. No concealment.”
Her smile faltered.
…Something was wrong.
Ever since their reunion, he had never spoken to her like this.
“Father, why would you say that?” she said softly, her eyes reddening on cue. “How could I ever lie to you?”
A flicker of pain crossed Qingxuzi’s face.
He had promised to make it up to her.
Yet she had asked for nothing—only that he avenge Wen Niang.
She pushed herself to exhaustion in cultivation, day after day.
He had even given her small responsibilities with the sect leader’s token, hoping to ease her burden. Over time, their relationship had softened… warmed.
They could finally sit together and speak as father and daughter.
But now—everything felt different.
Seeing him remain silent, unease crept into her chest.
Just as she was about to press further—
A cold, familiar voice cut in beside her.
“Hmph. Cen Xiaoyun, stop pretending. You stole my identity, took my father, and repaid years of friendship with betrayal. You’ve truly disappointed me.”
The beautiful female cultivator’s eyes burned with fury—grief and indignation tangled together.
Cen Xiaoyun’s heart slammed against her ribs as she turned.
Her?!
—Yin Pipa. I’m not Song Li, and neither are you. Don’t act righteous. You’re just another impostor.
Her gaze turned icy, the accusation unmistakable.
Yin Pipa let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
“I treated you as my closest friend,” she said coldly. “I told you everything. And the moment you learned my father was the sect leader, you decided to take my place. How do you still have the nerve to stand here?”
“Don’t slander me!” Cen Xiaoyun snapped, anger flaring through her shock.
But unease gnawed at her.
Cen Xiaoyun had the Heart-Connecting Shell. And a face nearly identical to Song Li’s.
Why… wouldn’t the sect leader believe her?
“Father…” Cen Xiaoyun’s voice trembled as she turned toward Qingxuzi.
She wanted him to defend her.
But all she met was his calm, unreadable gaze. As if he could already see through everything.
Her throat tightened. The words died before they could leave her lips.
Yin Pipa spoke again, composed and steady. “The Heart-Connecting Shell was a token of love between you and my mother. Before she passed, she entrusted it to me as proof.”
She lowered her lashes slightly. “I trusted the wrong person… and lost it.”
Then she looked up, expression firm. “Now, only a blood test can prove the truth.”
Cen Xiaoyun’s pupils shrank.
—Are you insane? Neither of us shares his blood! Once tested, we’re both finished!
Yin Pipa smiled coldly.
—You don’t. I do.
She had prepared everything before coming.
Unlike Cen Xiaoyun, who had stumbled blindly into this lie—she had made sure she had a way out.
Cen Xiaoyun’s mind raced, panic clawing at her.
Yin Pipa wasn’t afraid.
But she was.
Especially under Qingxuzi’s indifferent gaze—it felt like falling into an endless abyss.
“Your name… is Cen Xiaoyun?” Qingxuzi finally asked.
She froze.
She couldn’t admit it.
…Could she?
A surge of desperation rose inside her.
If she was going to fall—she wouldn’t fall alone.
“Yin Pipa, you—”
“I don’t want us to destroy each other,” Yin Pipa’s voice slipped into her mind, smooth and tempting. “Admit it now, and I’ll protect you. You can stay in the Wendao Sect. We’ll share everything—status, wealth.”
Cen Xiaoyun’s hands trembled.
It was a trap.
But it was also… a lifeline.
Since coming here, she had tasted what life could be like. She didn’t want to lose it.
If Yin Pipa succeeded, protecting her would be effortless.
And with secrets in each other’s hands—neither could betray the other easily.
“I… am Cen Xiaoyun.”
She lifted her face—still wearing Song Li’s features—pale as she looked up at Qingxuzi.
Some chances, once lost, never return.
She didn’t regret her choice.
She just… didn’t want to die.
Qingxuzi’s gaze shifted, briefly landing on Yin Pipa.
No warmth.
No sense of connection.
Only distance.
Was it because of that unfamiliar face?
He frowned slightly.
No.
A face alone couldn’t explain everything.
He had already been deceived once by resemblance. That mistake… would not happen again.
“Test it,” he said.
He would give a drop of his heart’s blood.
He needed the truth.
No matter the cost.
He could not allow Wen Niang’s child to remain lost in the world.
Yin Pipa’s heart surged with wild joy.
Without hesitation, she pressed a hand to her chest. With a flick of her palm, a drop of bright red heart’s blood rose into the air.
Her face turned pale instantly. Her body swayed.
But her eyes—burned with triumph.
There existed a secret technique—one that could temporarily disguise bloodline results.
Make strangers appear as kin.
She had prepared for this.
Victory… was already hers.