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The moment the prison door swung open, Jiang Cheng thought he was hallucinating.
Amidst the chaotic blood and qi, a slender yet upright figure in green robes burst into view, a sliver of golden light in her hair piercing the darkness like a ray of light cutting through despair.
He choked up; she had finally come.
Jiang Cheng suddenly felt that the physical pain was not as clear as the subtle twitching in his heart at that moment.
"Who sent you?" he asked, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar even to himself, deliberately lowering his voice to cover the trembling at the end of his throat.
Xie Linyang didn't answer. She quickly walked to him and squatted down, her movements as fast as the wind, but the hand on his wrist trembled slightly, and the chains on his hands and feet had broken free.
"You ignited your golden core?!" Her voice was very low, so low that Jiang Cheng could hear the barely suppressed sob in it.
He suddenly couldn't look her in the eye.
He turned his head, staring at the mottled bloodstains in the corner, and gave an almost self-deprecating smile: "Otherwise what? Just waiting to cause you trouble?"
Xie Linyang paused, then she reached out and gently but stubbornly turned his face, forcing him to look at her.
Their eyes met.
Jiang Cheng saw her reddened eyes, her tightly pursed lips, and the turbulent emotions surging deep within her pupils. Her fingertips burned his cheek.
“Jiang Wanyin,” she said, each word seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth, “Listen to me, I came because I had to. Not because you are the young master of Yunmeng, not because of any sense of responsibility or duty, but because you are here.”
She paused, then lowered her voice, "So don't talk to me about trouble. The most important thing is that you're alive."
There was a moment of silence in the cell.
Jiang Cheng could only hear his own heart pounding in his chest, and could only see her trembling eyelashes so close to his.
He raised his uninjured left hand and gently, tentatively, touched her bloodied cheek.
"Does it hurt?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his fingertips brushing over a small scratch on her cheekbone.
Xie Linyang paused for a moment, then shook her head, her eyes reddening even more: "It doesn't hurt, how about you?"
Jiang Cheng wanted to say it didn't hurt, but when he met her clear eyes that could see through everything, he couldn't bring himself to lie.
He lowered his eyes, looking at his scarred wrists, and whispered, "A little, but seeing you... it doesn't hurt so much anymore."
The moment the words left their mouths, both of them froze for a moment.
Then Xie Linyang suddenly leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against his shoulder.
It was a very light movement, hardly even an embrace, but Jiang Cheng froze. He smelled the faint scent of herbs in her hair, mixed with the smell of blood and gunpowder, and a very subtle, warm tremor that belonged to her.
"Jiang Cheng," she buried her face in his shoulder, her voice muffled, "Don't do that again next time. The backlash from burning your golden core... is very serious."
"Mmm." He responded in a hoarse voice, his left hand hovering in mid-air for a moment before finally gently landing on her back, patting her repeatedly, like soothing a frightened bird. "It won't happen again next time."
Footsteps suddenly sounded outside the prison door; what was bound to happen had finally arrived.
Jiang Cheng shielded Xie Linyang behind him, even though Xie Linyang could barely stand up straight at the moment, but instinct beat his thinking.
The black iron gate suddenly swung open.
Wen Xu walked in, followed by a large group of Wen clan cultivators, and Meng Yao, who was wearing a Wen clan blazing robe.
Meng Yao wore a gentle and polite smile. He stood half a step behind Wen Xu, his posture respectful and his eyes lowered, as if he were just a follower.
“Young Master Jiang, Guest Elder Xie,” Wen Xu clapped his hands and smiled, his gaze sweeping between the two men, “This is truly a moving story. One burned his golden core to break free of his chains, while the other risked his life to save someone. This drama is far more exciting than any storybook in a teahouse.”
Xie Linyang stood up, the gleaming gold hairpin slipping into his palm: "I'm afraid this isn't the only show that Young Master Wen wants to see?"
"Clever." Wen Xu smiled, turning to look at Meng Yao. "Young Master Meng, what do you think is the best way to entertain our distinguished guests?"
All eyes were on Meng Yao.
He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze first sweeping over Jiang Cheng's bloodstained arm, then lingering for a moment on Xie Linyang's hand tightly gripping the hairpin. Then he turned to Wen Xu, bowed, and said in a calm and even voice, "Young Master, Xie Linyang's cultivation method is special. Her Yang Sha power has a restraining effect on Yin Iron. Keeping her around will only cause trouble in the future."
Wen Xu raised an eyebrow: "So?"
“Therefore,” Meng Yao straightened up, her gaze falling on Xie Linyang’s face, and said, word by word, “He should be executed.”
The air inside the cell suddenly froze.
Jiang Cheng suddenly jumped up, but Xie Linyang held him down. She stared at Meng Yao, trying to find even the slightest flaw in his eyes, but those eyes, which were always gentle and smiling, were now as calm as two deep wells, reflecting no emotion whatsoever.
“Well said, ‘Deserves to be executed.’” Wen Xu clapped his hands and took a jet-black sword from the guard beside him. “Since Young Master Meng is so determined, then you shall be the one to deliver the first blow.”
He handed the sword to Meng Yao.
Meng Yao didn't answer immediately. He looked at Wen Xu, who had a smile on his face.
He then looked at Xie Linyang. She stood in front of Jiang Cheng, her back straight, her eyes showing no fear, only an almost desolate calm. Jiang Cheng stood behind her, his face pale, their hands clasped together, a stark contrast.
Finally, he looked at his outstretched palm, the lines of which were clear. These hands had once served medicine to his master, sewed clothes, held the Qingyang Sword, and traced her image again and again in solitude.
That's all.
Meng Yao reached out and took the sword. The sword was heavy and cold to the touch, and the resentful aura of the Yin iron wrapped around the blade made his palm sting.
He gripped the hilt of his sword and walked step by step toward Xie Linyang, his steps steady, each one feeling as if he were stepping on the tip of a knife.
He could feel Jiang Cheng's fiery gaze fixed on his back, Wen Xu's amused look, and Xie Linyang's fleeting, almost disappointed expression when he looked at him.
Disappointed? Well, so be it.
Meng Yao stopped three steps away from her. He looked at her, and she looked at him; neither of them spoke.
Then he raised his hand and held up his sword.
"Meng Yao, how dare you!" Jiang Cheng roared, trying to pounce, but Xie Linyang held him back tightly.
“Master,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke, her voice so soft that only the three of them could hear it, “This sword strike is yours to repay your kindness.”
The moment the words left his mouth, a flash of sword light appeared!
The sword tip thrust straight in, fast, accurate, and ruthless, with a sharp whistling sound as it cut through the wind, aiming directly for Xie Linyang's chest!
Jiang Cheng's eyes were bloodshot, and he almost broke free from Xie Linyang's grasp. But Xie Linyang stood still, not even lifting her hairpin. She simply looked at Meng Yao, at the complex emotions churning within those eyes—pain, resolve, and a hint of pleading emotion that Jiang Cheng couldn't decipher.
The moment the sword tip pierced my chest, it didn't hurt much.
It was just cold, then a scorching resentment surged into the meridians through the wound, frantically eroding them.
Xie Linyang groaned and staggered backward, only to be caught by Jiang Cheng.
Warm blood quickly soaked through her clothes, but she looked down at her chest—
The sword pierced the spot, slightly off-center by half an inch. It was perfectly precise, avoiding all vital points, even cleverly grazing the edge of the heart. And the depth of penetration… exactly three inches, the seemingly lethal yet controllable measure she had once taught him.
She suddenly looked up at Meng Yao.
His hand gripping the sword hilt was steady, but his fingertips trembled slightly. His eyes were fixed on the wound on her chest, something shattering deep within his pupils, only to be forcibly suppressed.
"Young Master Meng, what excellent swordsmanship!" Wen Xu clapped his hands and laughed. "That sword strike was swift and decisive, truly worthy of being Xie Keqing's disciple!"
Meng Yao slowly drew his sword. A string of blood droplets splattered from the blade onto his robes, like red plum blossoms blooming in the snow. He took a step back, lowered his eyes, and said in a calm voice without a trace of emotion, "This disciple has not failed in his mission."
Xie Lin Yang covered her wound, blood seeping from between her fingers. Jiang Cheng held her tightly, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, his eyes bloodshot: "How are you?"
"It's nothing," she said hoarsely, her gaze still fixed on Meng Yao. "Just a superficial wound."
Meng Yao's shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly.
Wen Xu stepped forward, examining Xie Linyang's pale face with interest: "Guest Elder Xie is indeed lucky. However—"
He changed the subject, "If one sword isn't enough to kill, then let's try another. Young Master Meng?"
Meng Yao tightened his grip on the sword. He looked up and met Xie Linyang's gaze. She looked at him, her eyes devoid of resentment or anger, only a deep, unfathomable calm that made his heart race.
She was waiting for him to make a choice.
"Enough." Jiang Cheng suddenly spoke. He supported Xie Linyang to stand up, his back straight despite being badly injured and swaying. "Wen Xu, if you want to kill or torture someone, come at me. Let her go."
"Sect Leader Jiang is truly a man of deep affection and loyalty," Wen Xu sneered. "Unfortunately, neither of you will escape today—"
Before he could finish speaking, something unexpected happened!
Xie Linyang suddenly raised his hand, and the Radiant Golden Hairpin burst forth with dazzling golden light! It didn't attack anyone, but instead slammed into the ground!
The power of Yang Sha collided violently with the lingering resentment on the cell floor, unleashing a deafening roar! The entire cell shook violently, with gravel falling and dust billowing everywhere!
"Go!" Xie Linyang roared at Jiang Cheng, shoving a jade talisman into his hand. It was a jade talisman that Meng Yao had given her, which she had just taken out of her bosom and had engraved with a secret escape route!
Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth, picked her up, and despite his own serious injuries, he unleashed astonishing power as he rushed toward the direction indicated by the jade talisman!
"Chase!" Wen Xu roared.
The smoke and dust were too thick, rocks collapsed, and the passage was narrow. The Wen clan cultivators were temporarily blocked, and only Meng Yao stood in place, watching the two figures disappear into the smoke and dust, her hand gripping the sword, her knuckles turning white.
"Meng Yao!" Wen Xu shouted sharply, "Aren't you going to chase after her?!"
Meng Yao lowered her eyes, her voice low and hoarse: "Yes."
He drew his sword and chased after them into the dust, but deliberately slowed his pace. As he passed a corner, he stepped aside to let the Wen clan cultivators who were chasing him pass first, then raised his hand and severed the loose stone beam above his head with a single stroke!
With a deafening roar, the passage was completely blocked.
Standing on one side of the ruins, Meng Yao listened to Wen Xu's furious roar and slowly closed her eyes.
Master, after this sword strike... we will truly be even.
A hundred miles outside the city that never sleeps, there are desolate mountains and dilapidated temples.
Jiang Cheng stumbled into the temple carrying Xie Linyang, and the two fell to the ground together. Ignoring his own wounds that were reopening, he frantically tore open his clothes and pressed them firmly against the wound on her chest.
Blood was still flowing, staining his entire hand red.
He trembled as he pulled out the hemostatic powder from her body, his eyes red-rimmed, and sprinkled it on her wound.
Xie Linyang looked at his disheveled appearance and laughed, "Jiang Cheng...you look really ugly when you cry..."
"Shut up!" Jiang Cheng growled, his hand trembling violently. "Who gave you permission to block them? Who gave you permission to..."
"If I don't stop you... am I supposed to just watch you die there?" She gasped for breath, her face pale. "Meng Yao's sword strike... was very measured... you won't die..."
Mentioning Meng Yao, Jiang Cheng's eyes suddenly turned sinister: "If he dares to hurt you, I will—"
Xie Linyang interrupted him, her voice very soft, "That sword... was his way of escaping. If he hadn't stabbed him, Wen Xu wouldn't have believed him... and we wouldn't have made it so smoothly."
Jiang Cheng's hand was still pressed on her wound, the bloodstains winding into a dark red pattern between them. He was panting, his forehead hair soaked with sweat and sticking to his cheeks, and his usually sharp eyes were now covered with a rare, almost fragile, tearful light.
“Xie Linyang,” he began, his voice earnest, “listen carefully.”
“I like you,” he said, each word clear and distinct, as if he had used all his strength to carve it out from his chest. “Not because you saved me, not because you are Baoshan Sanren’s disciple, not because of any bullshit sense of responsibility or morality, I just like you as a person.”
His Adam's apple bobbed, and his fingers unconsciously tightened, pressing on her wound until it hurt, but she endured it without making a sound.
"I want to marry you," Jiang Cheng continued, his eyes frighteningly red, yet he stared intently at her. "I want the traditional wedding ceremony, the grand sedan chair carried by eight bearers, the finest lotus flowers of Yunmeng laid out at your feet. I want you to be the mistress of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, I want to see you every morning when I open my eyes—"
He suddenly choked up, turned his face away and gasped for breath. When he turned back, the tears in his eyes were even more intense.
Xie Linyang listened intently, when suddenly the wound on his chest felt burning hot.
"Seeing you injured," Jiang Cheng's hands began to tremble, and his voice also trembled, "Here..." He pointed to his heart, "It hurts like it's going to split open. Just now in the prison, you stood in front of me, and when Meng Yao stabbed me with that sword, I wished that sword had stabbed me instead, I would have been willing to be torn to pieces, but it couldn't be you."
He suddenly grabbed her hand with such force that he almost crushed her bones, but then, as if realizing something, he released it and carefully cradled it in his palm.
"Xie Lin Yang, I'm not as elegant as Lan Wangji, nor as carefree as Wei Wuxian. I have a bad temper, I'm stubborn, and I get angry easily... I know I'm not good enough." He lowered his head, his forehead resting against the back of her hand, his voice muffled, "But... but I can't help it... I just love you..."
He looked up, and the tears in his eyes finally coalesced into something scalding hot, sliding down his cheek and mingling with the blood on the back of her hand.
“If you want to save the world, I’ll help you save it. If you want to defy fate, I’ll help you defy it. Whether you take on ten disciples or a hundred, you can do whatever you want—” He took a breath, each word as if he had used up all his courage, “I just want to stand by your side, not in front of you, not behind you, just right beside you. When you’re tired, you can lean on me; when you’re sad, you can hit me or scold me; whatever you want to do… I’ll be with you.”
The temple was so quiet you could hear the dust settling on the ground.
Moonlight slanted in through the broken window, illuminating his face covered in tears and blood, and her stunned eyes.
After a long while, Xie Linyang slowly raised her other hand and very gently touched his wet cheek.
“Jiang Cheng,” her voice trembled, and her eyes reddened, “you are really… an idiot.”
He froze.
Then she leaned in and gently rubbed her face against the back of his hand.
"I like you too," she said softly. "I like your bad temper, I like your stubbornness, I like how you put on a fierce face even when you're worried to death..."
She gently cupped his face in her hands, wiping away the tear stains with her thumb: "So you better live well, and when all this is over, I want you to take me back to Yunmeng to see the lotus flowers in full bloom."
After saying that, she didn't give him a chance to catch his breath and kissed him fiercely.
The taste of blood still lingered between her teeth. When her tongue parted his slightly parted lips in astonishment, the metallic smell mingled with his own equally intense blood, bursting into a hot, dizzying sweet rust in his mouth.
Jiang Cheng froze for a moment, then let out a muffled whimper, like a caged beast finally breaking free of its chains and suddenly taking the initiative—
He gripped the back of her neck with one hand, the force so great it felt like he wanted to crush that delicate white bone, while his other hand trembled as it slid down to her waist, pulling her fiercely into his embrace. The intense pain from the pressure on their wounds caused them both to groan, but neither pulled away; instead, they entwined themselves even more tightly.
Xie Linyang's fingers dug into his hair, the scratching of her nails sending a shiver of numbness through him. Jiang Cheng winced in pain and retaliated by biting her lower lip, not hard, but enough to make her utter a broken syllable from her throat.
Moonlight streamed in through the broken window, illuminating the two figures pressed close together.
Jiang Cheng's kiss was haphazard, driven by instinct, sucking and nibbling, as if he wanted to imprint all the unspoken panic, worry, and lingering fear he had felt over the past few days into her body through this kiss.
Xie Linyang tilted her head back as he kissed her, her throat and neck forming a delicate arc. His warm, wet lips then brushed against her chin, pressing against the throbbing pulse in her neck.
"Jiang Cheng..." she gasped as she called his name, her voice broken by his lips and tongue.
He didn't respond, but instead kissed her neck more forcefully, his canines grinding against the veins, like a wild animal confirming its possession. His hand slid up from her waist, a more primal, anxious desire to confirm her existence flowing from his palm.
His palm was placed above her chest, on the edge of the wound where Meng Yao had pierced her. The flesh beneath his fingertips was warm, rising and falling with her rapid breathing.
"Here," he gasped, his voice hoarse as he pulled away from her neck, "does it still hurt?"
Xie Linyang didn't speak, but instead gripped his hand and pressed it even deeper. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, leaving white marks.
So Jiang Cheng kissed her again. This time it was gentler, his lips and tongue licking her lips and cheeks, finally stopping on her tightly closed eyelids. A salty liquid seeped into her lips, whether it was her tears or his own, he didn't know.
By the end of the kiss, both of them were exhausted. Xie Linyang slumped in his arms, her forehead resting on his shoulder, while Jiang Cheng held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, his hand unconsciously patting her back.
The moonlight flowed quietly.
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