Chapter 100

At the time of Zizheng's arrival, all was silent.

Sheng Ningyu arrived as promised, but instead of Xie Qianjing, she saw someone else.

He wore simple brown clothes and held an ebony cane, without any adornment.

After standing still, the brown-clad man's application remained unchanged, but the inconspicuous ebony staff in his hand instantly transformed into a sharp sword gleaming with cold light. Layers of spiritual energy rippled out, shattering the two wooden puppet guards blocking his way into pieces.

The smell of decay and rust was cleaved away by a sudden gust of wind, along with the trees that Sheng Ningyu was using to conceal herself.

“It’s you.”

The man in brown narrowed his eyes, his tone sarcastic: "Sneaking into the city lord's mansion at night... Ha, it seems your Sword Pavilion isn't entirely of one mind either."

"Little girl, what are you doing here?"

Sheng Ningyu replied as before, "I have unfinished business."

The man in brown asked, "What is it?"

Sheng Ningyu shook her head: "I don't know."

These words sounded like a provocation at first glance. But then the man in brown sheathed his sword and transformed back into the shape of an ebony staff.

She turned around, walked forward with her back to Sheng Ningyu, and said in a rough and cold voice, "Yan Wurong."

This time, Sheng Ningyu honestly gave her name, but she felt that Yan Wurong didn't care about it.

Yan Wurong held the ebony staff upside down in one hand and casually tapped it three times on a seemingly ordinary bluestone at the base of the locust tree, then twisted it half a circle to the left.

The next second, the ebony staff in her hand suddenly transformed into a sharp sword, and the sharp blade instantly slashed Yan Wurong's palm, drawing blood. Thick blood flowed down the blade.

Tick-tock.

The first drop of blood flowed onto the bluestone.

The next moment, a faint mechanical sound rang out, revealing a deep, downward-facing cave entrance that could only accommodate one person at a time.

A chilly atmosphere, mixed with a faint smell of rust and decay, wafted over.

The two exchanged a glance, then one after the other, silently disappeared into the darkness that seemed to devour everything.

The foul wind from the dungeon lifted the hem of Sheng Ningyu's white robe and stirred up the subtle sounds.

Yan Wurong neither moved forward nor looked back, and asked calmly, "Can you see clearly?"

Sheng Ningyu raised an eyebrow: "Blindness is not a tradition of my Sword Pavilion."

These words were so rebellious and arrogant that even Yan Wurong, who was not one to follow the rules, couldn't help but glance at Sheng Ningyu.

"You speak so recklessly, there must be people who hate you."

Sheng Ningyu then realized that her words seemed to be sarcastic towards Rong Que, but she didn't take it to heart: "I didn't mean anything by it. I can't care what others think."

Sheng Ningyu was not worried that Rong Que would be angry.

Not to mention that Rong Que's eyes were not "blind" at all, just considering her second senior brother's character, he would not hold such things against her at all.

Catching the faint sound, Sheng Ningyu turned her head and smiled ingratiatingly, "I don't have any suitable magical artifacts, Senior Yan, could you lend me an ebony staff?"

Yan Wurong paused, almost unable to resist turning her head away again, her eyes filled with disbelief.

How dare you come here alone without any preparation?

With the situation urgent, Yan Wurong had no time to argue with Sheng Ningyu and casually threw out the ebony staff in her hand.

"then!"

Sheng Ningyu twirled her sword and deflected the puppet's head that was attacking from the side.

Without another word, the two figures suddenly merged into the same rhythm.

Yan Wurong's swordsmanship was expansive and powerful, capable of breaking through the encirclement of puppets.

Sheng Ningyu, though not as spiritually powerful as Yan Wurong, quickly adapted to the rhythm of the attack, wielding an ebony staff and targeting the puppet's joints and the core of its runes.

At first, Sheng Ningyu's moves were somewhat sluggish and overly standard due to her lack of real combat experience. However, after a few breaths, the ebony staff in her hand suddenly changed.

All unnecessary frills and probing have been removed, leaving only the simplest and most direct tactics.

To stab, pick, wipe, or shave.

Each attack precisely targets the puppet's most vulnerable "Achilles' heel," demonstrating astonishing efficiency.

It's not swordsmanship, but it surpasses it.

A hint of surprise flashed in Yan Wurong's eyes. She swung her staff and shattered the core of a puppet that was trying to self-destruct. She couldn't help but turn her head and ask, "The injury on your spirit bone has healed?"

Sheng Ningyu spun around to avoid the splashing wood chips and said calmly, "No."

The scene at the inn that day flashed through her mind.

Xie Qianjing cut his wrist and pushed the blood, which was oozing a strange sweet fragrance, in front of her.

Sheng Ningyu did not respond to him.

Xie Qianjing's wound was covered by her spiritual power. He watched her actions and then calmed down: "You don't believe me."

Sheng Ningyu gasped and looked up to accuse, "Little Immortal Lord Xie, how can you not only be petty but also love to wrong people?"

Xie Qianjing was taken aback by her sudden accusation, then his brows furrowed slightly, and genuine confusion appeared on his cold, jade-like face.

His words came to an abrupt end.

A cool hand covered his lips without warning, silencing any further words he might say.

Overstepping the bounds.

Xie Qianjing instinctively stepped back, but the other party thought he was going to struggle and instead held him even tighter.

The hand covering his lips did not loosen; instead, it pressed even harder, the palm almost completely sealing against his lips.

In an instant, all the senses seemed to focus on that one spot on the lips.

The thin calluses on my fingertips brushed against my soft lips, like a tiny but unstoppable electric current that burst forth from where we touched, spreading rapidly down my spine and sending a silent but intense shiver down my spine.

Xie Qianjing tensed up instantly.

The lights shone brightly, suddenly rising higher in his suddenly constricted pupils.

Everything in the world seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving only the rough lines on my fingertips, the warm touch on my lips, and... her.

Xie Qianjing's Adam's apple bobbed up and down; for the first time in his life, he felt so lost and helpless.

But he...

But he didn't want to.

Xie Qianjing's lowered eyelashes trembled slightly, and her wrist, covered with her meager spiritual power, became scalding hot, burning all the way to her heart.

She's already this close; she shouldn't be any closer.

But he still wanted her to be closer.

Closer...

"It's not that I don't believe you."

The crisp words exploded in her ears. Xie Qianjing suddenly looked up, which surprised Sheng Ningyu. She then laughed and said, "Why are you panicking? I told you, I don't disbelieve you."

“We are friends. Since we are friends, we should be equals. If you ask me to drink your blood to heal, what am I?”

Seeing that Xie Qianjing seemed about to speak again, Sheng Ningyu increased the pressure on her hand in dissatisfaction: "Besides, you shouldn't trust others so easily! If I were really a bad person, and I knew your secret, and drank your blood today, who knows what bad things I would do next? What if I made you cut off your flesh to eat?"

Meeting those honest eyes, Xie Qianjing lowered his head in a rare moment of embarrassment.

She said she shouldn't.

But he...

If it were her, he seemed genuinely willing.

...

Memories flashed by.

Sheng Ningyu was unaware of Xie Qianjing's thoughts that day. She grinned at Yan Wurong, a slight, imperceptible tremor in her fingertips from the dull pain in her wrist, yet her tone remained relaxed.

"It's just a minor injury, nothing serious."

Yan Wurong glanced at Sheng Ningyu, a rare moment of admiration arising in her eyes.

"The Purification Formation is just ahead."

Sheng Ningyu glanced sideways at the silhouette blending into the shadows beside her, her lowered voice echoing slightly in the passageway: "Senior seems... quite familiar with the paths here?"

Yan Wurong continued walking, her ebony cane tapping rhythmically on the damp ground. Without turning her head, she said in a flat voice, "I've made some preparations."

some?

I don't know if it's a year, two years, or perhaps even more?

Sheng Ningyu wanted to say something, but the next second, after turning a corner, all her words were sealed in her mouth.

Sheng Ningyu's eyes flickered slightly, and she was about to ask again when the next corner arrived.

All unanswered questions, even the breath itself, were choked shut by an invisible chill.

The view suddenly opened up, but this was not a way out; it was a nightmare!

As far as the eye could see, it was densely packed.

They're all puppets!

They were neither crude wooden or stone objects, nor did they resemble the human-like servants outside. On the contrary, these puppets were clearly fake dolls, crudely made, yet they were covered in pale human skin.

This feeling of being neither human nor inhuman is the most terrifying.

All the dolls had empty eyes, and when Sheng Ningyu and Yan Wurong stepped in, they all turned their faces to the side at the exact same angle.

With just a simple tilt of its head, the sheer number of puppets created a breeze, carrying with it a pungent, bloody stench.

Sheng Ningyu gripped the wooden staff tightly in her hand.

Puppets don't bleed, they can only...

Through the gaps between the dolls, Sheng Ningyu saw the origin of the blood energy.

An array that nearly blotted out the sky occupied almost all of the space.

The dungeon floor was carved into a huge and intricate array of strange patterns. At this moment, the array patterns were flowing with a dark red, almost black light.

The light was not bright; instead, it writhed and viscous like a living thing, enveloping the several blurry figures suspended above.

The air was thick with the stench of rust mixed with a sweet, rotten smell.

So this is what is known as the "Purification Array".

Instead of purifying anything, it was devouring all life.

A ghostly aura permeated the air, penetrating straight to the mind.

Yan Wurong tightened her grip on her sword, her knuckles turning white, her eyes filled with gloom: "Let's finish this quickly."

Sheng Ningyu raised the corners of her lips, but her eyes and expression were extremely cold.

"certainly."

...

Hua Liuyan was imprisoned in the center of the "Purification Array," bound by countless chains that flickered with hypnotic and painful runes.

Not only her, but also many other women around her with ashen faces and empty eyes, the black marks on their wrists coming from the same source as the venereal drugs.

The power of the formation was constantly stirred, and the puppets played the most terrifying and disgusting roles in their memories, infinitely amplifying the fear and resentment in their memories or imaginations.

All the negative emotions transformed into wisps of black and red energy, drifting towards a slowly rotating blood-red crystal above the array's core.

Hua Liuyan's bloodshot eyes were fixed on the thickest rune chain on her wrist. That chain was absorbing the malevolent energy surging within her from the daytime stimulation.

"You did a really good job."

This time, perhaps that person won't be able to come.

However, it's alright.

Hua Liuyan thought she could save herself.

Once you see the bright moon, you will know what purity and light are.

Although I cannot go there, my heart still yearns for it.

The next second, Hua Liuyan unleashed all the resentment and anger she had been stirred up, along with the power brought by all the chaotic fragments of her memory, and slammed them into the chain!

"Crack!"

The chain snapped instantly!

The light of the Purification Array flickered violently, showing a slight disturbance.

Hua Liuyan didn't stop. Her hands transformed into skeletal claws, tearing at the other chains like a storm. She rushed towards the nearby women's cage, shouting, "Break it! If you don't want to be drained and turned into a monster, break it yourself!"

The instinct for survival overcame the numbness. A woman reached out, trembling, grabbed the chain, and snapped it open with all her might! With the first one, there was a second… like a chain reaction, the binding runes shattered one after another!

At the edge of the formation, Sheng Ningyu and Yan Wurong had cleared a path, where they encountered Hua Liuyan and a group of women who had stumbled and joined each other.

Applause erupted.

"What a wonderful show!"

The person's voice was soft, yet it carried an endless chill.

She emerged gracefully from the shadows, followed by a tall figure wearing a black iron mask, whose aura was as deep as an abyss.

The masked man held a long sword firmly against the neck of an acquaintance.

Sheng Ningyu frowned and carefully scanned the boy's body. She saw that blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth and his clothes were disheveled, indicating that he had been subdued after a brief and intense struggle.

Yan Wurong's pupils constricted sharply, and she shouted sternly, "Release him!"

Seeing the coldness on Yan Wurong's face and the renewed ferocity emanating from Hua Liuyan, Ning Jiao covered her mouth and let out a short laugh, her voice innocent and adorable.

"I'm just giving you a friendly reminder. If Yanxian keeps moving, it won't be safe."

Yan Wurong looked at Ning Jiao, sneered, and threw away the sword in her hand.

In an instant, several seemingly broken terracotta puppets in the corner suddenly sprang up, their sharp terracotta hands piercing straight into her back!

Jin Xianyao's eyes were bloodshot. The spiritual power he had been secretly accumulating suddenly burst out, and he managed to forcefully deflect the sword at the side of his neck at close range. He then slapped the masked man's face with his palm!

The masked man seemed to have anticipated this move, and dodged to the side, his palm strike only knocking off the black iron mask.

The face revealed beneath the mask made everyone who saw it gasp in shock.

"Lord Qi...?!" someone exclaimed in shock.

Qi Baiya, the city lord of Hehuan City.

Lord Qi, who was always known for his gentleness and kindness.

Qi Baiya didn't care at all about his identity being exposed, and he wasn't even angry at Jin Xianyao's outburst. Instead, he showed a hint of pity.

His longsword, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, pressed against Jin Xianyao's throat with incredible speed, while his gaze passed over the crowd and landed on Sheng Ningyu.

Sheng Ningyu frowned inwardly.

Whether it's Ning Jiao, whose personality has drastically changed, or Qi Baiya, who is unusually wary of him, both seem strangely out of place compared to his memories.

But what exactly is real, and what is fake?

Before Sheng Ningyu could find an answer, Qi Baiya slowly spoke, his voice authoritative and oppressive.

"The same trick cannot be used twice."

"Ayao, your sword is too slow."

Before the words were even finished, a sudden change occurred!

Yan Wurong, who had already dropped her sword and given up resisting, disappeared from the spot like a ghost. The next moment, she silently emerged from the shadow behind Qi Baiya!

Almost simultaneously, a short sword, drawn from who-knows-where, gleamed with an unusually dark luster of spiritual power, pierced Qi Baiya's back with perfect precision and without any hindrance, the tip of the sword protruding from his chest!

Qi Baiya's body stiffened abruptly. He slowly lowered his head and looked incredulously at the blood-stained sword tip on his chest.

Yan Wurong pressed herself against his back, her hoarse voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Is my sword... fast enough?"

Yan Wurong doesn't need an answer to this question.

She quickly pulled the broken sword away from Qi Baiya's body, turned around and hugged Jin Xianyao, who was still trembling, gently patting his back.

Yan Wurong's hands were also trembling, it was the ultimate pleasure, but her tone was so gentle, so gentle that it was as if she wanted to cut this dark and gloomy hell into a wisp of spring breeze and blow it away.

"Ah Yao, don't be afraid, don't be afraid... Mother is always here..."

Yan Wurong's resentment and hatred were never about betrayal in love, but about her own weakness, which required protection from a child.

Thus, all darkness was swept away, and all the past events were swept away like a spring breeze.

Ning Jiao's expression changed drastically.

She sneered, and instead of helping the seriously injured Qi Baiya, she crushed a jade talisman in her hand!

In an instant, the entire dungeon scene distorted, and the ground beneath Sheng Ningyu's feet transformed into an invisible vortex, instantly dragging her into another space.

A formation within a formation, a mental illusion!

There were no physical puppets here, only the mournful cries of the women who had not yet escaped the dungeon echoing through the air.

Sheng Ningyu stood with her hands at her sides.

The ebony staff that Yan Wurong gave her had already turned to dust while resisting the spiritual power brought by Ning Jiao.

The illusion is not difficult to break.

However, Ning Jiao's true form and spiritual consciousness were completely hidden within. If she made a rash move, the sword energy might affect the spiritual consciousness of those women who were truly suffering, and it might also kill Ning Jiao.

But deep down, Sheng Ningyu didn't want to kill Ning Jiao... she was her senior sister.

The old wound on her wrist throbbed with pain from the intense emotional turmoil. Before Sheng Ningyu could dodge, a phantom seized the opportunity, its sharp finger piercing straight for her brow!

The expected pain did not come. A familiar, chilling figure appeared in front of her without warning, shielding her from the blow with his body.

Xie Qianjing.

He didn't even have time to turn around completely; in the fleeting moment when their bodies crossed, he quickly turned his head to glance back at her.

That glance was too quick; Sheng Ningyu only caught a fleeting glimmer in his eyes, as if he wanted to offer her a comforting smile, but before she could even discern it, it vanished in an instant.

In Sheng Ningyu's suddenly contracting pupils, his body appeared as if it were snow that had been suddenly scattered.

There was no spurting blood, no heart-wrenching screams.

Everything was silent and swift, starting from his heart, shattering inch by inch, turning into thousands of shimmering points of light, bursting and disappearing before her.

Absolutely not!

A heart-wrenching pain erupted from the depths of Sheng Ningyu's soul.

This was an unprecedented pain, thousands or even tens of thousands of times more painful than when my spiritual bones were torn apart during sword practice.

The entire world faded in her eyes.

Sheng Ningyu suddenly pulled out the wooden hairpin hidden in her black hair.

This was hidden in her hair when Xie Qianjing styled it earlier. No one knew how he did it, because neither Rong Que nor Ning Jiao noticed anything amiss.

Sheng Ningyu suspected that this was something related to his life and dared not use it lightly.

But at this moment, it doesn't matter anymore.

None of it matters anymore.

As Sheng Ningyu moved, the wooden hairpin grew longer and longer until it became a wooden sword.

As she held the sword, a feeling of intimacy welled up from the bottom of her heart, as if it were a bone that had always been in her body and had simply returned to her body.

At that moment, time seemed to stand still.

All these voices, having reached their peak, suddenly collapsed.

So still that you can hear the breath of the laws, so still that you can see the threads of cause and effect.

The wound on her wrist had reopened, and blood dripped down, the warm liquid sliding down her fingertips, but Sheng Ningyu had no time to feel the pain.

Or perhaps, at this moment, this pain has also become part of that "stillness," a definite coordinate that lets her know she is still alive.

An aged voice echoed in her mind.

"...The eighth level of the Ninefold Sword is called Utter Silence, but as for its meaning, that's my own path, as I've explained it. As for your path, you must find it yourself, and comprehend it yourself..."

It turns out that the complete silence was not true silence.

Instead, it is about embracing all sounds and returning to all sounds.

At this moment, heaven and earth truly became equal in her eyes.

Sheng Ningyu raised her hand.

This time, there was no earth-shattering sword energy, no magnificent and terrifying sword shadow. It was just an extremely simple, even somewhat slow, sword strike, swung out flatly.

Where the sword's edge passed, the constructed space was like a mirror wiped clean by an invisible cloth; phantoms, wails, maniacal laughter, distorted scenes... all returned to pure "stillness".

There was no harm or destruction, just a simple quieting down.

The spiritual consciousness of the women trapped in the formation was gently stripped away from this terrible illusion.

A flaw in my heart seems to be slowly being filled in.

So this was her "unfinished business".

But Sheng Ningyu always felt that something was missing.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was still hoarse from exhaustion, but she insisted, "You should leave here first, I... I will definitely come back to find you."

Seemingly understanding her meaning, the orbs of light that broke free from the black and red array circled around her and gently brushed against her.

"Crack... Boom!"

As these words fell, the entire Yin-Yang Blood Array disintegrated in complete silence!

Outside the Yin-Yang Blood Array.

Suddenly, a bright, clear light shone brightly above the city that never sleeps in the mountains and seas.

The cultivators saw the array compass suspended in mid-air suddenly shatter, its fragments falling like rain. Immediately afterward, the sky darkened.

Feng Xiaosheng, who was outside inspecting the city, happened to see this scene and shouted sharply, "Get out of the way!"

At the same time, she waved her fan, suddenly taking everyone away from their original spot.

Only when they were far away did everyone realize how terrifying that thing had been.

"Look quickly at the southwest corner of the City Lord's Mansion!"

Someone screamed.

Feng Xiaosheng suddenly turned around.

A Yunwang Palace disciple, who had been traveling and was now trapped here, sniffed the air and couldn't help but exclaim, "What a familiar scent..."

He suddenly seemed to remember something, and his expression changed abruptly.

Not only him, but everyone else present also looked extremely grim.

A green-robed figure gazes upon the fragrant clouds, while white bones grow flesh, making even the King of Hell seem unbearable.

Everyone knows that the wife of Yuan Bushu, the master of Yunwang Palace, is most skilled in making incense, and no one in the world can replicate the incense she blends.

What's wafting around everyone's noses now.

It was the cool fragrance that Lady Xiang had been burning year-round. "Young Master!" A Phoenix Clan disciple arrived breathlessly, "The Pavilion Master of Nine Heavens Pavilion has arrived!"

...

Sheng Ningyu opened her eyes, still somewhat dazed.

She vaguely remembered what she had just experienced.

Oh, right.

It was the second senior brother who taught the junior sister Ning Jiao how to make puppets, but he didn't tell her.

Sheng Ningyu looked around.

A gentle breeze caressed the railing, causing the curtains to flutter. Through the gaps in the thin gauze, one could vaguely see a jade hairpin falling outside the window.

The wind stirs the curtains, and birdsong is melodious; it's a beautiful scene.

It turned out to be the second senior brother's residence.

Rong Que smiled and sighed softly, shook his head, and picked up the dark blue teapot.

The white veil covering his eyes gently drifted to the ground with his movements.

"To make a puppet lifelike, one must infuse it with one's own emotions. The more human-like the puppet, the more intense the emotions required. But such things are of no benefit to your mind, Junior Sister, and are not the right path."

Sheng Ningyu was not convinced by such a reason: "If it is of no benefit to one's state of mind, why teach it to my junior sister? If it requires intense emotions, why can't I do it?"

"Junior sister, have you forgotten?" Rong Que paused in his pouring of tea, raising his eyes as if somewhat surprised.

Sheng Ningyu frowned: "Forgot what?"

Rong Que suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils lifeless and empty. After a long while, he tugged at the corners of his mouth and smiled softly, a hint of brilliance appearing in his dark eyes.

"Your Way."

Sheng Ningyu's pupils suddenly contracted.

Her heart pounded harder and harder in her chest, as if a terrible thing she had never thought of was about to be revealed.

Rong Que, who was walking in front, seemed to be completely unconcerned. He looked out the window at the green mountains and clear waters not far away, and at the three thousand white jade steps that were obscured by the sun and could not be seen from the end. He spoke slowly and clearly, word by word.

"Junior Sister, isn't your cultivation the Path of Ruthlessness?"

In the realm of ruthlessness, love, hate, anger, and delusion are all sins.

The moment the last syllable faded from her lips, the sunlight and moonlight vanished, and everything around her turned to dust. Only the three thousand white jade steps of the Sword Pavilion remained. From darkness to light, the shimmering white light magnified infinitely. In the blink of an eye, Sheng Ningyu found herself standing on the three thousand steps.

The sun was blazing, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

Rong Que seemed to have sensed something. He held up his dark blue oil-paper umbrella, turned around on the stone steps, and saw Sheng Ningyu standing still, looking somewhat surprised.

"Bright moon?"

He reached out his hand to Sheng Ningyu: "It's getting late. If we don't go back soon, Master will be angry."

Sheng Ningyu looked at her hands.

Perfect and flawless, like a white jade, the sunlight falling on it makes it look soft and warm.

But looking at these hands, Sheng Ningyu was reminded of another pair of hands.

His knuckles were distinct, and his hands were so slender they were almost pale. The veins on the back of his hands were slightly bulging, making them look less upright and honest. When you held them, they felt like ice and glass.

Like a god, like a ghost, like any living being.

Sheng Ningyu suddenly turned around.

Behind them lay an endless abyss, with three thousand steps stretching out indefinitely, making it impossible to see where they led. A chilling wind blew, as if ghostly figures were howling.

But something else seemed to be shimmering.

Fragmented, gentle light.

Sheng Ningyu paused for a moment, then turned and ran.

For the first time, Rong Que abandoned his image, but his almost desperate shouts were left far behind.

Sheng Ningyu couldn't care less about anything else.

The three thousand steps were filled with ghostly figures, and there were many illusions that Sheng Ningyu remembered or did not remember.

The reprimands from her teachers, the betrayal of her friends, the despair of being trapped in swordsmanship and unable to progress... and countless mountains of knives and seas of fire roared in, scorching her lungs and gnawing at her limbs.

Sheng Ningyu still remembered how, years ago, in order to ascend the Sword Pavilion and seek Guihai Sword Master as her master, she had struggled to climb these three thousand steps, using both her hands and feet.

She went up, and she went down.

Unable to use spiritual power on the three thousand steps, Sheng Ningyu was panting heavily, her hair disheveled. Just as she was even considering whether to roll down the path, she finally saw the end of the road.

She called out from afar, "Thank you, Qianjing!"

At the end of the three thousand steps, the person standing with his eyes downcast trembled.

Sheng Ningyu didn't have time to look at his expression. She ran away with all her might, calling out again, "Thank you, Qianjing!"

Almost the instant she finished speaking, she was embraced by a delicate fragrance.

The white-robed fairy lord held her waist tightly, his palm pressed against the back of her head, trembling slightly.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and mumbled, "Why did you come down?"

"I'll come down to find you."

Xie Qianjing remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "But your path..."

"Xie Qianjing." Sheng Ningyu lifted her head from his embrace and looked at him, her eyes shining brightly like stars. "I remembered everything from the journey just now!"

Xie Qianjing didn't say anything, but tightened his grip on her waist even more.

Aren't you going to ask me what I'm remembering?

Before Xie Qianjing could answer, Sheng Ningyu had already raised her head.

Xie Qianjing's gaze suddenly met hers.

It seemed as if moonlight was flowing and starlight was suddenly igniting, so bright it was scorching, making him feel somewhat embarrassed.

"Xie Qianjing, listen to me first." Sheng Ningyu called out the other party's name earnestly, cupped the face of the white-robed little immortal in her hands, and spoke each word with unprecedented devotion.

"The Bodhi Honey Flower Cake you made is the most delicious pastry in the world."

A deafening roar came from the ends of the earth, and everything around suddenly shattered and turned into a sky full of flowing light.

Another layer of resentment, shattered completely.

The endless white jade steps beneath their feet trembled violently, collapsing inch by inch from the very top, until they completely dissipated in the dust of light.

The illusion collapsed once again.

...

A voice, sounding like a sigh or a complaint, rang out in the air.

"Senior sister."

-----------------------

Author's note: Rong Que: You are the Heartless Path.

Sheng Ningyu: But it seems like a little immortal is waiting for me [starry-eyed]

Celebrating the young couple's 100th chapter! There's a red envelope in the comments section of this chapter! [Blue Heart]

In case anyone forgets, Yan Wurong's previous sword was called "Caichun," and her current sword is called "Zhuhui."

The quote from Madam Xiang was mentioned in Chapter Nine, and I've finally gotten to write about it!