Honkai: Oh No, I’ve Become the Herrscher of Corruption?! - Chapter 28

Before Cheng Lixue stood a towering mountain, its peaks shrouded in mist, lending the place an ethereal aura. A stone-paved path stretched ahead, winding upward to the summit. She knew this place all too well—it was Taixuan Mountain.

(The gentle melody of Taixuan Mountain plays in the background.)

Step by step, she ascended the stone stairs, breathing in the crisp mountain air. A cool breeze brushed past, lightly tousling her hair, while the warm yet gentle sunlight bathed her in comfort.

But the serene surroundings didn’t slow her pace. As she walked, memories flooded her mind. She remembered how, at the age of five, her master, Fu Hua, had held her hand and led her up this very path to Taixuan Mountain.

After hours of climbing, she spotted the quaint little cottage—the place she had called home for so many years. This was where her master had taught her to read and write. Her gaze drifted to the desk in the western corner, where the faint outlines of two figures, one tall and one small, seemed to flicker before her eyes.

“At the beginning of life, nature is good. Similar in nature, distant in habit…”
“Dark is the heaven, yellow the earth, vast and chaotic the universe…”

From the Three Character Classic to the Thousand-Character Essay, countless texts of Shenzhou—her master would sit behind that desk, reciting them over and over, while Lixue sat on her lap, repeating each line after her.

Back then, like any curious child, Lixue would pester her master with endless questions about the meaning of every new character. And without fail, Fu Hua would patiently indulge her little disciple’s inquisitiveness.

“Sister, sister—what does ‘xia’ (侠, chivalry) mean?”

She remembered how Fu Hua hadn’t answered her directly that day, instead saying that learning must be taken step by step. “Ask me again when you’ve learned more.”

Three years later, they descended the mountain for the first time—only to encounter a group of bandits. Yet, before the dozens of outlaws even realized it, Fu Hua had surrounded them all by herself.

She told the eight-year-old Lixue to close her eyes. A few swift movements later, only the two of them remained standing. That was the first time Cheng Lixue felt admiration for strength.

“Sister, will you teach me those amazing moves someday? I want to be as strong as you.”
“And once you’re strong, what will you do?”
“If I’m strong, even if I’m alone, no one like those bandits can ever hurt me.”

Fu Hua picked up a twig and motioned for Lixue to follow her to a patch of soft soil. Kneeling, she wrote a character in the dirt: 「俠」

Lixue tilted her head. It looked like “xia,” but not quite.

“Lixue, remember when you asked me about ‘xia’ three years ago? This is how it was originally written.”

Fu Hua pointed at the character. “The radical on the left represents a person’s actions. The right side shows a larger figure protecting two smaller ones. To use one’s strength to help the weak—that is the essence of ‘xia.’”

Lixue listened, deep in thought.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be strong, Lixue. But what matters more is what you choose to do with that strength. You have far greater talent than most. I won’t force you into anything, but if one day you surpass others in power… I hope you’ll use it to protect those weaker than yourself—not to harm others for selfish gain, like these bandits.”

“Protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”

That ideal became the driving force behind Cheng Lixue’s decision to join Schicksal and become a Valkyrie. She understood now—her master hadn’t just taught her to read and write. She had taught her how to live.

“Even my most casual questions, you remembered… waiting for the right moment to guide me. But then… why did you leave me?”

The very next day after formally becoming master and disciple, Fu Hua vanished. It wasn’t until Lixue became a Valkyrie that they met again. And though Fu Hua patiently answered every other question, this one made her avert her eyes in sorrow, refusing to speak.

Lixue knew—this was her unresolved regret, the reason her Taixuan Sword Art could never reach the realm of “Dustless.” The harder she tried not to dwell on it, the more it gnawed at her mind. At its worst, even maintaining the “Still Water” state of mind became difficult.

With a heavy heart, Lixue left the cottage and stepped into the adjacent kitchen. This was where Fu Hua would make her a steaming bowl of wonton noodles every year on her birthday.

The sight of it plunged her back into memory—the first time she made wonton noodles after Fu Hua left.

Flour in the bowl. One egg. Slowly add water, kneading it into dough.

She worked meticulously, knowing that mastering this was no easier than mastering a martial art.

The flour scattered, gathered, and under her hands, gradually formed into a smooth, elastic dough.

Then came rolling, cutting, stretching—reserving some for wontons. Boiling them in a broth of dried flounder and shrimp roe. Finally, two fragrant bowls of wonton noodles were ready.

She carefully lifted a strand, blew on it, and took a bite with a wonton. The burst of flavor told her—she had succeeded on her first try.

She carried both bowls back to the house, ate one, cleaned up, and left.

But when she returned that night, the other bowl remained untouched, long gone cold.

“Waiting in the snow by the Cheng gate.”

That was the origin of her name. Though she disliked waiting, she had grown accustomed to it.

Yet this time, staring at that cold bowl of noodles, she knew—the person she waited for would never return.

“Time flows relentlessly… To think even Master’s first departure was so long ago.”

Lixue stepped outside, standing atop Taixuan Mountain, gazing at the scenery below with a bitter smile.

If only time could have frozen back then…

Now, even in this dream, all she could do was reminisce—touching objects that evoked memories, seeing scenes that stirred emotions.

“I didn’t expect you to long for a place rather than a person.”

A rift tore through the space beside her, and Enoxia stepped out. Perhaps due to her unique nature, she and “Old Yang” could observe others’ dreams like a live broadcast, even intervening to some extent.

She had initially tried replicating her previous method, but it proved ineffective—as if the dream itself had sensed her. So she shifted tactics, no longer eroding the entire world but instead focusing her power into a single point, piercing a hole into Cheng Lixue’s dream and pulling her out.

“Who did you think I’d dream of?”
“Your master, Fu Hua. My authority allows me to access not only Schicksal’s records but fragments of your memories with her. So I’m not entirely ignorant of your burdens.”

Lixue chuckled softly. “Is that so? Then it’s simple. What I truly desire isn’t to see Master—it’s to return to Taixuan Mountain and relive our past.”
“Why?”
“After joining Schicksal, I realized Master may have a complicated history. If she refuses to answer, she must have her reasons. As her disciple, the last thing I want is to trouble her further. Unless she chooses to tell me herself, I won’t ask again. I’m no longer that child who needed every question answered.”

Enoxia sighed inwardly.

“To spare Fu Hua painful memories, she’d rather bear this regret forever… Without a doubt, she is the one in this era who cares for Fu Hua the most. May you live to see the day Fu Hua willingly shares her past with you.”

As Cheng Lixue’s form began to fade, Enoxia offered a sincere blessing.