Chapter Fifteen: Register of Disciples Through the Ages

The playful smile on Ling Chenzi’s face vanished completely the moment he heard those words.

Su Changling saw her usually carefree master suddenly suppress his grin, a rare solemn gravity settling over him as he faced her. “Changling, why do you ask this all of a sudden?”

“…I discovered traces of some escaped ghost beads within the Cheng family estate,” Su Changling lowered her gaze and spoke frankly, “and I encountered a fierce ghost capable of wielding our unique Biyunxu sword technique.”

“Is it strong?”

“Unknown cultivation level, but its mastery of swordsmanship likely surpasses mine,” Su Changling pondered briefly before adding softly, “it could single-handedly break through my sword formation.”

“I see.” Upon hearing this, Ling Chenzi abruptly relaxed, his demeanor sliding back to the usual nonchalant air in the blink of an eye. “Alright, I understand.”

“So,” Su Changling frowned in suspicion, “was it truly once a cultivator of Biyunxu?”

—She had never heard of such a figure existing on the mountain before.

Judging by that ghost’s swordsmanship, it shouldn’t have been an obscure nobody in life.

“Sort of, but not exactly,” Ling Chenzi scratched his head and gave her a vague answer. Before the spiritual sword in Su Changling’s embrace could tremble again, eager to break free, he swiftly cast a spell and tossed it out of the courtyard.

“Changling, if you have questions, you might want to check the Mountain Gate Chronicles kept within the mountain.”

“There might be the answers you seek.”

Ling Chenzi’s voice echoed from afar with a hint of teasing malice. Su Changling stared at the gate before her, locked tight and reinforced with thick barriers, biting back her anger. Suppressing the urge, she finally forced her sword through the door.

—The blade gouged out a pit large enough to hold ten people, and using an array, she scattered a thin layer of sand and set traps to ensure that anyone passing this way in the next five days would fall in and face a nasty tumble.

Only then did she sheath her sword and head off to her second senior sister to fetch medicine.

---

Her second senior sister was kind-hearted and compassionate. Upon learning Su Changling sought medicine for a young woman forced by her clan to the brink of despair, she hurriedly rummaged through her supplies, gathering a full set of remedies suitable for a young lady’s future needs.

Knowing that the medicinal herbs from below the mountain were no match for the spirit plants grown above, Su Changling decisively tucked all the bottles and jars into her sleeves. Before leaving, she expressed her gratitude to her senior sister, then turned toward the library building.

Unlike the scripture library filled with various cultivation manuals, the archive containing only chronicles was seldom visited.

When Su Changling landed on her flying sword, the junior disciple on duty was napping at a small desk inside the entrance.

Without mercy, the young girl swung her sword sheath at him. The junior disciple yelped in pain, leaping nearly a meter high.

“Who’s the blind one…? Huh? Senior Sister Su, what are you doing here?” The junior disciple, abruptly awakened, cursed under his breath. Seeing the stern “iron-faced” senior sister who commanded respect, he immediately stood at attention.

Su Changling scanned him briefly. Noticing the flicker of spiritual energy around him, and the faint signs of breakthrough, she guessed his laziness was to conserve his soul essence, so she refrained from reprimanding him. Instead, she tapped the desk lightly and said in a low voice, “I’ve come to consult the mountain chronicles from previous years.”

“Do you… have an index for the chronicles?” he asked.

“Ah? Oh, yes, yes, there is an index.” The junior disciple was surprised—he hadn’t expected anyone to come here to study the chronicles nowadays. After a moment of awakening, he quickly retrieved a dusty volume.

“Senior Sister Su, our Biyunxu chronicles are divided into sections: the founding records, sect regulations, biographies of past leaders, centennial events… and the register of disciples through the ages. Which part would you like to see?”

“The… register of disciples,” Su Changling frowned, mulling it over. “Does it record disciples’ birth and death years as well as causes of death?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Besides the birth and death years, the register also includes brief biographies of past disciples.”

“Alright, I’ll start with that today.” Su Changling made up her mind. The junior disciple lowered his head to flip through the volume, then led her upstairs.

Perhaps because the disciple register was frequently updated, the dust on the top floor was noticeably less than elsewhere in the library.

Su Changling gazed at the shelves crammed with books, her head throbbing almost to the point of fainting—she suspected once again that Ling Chenzi had tricked her, and she had plenty of evidence to prove it.

---

The junior disciple, unaware of her thoughts, enthusiastically introduced the layout of the registers.

“Senior Sister, please take a look here.” He handed her a register and pointed to a small colored mark on the spine.

“Each book here has such a mark, indicating different categories.”

—“Those in the green registers are still alive; the black ones record those who died peacefully of old age or natural causes; the golden registers contain those few powerful beings who ascended early.”

“The red-marked ones over there are disciples who went missing or died unnaturally.”

“Additionally, the shelves are engraved with approximate years corresponding to the registers inside.” The junior disciple glanced at the carved patterns on the bookshelf. “Right here.”

“That’s all I have to say—please take your time. I’ll take my leave.”

“Thank you.” Su Changling nodded, watching him descend the stairs as she plunged her head into the sea of books.

In truth, the biographies weren’t dry at all; reading them carefully could be quite entertaining.

Unfortunately, for Su Changling—who had but one of her seven souls remaining—turning page after page to read others’ lives was an immense challenge. No matter how interesting the words, she could barely feel the emotions hidden within: joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness. After slogging through most of the memoirs in the room, her head felt as if it might explode.

—Thankfully, it wasn’t entirely in vain.

At least she found and memorized the names of past Biyunxu disciples skilled in swordsmanship who had died unnatural deaths, many of whom had surpassed her in cultivation.

Exhausted after forcing herself to finish the last volume of red-marked registers, Su Changling let out a long breath. Closing her eyes, she quickly reviewed everything she had studied today.

After confirming she had firmly etched each disciple’s sword style, cause of death, and name into her memory, Su Changling tidied the scattered scrolls in the room, informed the junior disciple on duty, then cast a spell to mount her sword and set off down the mountain.