Ling Qingxue watched Zhang Shaozhong's departing figure, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

She knew that Zhang Shaozhong had stopped on stage just now because of her.

This shows that he still has feelings for her.

But his usual cold demeanor made her feel unfamiliar.

That evening, Ling Qingxue went to find Zhang Shaozhong, only to find the cave entrance locked. She stood outside for a long time before finally knocking gently on the door.

"My husband, shall we talk?"

There was no response.

Ling Qingxue sighed, leaned against the door, and said softly, "I know you're suffering, and I know you can't forget your uncle and aunt's revenge. But there are many ways to take revenge. Why must you cultivate this kind of self-destructive and harmful technique?"

The door suddenly opened, and Zhang Shaozhong stood in the doorway, his eyes even colder than during the day.

"Are you done talking?" he asked.

Ling Qingxue looked at him, suddenly at a loss for words.

Zhang Shaozhong sneered, "Now that you've finished speaking, please leave. I need to cultivate."

Just as he was about to close the door, Ling Qingxue suddenly reached out to stop him: "Fine, I won't try to persuade you anymore. But can you promise me that you'll go easy on me during future competitions? Those are your fellow disciples, not your enemies."

Zhang Shaozhong was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Okay."

This answer reassured Ling Qingxue somewhat.

At least, he can still listen to advice.

"Then... you should get some rest." Ling Qingxue said, then turned and left.

Zhang Shaozhong watched her departing figure with a complex expression.

He raised his hand and looked at his palm. Just now on stage, he had almost hurt her.

"Why..." he murmured to himself, "Why can't I forget..."

He clenched his fists, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes. But quickly, that pain was replaced by the chilling aura of the Supreme Forgetfulness Technique.

The cave door slowly closed, shutting out all emotions.