Chapter 20: Awakening

In the quiet sanctuary of a rain-lashed courtyard, mercy becomes a fragile shield against the encroaching storm of demonic pursuit.

Thunder rumbled distantly as Ning Changjiu secured the courtyard gate with his umbrella, latching it firmly against the relentless downpour. His gaze fell upon the white-clad woman sprawled lifelessly on the ground.

A Wounded Sword Immortal

Her jade-like form was drenched in crimson, both sleeves shredded to ribbons. Stark sword marks scarred her snow-white arms, resembling the delicate petals of a lotus marred by frost. She lay motionless, her white robes splayed like the broken wings of a fallen bird.

Her back bore equal devastation—rain-soaked garments clinging viscously to wounds that wept steadily, mingling blood with rainwater to stain the earth red.

Even in grave unconsciousness, an aura of lingering sword energy warded off intruders, a silent testament to her formidable spirit.

Ning Xiaoling hurried forward with an umbrella, the pungent metallic tang forcing her to cover her nose. Her eyes widened in horror at the bloodied figure, then flicked questioningly to her senior brother.

Ning Changjiu pressed a finger to the pale curve of her neck. Her body twitched faintly, the sword energy dissipating as she sank into deeper slumber.

Footsteps echoed from the street beyond. Ning Changjiu met his junior sister’s eyes. “Carry her inside. Gently. Then boil water.”

Ning Xiaoling’s voice trembled weakly. “Senior Brother, didn’t we agree not to meddle…?”

His steady gaze silenced her protest. With a faint “Oh,” she steeled herself against the stench, flipped the woman over, and hoisted her— one arm under the knees, the other cradling the shoulders. Her steps faltered laboriously as she bore the unconscious form toward the room.

Ning Changjiu watched her retreating figure with a soft smile. A year of secret martial practice, and carrying this weight taxes her so?

A sharp knock rattled the gate.

Deception at the Gate

Crouching low, Ning Changjiu pressed fingertips to the earth, tracing a subtle circle in the air. The gate creaked open.

The lead guard eyed the blue-robed youth suspiciously. “Who are you? Why don’t I recognize your face? How do you reside in the Prince’s villa?”

Ning Changjiu bowed deeply. “This humble monk was summoned for an exorcism and has taken lodging here. May I inquire as to your visit, sir?”

The guard scrutinized him, sniffed the air, and nodded. “So you’re the Taoist youth of extraordinary prowess the Prince mentioned?”

“Sir recognizes this humble monk?” Ning Changjiu smiled modestly.

The guard’s gaze swept the ground behind him. “Any unusual individuals pass through?”

“None at all,” Ning Changjiu replied, feigning puzzlement. “Has something occurred at the palace?”

The leader sneered. “Sharp ears, young Taoist. Mind your tongue.”

“Grateful for the warning, sir. The rain is fierce—will you share hot tea?”

“No need. Urgent matters await. The city’s unrest stirs. Report anything suspicious.”

One subordinate urged, “Shouldn’t we search inside?”

“No. We won’t disturb the young master’s seclusion.” The captain smiled and departed.

Yet doubt lingered. Why does the blood trail end here? No stains on his clothes or ground—even in this deluge, impossible. His eyes shifted to the towering wall. She leaped it, then?

“Follow me. Search the wall for traces,” he commanded.

Ning Changjiu refastened the gate, lifting his sleeve to reveal a suspended crimson droplet—condensed by Taoist arts from the vanished blood. With a flick, it arced to the roof tiles, leaving a deliberate crimson trail along the wall.

Tending the Wounded

Inside, Ning Xiaoling had prepared a wooden plank, draping it with clean cloth. She laid the woman upon it as the kettle steamed.

Ning Changjiu stowed his umbrella, his brow furrowing at the grievous injuries. Her formidable cultivation steadied her breath, but deep wounds persisted in bleeding.

“Who is she? Who inflicted this?” Ning Xiaoling asked, concern etching her face.

“The sword immortal who arrived by sedan today,” Ning Changjiu replied.

Ning Xiaoling gasped, recalling the rainbow-like strike before the palace. This bloodied form… that ethereal swordswoman?

“Who wounded her so? The monstrous bird?”

“Unknown. But a terrifying demon stalks the city.”

“If she lives, it will hunt her. Should we… still save her?”

“Save her,” Ning Changjiu said calmly. “Junior Sister, fetch medicine from Tang Yu at Zhao Shisong’s residence—for injuries and bleeding.”

“These wounds demand an imperial physician!”

“No need to complicate. Besides, they may fail her.”

Reluctantly, Ning Xiaoling departed with an umbrella in hand.

The water boiled. Ning Changjiu tore a thin quilt into strips, simmering them in the kettle, then soaked a towel in a basin. Gently, he peeled away the spiritless, blood-caked robe. Dozens of wounds marred her—some scabbed, others oozing. A deep gash exposed gleaming bone beneath her vest.

Congealed blood clung stubbornly; with a dagger, he pried seams loose, peeling fabric free. The stench intensified.

Wrung towel in hand, he began wiping her form methodically.

A Delicate Restoration

“Sister Tang Yu was absent, but the steward provided medicine. Hope it suffices.” Ning Xiaoling returned, words faltering at the scene. She glanced at scattered cloth fragments and the bandaged body, swallowing hard. “Senior Brother… Shouldn’t I handle this?”

He extended his hand silently. “The medicine.”

Meeting his serene gaze, guilt flushed her cheeks—as if she intruded on propriety.

Ning Changjiu sniffed the pouch, confirmed its purity, then applied ointment to the gravest wounds. Even unconscious, she whimpered faintly, brow furrowing beneath the mask.

Ning Xiaoling crouched nearby, nose pinched, watching in narrowed-eyed fascination. Her senior brother’s technique was impeccable: bandages aligned with perfect angles, knots symmetrical and taut. Oddly… pleasing.

He glanced at her. She hummed inquiringly.

“Fetch clean clothes,” he sighed.

Only then did she note the near-nudity beneath bandages. Irritation prickled inexplicably; with a soft snort, she rummaged the wardrobe.

Everything settled, Ning Changjiu lifted her to the bed.

As his finger neared her neck to release acupoints, Ning Xiaoling halted him. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

A sly smile curved her lips. “Doesn’t Senior Brother want to see the fairy’s face?”

“She wears a mask for privacy. Why force it?”

Eyes of Awakening

When the woman stirred, her fingers brushed soft skin—no mask. Panic surged as memories crashed back: the lake battle, demonic seed, breakthrough… collapse.

Head throbbing, she yanked the brocade quilt aside. Fresh garments and precise bandages stared back. Biting her lip, she tensed.

“You’re awake?” a voice stated plainly.

The sword immortal’s eyes snapped open—clarity piercing the haze of pain and vulnerability.

Chapter 03 Chapter 03: The Little Devil Princess Chapter 04: Hou Yi Slays the Dragon Chapter 2: The Awakening Youth Chapter 10: For Whom Is This Empty Dream Written? Chapter 11: The Prince Falls into the Well Chapter 12 Chapter 12: The Prince Falls into the Well Chapter 13: The Fairy Hangs Her Sword Chapter 16: The Tale of a Young Taoist Chapter 19: A Figure in White Enters the City Chapter 20: Awakening Chen Dong's Shenmu Chen Dong novel Chinese animation cultivation anime fantasy donghua 2025 Fox Shadows on the Lake Grave of the Gods Its Qi Like a Rainbow Over the Divine Realms Perfect World Shen Mu Shenmu Shenmu 2025 Shen Mu donghua Shen Mu Season 2 Shenmu Season 3 The Divine Tomb the Immortal Arrives in a Palanquin The Little Devil Princess The Tomb of God and Demon Tomb of Fallen Gods Tomb of Fallen Gods: Remastered Tomb of Fallen Gods III Tomb of Gods Tomb of the Fallen Deities xianxia donghua 神国之上 神墓3 神墓2025 神墓动画 神墓 第三季 神墓 重制版 第八章:榕树与日落