Chapter 13: Can We Make Peace?

Based on the double pupils’ information, fusion would occur only after Ling Qingli’s soul awakened.
By that logic, if the double pupils were extracted before her awakening, couldn’t they be claimed for oneself?

The double pupils seemed to sense Bai Zhou’s thoughts. A timid expression shifted to one of allure:
“Has Mommy decided? If you act now, it’ll definitely work. I can’t wait to return to Mommy’s embrace!”

Despite the double pupils’ eagerness, Bai Zhou remained unmoved, cutting straight to the point:
“Drop that idea. You’ve already called me Mom. What kind of mother would seize her daughter’s divine artifact?”

“Daughter’s divine artifact?”
The double pupils froze, quickly grasping her meaning, and frantically waved their hands:
“No, no! I’m your daughter, not this body!”

Bai Zhou nodded affirmingly:
“Seems you’ve accepted your identity. Good.”

The double pupils grew more frantic:
“No, wait! I’m your daughter, not this body!”

At that, Bai Zhou let out a faint chuckle, caught by the double pupils.
“Why is Mommy laughing?”
“I’m laughing at how cute you are.”

Memories of the past flooded Bai Zhou’s mind, enveloping her in an old soul’s aura:
“Walking alone in this world for so many years, having a little treasure by my side doesn’t feel bad.”

The double pupils didn’t grasp her meaning. They were desperate to clarify the “I am not her” issue, but Bai Zhou had no interest in wasting time on this trivial matter, ready to settle it:
“Enough. No need to argue further. In my eyes, you’re the embodiment of this little beggar’s childhood emotions. You’re her, no difference.”

The double pupils fell silent. On one hand, Bai Zhou was right. On the other, they hadn’t mentioned that if the double pupils were removed from their original host, the emotions tied to the host would be stripped away too.
To an unaware cultivator, the benefits of possessing double pupils far outweighed the cost of the host’s emotions—a guaranteed win.

As a final struggle, the double pupils lost their fervor, gazing at Bai Zhou with regret:
“Mommy, are you really going to do this? This is your last chance. Next time won’t be so easy.”

Bai Zhou didn’t answer, instead asking:
“What, are you and she planning to turn on me after merging?”

The thought of merging, combining all experiences from awakening to now with the main body’s memories, made the double pupils smack their lips:
“Hard to say.”

Bai Zhou shook her head lightly, her response firm:
“I don’t believe it. I understand your thinking—people choose good friends, birds choose sturdy trees. But loyalty is loyalty. If you’re not fully loyal to your master, you’re disloyal. You’re not obedient.”

Even through the veil, the double pupils sensed the dangerous, punitive gaze behind it. The stinging memory of their backside made them retreat three steps, stubbornly retorting:
“No way! I finally met Mommy. I don’t want to leave her. Is that wrong?”

Those words struck a nerve deep within Bai Zhou, reminding her of her own childhood, momentarily dazing her.
Some things don’t fade with time. They say sons are close to mothers, daughters to fathers, and as a child, she was indeed so.
But growing up, facing the pressures of studies and life alone, time with her parents dwindled.

The memory passed quickly, and Bai Zhou’s focus returned to the present.
“I’m about to wake up.”
The double pupils left those final words. Bai Zhou looked up to see the split pupils merging, the purple hue fading, the body stiffening yet still walking toward her step by step.

As the pupils fully merged, the body lost control, collapsing limply. Bai Zhou, expecting this, caught her, using her legs as a bed and arms as a pillow.
Bai Zhou gazed quietly at the unconscious little beggar. It was amusing—she still didn’t know her name, yet they’d chatted so smoothly.
In her eyes, the little beggar’s fortune was as radiant as holding a sun.

Before setting out, Bai Zhou had hesitated, pondering how to fill the gap in her own fortune.
The most efficient and reliable method was to strip the fortune of a chosen one before they matured, securing it for herself.
But everything has a price, especially with someone of such fortune—they could turn the tables at any moment.
Now, she was certain of a second method: forming a bond with the child of fortune. The power of bonds, whether in games or stories, never failed.

Boom—
A loud crash came from the sky. The battle between the alliance and the imperial army had reached a fever pitch, with disciples and soldiers falling intermittently.
Bai Zhou glanced over. The heaviest casualties were among these minor players. The elders, however, were cautious, seemingly planning to wear down the lone Golden Core cultivator with attrition.

“Mm…”
Perhaps the sky’s clamor was too loud, stirring the sleeping little beggar.
Ling Qingli opened her eyes groggily. It felt like a dream, yet so real, as if she’d lived it herself, even feeling reluctant to let it go.

Before her was a blurry white figure. As her eyes refocused, Ling Qingli finally saw the breathtaking beauty hidden beneath the veil.
One glance, and she was certain—this was a woman who could be her mother.
“Awake?”

The familiar voice flooded her mind, fully activating the dream’s memories.
The light in Ling Qingli’s eyes dimmed briefly, then flared again. Like a mouse spotting a cat, she flipped out of Bai Zhou’s arms, tumbling to the ground.
Unfazed, she rolled several times, hastily putting distance between them, ignoring the dirt smudging her face, leaving streaks like a caught flower cat.

She looked up, her gaze panicked yet tinged with the fear and unease of a child caught misbehaving:
“Who—who are you?!”
“Bai Zhou. You?”
“Ling Qingli.”

With names finally exchanged, the tension between them seemed to ease.
Ling Qingli’s gaze, complex and conflicted, fixed on the seated girl. The shame of being spanked and the embarrassment of calling her “Mom” surged within her.
They felt like acquaintances yet strangers, until Bai Zhou’s voice, laced with the tone of settling scores, broke the silence:
“Good daughter, how’s that Yin Thunder Rod working for you? Such a naughty child, so disobedient.”

The stinging memory of her backside jolted Ling Qingli’s mind.
The same tone, the same words…
What would happen next? It was so hard to guess.
“I—I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

With that, Ling Qingli bowed her head, practically burying it in the ground.
Bai Zhou watched her, and though she was ready to settle the score, this was her first disciple, after all. A master needed some magnanimity.
Just as she prepared to let it slide, Ling Qingli suddenly smashed a mud pellet on the ground, unleashing a thick fog.
“Hmph! You woman, we haven’t settled the score for spanking me yet! We’ll talk later—time to bolt!”

Ling Qingli was confident. This wasn’t her first time using this trick—create a smokescreen when the enemy’s guard is down and slip away. It never failed.
But before she could take a step, her body lifted, feet dangling in the air.
“…What’s happening? Did I grow taller?”

Her words barely fell when she met a pair of icy molten gold eyes.
“Such a disobedient child. Forgetting the pain once the wound heals. Time for punishment.”
“…”

Ling Qingli paled, trying to stay defiant, glaring at Bai Zhou. But the memory of the spanking overwhelmed her, her eyes reddening uncontrollably, her voice weakening:
“Guh… can we make peace?”