Chapter 195 The Illusion and the Reality Slash.
As the black mist surged toward Yan Xueya, she already sensed something amiss.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
As the surrounding scenery changed, Yan Xueya came to her senses and realized that she had fallen asleep on her desk without her noticing.
She lifted her head from her arms and saw that the words she had written were stained with ink and could no longer be deciphered.
He turned his gaze and quickly surveyed his surroundings.
I sat alone in a familiar house. There was a bookshelf next to me, and right in front of the table was a window, from which I could see the flowers and trees behind the house withering and flourishing.
The door was slightly ajar, letting in the daylight that made her eyes appear as if covered by a layer of shimmering dust, blurring her vision and making it difficult to see clearly outside.
She could still hear it. The little brat was doing something, cheering and jumping around, his voice echoing in her ears.
A sudden burst of panicked bird cries erupted, mingling with the laughter of the young people.
Add to that the meowing of puppies and kittens, and it was a scene of utter chaos.
Yan Xueya was annoyed and raised her voice:
"Chen Nianqiu!"
Bu Shiyan said that Jiu Min was too fierce, and he was afraid that this child's destiny could not be suppressed. Therefore, after Yan Xueya brought her back to Shuangren Peak, he gave her another name, Nianqiu.
The commotion vanished instantly; complete silence followed.
After a moment, the boy's smiling voice rang out: "I'm here, Master."
The woman rubbed her temples, feeling inexplicably both annoyed and comforted by the familiar voice. It was as if her presence was the greatest blessing. Through all four seasons and twelve hours of the day, she could always see Chen Jiumin.
This scene was perfectly ordinary, as they had always lived together on Frostblade Peak, a life that had continued since she brought Chen Jiumin back. But today, for some reason, she felt a vague sense of melancholy, as if all of this had been gone for a long time.
It's clearly just something that's happening right now.
She tidied up the ink-soaked paper, absentmindedly trying to decipher what was written on it.
It's not important; they're probably scriptures, or perhaps examples to correct the traitor's scribbled handwriting. Yan Xueya put down his pen, gathered the teacup between his fingers, and for the first time felt his throat parched as if it were about to burst into flames.
Did she sleep too long? —How long?
But what her lips craved was not the moistening effect of the tea. Her hands paused, and Yan Xueya abruptly stood up, as if by instinct, causing the table to tremble. She turned back once more, staring intently at the door.
Why is it so bright...?
There was no familiar fiery red, no flowing black hair of a young man, only a bright light. Yan Xueya suddenly had the urge to see Tu Sheng, and immediately began to sketch Chen Jiumin's face in her mind.
Thick eyebrows, a rounded nose, and full lips give him an air of reliability yet playfulness… No. No. The most important detail is missing—the eyes. What kind of eyes do they look like?
When you gaze at her and call out "Master," does joy well up within you? When you smile, do your eyes narrow? When you are sad, does your gaze momentarily fade?
Those were her eyes, watching her grow up, gradually becoming deeper and softer...
How could you forget so easily?
At that moment, a desire began to push her.
Just go and take a look.
Just look, and you'll remember. Yan Xueya rubbed her temples, almost turning around, then suddenly stopped. She didn't know what was vying for her attention, but she subconsciously glanced at the dark surface of the teacup and caught a glimpse of her own face.
Snow white.
The fog that had clouded her eyes and heart seemed to have been washed away by the water. Yan Xueya was stunned for a moment, then looked down and groped on the table, finally finding a mirror.
The mirror reflected the image of a woman with snow-white hair. She raised her hand to touch it; the corners of her eyes, the sides of her lips, her slightly high cheekbones… like scratches left by time, unable to erase the former vigor, the color faded. She was no longer young.
It's not that people can't age; people have countless appearances, and all appearances exist. It's just that she could clearly see these wrinkles as gullies on a desert, filled with a rough yet delicate pain.
They all appeared on the night the boy she watched grow up died.
Her palms rubbed against the cold tabletop, still feeling the dampness of the ink. Yan Xueya sighed softly, slightly surprised.
Illusions arise from obsessions, and just as every dream is different, so too are obsessions. This technique is ingenious; if it weren't for the reflection of her face in the water, Yan Xueya probably wouldn't have been able to decipher it in a short time and would have been drawn deeper and deeper into it.
She just didn't expect that her obsession was hidden beneath such a shallow and peaceful surface.
So this was what she considered the best day.
It wasn't after Chen Jiumin confessed his feelings to her, nor was it when they were entangled in this immoral relationship, suffering greatly yet unable to part. It was simply an ordinary day they spent on Frostblade Peak when Chen Jiumin was still a boy.
A gentle breeze blew, and the world seemed peaceful. Stepping outside, the boy lay on a tree branch, watching the clouds drift by with her.
The familiar voices faded into the distance, and she knew she was leaving this corner that had been dug out from the depths of her memories.
However, the one outside the door is ultimately not her true disciple, so there's nothing to regret. Even if she went to see her, she would likely only repeat the same things she'd thought of countless times before, unable to come up with anything new.
The surrounding scenery shifted like clouds and smoke, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself in another place. Books were piled high all around her, frost and snow fell endlessly outside, a fire burned brightly in the stove, and a faint aroma of tea filled the room.
On the table, in the same spot, lay an unfinished letter:
"...That was a spectacular snowfall on Frostblade Peak. The entire sect rejoiced, saying it was a blessing from the Winter God, signifying peace and prosperity for heaven and earth. I also wished to grow old with you in the snow."
A monk never has the chance to grow old, and remains young until death. How fortunate I am to be able to grow old with you.
...
I think you'll be happy to have a junior sister in the future. You've always told me that you're my only student, and you're both happy and worried. You're happy that this means I won't have to focus my attention on others, but you're worried that if you leave, no one will be able to get any closer to me.
I didn't know your feelings then, and I thought you were being hypocritical, wanting to be unparalleled while also blaming me for missing you.
*Snap*
A wisp of spiritual fire ignited, making the words on the paper truly come alive, before quickly turning to ashes.
The books on the bookshelf have somehow become scrolls of letters. They are filled with dense writing, as if lamenting that the paper is too light and too short, while a person's life is very, very long.
After the fire was extinguished, Yan Xueya turned around and slowly scanned the letters that should have been burned by Shen Lixia's mistake.
It seems she can't escape.
In the end, she herself had to destroy these letters.
She herself must sever the ties to those memories.
The woman chuckled softly, closed her eyes, and listened to the gentle, hot breaths beside her ears—slowly gathering into a surging tide, rising and falling, burning incessantly.
"I'm not waiting for you."
Although this was the most intense color in Yan Xueya's life, she couldn't spend the rest of her life only thinking about her. She had already missed Chen Jiumin long enough; she didn't need to miss him any longer.
Recalling the bloodstains on the sword tassel, she could almost picture the boy struggling to tear it off and clutch it tightly in his hand. Could it be that, in his dying moments… she wondered, even if she withered into bones, Yan Xueya would recognize her by that crimson sword tassel and take her home?
There is no answer.
She ultimately couldn't choose to stay here.
The familiar chill of the Frost Sky Sword broke through the shackles of the illusion, lingering on the fingertips, becoming ever closer.
If one were to say that Yan Xueya only realized at this moment that she was not so afraid, nor did she feel any reluctance.
She was calmer than she had imagined, calm enough to resolutely choose to sever the illusion, as if what lay ahead was not disaster, nor the possibility of death, but rather—
Countless years ago, she grew up on the snowy plains and cavalrymen singing as they marched through the snow-capped mountains.
Perhaps it was another illusion, but Yan Xueya actually saw the shadows of these people at the end. She silently raised her hand, and suddenly, in that instant, she remembered something from even earlier.
She was only eleven or twelve years old when she was sent out of the snowy region by cavalry. Carrying dry rations and water, she rode a snow wolf, with snow-capped mountains stretching ahead, and the young girl was to cross them to reach the Central Plains.
She was an orphan found by cavalrymen in the den of snow wolves, and she considered everyone who raised her a mother. The mothers stood on the snow-capped mountains to see her off, their voices quickly swallowed by the vast snowstorm. Yan Xueya didn't turn back then, not because she didn't want to, but because she was afraid.
I'm afraid that if I turn back, I won't be able to leave and I'll burst into tears.
Now, the mothers have long since passed away and lie in eternal rest on the snow-capped mountains. Perhaps they each had daughters who gradually grew into new cavalrymen, still guarding the frontier.
Moonlight streamed in through the cracks in the collapsed barrier, gradually revealing the Frost Sky Sword.
Yan Xueya swung her sword and shattered the barrier without hesitation.
This sword strike, like the roar of a fierce tiger, not only shattered the illusion but also awakened all those who were immersed in it.
-
After emerging from the illusion, the cultivators from all sides immediately set off to aid the front lines. Yan Xueya and Yi Xiaohan, on the other hand, went first to the foot of the Four Spirit Peaks, where they saw Chi Yueying struggling to finish off the formation, completing the final part.
She turned around, saw the two figures, paused for a moment, and then smiled bitterly:
"It's finally here..."
Yan Xueya nodded, knowing that time was of the essence, and said directly, "I will go with her to fight the enemy. You lead the disciple to the teleportation array and send them away."
Most of the sects in the Sixth and Seventh Domains are now reduced to less than one-tenth of their former size. Even those that are still putting up a fight have no way out. Therefore, the disciples they sent to participate in this competition are probably the last inheritors.
Neither defending against enemies nor sending people away is a simple task.
The moonlight cast their intertwined shadows. They all knew that this battle was likely a one-way trip.
After a moment of silence, Yan Xueya spoke first: "There's no time to lose."
"I'll have to trouble you to take good care of my two students from now on. There's nothing to thank me for, but I have a few jars of wine sealed in Maoyue Valley. The end of this year will be the time to open them and use them to celebrate the New Year."
Yi Xiaohan became anxious: "What are you saying! Xiao Chi, you—"
You should tell her too. But when she turned around, she saw that under the bright moonlight, Chi Yueying's eyes were glistening with tears, her face already streaked with them.
She suddenly realized that this time, some people might really not be coming back.
They were leaving each other with their last words.
"Fine, I have nothing to say." Yi Xiaohan sighed dejectedly. "Yan Xueya, if you come back, I'll throw wine in your face during the New Year."
Chi Yueying lowered her head and whispered:
"May the Four Spirits protect the human race. Xueya, Xiaohan... may you be safe."
Their intertwined figures parted ways, each heading towards their own battlefield.
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