During the past few days, Yun Nian had not gone to see Xie Qingli, but had instead remained secluded within her own courtyard, quietly tending to her injuries and regulating the flow of her spiritual energy. Yet, before anyone truly realized how quickly the days were slipping by, the long-awaited opening of the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins drew near, and so, at the appointed hour, Xie Qingli finally stepped out from his quarters.
He moved with the unmistakable, effortless aura of a true protagonist, but the very moment his heavy wooden gates swung open, a familiar, vibrant figure broke the morning stillness as the young girl skipped happily toward him, her flowing sleeves fluttering lightly in the fresh dawn wind.
“Good morning, Junior Brother Xie!”
Two soft velvet flowers rested gracefully in Yun Nian’s hair, and the delicate tassels dangling beneath them swayed in a gentle, rhythmic dance with each lively step she took. And though she had been absent for days, Xie Qingli was still well-accustomed to her sudden bursts of warmth; thus, he lifted his dark eyes toward her as he smoothly curved his lips into a flawless, polite smile to return her greeting.
“Good morning, Senior Sister Yun.”
Without a word in return , Yun Nian looked him over carefully from head to toe, her eyes tracing his stance. Only after assuring herself that he was completely unharmed did she quietly let out a breath and relax. It seemed the volatile fire poison inside his body had finally settled down.
Lowering her head, she searched through the depths of her qiankun bag before pulling something out. Hiding the object securely within her palm, she leaned forward with a mysterious smile. “Junior Brother Xie, hold out your hand.” Xie Qingli glanced down at her, his expression entirely calm and unreadable. Yun Nian blinked back at him and slightly tilted her chin, silently urging him to cooperate. After a brief, heavy silence, the youth slowly extended his hand.
The girl immediately reached over, her warm fingers pushing back his wide sleeve to reveal his pale wrist, where she carefully began to loop a thin red rope. At its center hung a single, small crimson bead, gleaming as brightly as a drop of fresh blood, and almost instantly, a wave of warm spiritual energy began to flow faintly from the artifact. It carried Yun Nian’s distinct aura—soft and gentle, like spring sunlight melting away winter snow—and as she leaned closer to secure the string, even the persistent coldness that always clung to his fingertips seemed to dissolve within that sudden warmth.
Yet, Xie Qingli remained entirely still, his gaze dropping to watch her small hands busily working against his skin, while Yun Nian, completely focused on her task, kept her head bowed as she carefully secured a tight knot around his wrist.
“This is a spirit silk rope I crafted myself,” she explained softly, her fingers smoothing over the fabric as she spoke. “No matter how far away you wander, I will always be able to find you with this. The Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins are fraught with peril, Junior Brother, and if we happen to get separated by the ruins’ arrays, I can still locate you through this.”
Once the final knot was completely finished, she finally raised her head to look at him, and she found the young man’s eyes were already lowered, quietly observing her handiwork. But even with her face so close to his, Xie Qingli’s expression remained perfectly serene, his courteous smile never wavering as he lightly brushed his own fingertips against the red rope around his wrist, causing the curve of his lips to deepen just a fraction.
“Thank you, Senior Sister.”
Yun Nian smiled brightly at his response and patted his shoulder with easy familiarity. “No need to thank me, Junior Brother!”
In truth, Yun Nian did not fully remember the exact sequence of events from the original story. She only possessed a vague, troubling knowledge that Xie Qingli was destined to suffer immensely before obtaining the legendary Po Ji [Broken Thorn] sword. It was precisely because of this looming danger that she had spent the past few days locked inside her room, meticulously weaving this spirit silk rope for him instead of visiting him. Realizing the time to gather with the others was slipping away, Yun Nian looked back at him and waved her hand lightly. “Come along, Junior Brother. Senior Brother and the others are already waiting for us.”
Her clear eyes rested on him, quiet and deeply attentive. Xie Qingli slowly withdrew his hand from the crimson rope and offered a low hum of acknowledgment before following her out. As he walked a pace behind the girl, his eyes tracked her light, cheerful footsteps and slender figure. A faint, sweet fragrance lingered in the air around her, causing his gaze to darken little by little. Why was someone treating him so incredibly well for no apparent reason? What exactly did she want to extract from him?
The polite smile on Xie Qingli’s face vanished completely as he think more about it. The depths of his eyes grew dark and utterly unreadable, resembling a cold, treacherous abyss hidden beneath a surface of perfectly calm water.
At the same time on sweeping summit of Xuejian Peak, Jiang Zhao was already pacing back and forth. [Xuejian Peak, “Snow-Treading Peak”: One of the prominent mountain peaks within the cultivation sect.] And the very moment he spotted Yun Nian arriving late with Xie Qingli in tow, he immediately let out a sharp, cold scoff. “Does he lack legs of his own? Did you truly need to personally fetch him?” Yun Nian carried her spiritual sword casually in one hand, grinning back at him without a shred of hesitation. “Of course I did. Unlike you, Senior Brother, who cannot fetch the person he wants to see even if he tries.”
The moment Su Ying’s absence was implied, Jiang Zhao’s irritation flared, his face darkening at once. Su Ying’s constitution had always been frail and weak; she never participated in dangerous sect trials, nor did she ever enter volatile secret realms like the Sword Ruins.
Seeing that his two disciples were on the verge of bickering yet again, Master Fu Tan rubbed his forehead in sheer exhaustion, the veins near his temples throbbing faintly. “Enough, both of you,” the Master interrupted quickly, waving his hand. “No more arguing the moment you step foot outside the sect gates. Prepare your swords and depart for Guling Mountain.” Jiang Zhao let out another low scoff but held his tongue, saying nothing further. Yun Nian also quietly returned to Xie Qingli’s side, glancing up at him with a look of genuine concern. “Junior Brother, you are capable of sword flight, correct?” [Sword Flight: A standard cultivation technique where cultivators ride their spiritual swords through the air to travel vast distances.]
Xie Qingli nodded gently, his demeanor harmless. “Senior Sister worries too much. I am capable of it .” Only then did Yun Nian feel entirely relieved. The group adjusted their robes, just about to leap onto their unsheathed swords, when a soft, breathless voice suddenly called out from the path behind them.
“Wait!”
Yun Nian turned around to look. Su Ying was hurrying toward the summit, her fingers lightly lifting the hem of her blue dress so she would not trip over the rocky terrain. Her fair cheeks were flushed a delicate pink from the exertion, and fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She looked as though she had rushed all the way from her distant peak without stopping for a single breath.
The icy annoyance on Jiang Zhao’s face vanished in an instant upon seeing her distraught state. And without a second thought, he strode forward to meet her halfway. “Why did you come all the way out here?” His voice softened unconsciously, losing all its sharp edges. “Your health is poor. You should not be running around like this in the mountain wind.” Su Ying shook her head gently, offering him a reassuring smile as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Luckily, I still made it in time.”
Then her soft, slender fingers slipped into Jiang Zhao’s palm, transferring a heavily embroidered qiankun bag into his hand. “There is prepared food kept warm inside,” she murmured softly, “and some sweet pastries for Junior Sister Yun as well. I also placed several protective defensive arrays inside the magical artifacts. Use them if you encounter danger.” [Array: A complex formation technique that can create barriers, traps, or protective shields through the precise manipulation of spiritual power.] Her eyes curved warmly as she looked up at him. “You are the Senior Brother leading the vanguard this time, so you must protect everyone properly. And please, do not quarrel with Junior Sister anymore.”
Standing a few paces away, Yun Nian could not help but burst into a soft laugh, and Jiang Zhao’s ears instantly turned a brilliant shade of red at the reprimand. He threw a fierce, warning glare at Yun Nian before awkwardly turning his face away from Su Ying, clearing his throat. “Who wastes their time quarreling with her?” Su Ying only laughed softly at his stubbornness, her gaze as gentle and serene as flowing water.
Jiang Zhao pressed his lips into a tight line. His Adam’s apple moved slightly before he finally lifted his hand, using his wide sleeve to carefully and tenderly wipe away the remaining sweat on her forehead. “I heard there are many rare, immortal herbs hidden inside the Ancient Sword Ruins,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, quiet murmur meant only for her. “I will bring the best ones back to nourish and repair your jingmai [spiritual meridians].” He looked down at her quietly, his gaze steady. “Wait for me to return.” Su Ying smiled, nodding softly in response. “Okay.”
Jiang Zhao continued to stare at Su Ying for a long time, his eyes locked onto her face as if he physically could not pull his gaze away. He remained there, quiet and unwavering, until even Master Fu Tan could no longer hold back a few pointed coughs, hiding a fond laugh behind his hand.
Only then did Jiang Zhao finally blink, as if snapping awake from a deep dream, as the crimson flush quickly spread from his ears to his cheeks.
“I am leaving,” he muttered quickly, turning away to face his sword, while the corners of Su Ying’s lips curved softly at his actions.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Be careful on the road.”
Jiang Zhao hesitated, his foot halting. His gaze lowered to the ground, then rose to meet hers again, as if he still harbored a thousand parting words but could not find the right place to put them. In the end, he only said, “Take proper care of yourself while I am gone. Do not stand out in the wind. Do not catch a cold… and under no circumstances are you to draw your sword.” Su Ying looked at him helplessly, though her smile remained incredibly gentle. “I know.” Only after hearing her reassurance did Jiang Zhao finally seem satisfied; and so, with a final, lingering look, he reluctantly stepped back and walked toward Master Fu Tan’s side. Fu Tan stood with his hands tucked loosely behind his back, watching the young lovers with a calm, almost amused expression on his face as Jiang Zhao finally prepared to lead his martial siblings into the sky.
Yun Nian tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased her senior brother lightly. “So, are you finally prepared to leave, or must we wait for another farewell?” Jiang Zhao snapped out of his daze and shot her a thoroughly irritated glare, but Yun Nian only smiled brighter, entirely unbothered. Nearby, Su Ying raised her hand, waving gently to break up the bickering. “Go on,” she urged softly, her voice carrying across the wind.
Yun Nian waved back at her with full energy, her voice bright and loud enough to echo across the open stone platform. “Senior Sister Su, bye-bye! Take care of yourself!” Su Ying could not help but laugh softly at her enthusiasm, nodding in return. Seeing that the departures were settled, Master Fu Tan gave a light, authoritative command, and the heavy atmosphere of the sect shifted. “Summon your swords. We depart.” Yun Nian stepped gracefully onto her wooden sword, her movements practiced and steady. [Wooden Sword: A basic, standardized spirit sword crafted from spiritual timber, used by lower-tier cultivators for transit before they obtain a true natal weapon.]
One by one, all the disciples rose into the air, tracing bright lines against the clouds. Xie Qingli moved with them quietly, his posture effortless and calm. Though his cultivation was deep enough that he already possessed a natal sword, he chose not to draw it, keeping pace with the group on a standard flying blade to maintain formation. [Natal Sword: A cultivator’s bonded weapon, formed through an intricate ritual of spiritual recognition and blood-binding.]
As they flew higher, Jiang Zhao naturally accelerated, taking his position at the front and slightly above the rest, acting as the main vanguard and protector of the group. The opening of the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins was a monumental event, drawing more than just the Xuanmiao Sword Sect. Across the vast horizon, disciples from three sects, six schools, and fourteen palaces could also be seen converging, as the sky filled with intersecting sword lights that resembled a canopy of scattered stars. Their ultimate destination, Guling Mountain, lay far to the frozen north. From the southern territory of the Xuanmiao Sword Sect, the arduous journey required nearly three hours of continuous, high-altitude sword flight.
When they finally descended, numerous groups were already gathered in the valley below, standing in tense, separate clusters according to their respective sects. A heavy silence filled the air, but it was far from peaceful; it was a suffocating silence taut with anticipation and rivalry.
And when the sun finally reached its highest point in the sky, a faint, golden halo erupted across the clouds. The sealed gate of the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins—which had remained firmly shut against the mortal realm for three hundred long years—slowly began to grind open.
With it’s emergence the air changed instantly, turning heavy with ancient qi , as the entrance revealed itself as a massive spiritual gate suspended in mid-air, surrounded by blinding, rotating light patterns. At this momrent master Fu Tan stepped forward, his expression shifting as he placed a heavy hand on Jiang Zhao’s shoulder. “Of all the disciples present, your cultivation is the highest,” he said quietly, his voice laced with rare gravity. “Protect your junior brothers and sisters. The retrieval of a relic sword is not the most important thing today. Survival is.”
He lowered his voice further, ensuring only his disciples could hear. “If you encounter an anomaly or a danger you cannot handle, abort the trial and leave immediately.”
Jiang Zhao nodded, his expression solemn. “Yes, Master. I will keep them safe.” Fu Tan’s eyes lingered on the swirling vortex of the open ruins once again , as a rare seriousness settling over his usually amiablel face. Yun Nian noticed the change and felt a surge of surprise too; their master was usually gentle and relaxed, even when issuing strict orders.
Fu Tan spoke again, his words slower and heavier this time. “Nothing is more precious than life. Do not let greed cloud your judgment. If you cannot obtain a sword from these ruins, the sect will assist you in forging a proper natal sword later.” His gaze sharpened, locking onto each of them in turn. “Under no circumstances are you to enter the forbidden area just to get a sword.”
At that exact moment, a mechanical, disembodied voice echoed directly inside Yun Nian’s mind. System: [Warning. Forbidden area detected: Cuizhu [Emerald Bamboo] Ferry. An extremely volatile and dangerous zone inside the ruins. All sects strictly prohibit entry.]
[Cuizhu Ferry: A legendary, hidden region within the ruins rumored to be filled with top-grade spirit herbs and ancient treasures. It is also the legendary location of the resting sword pavilion of Pei Ling, widely recorded as the number one sword cultivator in history. Many powerful cultivators entered in centuries past but none ever returned.]
Yun Nian’s playful demeanor vanished as her expression turning quite serious. Jiang Zhao and the others oblivious from the looming threat , bowed deeply, acknowledging there master’s warning. “We will strictly obey Master’s instructions.” Fu Tan then stepped back slowly, his eyes watching them with quiet anxiety as the disciples of various sects began moving forward, disappearing one by one into the glowing gate. Yun Nian glanced once more over her shoulder at the distant ridge where Su Ying stood. Su Ying smiled warmly and waved softly.
Yun Nian waved back, a surge of determination filling her chest. Then, she turned forward. Xie Qingli had already stepped into the gate ahead of her. He walked with a calm, quiet stride, as if the chaotic energy of the crowd and the looming dangers of the ruins did not matter to him in the slightest. Yun Nian followed immediately after his shadow.
And the moment her boots crossed the threshold of the light, the world abruptly shattered into a pitch-black void. It felt like falling through an endless, gravity-defying space, as though the universe itself were swallowing her whole. But unlike her previous experiences with spatial displacement, she was not completely blind this time. Hundreds of glowing, circular arrays floated chaotically around her in the dark. [Teleportation Arrays: Fragmented spatial formations built into the ruins that randomly scatter entering cultivators to different coordinates to prevent mass crowding.]
System: [Alert. Find Xie Qingli immediately. Utilize the spirit silk rope.]
Yun Nian narrowed her eyes slightly against the rushing wind. Closing her eyes, she focused inward, sending her spiritual energy outward like microscopic silk threads, letting them drift into the glowing circles. After a tense moment, her eyes snapped open. “I found him.” And with a thought, all her searching threads snapped and vanished, save for a single, taut line of red energy. It pointed directly toward the weakest, most obscure glowing circle at the very edge of the void. It was dim, its light rapidly fading into nothingness. If she had not possessed the spirit silk rope to guide her senses, she would have missed its existence entirely.
System: [Anomalous activity detected. Why is this specific array fading so quickly? Are there strict spatial limits to its entry?]
Yun Nian did not waste breath answering. She lunged forward through the void, throwing her weight into a desperate sprint. Just as the dim circle was about to collapse and disappear completely, she threw herself directly into the light. The spatial array sealed behind her instantly, leaving the remaining circles untouched in the dark. The suffocating void vanished, replaced instantly by the serene sight of a dense bamboo forest. A soft, cool wind moved gently through the green shadows, rustling the leaves as a narrow stone path curved ahead, swallowed by a thick white mist. The air smelled of wet earth and a strangely concentrated, ancient spiritual energy.
It was peaceful. Too peaceful. And in there a young man stood perfectly still upon the stone path, his pristine white robes untouched by the dust of travel. It was Xie Qingli. His expression maintained its usual, polite mask, but his eyes had already gone completely cold, stripped of all warmth. He stared at the empty space beside him, and then his gaze shifted to look directly at Jiang Zhao, who had apparently been deposited by the same array just moments before. It was the look of a predator realizing an unwanted nuisance had arrived in his territory.
“…An extra one,” Xie Qingli murmured, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper.
Jiang Zhao frowned deeply, entirely unaware of the shift in the youth’s demeanor as he looked around at the towering stalks of bamboo. “Are we truly inside the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins? Why is there such a massive bamboo grove here? This looks nothing like a crypt.” Xie Qingli offered no explanation. His gaze remained locked onto Jiang Zhao’s back, unmoving, lethal, and entirely unfriendly—resembling a sharp blade that had already been drawn from its scabbard but not yet swung. Slowly, Xie Qingli raised his right hand beneath his wide sleeve. His hidden spiritual energy gathered silently, condensing the ambient moisture in the air until two jagged ice cones formed silently in the mist. Cold, sharp, and deadly, they aimed directly at the back of Jiang Zhao’s neck.
Jiang Zhao, still scanning the horizon for landmarks, noticed absolutely nothing.
Then—
The space directly behind them suddenly rippled violently. The teleportation gate, which should have been permanently closed, twisted and warped with a sharp crack of spatial energy, and a sudden gust of wind rushed out from the tear, carrying a deeply familiar, delicate scent. It was light, soft, and smelled unmistakably of spring peach blossoms.
Then, an undignified, panicked voice followed immediately after. “Help! Why won’t this stupid thing stop throwing me!”
Hearing this, the deadly ice cones in Xie Qingli’s hand shattered into harmless water droplets instantly, and his suffocating killing intent vanished like smoke caught in a sudden downpour.
Jiang Zhao turned sharply at the noise, his hand flying to his hilt as he barked, “What in the—”
But before he could finish his sentence, a frantic figure dropped out of the glowing tear in space. It was a young girl clad in a lake-green dress who tumbled blindly through the air, falling straight into Xie Qingli’s waiting arms.
It was Yun Nian.
She clung tightly to him without a single shred of hesitation, moving purely on instinct like a frightened small animal desperately grabbing the only sturdy branch in the forest that would not snap beneath its weight.
System: [What a frighteningly precise landing.]
Standing just a few paces away, Jiang Zhao stared at the two of them, his mouth slightly agape in utter disbelief. “…Why exactly did she get caught so perfectly?” he grumbled, dusting off his robes in a fit of irritation. “I was completely thrown flat on my face!” He had landed quite hard somewhere on the rocky earth behind them, a small cloud of grey dust still swirling around his boots. His features were a mask of pure indignation as he muttered, “Does this ancient spatial formation actually discriminate between disciples?!”
Xie Qingli, however, did not move a single muscle. He stood entirely still beneath the shifting shadows of the canopy, holding the young girl securely in his arms as if the sudden addition of her weight was nothing more than a feather drifting onto his chest.
Completely unbothered by the sudden, intimate contact, Yun Nian remained anchored in his embrace. Her fingers remained tightly clenched around the wide sleeves of his daopao, her shoulders trembling slightly as she recovered from the terrifying sensation of the spatial drop. Yet, while she was merely focusing on regaining her balance, Xie Qingli felt the world around them instantly narrow. As beneath his resting palm, her waist felt incredibly slender and delicate—so light that a single, tightening curve of his arm could have easily enveloped her entirely.
And in that precise, breathless moment— Xie Qingli slowly lowered his gaze to look down at her. A heavy, profound silence settled over the small clearing like a sudden layer of midnight frost. The girl’s sweet, unmistakable fragrance of fresh peach blossoms lingered in the cool air around him, wrapping about his senses like an invisible, inescapable net. It was soft, unbidden, and entirely unavoidable, making Xie Qingli feel a foreign, unsettling prickle of unease deep within his chest, his cold heart giving a sudden, unfamiliar thud against his ribs.
His Adam’s apple moved slightly as he swallowed. The slender waist resting against his palm felt warm—almost too warm—resembling a fragile, volatile treasure that had been thrust into his hands without a word of warning, melting away the perpetual winter that lived under his skin. So when he spoke, his voice dropped into a quiet, melodious murmur that brushed softly against her ear. “Senior Sister Yun… you may open your eyes now.” Yun Nian, who had been squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation of a painful crash, finally heard his clear voice vibrating through his chest. The drop from the spatial rift had been far too sudden; the lingering, dizzying weightlessness of the void still clung to her skin, and she had instinctively reached for the only source of absolute stability within her reach. No—the only person whom she followed here.
Slowly, her long eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. The very first sight that met her vision was a clean, sharply defined jawline and skin that possessed the flawless, luminous sheen of polished white jade. She stared blankly for a second, her thoughts purely logical as she mapped out her surroundings, completely missing the subtle darkening of his pupils.
Yun Nian: “?”
“…Senior Sister Yun?” Xie Qingli called out once more, lifting a dark brow slightly at her dazed expression, his gaze lingering on the pink flush of her lips just a breath away from his own. But Yun Nian saw it as a sign that he thought, “How could she have landed right in my arms? There’s no such coincidence. But she must have her reasons for doing this.”. Yun Nian thought to herself in a silent panic: Would you even believe me if I swore to heaven that I did not do this on purpose? Flushing with sudden heat, she quickly slipped out of his arms, her sudden departure leaving his hands feeling abruptly empty and cold. As her boots landing lightly upon the mossy ground, she immediately began smoothing down the messy, stray strands of hair that the spatial wind had scattered wildly across her forehead.
When she finally spoke, her laugh came a little late, sounding entirely awkward and strained. “Ah… what a remarkable coincidence, Junior Brother Xie. I had no idea you would also select this specific teleportation array.” Only then did she pretend to notice Jiang Zhao standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. Desperate to swallow her mounting embarrassment, she added in a hurried rush, “Oh! Senior Brother Jiang is here as well. It truly seems the three of us share a profound, predestined fate.”
Xie Qingli: “…”
For the very first time since he could remember, a strange, unnamable sensation rose quietly within the youth’s chest. It was not the familiar flare of anger or suspicion. It was something closer to dark amusement, a quiet ripple against his icy exterior that left a lingering warmth behind.
Xie Qingli pressed his lips tightly together, the practiced, flawless smile on his handsome face almost cracking for a brief fraction of a second as his gaze traced the nervous flutter of her eyelashes. “Senior Sister Yun speaks the truth,” he murmured slowly, his voice smooth like silk and carrying an uncharacteristic softness. “What an extraordinary coincidence.”
In truth, it was a coincidence of the most absurd nature. He had only emerged from the warping light of the formation a mere quarter of an hour prior. Yet, just as the unstable spatial circle was on the verge of collapsing into nothingness, these two had tumbled through the rift one after the other, precisely like dumplings being dropped into a pot of boiling broth. His gaze drifted past her, scanning the dense, silent perimeter of the bamboo forest, and the warmth in his expression froze back into a cold, detached mask.
Yun Nian caught the sudden, ghostly pallor of his face and completely misunderstood his silence; thus, stepping closer, she reached out and patted his shoulder with a gentle, reassuring firmness.
“Do not fret, Junior Brother Xie. These Sword Ruins are not as terrifying as the rumors claim, and your Senior Sister will absolutely ensure you walk out of here completely unscathed.”
In her heart, she reasoned this with absolute certainty, for he was the destined male protagonist of this world, after all—not only would he survive this trial, but he was also meant to claim his legendary natal sword within these very grounds.
Xie Qingli’s expression did not waver in the slightest hearing her promise . He had grown thoroughly accustomed to hearing her proclaim her desire to protect him. Because over the long, bloody years of his life, every single person who had ever uttered such noble, protective vows had eventually turned around and drawn their cold steel against his throat. This bitter realization settled heavily inside his chest like a frozen stone. Yet, on the surface, his smile only grew softer, appearing entirely defenseless. “I understand,” he replied gently. “I shall rely on Senior Sister.”
Jiang Zhao, watching the two of them exchange such tender words from the side , rolled his eyes in sheer, unadulterated annoyance. Suddenly, the sharp, piercing cry of an unknown spiritual bird echoed through the high canopy of the bamboo forest, shattering the stillness. Yun Nian lifted her gaze to the sky, her eyes widening in genuine wonder. “Are the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins always this breathtakingly beautiful?”
Jiang Zhao grunted casually at her comment as he adjusted his sword belt. “You actually have decent taste for once. It is indeed a magnificent sight.”
At that moment, the mechanical voice of the system vibrated sharply within her consciousness. System: [Host… something is entirely wrong with our spatial coordinates. Have you not noticed? Throughout this entire sector of the ruins, only the three of you are present. There are no signatures of other disciples anywhere nearby.]
Yun Nian also surveyed the endless sea of emerald green, responding lightly within her mind: Perhaps this specific hidden formation was simply tucked away too well for the other sects to discover. If she had not utilized the tracking power of the spirit silk rope to pursue Xie Qingli, she would likely have never stumbled upon this isolated rift at all. Beside her, Xie Qingli let out a soft, low chuckle that carried an unreadable, chilly edge. Jiang Zhao raised his eyes toward the obscured sun, his demeanor turning businesslike. “We cannot afford to waste precious time admiring the scenery. We must locate the other disciples of our Xuanmiao Sect immediately.”
The grand gates of the Ancient Tomb Sword Ruins would only remain open to the mortal realm for fifteen days. Once that period elapsed, the spatial boundaries would seal shut, trapping any lingering souls inside for another three centuries. There was no time to dawdle here.
Turning on his heel, Jiang Zhao strode purposefully down the narrow stone path. “Let us move.” Yun Nian lightly gathered the hem of her lake-green dress to avoid the damp moss, quickly stepping into line behind him. “Alright. Come along, Junior Brother Xie, let us keep pace.”
Xie Qingli paused for a brief, imperceptible heartbeat. Then, his voice drifted through the mist, quiet and compliant. “Okay.”
They walked for a long time, the narrow path twisting deeper into the emerald shadows of the bamboo forest. Xie Qingli maintained a calculated distance, remaining exactly three paces behind Yun Nian’s shoulder. His dark eyes silently tracked her figure as she looked around with unclouded curiosity, her gaze full of vibrant life, as though every ancient stone and leaf in this dangerous realm was a delightful new discovery meant solely for her amusement. Gradually, the shadows in the youth’s mind began to twist and darken once more. He needed to dispose of them. Both of them.
Cuizhu [Emerald Bamboo] Ferry was a forbidden, cursed ground that no living cultivator should ever set foot in. Even if both Jiang Zhao and Yun Nian vanished from the face of the earth within this dense grove, the Sect Elders would never dare to cross the volatile boundaries to collect their broken corpses. It was the perfect, blameless graveyard. Slowly, his right hand began to lift beneath the heavy folds of his white sleeve. Strands of lethal, condensed spiritual energy began to gather silently at the very tips of his fingers, a faint, cruel curve dawning upon his lips.
But then—
His eyes shifted slightly downward. The bright crimson thread of the spirit silk rope tied around his pale wrist caught the filtered sunlight, gleaming vividly against his skin. It was a simple, ordinary thing, entirely devoid of grand craftsmanship. Yet, it sat there like a quiet, unyielding reminder of her warmth. His fingers paused seeing this. It was a hesitation that lasted for only a single heartbeat, but that single heartbeat was more than enough. As Yun Nian suddenly spun around to face him, her features instantly brightening into a radiant smile the moment her eyes met his. She jogged back toward him, her footsteps light.
“Junior Brother Xie!” And without a shred of reservation, she reached out and caught his hand, prying open his still-gathering fingers to press two small, pale green fruits firmly into his palm. “Look! Qingya [Green Sprout] Fruits! They possess immense spiritual properties that are wonderfully beneficial for warming cold, damaged meridians. I never imagined such rare herbs would be growing wildly along the path here.”
Her voice was bright and clear, resembling a silver bell carried through the mountains by a fresh breeze.
Pointing excitedly toward the upper branches of a towering bamboo stalk, she exclaimed, “Wait right here for me, Junior Brother. I shall climb up and harvest a few more. These fruits are near impossible to find in the mortal markets outside!” Before he could even formulate a polite refusal, she nimbly reached down, unhooked his qiankun bag from his linen sash, and stepped onto her wooden sword. With a soft chime of spiritual energy, she soared gracefully into the upper canopy of the towering bamboo. Her slender figure moved with practiced agility among the rustling green branches, her lake-green dress flickering like a woodland sprite as she carefully plucked fruit after fruit, dropping them into his pouch.
Xie Qingli stood perfectly rooted to the stone path, his opened palm still holding the two small fruits. His eyes slowly followed her ascent, tracing her quick, light movements through the bamboo leaves. She moved with an easy grace that seemed entirely foreign to the heavy, deathly stillness that usually governed this forgotten valley. He lifted his gaze slightly higher. The ancient forest around them felt infinitely deep and peaceful, the golden fragments of sunlight filtering through the canopy to create beautiful, shifting patterns upon the earth. Everything appeared serene, almost entirely unreal.
It was a beautiful place. Far too beautiful.
His dark thoughts drifted. If he struck now, Fu Tan would undoubtedly notice the sudden, violent erasure of his disciples’ life tokens. If the investigative arrays of the sect eventually traced the spatial distortion back to his own spiritual signature, it would cause unnecessary complications for his hidden plans. He should not enact his execution within this specific sector of the woods.
Slowly, the dense, suffocating killing intent within his dark eyes receded, vanishing back into the abyss. His countenance returned to its usual, harmless calm as he stood in the quiet mist, watching her harvest the remaining fruits. Did she truly believe she possessed the strength to guide him safely out of this forbidden nightmare? A faint, mocking thought drifted through his mind. But immediately after, a much colder, harsher truth took its place. This was Cuizhu Ferry—the graveyard of the realm’s greatest masters. No soul had ever departed from its shores alive.
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