Beauties in Simulation Cross over into Reality

Several children pointed at Xian Xichun, giggling and shouting, ”Mom, look! That man is making a drunken scene!”

Xiao Mo’s face flushed under the stares of the townspeople. It was an awkward situation; he didn’t know whether to keep walking or stop.

Walking behind them, Tushan Jing Ci couldn’t help but cover her mouth and giggle when she saw Xiao Mo’s predicament.

Back at Cold Mountain Academy, Xiao Mo decided it was best to settle Mr. Xian in his own bamboo courtyard for the time being.

After all, if Mr. Xian’s colleagues saw him in this state, he would die of social embarrassment by the next day. They wouldn’t let him live it down for a long, long time.

Xiao Mo laid Xian Xichun down on his bed. Xian Xichun rolled over and was soon snoring, fast asleep.

After getting Mr. Xian settled, Xiao Mo started walking Tushan Jing Ci home.

”I’ve never seen Mr. Xian drink so much before.” Walking beside Xiao Mo, Tushan Jing Ci recalled their teacher’s drunken display and shook her head with a helpless sigh.

”Mr. Xian really didn’t handle his liquor well today...” Xiao Mo agreed, his steps slowing slightly. He turned to the young woman beside him with a smile. ”But...”

His gaze was warm and gentle.

”That poem of yours... it was truly beautiful.”

”Huh?” Tushan Jing Ci froze for a second at his words, blinking up at him as a blush quietly crept onto her cheeks. ”Xiao Mo, you... what are you talking about...”

Xiao Mo smiled, then slowly began to recite: ”Three years now, within these walls, a face and peach blossoms enhanced each other’s blush. That face, I know not where it’s gone, but the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.”

After finishing the last line, he looked at the young woman beside him, his eyes crinkling with a smile. ”Wasn’t that your poem?”

”You...”

Tushan Jing Ci felt her cheeks burn as he recited her own poem back to her. She bit her lip, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.

”You... How did you know?”

”Mr. Xian secretly told me while we were drinking,” Xiao Mo said, admiring her profile. ”It really is a wonderful poem.”

”Stop, stop! It’s too embarrassing!”

Tushan Jing Ci wrung her hands, her fingers fidgeting nervously. She picked up her pace, wishing she could just leave Xiao Mo in her dust.

’For her, writing that poem had been a spontaneous act, every word a vessel for her longing for Xiao Mo, for her daily hope that he would emerge from his seclusion soon.’

’Who would have thought the poem would spread so quickly?’

’And now Xiao Mo knew.’

’It was just mortifying.’

’This feeling was somehow even more embarrassing than confessing her feelings to him yesterday.’

”What’s there to be embarrassed about?” Xiao Mo asked, catching up to her with a note of feigned innocence. ”It’s just a poem about peach blossoms in the spring, right? Unless... does it have some other meaning?”

”You...! Hmph... I’m ignoring you now...” Tushan Jing Ci balled her hand into a small fist and gave Xiao Mo’s shoulder a light tap, then turned her head away and walked even faster.

Seeing how truly flustered she was, Xiao Mo stopped his teasing. He simply walked in silence beside her, letting the setting sun stretch their shadows until they overlapped and became one.

”It’s not fair...”

After they had walked in silence for a while, the young woman, who had been staring at the ground, suddenly mumbled something.

”What’s not fair?” Xiao Mo asked.

The young woman lifted her head, her glistening eyes locking onto his. Her tone was one of mock indignation. ”You’re the only one making fun of someone. That’s not fair!”

”I wasn’t making fun of you, really,” Xiao Mo quickly explained. ”I genuinely think it’s a wonderful poem.”

”I don’t care. You were just laughing at me,” Tushan Jing Ci insisted, pouting and puffing out her cheeks slightly.

”Alright, should I apologize to you then?” Xiao Mo asked with a laugh.

”I don’t want your apology,” Tushan Jing Ci said, lifting her chin. Her eyes flashed with a playful imperiousness. ”You... You have to write a poem, too!”

”Me?” Xiao Mo asked, taken aback.

”That’s right! You have to write a poem so I can have a good laugh at you!” Tushan Jing Ci spun around to block Xiao Mo’s path. She planted her hands on her slender hips, puffed out her cheeks, and gave him a look that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

”And it has to be... has to be...”

As she spoke, her cheeks grew redder, and her voice dwindled to a whisper, as light as a summer breeze rustling through the forest leaves.

”A poem... written for me...”

...

「A month later.」

Demon Race’s World, Cold Mountain City.

A month ago, a pair of women in Daoist Robes had arrived in Cold Mountain City, drawing stares from all the townsfolk, who found themselves unable to look away.

Now today, a month later, Cold Mountain City welcomed two more new faces—two women.

One was dressed in white, the other in green.

The woman in green was already a nation-toppling beauty, her every feature radiating a captivating elegance.

Yet the woman in white beside her was even more beautiful—impossibly so. A beauty that defied description.

It was as if her mere presence, standing there silently, bleached the world of its color. Heaven, Earth, and all creation faded into gray, leaving only the snow-white of her robes.

Furthermore, every move the woman in white made carried the innate majesty of an Emperor, as if all creation ought to bow before her. It was an aura that made people only dare to gaze from a distance, never dreaming of drawing near.

The woman in white strode at a slow, deliberate pace through the streets of Cold Mountain City until she arrived before the mountain peak shrouded in a dense aura of Confucian scholarship.

Standing at the foot of the mountain, she looked up and saw the words ”Cold Mountain Academy” inscribed above the main gate in neat, formal script. The calligraphy was forceful, imbued with a timeless elegance.

”I never thought I’d find a place with such a strong scholarly aura in the Demon Race’s World,” the woman in green remarked, looking around with a surprised and impressed expression.

”A rare feat, indeed.”

The white-robed woman’s lips parted, her voice like a melody from the heavens—ethereal and clear, yet carrying a chill that pushed everyone away.

It was as if the heart in her chest had been almost completely sealed away.

As if she were clinging to a single, solitary thought just to preserve the last fading ember of warmth within it.

”Let’s go.” Her gaze traveled past the gate toward the academy’s depths. ”Let’s see this academy in the Demon Race’s World. Let’s see how their scholars differ from those of the World of Ten Thousand Laws.”

The woman in white began her ascent, her long legs carrying her up the mountain path. Her pace was unhurried, her bearing aloof, and every step she took exuded an innate, regal authority.

The very moment she set foot in Cold Mountain Academy, the entire institution’s scholarly aura seemed to stir as if startled.

A sudden Book Flipping Wind arose from the mountains, howling as it swept across every peak and through every bamboo grove.

The scholarly aura, so thick it was almost tangible, began to gather in the sky. It layered and condensed, gradually forming a heavy, ink-black cloud that hung oppressively over the academy.

Everyone at Cold Mountain Academy looked up at the strange phenomenon in the sky, their hearts filled with an inexplicable shock.

”Headmaster, what... what is happening?”

An academy teacher named Chao Xi flew hurriedly to Cun Caiguang’s courtyard, his voice laced with panic.

”Could a great Confucian Quasi-Saint from the World of Ten Thousand Laws have come to our academy?”

To trigger such a massive scholarly phenomenon meant the visitor was under the profound protection of the Great Dao of the Confucian School.

A person like that would have to be a Quasi-Saint of the Confucian School, at the very least.

But why would a Quasi-Saint of the Confucian School possibly come here?

”A Quasi-Saint?”

Cun Caiguang stroked his beard and shook his head with a smile.

”She is no Quasi-Saint. The reason she can cause such a phenomenon, the reason the scholarly aura of the Confucian School shelters her so, is because of her husband. And her husband... he is much more than a mere Quasi-Saint...”

”Her husband? More than a Quasi-Saint? Then could he be...” Chao Xi’s eyes widened in astonishment, a guess already forming in his mind.

”Come.”

Cun Caiguang straightened his clothes, his expression calm, his steps steady.

”Accompany me to meet the wife of the world’s last Confucian Saint.”