Mu Yang didn't know whether Shenhe had truly found closure after sharing her story.

But the fact that she was willing to speak of it at all meant she had chosen to face her past bravely rather than flee from it.

This was something Mu Yang deeply admired.

He ruffled Shenhe's hair again and offered some comforting words.

Finally, he said, "Let's go back. Moon Carver and the others should have arrived by now."

Little Shenhe nodded obediently. "Mm."

When the two returned to Mt. Aocang, the other adepti had indeed gathered.

The matter of the Red Rope Binding Soul had actually been proposed by Moon Carver to Cloud Retainer right after the divination that day.

However, Cloud Retainer hadn't adopted it immediately at the time.

Back then, Shenhe had been too young, with no training in adeptal arts—implementing it would have greatly impacted her growth.

Moreover, her condition hadn't been as severe as it was now.

But now, things were different. Her violent tendencies hadn't been suppressed by her cultivation.

Instead, they had grown more pronounced with age.

If this continued, she would inevitably harm herself. Thus, they had reached the point where there was no other choice.

Cloud Retainer spoke first. "Shenhe, has Mu Yang explained everything to you?"

Shenhe nodded. "Yes. This disciple understands. I will follow Master's arrangements."

As always, she was unfailingly obedient—no tears, no tantrums, no resentment toward her cruel fate.

The Red Rope Binding Soul ritual began.

Moon Carver formed the sealing array while the other adepti channeled their power into it...

From that day onward, Shenhe's presence changed.

When Mu Yang visited, she would still immediately stop her training to greet him.

But the natural smile that once graced her face had become a rare sight.

It pained Mu Yang to see, but there was nothing to be done.

Yet for Shenhe, this didn't seem entirely negative.

With her emotions restrained, she could focus entirely on cultivation, progressing at an astonishing pace.

———Years Later———

On Mt. Aocang, two white-clad figures sparred.

Mu Yang still wielded a long wooden stick, while Shenhe cycled through various weapons with practiced ease.

She had long since mastered Mu Yang's sword techniques and adapted them seamlessly to other arms—the principles remained the same.

Moreover, Shenhe had her own advantage—having learned from multiple masters.

With talismanic enhancements applied, she finally managed to shave off a small section of Mu Yang's stick.

"Master Mu Yang, have I improved?" Shenhe asked as she approached him.

Though her face remained expressionless, a hint of pride colored her words.

"Not bad at all. What reward would you like?"

"I want to eat the dragon beard noodles you make."

When one's disciple showed progress, a master naturally couldn't be stingy with praise.

Mu Yang entered Cloud Retainer's abode to prepare the dough.

Dragon beard noodles required repeated stretching until the strands became as fine as autumn hairs—the pinnacle of Liyue's noodle craftsmanship.

He stir-fried scallions for fragrance, added broth and accompaniments, then finally the noodles themselves.

When Mu Yang presented the dish to Shenhe, the delicate threads cascaded like a waterfall into the essence-rich soup.

He hadn't perfected the dish—instead, he'd deliberately recreated Shenhe's description.

He knew exactly what flavor she sought to revisit.

She was reminiscing about the taste from her memories...

The last bowl of noodles her mother had ever made for her.

She had told herself repeatedly that she shouldn't remember this flavor.

Yet after all these years, she still couldn't let it go...

———That Night———

Mu Yang sat in meditation.

By all rights, Shenhe should have been nearby practicing seated cultivation—that was her current focus.

Having mastered most adeptal arts, what remained was tempering her heart and restraining her killing instincts.

In this regard, she had improved remarkably—at least the trespassers who stumbled into the abode these days kept their lives...

During his meditation, Mu Yang sensed something.

Though Shenhe moved with extreme subtlety, he still detected her departure from Mt. Aocang—toward Mt. Tianheng.

It seemed the day's events had stirred something in the young woman after all.

Mu Yang sent a wisp of spiritual awareness to watch over her before resuming his meditation, allowing her to go...

———

After over a decade of secluded mountain cultivation, even the most numbed heart would stir.

Shenhe, bound by red ropes, was no exception.

Having made progress in her training and eaten Mu Yang's dragon beard noodles, she was suddenly overcome with the urge to revisit her hometown.

So under cover of night, she quietly descended the mountain.

She didn't know whether she still clung to any attachment for her home or family—she simply followed a vague, wistful impulse.

She wanted to see the house where she'd lived, to know what had become of that deluded father.

Yet when Shenhe actually reached the village, she froze—

The entire settlement lay in ruins.

Following her memories to her childhood home, she found only a half-dismantled wooden shack...

For a moment, Shenhe stood helpless.

This vast world seemed full of possibilities, yet upon reflection, she had nowhere to go...

Then came voices from within the ruins. Shenhe approached slowly, uncertain what she hoped to find—or even what she felt.

Did she want to see that man? Her father—if he could even be called that?

Her thoughts tangled into knots.

Then a startled cry shattered her reverie.

"B-boss! It's... it's an adeptus!"

Just some Treasure Hoarder grunts digging for who-knew-what.

Their leader took one look at Shenhe's bearing, kowtowed in apology, then fled.

"Adeptus..." Shenhe murmured.

She surveyed the ruined house—barely recognizable after years of mountain floods that had half-buried it.

The year her father had left in madness, five-year-old Shenhe had survived on neighbors' charity.

Everyone had been poor—she'd pawned everything except her mother's keepsakes.

Noticing where the Treasure Hoarders had been digging, Shenhe's trained eyes spotted something beneath.

She excavated briefly before unearthing a box.

Brushing off the dirt, she traced its carved patterns with gentle fingers.

"Mother..."

Inside lay talismans—child's play to her current abilities—followed by sewing needles and a sachet embroidered with a clumsy crane.

At the very bottom was a portrait—her mother holding her, smiling warmly.

Shenhe lifted the picture, fingertips tracing the now-faded face from her memories.

Tears she hadn't realized were falling streaked her cheeks.

Panicked, she summoned Cryo to protect the portrait from moisture...

After removing the box's contents, her mechanical expertise revealed a hidden compartment containing a folded letter:

"My little crane, happy birthday.

If you're reading this, Mother has ridden the celestial crane far into the heavens.

I won't be there for your birthdays anymore.

This sachet is your gift—may it keep misfortune at bay.

Don't laugh at Mother—my hands weren't as clever as yours. I kept pricking myself trying to embroider this crane...

...

If possible, I'd have celebrated ten, twenty birthdays with you.

But my body won't allow it—I know my limits.

...

Let's make a promise.

When you've grown up healthy and strong, tell the brightest star in the sky, alright?

I'll be waiting up here for your message.

I know you can do it—my little crane is the best.

...

Ah, how I wish... I could watch you grow up..."

———

Shenhe slumped against the broken wall, face buried in her knees as sobs wracked her frame...

The purest human bonds could not be restrained, not even by red ropes.

When her tears finally subsided, Shenhe looked up at the night sky until she found the brightest star.

"Mother... I've grown up healthy, just as you wished."

"So many care for me now—Master Cloud Retainer, Master Mu Yang, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper..."

"Today I ate Master Mu Yang's noodles. He's amazing—they tasted just like yours..."

...

That night, Shenhe spoke more words to the sky than she had in over a decade combined.

Exhausted, she eventually fell asleep.

Dawn brought farmers returning to tend fields near the abandoned village.

They addressed her as "adeptus"—none believed her when she said she'd grown up here.

Giving up explanations, Shenhe simply asked what had become of the house's owner.

They told her: Years ago, after his wife's death and daughter's disappearance, the man had hanged himself in madness.

So he was already gone.

Shenhe stood silently amid the chatter, listening to the fleeting tempest within her heart.

Resentment? Obsession? Release?

She couldn't name what she felt toward that man.

For one instant, everything existed—then nothing remained, leaving only a still well within her.

No—a well completely dried, with no water left for ripples.

But it didn't matter. Shenhe had found her own sweet dew.

Clutching her mother's box, she walked away under the villagers' astonished gazes.

Each step came slowly—but she never once looked back.