chapter 62

He never looked back.

Ahead, not far away, was a village. The faint light from scattered households could be seen through the windows, their candle flames flickering. A woman holding a child stood by the window, her figure exuding a gentle warmth. Soon, the hunters returning from their winter hunt also came home.

Yue Qingluo's gaze lingered on that cozy scene, her face growing paler, yet her lips curved into a smile.

The books say that one works from sunrise to sunset. This had been the life she had hoped for when she fled Duo'e City in her youth. She didn't ask for the wealth of the Yue family, only to be reunited with her mother. But such a wish had long been buried in her memory.

Zhan Yunwei asked, "Qingluo, do you feel unwell?"

She touched Yue Qingluo's hand, which was as cold as ice, almost without any warmth.

The curtain of the Xuanwu carriage had not been lowered. It was already cold in the winter, and it was hard to tell if Yue Qingluo was unwell or if the wind had simply chilled her too much.

Yue Qingluo endured the sharp pain in her chest, forcing a smile as she shook her head.

Zhan Yunwei, still uneasy, said, "Let's lower the curtain. I'll find you something to eat and some hot water."

They had left in a hurry, only taking the most important things. The mute girl, seeing her concern, allowed Zhan Yunwei to lower the curtain. But when Zhan Yunwei was about to leave the carriage, the mute girl stopped her.

She shook her head and wrote in Zhan Yunwei's hand: No need. I'm not unwell. Wei Wei, are you also going to Duo'e City tomorrow?

Zhan Yunwei nodded.

Once the news of the Hundred-Kills Bud had been released, she would have to go to Duo'e City. She couldn't let something like that fall into the hands of the Spirit Emperor. If she managed to get it, perhaps it would end the chaos, and she could bring her family back to Changya Mountain.

Zhan Yunwei said, "Don't worry. I've already written to Brother Ye, telling him to meet us here. He will take you to my second aunt's house. Whether it's Brother Ye or my family, they will treat you well."

Brother Ye was the one who had given Zhan Yunwei the doll and helped Yue Qingluo leave. He was also a disciple from Changya Mountain, someone who had grown up alongside Zhan Yunwei—honest and reliable.

But Yue Qingluo wasn't concerned about her destination.

She wrote: Duo'e City is dangerous. You must take care of yourself. You must get that thing, and don't let it fall into A Heng's hands.

Zhan Yunwei was surprised by her words. She glanced at the mute girl, then seriously said, "I will."

This time, when she stepped out of the Xuanwu carriage, the mute girl didn't stop her.

Zhan Yunwei set up a barrier and walked toward the village. Yue Qingluo watched her distant figure through the carriage window.

The young girl walked in the dark night, her pink robe flowing like a splash of color in the snow.

The mute girl knew that the next time Zhan Yunwei and Yue Zhiheng met, they would be true enemies. No longer would they be the same young people drunkenly laughing and talking about the future on that snowy night in the manor.

Yue Qingluo suppressed the burning pain in her chest, not daring to cough and call Zhan Yunwei back. She opened her hand, and fresh blood spilled from her palm.

Before Zhan Yunwei reached the village, a man in green appeared on the mountain path ahead. He wore a jade crown, his face weary from travel. When Zhan Yunwei saw him, she was pleasantly surprised. "Brother Ye!"

Ye Fuqing smiled. "Junior Sister, it's been a long time."

He had hurried to catch up.

Ye Fuqing had a dignified appearance, carrying the fresh, clear air of a disciple of a righteous sect. As a cultivator, he was handsome, like most cultivators.

There was no moonlight on the mountain path, so the view was unclear. Ye Fuqing asked, "Ah, Junior Sister, where's the young lady you mentioned in your letter?"

Zhan Yunwei replied, "She's here. I'll take you to see her in a moment. Brother, do you have anything to eat on you?"

Ye Fuqing chuckled, "I rushed over as soon as I received your letter, and haven't eaten anything yet."

His gaze was gentle as he lightly touched her hair. "After the war between the royal dynasty and the immortal sect, I've been worried about you for a long time. I'm glad to see you're safe."

His hand gently brushed through her hair, and Zhan Yunwei couldn't help but look up at him.

Ye Fuqing was indeed gentle, and the bond of their shared time on Changya Mountain was deep. Yet, he rarely showed such affectionate gestures toward her.

Ye Fuqing quickly withdrew his hand and asked, as if nothing had happened, "That young lady is the sister of the royal dynasty's Yue Zhangsi. You took her away from the Yue manor. Won't Yue Zhiheng pursue us?"

It seemed like her earlier impression was just a fleeting thought.

Zhan Yunwei stared at him for a long while before shaking her head. "No, when we left, he hadn't returned to the manor."

"That's good."

"Junior Sister," Ye Fuqing walked alongside her toward the village. "I heard the royal family arranged a marriage for you, forcing you to marry that man. Now, you're helping his sister escape. Do you have some feelings for him?"

"When did you start caring about such trivial matters, Brother Ye?"

Ye Fuqing looked at the dark road ahead. "Could it be that in your heart, I only care about and love the doll?"

Zhan Yunwei recalled, in their younger days at Changya Mountain, there were often jokes made that one day Ye Fuqing would make the most beautiful doll and marry her, spending his life with her.

The young Ye Fuqing puffed out his chest. "What's wrong with that?"

A fellow disciple pointed to Zhan Yunwei standing by the corridor. "Brother Ye, first make a doll more beautiful than Junior Sister."

Ye Fuqing took it seriously, and from then on, whenever he made a doll, he would scrutinize it for a long time, then sigh, "Not enough... still not enough..."

For a period, Zhan Yunwei would run away whenever she saw him.

Later, everyone became more sensible, and Zhan Yunwei no longer held a grudge against Ye Fuqing's infatuated behavior. Among spiritual cultivators, some enjoyed collecting magical artifacts, some liked swords, and naturally, some favored other things.

Ye Fuqing, too, felt somewhat embarrassed, realizing he had frightened his junior sister, and had refrained from comparing her to the dolls again.

Perhaps lost in thought, Zhan Yunwei slipped, but Ye Fuqing quickly caught her. Zhan Yunwei gripped his arm, murmuring a soft thanks.

They didn't know when it started snowing.

Ye Fuqing was about to release his hand, but suddenly, the girl asked unexpectedly, "Has your right hand not grown back yet?"

Ye Fuqing was startled, quickly retreating several paces. But it was too late; a surge of spiritual energy struck him, hitting only his dantian.

His figure moved like a bird in flight, but his body was struck just two inches below his heart, causing a dull, painful sound to escape.

At the same time, the formation under Zhan Yunwei's feet lit up.

"Ye Fuqing," he wiped the blood from the corner of his lips and asked, "When did you recognize me?"

Zhan Yunwei remained silent, coldly staring at him.

"Ye Fuqing" raised an eyebrow and realized—it must have been when he couldn't control himself and touched her. Ye Fuqing, the fool who only liked dolls, naturally had no desire for her.

It was a mistake. He should have restrained himself, just a little longer.

"You did something to Brother Ye," Zhan Yunwei said.

"Ye Fuqing" raised a hand and removed the mask from his face, revealing the face of Dongfang Che—his features as dark and haunting as a ghost in the night.

Zhan Yunwei immediately recognized that it wasn't a change of appearance pill, and her heart sank. It seemed that Brother Ye had probably been killed.

No wonder she hadn't noticed the change in his aura earlier; it was originally Ye Fuqing's face. The thought that Brother Ye, who had been so kind to Dongfang Che, had died at the hands of this "junior brother" filled her with a rage that she could hardly contain.

Dongfang Che stood in the heavy snow, his tone filled with bitterness as he spoke, "Why ask about him? Why not ask me, if it hurt when my hand was severed?"

His eyes were filled with both longing and resentment.

"You and Yue Zhiheng teamed up against me, making me run and hide these past few months like a hunted dog," Dongfang Che continued coldly. "If you disliked me because I'm the son of the former royal dynasty's Yue Zhangsi, and ignored our old relationship, why is it that you're so special toward him?"

"Why?" His eyes reddened, growing colder with fury. "He's the truly unforgivable one, yet you let Red Butterfly recognize him as her master, to do that despicable thing with him. How many times have you two been together? Tell me!"

As his anger flared, the formation under Zhan Yunwei's feet rapidly spun, growing brighter and brighter.

The more she refused to answer, the angrier Dongfang Che became.

It was unclear what he had been doing these past months, but his body was now filled with demonic energy, and his cultivation had skyrocketed. If he lost control of his emotions, he would become like a vengeful ghost.

The lively junior brother from their past had disappeared, replaced by this demonic cultivator on the verge of madness.

He muttered almost deliriously, "It doesn't matter. Once I kill him, everything will be over. We'll start over. Once I obtain the Hundred-Kills Bud, I'll be the master of the Spiritual Realm."

Zhan Yunwei raised her hand and struck him across the face with spiritual power.

Such foolish dreams.

Dongfang Che, though trying to avoid it, couldn't escape. A sharp pain shot through his head, and he couldn't even control the formation anymore.

Impossible! He was an eight-tiered spiritual cultivator, and he had also practiced supreme techniques. How could a Spirit Master like Zhan Yunwei defeat him?

But the truth was undeniable. He watched helplessly as Zhan Yunwei stepped out of the formation that he had once been so proud of.

From the moment Dongfang Che had subtly entangled her, Zhan Yunwei had foreseen this day.

But Dongfang Che, ignorant of his fate, insisted on barging into hell. He despised Spirit Masters, yet he was destined to die by their hands.

With every step Zhan Yunwei took, it seemed as though stars lit up beneath her feet, and eventually, countless threads of spiritual power formed a cage, trapping Dongfang Che inside.

Dongfang Che was forced to kneel, staring up at her.

He still remembered the time when, utterly despairing, he was taken back to Changya Mountain by the Mountain Lord and first saw Zhan Yunwei.

She had been lying beneath the corridor, her fingers gently moving, and the spiritual fish in the pond moved in response to her power.

It was the first time he saw a Spirit Master control objects, and he had watched in a daze, forgetting his sorrow for the first time in days.

When he regained his senses, he had received a gift from the young girl.

She had said, "Junior brother, from now on, Changya Mountain is your home."

At that time, Dongfang Che had thought she was cute and beautiful, even playing with the spiritual fish more vividly than other Spirit Masters. As a young boy, he had secretly admired her and fantasized about her, but never had he considered her an opponent.

Now, he had planned to capture Yue Qingluo to deal with Yue Zhiheng, but instead, he had become the fish in her trap.

The outcome was sealed, and he smiled bitterly, saying, "Zhan Yunwei, I often wonder... If I hadn't left the mountain, hadn't faked my death, would things have been different today? If the Immortal Sect had fallen, would I have been by your side, fighting together with you?"

Zhan Yunwei tightened her spiritual power. Dongfang Che spat out a mouthful of blood, but he seemed unconcerned, continuing, "Originally, dying at your hands would've been fine. But I can't stand seeing Yue Zhiheng live so comfortably. I couldn't kill him, and I'm sorry to my Dongfang family, but at least I can drag a member of the Yue family down with me."

Zhan Yunwei's heart filled with a bad premonition.

Dongfang Che smiled darkly. "Farewell, Junior Sister."

What would happen if an eight-tier spiritual cultivator self-destructed a spiritual pill?

In that instant, the world fell silent amidst the snowstorm. The mountains trembled, and waves of spiritual energy spread, causing trees to topple and rocks to crack.

Zhan Yunwei could have dodged, but if she had, Yue Qingluo would surely have died. She opened her spiritual net, shielding the villagers below and Yue Qingluo, who was in the Xuanwu carriage in the distance. She withstood the blow, but it caused her own spiritual pill to hurt, and she was violently thrown far away, blood spilling from her lips.

The jade bracelet on her wrist glowed, protecting her spiritual body, but it still left some injuries on her face.

For a long while, the terrified villagers below emerged from their homes, unable to understand why the mountains had collapsed, yet they and their families were unharmed.

The night wind blew, and nothing was visible in the sky except the snowflakes gently falling.

Zhan Yunwei struggled to stand, stumbling toward the direction of the Xuanwu carriage.

Her ears rang, and with every step, her spiritual pill tugged at her pain.

She wasn't sure how long it had been, but eventually, she reached the Xuanwu carriage.

The carriage was intact, yet there was no sound from within. She climbed into the Xuanwu carriage and saw the mute girl lying in the corner, her body half-covered in blood.

The wind blew through the curtains.

Zhan Yunwei collapsed inside the carriage, almost crawling over to embrace the girl in her arms, only to find she had already passed away.

Snowflakes blew into the carriage, settling on Yue Qingluo's head. Nearby, there was a line of unfinished, crooked writing: I don't blame you, don't cry, Weiwei.

Tears continuously fell onto Yue Qingluo's face, hot and endless, but she would never wake again.

Yue Zhiheng and Qu Lanyue were seated on the Qingmian Ghost Crane.

Qu Lanyue stayed with him, waiting. Sometimes the townsfolk would curse him, but they weren't entirely wrong; Lord Yue could sometimes be as cold as stone.

From the moment Zhan Yunwei had clashed with Dongfang Che, Yue Zhiheng had arrived.

He watched coldly as the girl calmly killed Dongfang Che in return and then witnessed her shielding the villagers and Yue Qingluo from the explosion of the spiritual pill.

But what she didn't know was that Yue Qingluo, inside the Xuanwu carriage, had already drawn her last breath. She was nothing but a cold, lifeless body now.

They watched as the girl, struggling with her injuries, walked toward the Xuanwu carriage.

Even Qu Lanyue, who had prided himself on being cold-hearted for many years, averted his gaze, unable to bear the thought of what Zhan Yunwei would feel upon seeing Yue Qingluo's body in the carriage.

However, Yue Zhiheng did not look away.

His gaze never left her, and even the spirit of his weapon, which cried out to be freed, was sealed away coldly by him.

He had always spoken of severing ties, but Qu Lanyue knew he couldn't bear it. Even if there was only a slim hope for her to survive, he still longed to be by her side.

This time, he didn't say anything, but as long as the secret lingered in their hearts, the death of the mute girl would remain an insurmountable chasm.

Zhan Yunwei must have thought that Yue Zhiheng hated her deeply.

After a long while, the Qingmian Ghost Crane landed.

Yue Zhiheng walked step by step toward the Xuanwu carriage, where the girl was holding Yue Qingluo, her face streaked with tears.

She lifted her gaze, her tear-filled eyes looking toward Yue Zhiheng.

Through the falling snow, the joy they once shared seemed as distant as the despair they now felt.

He glanced at the bloodstained words left by the mute girl and spoke coldly, "Give her to me."

He didn't utter any more hurtful words, simply taking the mute girl and walking into the heavy snow.

Zhan Yunwei watched as he walked further away, the Qingmian Ghost Crane and Miss Qu not far off. Despite her injuries, she gritted her teeth and followed.

"Lord Yue."

Yue Zhiheng felt his sleeve tugged and stopped, turning to look at her. His expression was more distant than when they had first met.

Zhan Yunwei wasn't trying to force this budding affection, but placed a porcelain bottle in his hands, her voice hoarse as she said, "...This is Qingluo's remaining soul. I… I'm sorry."

She knew, between them, it was no longer possible.

Qu Lanyue, watching from a distance, saw that Zhan Yunwei couldn't see it, but Yue Zhiheng's hand trembled, the veins almost bulging from his wrist.

Zhan Yunwei's control over spiritual power had even reached the level of controlling souls, but how much had she sacrificed to preserve Yue Qingluo's lingering soul, despite her injuries? The spirit of the weapon, sealed away, was crying uncontrollably.

Yue Zhiheng lowered his gaze, and no one could read his expression.

Zhan Yunwei released him and walked toward the Xuanwu carriage. She felt cold, her mind in chaos, barely able to distinguish right from wrong.

Until she collapsed into the snow, Yue Zhiheng didn't look at her even once.

As the Qingmian Ghost Crane left, Qu Lanyue saw the sword immortal, wielding the divine sword, hurriedly arrive and lift the girl from the snow.

Meanwhile, Yue Zhiheng gazed at the broken mountains and rivers below him. After a long while, a mouthful of blood was coughed up from his throat.

But from beginning to end, he never turned back.