Warm sunlight filtered through the paper windows, casting gentle patterns across the wooden floor. The air was tinged with the faint scent of medicinal herbs. Li Qingyue sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress soft beneath her small frame. Her mother, after making sure she was not in pain, offered a few more words of comfort and then excused herself to see the physician out.
Qingyue heard their quiet voices trailing down the corridor.
"Thank you for coming, Physician Zhao. She gave me quite the scare," her mother said softly.
"Children are often reckless," the old man chuckled. "Luckily, there are no serious injuries this time. Just let her rest and she'll be fine."
The front gate creaked open and then shut. Silence returned.
Qingyue's gaze wandered to her small hands. Her skin was smooth and childlike. She ran over to a polished bronze mirror resting on the nearby vanity and stared at her reflection.
A young girl with bright, wide eyes and a slightly flushed face blinked back at her. The shape of her nose, the curve of her lips—all unmistakably her own, but younger. Eight years old. She remembered this body. This was the year she had fallen from the tree while chasing a squirrel. Her mind was suddenly awash with memories, vivid and painful. She remembered everything.
"So I really have... gone back."
Her heart pounded as the pieces clicked together. Her death, the betrayal, the burning sensation, and the voice in the darkness.
She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. Her name was Li Qingyue. Her mother was a widow, and they lived alone in the outer manor of the once-prosperous Li Clan. Her father, she had been told, died before she was born, a promising cultivator whose loss crippled the clan's future. With no new talent emerging since, the clan had dwindled into obscurity, now surviving on farming and trade.
She and her mother were barely acknowledged by the main family—her grandparents and uncle who remained in the inner manor showed them little affection. Qingyue never knew if it was due to resentment or shame.
Her eyes dimmed slightly. A memory surfaced—clear and painful.
"Mother died... one year from now," she whispered.
In her previous life, her mother had gone into the forest to forage for meat and never returned. The clan had called it a tragic accident, the work of a spirit beast. Qingyue's fists clenched tightly on her lap.
"Not this time. I won't let that happen again."
She would change everything.
Just then, the crescent-shaped mark on her forehead tingled faintly. Alarmed, she ran back to the mirror. There it was—a barely visible silvery pattern, like the moon at dawn.
"This shouldn't be here..."
She traced the mark with her fingertip.
She remembered how she had obtained it. Ten years after entering the sect, during an expedition to a ruined temple deep in the Ghost Valley, she had discovered a pair of mysterious crescent blades—the Twin Moon Blades. The moment she touched them, they resonated with her, and she had instinctively dropped blood on the hilts, forming a spirit contract. The blades vanished into her sea of consciousness, and this mark had appeared on her forehead.
But that had happened when she was twenty. She was only eight now. This was a different timeline. The blades should not have bonded with her yet. And yet... the mark was here.
"Does that mean... they came back with me?"
Her breath caught.
The voice she had heard before she lost consciousness—
"Do you want to burn once again? Do you want revenge?"
Could it be that the Twin Moon Blades were not just powerful weapons, but divine artifacts with a will of their own? Perhaps they had recognized her spirit even in death and bound themselves to her soul beyond time.
Her heart turned cold as another image flashed in her mind: Bai Lian'er.
The girl she had once called her best friend. Her only friend. Lian'er had watched her grow, laughed with her, cried with her. And in the end, it was she who had orchestrated Qingyue's downfall.
It was the blades.
After seeing the power they contained, Bai Lian'er had changed. Qingyue never noticed it at the time, blinded by friendship. In the end, the plan was meticulous—strip her cultivation, throw her from the cliff, and take the weapons.
She touched the mark again. "I won't fall for it again. Never."
The door creaked softly.
Her mother entered the room holding a bowl of congee. Her warm smile soothed Qingyue like a balm.
"Are you feeling better, Yue'er? I made your favorite."
Qingyue blinked away the thoughts and smiled faintly. "Yes, Mother. Thank you."
Her mother sat beside her and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"You scared me today. Please promise me you won't climb that tree again."
Qingyue looked at her with a depth of affection that made her mother pause.
"I promise," she whispered.
Her mother tilted her head. "You're looking at me strangely, dear. Did you hit your head harder than I thought?"
Qingyue chuckled softly. "I just missed you. That's all."
Her mother smiled, eyes softening. "Silly girl, I'm right here."
As they talked, Qingyue couldn't help but glance at her reflection in the mirror again.
"Mother, do you... see anything on my forehead?"
Her mother leaned in and inspected her face. "Hmm? No, nothing. Why? Did you hurt yourself there too?"
Qingyue shook her head. "No, just checking."
She let out a small breath. So her mother couldn't see the mark. Was it invisible to non-cultivators? But then—how could she see it? She hadn't even awakened her spiritual roots yet.
More mysteries.
But for now, she would rest. Tomorrow, she would begin preparing for what lay ahead.
This time, she wouldn't just survive.
She would rise.
And none of them would see it coming.