Chapter 221 First Snow and Sword Light In the icy snow, an endless argument ensued. ...
When I returned, it was suddenly cold all around. The clear morning sun had been brewing this unexpected first snow.
It's snowing again.
Dust drifted down. Zhao Qiguang added firewood and boiled water. Behind the house, a dull thud continued as a young man chopped wood. She tied her hair up, gripped the knife, and with a forceful chop, split the wood in two.
She carried the firewood into the hall, where two people, their faces and heads covered in snowflakes, breathed in the warm air. Despite their resilience to the cold, the sudden warmth of the heater made them sneeze. Qiao Yanshen, seeing no one else enter, looked around, but the frost-covered path in front of the house remained deserted.
Simmons rubbed his hands together and said, "Fellow Daoist Xia said she still has some things to attend to. Are you feeling better?"
Given Qiao Yanshen's strict daily routine, her staying in bed late definitely meant something was wrong. Qiao Yanshen nodded: "I'm well rested."
Without looking for Shen Lixia any longer, she went straight back to her room. The paper and inkstone on the table were still wet, and the pen was casually placed down, as she had been called away to do some work after writing only half of it. She was copying a book.
Zhao Qiguang only has a few Buddhist scriptures here.
Copying books is naturally a way to calm the mind. She had barely sat down to copy two lines when a soft chirping sound suddenly came from her shoulder, accompanied by a warm feeling. Qiao Yanshen lowered her eyes; a small, golden sparrow had perched on her shoulder, its eyes sparkling.
Noticed, it jumped off Qiao Yanshen's shoulder and fluttered down to land beside her hand, pecking at her fingertips. The pecks were neither too light nor too heavy, but too many pecks still caused a slight sting.
Qiao Yanshen reached out to pick it up, her fingers threading through the little bird's feathers—it was just a lukewarm flame, practically nonexistent. Yet it pecked at her, how unfair! She chuckled softly, "You're throwing a tantrum too." The little bird chirped, opened its beak, and angrily bit her fingertip.
It flickered, dissipated, and transformed into streaks of fire that flashed out the window. Qiao Yan thought to herself, "Never use the front door, and you're still teaching her not to." But she did put down her pen, opened the windowsill completely, and with a light touch of her toes, gracefully flipped out the window.
The cold wind seeped into the gaps in my clothes, stinging my face.
There was a small courtyard outside, neglected for ages, withered and thriving on its own. Following the firelight, Qiao Yanshen quickly spotted the boy sitting on the steps. Snowflakes danced and landed in her hair, glistening on her nose. Her face was slightly red from the cold, and she tried to pick up a snowflake with her fingertips, attempting to savor it. Qiao Yanshen walked slowly over.
"Snow is actually very dirty."
Shen Lixia smiled and asked, "Then why did you try it before, Senior Sister?"
Qiao Yanshen froze for a moment when she exposed his secret that he thought he hadn't seen, but then said as if nothing had happened, "Why don't you come inside and warm up by the fire? Are you going to freeze here with us?"
“Look at the first snow.” Shen Lixia looked up. “The snow at Tianchi, the snow in Changzhou, the snow anywhere else… they all seem the same. At first, there are just a few snowflakes, which gradually grow bigger, or they fall for a while and then disappear.”
She remained silent for a moment. Her breath was already white; the seasons changed so quickly. The arrival of deep winter amidst falling snow was not much different from the arrival of spring when the snow melted. In the blink of an eye, they had gone from eating persimmons and picking berries together to now.
"The snow is all the same, so why do I feel that they are different? All snow is dirty, but the snow on Frostblade Peak is always clean. If you pick it up, crush it, and let it melt in your hand, you can't see any stains."
That's because it's inherently invisible. Qiao Yan thought to himself. But indeed, the snow on Frostblade Peak is formed from spiritual energy, pure and clean, unlike the snowflakes that fall naturally in the mortal world.
Qiao Yanshen said, "If Junior Sister misses Master, we can..." She trailed off. What could they do? Take out the spirit sword, now devoid of spiritual power, and wipe off the dust, or write a letter? And to whom would the letter be addressed?
They didn't even know whether Yan Xueya's part was in the star chart that gathered people's souls after that battle.
When he first obtained the astrolabe, he couldn't help but want to cleave it in two with a sword, releasing the soul within for reincarnation. However, Si Changxi said that the astrolabe contained profound mysteries, and that carelessly destroying it might bring backlash.
We had no choice but to keep it.
Shen Lixia sighed, stood up, and, not even bothering to brush off the snowflakes, said earnestly, "Senior Sister, I still don't want you to leave me alone. I've thought it through. There's plenty of time in the future. I'll go with you to the Demon Realm first, and then we can come back here to find the opportunities and past causes scattered in the mortal world. What does it matter?"
Her expression was solemn and sincere, her light-colored eyes shining brightly in the snow. Qiao Yanshen remained silent for a long while, then sighed.
Shen Lixia pressed on, "It's alright, I've made arrangements. It'll just be the two of us; there's no need to involve Simmons and the others. You and I are fine; you don't need to worry too much. There's no need for us to separate! Infamy, sect disgrace... those are just fabrications! Those people don't know yet, but soon someone will uncover the truth. Ultimately, it's just that the situation is bad..."
"Li Xia," Qiao Yanshen interrupted her, "you speak so fast."
The boy before her, when distracted, couldn't control his tongue and spoke incredibly fast. She was no longer distracted; the moment Qiao Yanshen spoke, her eyes flashed, and a string of tears rolled down her cheeks. The tear tracks, like winding paths, ended at her chin, silently disappearing into the snow.
Shen Lixia murmured, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Like a child, she repeated the same words over and over, not knowing who she was talking to.
She spoke again, "I went to the Taiyin Temple and found the sacred object. Senior Sister, if only I hadn't known so much—Ba, the tribe in the crevice, Sister..." She slowly counted them one by one, tears falling drop by drop. Qiao Yanshen listened to her, each name a gentle tap on her heart. The chill of the snow permeated both of them.
"If I hadn't known, I would have thought I was just an orphan who had miraculously survived a fire, and that my family had perished in the blaze. If I had stayed quietly in the clan from the beginning and hadn't misused the sacred fire in front of others, this disaster wouldn't have happened..."
She took the blame for things that weren't hers, as if that made her feel better. But how can this kind of pain relief be considered true pain relief?
Shen Lixia seemed to instinctively crouch down and curl up. Perhaps it was too cold around her, or perhaps she insisted on remaining standing, shivering: "But I know now."
“The reason why my elder sister is in this state, why my sister is nowhere to be found, and why our tribe is being exiled and forgotten—all of this is related to something I did in my past life! Because I did something terrible, my elder sister betrayed me, and my sister was implicated as well. Even in our time of crisis, she was still thinking of telling me that my elder sister was plotting something and that I should leave quickly. But I can’t remember anymore. Perhaps there were many more people who sacrificed their most precious possessions and even their lives to save me, to make me stand here today!”
Family from a past life, teachers and friends in this life, are gone.
In the flood of memories, she still remembered her older sister saying goodbye. At that time, she thought they would meet again, and she did not notice the resolute look that flashed in the other's eyes.
This kind of resolute determination, in Shen Lixia's or rather Hua Ying's memory, was only ever seen in people as gentle and refined as jade. Jade itself is formed through years of arduous labor and the tempering of extreme cold and heat; it does not symbolize softness, but rather an unyielding and stubborn resilience. And such people always possess that kind of stubborn courage that would rather shatter than be jade.
Shen Lixia wiped away her tears forcefully, and for the first time, pleaded, "Senior sister, senior sister... let's not be separated, okay?" She only had her. Her elder sister's fate was unknown, and her mother had not yet returned. She only had her.
In her memory, none of them even left before her eyes.
Qiao Yanshen said softly, "But we don't have much time. That war was not accidental; it was the result of a series of interconnected causes and effects."
She took a deep breath.
“I don’t know the specifics of my previous life’s ending, but I do know that there are people in this world who are even more intolerant of me and of us than those who say I am a demonic cultivator and collude with the demon race. Li Xia, we don’t have much time left. Perhaps we will be found in the next moment or the next day. In the end, we are still fighting against an unseen enemy. I can’t bear this feeling for a second longer.”
The thought of those lurking figures she was unaware of but who were certain to exist filled her with rage and made her feel like she was sitting on pins and needles.
"That's precisely why!" Shen Lixia's voice was hoarse, rising uncontrollably, almost angry. "That's precisely why we should stay together even more!"
"The spiritual energy in the Demon Realm is scarce, how will you cultivate?" Qiao Yanshen stared at her with his clear, glassy eyes. "Instead of sticking together all the time, we should seize the time to become stronger."
Perhaps because she was too calm, Shen Lixia suddenly looked up, gritted her teeth, and whispered, "So, Senior Sister, you just want me to follow your arrangements forever?"
Qiao Yanshen was slightly taken aback. The young man seemed utterly disappointed, and his voice even trembled.
"You've thought this through from the beginning, haven't you? I have no room to disobey, because what you think is always the most perfect, the best, and the most suitable. I just need to follow your lead. As for my thoughts, they're harmless and irrelevant! Because you'll control everything!"
Qiao Yanshen seemed slightly annoyed, his voice deepening: "That's not how it is..."
Tears welled in Shen Lixia's eyes as she coldly said, "Senior Sister, you're always prepared for the worst. But I'm not your mother, I don't know you well enough, and I can't unconditionally support every choice you make."
Her words cut into the heart of the young man before her, one cut at a time.
Realizing her mistake, she saw Qiao Yanshen trembling, as if overwhelmed by immense pain. Before she could see the emotion in his eyes, they were mostly hidden by his slightly disheveled bangs.
It's invisible.
But she knew that her words touched upon a hidden pain that Qiao Yanshen had never spoken of.
This sudden outburst completely engulfed the young man. He was speechless. The words had wounded him to the core.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, its cold, silvery light pattering down. All was silent; the sky was already shrouded in a hazy twilight. In the icy, snow-covered landscape, only the two of them remained in the courtyard, arguing. Endless and relentless.
Qiao Yanshen lowered his head and sneered, "You're wrong, she never did that."
"...Never."
She staggered, almost kneeling on the mottled ground. Shen Lixia instinctively moved forward—
Suddenly, Yu Feng's cold sword flashed. The sharp tip of the sword was aimed directly at her throat.
Even a slight deviation resulted in streaks of blood being left by the sword's energy.
Qiao Yanshen looked up, her long, jet-black hair fluttering in the cold winter wind, appearing even more chilling against the backdrop of the snow. Beneath her disheveled bangs, a pair of deep blue eyes gazed intently at Shen Lixia.
Shen Lixia dodged to the side, and Qiao Yanshen drew his sword again, the immense killing intent accompanying the blade, and suddenly thrust it towards her.
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