Zhao Bai is dead. After bidding farewell to the two monks, the group also departed from the pagoda. Night had fallen dark and heavy as they distanced themselves from the Joyful Sect. Those Jianghu guests were still clueless, naively combing through the sect grounds, searching every Array.
Tiny pinpricks of starlight hung on the horizon. Chen Yi appeared deep in thought, holding Yin Tingxue’s hand as they led the way. The shadows of the trees intertwined, hazy and elongated. Dong Gong Ruoshu and the female crown followed at a distance—not too close, not too far.
Dong Gong Ruoshu walked beside her,
while the female crown pondered if this might be the only opportunity of her life.
The last chance—to obtain the Replenishnt Technique from Dong Gong Ruoshu and then consign it to flas.
Yin Weiyin slowed her steps, moving even more leisurely, unconsciously widening the distance from Chen Yi at the front. Dong Gong Ruoshu also seed influenced, her steps slackening without her realizing it.
The female crown discreetly observed Chen Yi. Noticing his preoccupied manner, she began to deliberate. Perhaps she should take this mont to burn the Replenishnt Technique for good.
At that ti, Dong Gong Ruoshu had never handed over the Replenishnt Technique to Chen Yi. Yin Weiyin rembered it vividly. At that mont, she had nestled against that man’s chest, resignedly saying she’d follow him from then on. Yet, unexpectedly, he had shown a rare hint of tenderness, saying she could later go to his residence to sign a docunt, officially recognizing her as a concubine.
She, a princess of Jing, part of the imperial family, born of the purest royal lineage, was nothing like Yin Tingxue, the daughter of a criminal. For ordinary won, being taken as a concubine was already an enormous disgrace, let alone for soone of her stature. But their relationship had always been fraught with complexity. Since their entanglent in the underground palace, Chen Yi had beco her karmic burden, while she seed as though she existed solely as Chen Yi’s... cultivation vessel. Now that he said he’d make her a concubine, Yin Weiyin, accustod to humiliation, strangely felt little of it this ti.
Knowing she would be made a concubine gave Yin Weiyin an inexplicable sense of tranquility, though her emotions were still a tangled ss. To beco a concubine—was this not akin to the plight of the fallen Princess of Xiang, serving this man obediently and submissively in every way?
The desolate evening breeze swept by, causing Yin Weiyin to shudder. She had never been good at disentangling her thoughts. Back when she was rely a mistress, she had already harbored silent grievances over her lack of status. Now, being reduced to a re concubine, she instead worried about becoming more deeply entangled with him. For over a decade, she had cultivated tirelessly with a singular purpose—ascending to immortality one day. Yet he refused to let her achieve it, treating her as an object of possession, a lifelong cultivation vessel.
After hesitating for a long while, the female crown finally tugged gently on Miss Donggong’s sleeve.
Yin Weiyin’s lips moved ever so slightly as though she were about to utter the words she’d been rehearsing.
Miss Donggong, noticing her hesitation, said with a trace of amusent, "The esteed cultivation vessel?"
Yin Weiyin almost wanted to draw the Peach Wood Sword and give her a good whack on the head.
The female crown forced herself to remain calm, speaking softly, "Hand over the Replenishnt Technique to ."
Dong Gong Ruoshu hesitated.
While speaking, Yin Weiyin occasionally darted glances at Chen Yi. Nervous and tense, she was ready to turn around and imdiately deliver the Replenishnt Technique to Chen Yi should he even glance back.
After a long bout of indecision, Dong Gong Ruoshu finally placed the Replenishnt Technique into Yin Weiyin’s hand. The female crown rely glanced at the cover before tucking the Yin Yang Replenishnt Technique into her Square Land.
Yin Weiyin finally breathed a sigh of relief.
She knew this act carried inherent risks. But given that she was destined to suffer all manner of degradation from him anyway, why not take a gamble? What if, in the end, she prevailed?
She was determined to ascend to immortality.
Reflecting on the fact that he had avenged her, she thought to herself that if she truly attained immortality, she wouldn’t seek retribution against him. The two of them could rely part ways, forgetting each other amidst the mortal world. Should they et again one day, under the wind’s gentle caress, they might share a drink and laugh about bygone grievances—a poignant reminder of the passage of ti and the impermanence of life.
The female crown’s gaze gained a newfound clarity. She decided to treat this as nothing more than a dream. After all, since he would never achieve immortality, he would undoubtedly die before her. At that ti, she would erect a tombstone for him as a morial. With this thought, her steps beca lighter.
Chen Yi turned his gaze slightly, noticing the female crown’s improved mood. Contemplating for a mont, he slowed his pace and then reached out to pull her closer.
Yin Weiyin’s light steps imdiately grew heavier.
She shivered slightly and asked in a nervous tone, "What are you up to this ti?"
She placed her hand against him, pretending to push him away. But Chen Yi’s grip tightened, leaving no room for escape.
Yin Weiyin had no choice but to yield, matching her steps to his pace.
Yin Tingxue gave Chen Yi a quick sidelong glance, muttering internally about his licentiousness, but she said nothing aloud. On matters like these, she always kept silent.
Chen Yi’s furrowed brows finally eased, and he allowed himself a fleeting mont of amusent. He had been so lost in thought that he had almost forgotten his current blessings—flanked by two beauties on either side, truly a fortune envied by many.
Even if this fortune was built upon the unwillingness of the two won.
Chen Yi felt little remorse for this. If they were unwilling, so be it. To desire these won and simultaneously seek their willingness—such perfect scenarios were rare in this world.
For him, if they were willing, he would make their lives better, happier. That was enough.
They walked for an indeterminate ti before Chen Yi suddenly stopped.
Before him, on the descending path, a figure erged abruptly and conspicuously.
The man wore a conical hat and carried a sword at his waist,
standing proudly, blocking the way.
In that instant, countless thoughts raced through Chen Yi’s mind—fleeing, fighting—but each one was swiftly dismissed, as if none offered a viable solution.
The wind carried swirling leaves as Chen Yi released the two won, his palm lowering to rest on his blade’s hilt.
Just as his hand was about to touch the hilt, it froze mid-air.
Chen Yi squinted, as though envisioning, in that split second when his hand reached the hilt, a gleaming sword light would sweep forward.
From then on, the world would no longer have Chen Zunming.
At that mont, a voice, bright and innocent, called out from the mountain path.
"Master? Why are you here?"
Dong Gong Ruoshu bypassed Chen Yi, running straight toward the middle-aged man.
The Broken Swordsman frowned slightly and shook his head.
Chen Yi, whose breathing had been labored, finally gasped for air.
Yin Tingxue, who hadn’t dared make a sound since the Broken Swordsman’s abrupt appearance, exhaled in relief. Yin Weiyin stiffened after a while, too nervous to relax even now.
At Chen Yi’s signal, the two won cautiously stepped back. He, however, didn’t remove his hand from above the blade hilt, not until he felt a familiar aura emanating from behind him, at which point he gently released his grip.
"So it seems, I have a master as well," Chen Yi said without turning his head.
Behind him, a one-ard woman replied coldly, "It was I who brought him here."
Chen Yi started violently, spinning around in shock.
Zhou Yitang’s face was impassive, offering no further explanation.
When Chen Yi turned back around, the Broken Swordsman had already taken a step forward.
In a flash, the middle-aged man abruptly closed the distance.
"Was it you who killed Zhao Bai, Xue Qingsheng, and Li Xieling?"
Chen Yi steadied himself, asking evenly and without a hint of emotion:
"And if it was?"
Under the veil of night, the Broken Swordsman stared at him for a long ti. After so ti, he finally uttered an ambiguous remark:
"You’re indeed a natural fit for the sword of death."
Chen Yi, now fully composed, responded:
"So what?"
"You should follow your master’s teachings, not delve into the swordsmanship of death,"
the Broken Swordsman said with a sigh, sounding weary and resigned.
"The sword of death leads nowhere."
And then,
killing intent surged forth.
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