She closed her eyes and waited, suspended in anticipation. At first, only silence and darkness surrounded her. But gradually, the fragrance of plants and trees materialized around her consciousness, accompanied by the gentle prickle of grass beneath her feet.
Light bloomed slowly, spreading like watercolor across her awareness. She had successfully entered the dream realm.
With the Dream Seal as her anchor, she could construct her own dreamscape, following the pathway it illuminated. By weaving her dreams with Shen Xiuwen's, their subconscious worlds would intersect, allowing them to meet within the realm of sleep.
The dream crystallized into completion around her. A meadow stretched in all directions, bordered by dense forest. Directly ahead lay a lake that seemed to reach toward infinity, its surface mirror-smooth. The moon hung impossibly large in the sky, its luminescence painting the water with liquid silver—a scene of ethereal tranquility.
The Dream Seal's pull directed her toward the lake. Without hesitation, she invoked a water-avoidance spell, stepped forward with purpose, and dove beneath the surface. The water embraced her as she swam forward, guided by the seal's insistent tug.
The chill penetrated her skin initially, but after several moments, the cold seemed to dissipate entirely. She floated deeper, propelling herself forward until a cliff materialized in the distance. Atop it sat a young man, apparently deep in meditation. Lake water crept silently to his feet, colliding and receding against the stone in endless rhythm, ripples rolling and surging. Yet the cliff remained utterly unmoved.
Hua Xiangwan swam to the cliff's edge and peered upward through the crystalline water. The young man wore a white jade crown, his eyes concealed behind white silk. His features belonged unmistakably to Shen Xiuwen, yet his bearing—that cold, distant composure—was remarkably reminiscent of Xie Wushuang.
She'd long observed Shen Xiuwen's admiration for Xie Wushuang, but she hadn't expected him to imitate the man so thoroughly even in his dreams.
Irritation flickered through her. For now, she still preferred Shen Xiuwen's gentleness and innocent warmth. What was so captivating about Xie Wushuang's glacial demeanor anyway?
But having come this far, retreat wasn't an option.
She circled through the water with deliberate grace, moving like a legendary mermaid—human torso flowing into a fish's elegant tail—creating subtle disturbances designed to capture "Shen Xiuwen's" attention.
Yet the figure above remained impossibly composed. Even sensing her approach, he stayed rooted in place, meditation unbroken.
Hua Xiangwan considered her options briefly before reaching toward the shore, pulling herself from the lake in one fluid motion as water cascaded from her form.
As she emerged, a strange fragrance permeated the air. Xie Changji's eyes slowly opened.
Was this his dream?
Confusion threaded through his consciousness.
Hua Xiangwan was clearly the one dreaming, so why did the scene before him feel so achingly familiar... so much like his own memories?
The woman was undeniably Hua Xiangwan. But this tableau—the moonlit lake, the beauty emerging from the bath—was uncannily similar to the dream Wanwan had woven all those years ago.
He watched in transfixed silence. The woman's thin robe clung to her body, soaked through, and moonlight traced the mountainous curves of her figure with exquisite precision.
She rose until they stood at equal height, then stopped. As if driven by curiosity, she leaned forward, bringing their faces breathtakingly close.
The same movements. The same expression.
A sense of temporal vertigo seized him.
They occupied the same space now, breaths mingling, and the woman's unique fragrance drifted to Xie Changji's senses.
That same scent.
As the fragrance wound around him, memories surged back—dreams and caves from that distant past, all tinged with sensuality and desperation.
One moment, it was the dream at the boundary between life and death, the young girl's tender, trembling kiss.
Another moment, the cave, the young woman leaning against his chest, fingers working at his belt. "Xie Changji, if I don't save you, you'll die."
"Dual cultivation is merely a form of practice. Don't take it to heart."
She'd raised her head then, eyes brimming with pleading, reaching out to embrace him. "Xie Changji, I'm so cold. Hold me."
"Daoist Lord," the woman before him murmured, her voice merging seamlessly with the remembered voice in the cave. "I'm so cold. Hold me."
Wanwan...
For a disorienting moment, Xie Changji couldn't quite anchor his identity—past or present, memory or reality.
Through the white silk, he stared at the woman standing impossibly close.
Their faces overlapped in his vision—body drenched, eyes captivating as a demon's enchantment.
Hua Xiangwan observed him carefully. Though he hadn't moved, his apparent rigidity betrayed his inner turmoil.
A faint smile curved her lips. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his cold lips.
Xie Changji's breathing accelerated sharply, but he didn't dare respond.
He was terrified even to blink, fearing that this time—like countless times before—the person before him would shatter at the slightest touch.
The Dream Butterfly allowed one to see the person they most longed for, yet never permitted them to truly touch that person.
Countless times in the past, he'd watched this person disintegrate before his eyes.
Hua Xiangwan reached up to cup his face, trailing kisses upward along his cheek.
Her hand rose slowly, finding the white silk binding his eyes.
"Do you know why you dreamed of me, Daojun?"
The question fell from her lips as she moved them to hover over his closed eyes, catching the white silk between her teeth.
Her breath sprayed warmth across his eyelids—a slight, tantalizing heat.
"Because," she continued, biting down on the silk and drawing back, raising her hand to gently untie the knot secured behind his head. Her tone dripped with tenderness and unspoken promise. "You think of me in your heart."
The white silk fell away like a veil lifting. The young man's hair cascaded loose on both sides.
Hua Xiangwan smiled as she raised her gaze, only to find herself staring into a pair of calm, clear, unnervingly bloodshot eyes.
Her smile froze. She stared, uncomprehending, at those eyes.
A heartbeat later, realization crashed over her like ice water.
Bloodshot eyes—the unmistakable sign of demonic possession!
Shen Xiuwen was actually possessed by demons?!
Demonic possession represented a grave taboo for the Heavenly Sword Sect. The Western Territory might tolerate demonic cultivators, but Yunlai never would!
Marrying a disciple who could be cast out by the Heavenly Sword Sect at any moment offered her no advantage whatsoever.
More critically, the dreams of a possessed cultivator were catastrophically unstable. She would be in mortal danger here.
Retreat immediately!
The instant understanding crystallized, Hua Xiangwan didn't hesitate. She spun and leaped toward the water!
But swift as she was, her opponent moved faster still.
The water froze instantaneously as Hua Xiangwan launched herself forward. She crashed hard onto the suddenly solid ice.
Pain barely registered before she scrambled upright, sprinting desperately back the way she'd come!
Wind and snow erupted from nowhere. Ice spread outward in all directions, as if racing against her, stretching endlessly toward the horizon with no visible termination.
She ran frantically, feet burning with cold against the merciless ice.
Sensing the sword intent hidden within the blizzard, horror flooded through her.
No. This wasn't the sword intent of the Affectionate Sword—this was the Sword of Inquiry!
Years ago, she couldn't have distinguished between the Sword of Inquiry and the Sword of Love. But thanks to Xie Changji's brutal lessons, she now knew them intimately.
If Shen Xiuwen didn't possess the Sword of Inquiry, then the person standing here...
"Xie Wushuang?!"
Hua Xiangwan skidded to an abrupt halt, whirling around in shock.
The young man in white stood motionless on the distant shore.
The space behind him had transformed into a raging blizzard. Hua Xiangwan recognized it immediately—the realm between life and death.
He regarded her with perfect stillness, as if entirely devoid of emotion.
He had sealed this dream from the very beginning, fully aware it was merely a dream.
And he had no intention of letting her escape.
Realizing the dream had been completely locked down by her opponent, Hua Xiangwan abandoned her flight attempts. She forced herself to calm, analyzing his potential intentions.
He wanted to kill her.
Xie Wushuang's temperament was far more decisive than Shen Xiuwen's, and his cultivation remained unfathomable. If this was truly Xie Wushuang, he might actually possess the power to end her life here.
She stared at him through the wind and snow, mind racing through possible solutions.
They faced each other in tense silence across the frozen wasteland, time stretching like pulled thread. Finally, Xie Changji spoke, his voice low and rough with emotion: "Who are you?"
At this inexplicable question, Hua Xiangwan secretly gathered her spiritual power, tracing a magic circle onto her palm.
In dreams, what mattered was the strength of one's spiritual consciousness. She didn't fear Xie Wushuang in terms of raw power—but she'd entered his dream voluntarily. That gave him greater dominion over this realm. Fighting here would place her at severe disadvantage.
She needed to escape. Quickly.
"Where does that fragrance come from?"
Xie Changji descended from the shore, stepping onto the ice with measured steps.
He moved with deliberate slowness. Though they stood far apart, he seemed able to collapse the distance itself, reaching her in mere moments through some spatial manipulation.
Hua Xiangwan watched him warily, the magic circle taking shape in her concealed hand.
Just as Xie Changji arrived before her, reaching out toward her face, she raised her hand and slammed it violently against the ice!
The frozen expanse shattered instantaneously. Shards erupted skyward like an impossible curtain rising from earth itself, separating them completely. Xie Changji's eyes widened as he watched the ice collapse and the woman suddenly vanish. Anguish tore from his throat: "Wanwan!"
Hua Xiangwan plunged into the frigid water below, jolting completely awake from the dream!
Without pausing to think, pure instinct drove her to cry out: "Shen Xiuwen! Save me! Shen Xiuwen!"
Xie Wushuang, possessed by demons yet still dwelling within the Heavenly Sword Sect, must have powerful backing. The Hehuan Palace disciples couldn't stop him—calling them would only result in unnecessary casualties.
A Heavenly Sword Sect cultivator would be duty-bound to act. If Shen Xiuwen arrived, perhaps Xie Wushuang would show some restraint.
However, Shen Xiuwen didn't appear.
Instead, a presence descended—cold as winter pine—lifting her bed curtains and bearing down on her position.
She leaped aside. A chilling wind followed. A jade-pale hand seized her collar with iron strength.
She ducked her head, spun gracefully, and launched a palm strike. The young man leaned sideways with fluid precision, raising his sword—still sheathed—to intercept her hand seal. Then, with a subtle twist, he redirected her own hand back toward her throat.
Hua Xiangwan retreated rapidly. After less than two exchanges within the confines of her room, her spiritual energy reserves depleted critically. Xie Changji pressed his sheathed sword against her neck, pinning her firmly against the wall.
So powerful. Far stronger than she'd ever imagined.
Could a mere Nascent Soul-level practitioner of the Sword of Inquiry truly possess this magnitude of power?
Doubt flickered through her thoughts, but then—recalling Xie Changji's past strength that had defied all conventional cultivation standards—it seemed only natural for someone wielding the Sword of Inquiry to display such prowess.
Hua Xiangwan ceased her resistance, staring at the young man before her while struggling to catch her breath.
Xie Changji held his sword in one hand, pressed across her throat. Pear blossoms drifted through the open window on the cool evening breeze. The white silk covering his eyes lifted gently in the wind, trailing across her face with tantalizing softness.
"You won't have time to kill me before Shen Xiuwen arrives."
Hua Xiangwan heard approaching voices and delivered her warning.
The words had barely left her lips when Shen Xiuwen's voice rang out from beyond the door: "Young Master Hua!"
Xie Changji's expression transformed instantly to ice. The moment the door burst open, he pivoted sharply, forcing her deeper into the corner and blocking her completely with his body.
Hua Xiangwan froze, utterly bewildered by "Xie Wushuang's" actions.
Was he trying to hide from Shen Xiuwen? Would this even work?
The assembled crowd—Shen Xiuwen, disciples from both Hehuan Palace and Tianjian Sect, all roused from sleep—stood paralyzed by shock. They stared at "Xie Wushuang" blocking the corner, at the telltale edge of a woman's clothing visible beneath his white robes.
Silence stretched taut as a bowstring.
"Get out."
After the charged stalemate, Xie Changji spoke, his voice glacial.
Shen Xiuwen couldn't process what he was seeing. He stood frozen in the doorway alongside the other witnesses, completely at a loss.
Seeing that Shen Xiuwen remained motionless, Xie Changji raised his eyes. His typically calm demeanor finally carried an edge of genuine anger.
He shouted: "Get out!"
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