Chapter 210 - The Embers of Yesterday
The silence that followed the Great Fire was heavier than the smoke that had once choked the peaks of Mount Ruyun. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows across the charred remains of the Hundred Flowers Palace, the air was no longer filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and rare orchids. Instead, the bitter tang of ash and scorched earth lingered, a grim reminder of Nan Menghua’s final, desperate act of spite.
Chu Ruo stood amidst the wreckage of the outer gardens, her boots treading softly over the blackened skeletons of what were once priceless medicinal herbs. She felt a profound ache in her chest—not the sharp, biting pain of the Hundred Flowers Gu, which had finally been neutralized, but a hollow sadness for the beauty that had been lost. Nan Menghua had not just tried to destroy her enemies; she had attempted to incinerate the very foundation of the sect that had birthed her.
"It’s all gone, isn't it?" Chu Ruo whispered, her voice barely audible over the mountain wind.
A slender, cool hand slipped into hers, the fingers interlocking with a familiarity that brought an immediate sense of grounding. Nan Muxue stood beside her, her white robes pristine despite the chaos of the day. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of jade-like composure, yet the grip she maintained on Chu Ruo’s hand was tight—almost possessive.
"The flowers can be replanted, Ruo’er," Nan Muxue said softly, her gaze fixed on the distant, darkening horizon. "The roots may be scorched, but the earth remains. As long as we are here, the Palace will bloom again."
Chu Ruo turned to look at her, searching the Young Palace Master’s eyes for any sign of the turmoil that must be raging within. Nan Menghua’s revelations about Muxue’s parentage, the madness that had claimed the woman who was supposed to be her mother, and the sudden appearance of the enigmatic Bai Xue—it was enough to break a lesser soul. Yet, Nan Muxue remained the "Little Scorpion" Chu Ruo had come to love: sharp, resilient, and fiercely protective.
"You really don't care? About what she said? About your father?" Chu Ruo asked, her heart aching for the woman who had spent her life under the shadow of a lie.
Nan Muxue turned, her eyes softening as they landed on Chu Ruo. "I told you before. It does not matter. My past was a cage built by a woman who never knew how to love. My future... my future is standing right here." She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Chu Ruo’s face with a tenderness that still made Chu Ruo’s breath hitch. "I have spent my life as a puppet of the Nan bloodline. From this day forward, I am simply Nan Muxue. And I am yours."
Chu Ruo felt a flush of warmth spread through her, chasing away the chill of the mountain air. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. "And I am yours. Always."
The transition back to a semblance of order was swift, driven by Nan Muxue’s iron will. While Yin Liuli and the other Protectors were dispatched to secure the remnants of the Flying Eagle Fort and ensure Liu Songhe’s influence was truly extinguished, the disciples who remained at the Hundred Flowers Palace began the arduous task of clearing the debris.
Chu Ruo took on the role of the Holy Envoy with a new sense of purpose. She organized the younger disciples, her modern sensibilities helping her streamline the distribution of supplies and the restoration of the living quarters. She found herself acting as a bridge between the cold, disciplined traditions of the Palace and a more compassionate future.
As the days bled into one another, the atmosphere of the Palace shifted. The fear that had once permeated the halls under Nan Menghua’s reign began to evaporate, replaced by a cautious, burgeoning hope. The "Old Demoness" was gone, sequestered in her madness, and the Young Palace Master was no longer a distant, terrifying figure, but a leader who walked among them, often with the Holy Envoy at her side.
By the time the lunar year drew to its close, the blackened scars on the mountain had been covered by a fresh blanket of winter snow. The Palace was quiet, but it was the quiet of rest, not of death.
On the eve of the New Year, Chu Ruo found herself standing on the balcony of the Muxue Pavilion, looking out toward the Silent Lake. The water was a dark mirror, reflecting the silver sliver of the moon. She thought of how far she had come—from a confused transmigrator trying to survive a "Little Scorpion" to the woman who now held that scorpion’s heart.
"Thinking of the modern world again?" Nan Muxue’s voice came from behind her, followed by the warmth of a fur-lined cloak being draped over Chu Ruo’s shoulders.
"Just thinking about how lucky I am," Chu Ruo replied, leaning back into Nan Muxue’s embrace. "In my world, we have a saying about new beginnings. I think we’re finally there, Xue’er."
Nan Muxue hummed in agreement, resting her chin on Chu Ruo’s shoulder. "Then let us leave the embers of yesterday behind. Tonight, we start anew."
