Hua Xiangwan finished writing, pressed the paper beneath the warm lotus-seed porridge bowl to keep it from fluttering, then ran to the window and lifted her hand. A faint, pale seal of spiritual power appeared at her fingertips. She pressed it gently against the barrier.
A soft hum echoed. After a moment, the barrier dissolved silently, revealing a small opening. She pushed the window open—only to find, with a sharp intake of breath, that she was standing in a high-rise building, far higher than she expected.
The entrance looked like an ordinary room, yet the moment the window opened, the view outside plunged downward. At least three stories of sheer drop.
Below lay a dense forest. Hua Xiangwan scanned the distance, gauging a safe route when a familiar voice—tinged with surprise—rose from below.
"Young Master Hua?"
She froze. Looking down, she spotted Shen Xiuwen standing beneath the window.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat before Shen Xiuwen reacted first. He raised a hand and urged anxiously, "Young master, jump down, I will follow you!"
Hua Xiangwan fell silent. She might not have a golden elixir, but she was still a cultivator. This height was nothing to her.
His tone told her he had no intention of reporting her. Without hesitation, she jumped, landed lightly, grabbed Shen Xiuwen's arm, and pulled him into the nearby forest. "Let's go."
Shen Xiuwen followed her, his gaze sweeping over her attire. Realizing her intent, he asked in shock, "Young Master Hua, are you trying to escape from marriage?"
"Nonsense." Hua Xiangwan shot him a withering look. "The groom has been replaced, I still don't run away?"
Shen Xiuwen faltered, looking almost dazed. "The lord's cultivation is extraordinary, and his status is high, what's wrong with it?"
It was reasonable. Hua Xiangwan had come to the Heavenly Sword Sect to find a double-cultivation partner to repair her golden core, and to strengthen political ties with the Western Realm. Xie Changjie was no worse than him. In fact—
Hua Xiangwan was momentarily choked. “…He is too old.”
Shen Xiuwen blinked, then burst into soft laughter. "Young Master Hua, the cultivation world does not care about age, and only after experiencing a lot of things can you know how to take care of people."
"Are you here to be a lobbyist?" Hua Xiangwan narrowed her eyes at him.
He quickly shook his head. "No, I'm just here to see ……"
"Where is the Spirit Beast Garden?"
Hua Xiangwan stopped, looked around, and found herself momentarily disoriented.
Shen Xiuwen immediately pointed. "There."
Hua Xiangwan grabbed him and raced toward the Spirit Beast Garden, speaking breathlessly as she ran, "If you don't come to be a lobbyist, you just want to take revenge on him for Xie Changji's stealing of your marriage, and help me run out. I promise that I will run away without a trace when I go out, and I will definitely not implicate you."
Shen Xiuwen didn’t respond immediately. He glanced at their joined hands, eyes softening. After a moment, he asked gently, "The young master really wants to run away?"
"Do you think I'm joking?"
“Then, is the lord now supported by the young master?”
"I asked him to cook noodles,” Hua Xiangwan said, outlining her plan. “It will take him at least a quarter of an hour to cook the noodles. Let's just take a little time. After leaving the Heavenly Sword Sect, I’ll bring the hidden magic weapon. When the time comes, I’ll dive into the forest. Follow me, I guarantee he won't find us."
Shen Xiuwen nodded, thoughtful.
Then, after leaving the house, Hua Xiangwan abruptly realized—she had accidentally revealed too much familiarity with Xie Changjie. Before she could worry about it, Shen Xiuwen simply took her by the arm.
“Time is tight, young master. We can’t go like this.”
The world blurred.
In the blink of an eye, they were standing inside the Spirit Beast Garden.
Shen Xiuwen prompted, "Young Master, you have to find your mount quickly."
Hua Xiangwan blinked in surprise. “Using spells in the Heavenly Sword Sect, won't you be discovered?"
"Don't worry, I am a disciple in the sect," Shen Xiuwen explained calmly. "I won't be noticed."
“Oh.”
She nodded and rushed inside to locate her mount.
Opening a teleportation scroll required immense spiritual power, far beyond what she could sustain with mere spiritual energy beads. She couldn’t rely on a sword or flying artifact either—not for such a long escape. Her mount was essential.
After searching, she finally spotted it.
The majestic white tiger—usually proud, imposing, and sharp-eyed—was sprawled on the ground, drunk beyond recognition. Someone had clearly fed it an entire jar of wedding wine. Its huge body twitched occasionally as if dreaming, its claws curled pathetically.
Hua Xiangwan: “……”
Lingbei. Only Lingbei would dare feed a spirit beast wine.
The drunken white tiger couldn’t hear its master, nor even enlarge or shrink itself. Useless for escape.
Shen Xiuwen frowned. "What should I do?"
"I told it to try." Hua Xiangwan’s expression darkened. She slapped its face lightly. "Xiaobai, wake up, Xiaobai!"
The tiger opened bleary eyes, shot her a look of pure disdain, covered its head with both paws, and promptly went back to sleep.
Shen Xiuwen hesitated, thoughtful. "Why don't we go down the mountain directly, and I will send you to the West."
"This is not good." Hua Xiangwan shook her head firmly. "I want to take you away, you can't get rid of it. You are already benevolent and righteous to help me, I can't drag you down anymore."
"What does the young master plan to do?"
Hua Xiangwan gritted her teeth, shoved two sobering pills into Xiaobai’s mouth, then reached underneath its heavy body. Shen Xiuwen stared in mute shock as she let out a deep breath and hoisted the enormous tiger onto her back.
"I took a sobering pill and woke up after a while." She pushed her hair away with her free hand. "Let's go!"
Shen Xiuwen steadied himself, swallowed his astonishment, and nodded. "Okay, then let's go down the mountain now."
He pulled her toward the sword formation.
A mountain guard disciple stood with his back to them. Hua Xiangwan was preparing to sneak past when Shen Xiuwen suddenly called out, "Junior Brother Lin, Junior Brother Wang."
The two disciples turned instinctively. The moment they did, Shen Xiuwen swept forward—two swift blows, and the guards collapsed.
Hua Xiangwan stared, baffled as to why he called out to them at all.
Before she could ask, Shen Xiuwen said calmly, "I opened the sword formation."
A ring of sword-light appeared before him. He raised his hand, merging the ring into the formation. Light spread outward, the array rumbled open, and Hua Xiangwan immediately leaped through. Shen Xiuwen followed right after.
"Shen Daojun," she said anxiously as he landed beside her. "Just send it here, you leave quickly, don't get involved with me."
"The disciple of the mountain has already seen me,” Shen Xiuwen shook his head. “I'll send you to the West."
She hesitated.
Then footsteps sounded behind them.
Shen Xiuwen’s expression hardened. He grabbed her wrist. “Let's go!”
While Hua Xiangwan and Shen Xiuwen fled, the peak masters of the Heavenly Sword Sect and the delegation from Hehuan Palace waited at the kitchen door, watching Xie Changjie.
The chef stood off to the side trembling, clutching a salt jar as Xie Changjie expertly chopped vegetables. His knife flashed—green onions, ginger—clean, crisp, precise. He heated the oil, stirred, added ingredients.
In less than a quarter hour, a steaming bowl of chopped green onion noodles—topped with a neatly folded omelette—was ready.
“Lingnan.”
The servant jumped. “……Shangjun……”
“Send the noodles to your young master. Let her not go to bed immediately after eating. Walk around a bit, and then sleep and wait for me.”
Xie Changjie cleaned his hands with a handkerchief, then turned to the gathered peak masters.
"Uncle, let's go."
Su Luoming exchanged uncertain looks with the others before forcing out a strained chuckle. "Ling Zuo Envoy, today’s wedding—please wait a while. We will give Hehuan Palace an answer."
Lingbei faltered but nodded politely. “Please.”
“But my marriage to Young Master Hua will not change again.” Xie Changjie’s voice was calm and flat.
Lingbei stared stunned. Xie Changjie inclined his head slightly, a rare plea hidden in his tone. “Please inform Hehuan Palace and your mother-in-law tonight.”
“Long Silence!”
When Su Luoming heard this, he immediately wanted to reprimand him, but for a moment he couldn’t even form the words.
Kun Xuzi stood to the side, let out a long sigh, and raised a hand to stop him. “Enough. Let’s go to the Sword Pavilion first.”
Su Luoming swallowed back his anger. Terrified that Xie Changji would say something even more outrageous in front of the elders, he turned and strode out of the house.
The group walked toward the Sword Pavilion. The moment they stepped inside and closed the door, Su Luoming spun around, face flushed with fury.
“Kneel down!”
Xie Changji knelt with unnerving calm. Kun Xuzi silently walked to the seat beside Su Luoming and sat down, saying nothing.
Su Luoming paced in agitation, his voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?! Do you want to publicly save face for Xiuwen’s marriage? Does the Heavenly Sword Sect still want dignity?!”
“She’s my wife.”
“You’ve only met her on the road of the spirit for a few days, she is your—”
“She is Wanwan.”
The words struck like a thunderbolt. For a moment, the entire Sword Pavilion fell deathly silent.
The name “Wanwan”… Every peak master present had heard it. During the sealing of the Life-and-Death Realm, the woman who rushed into the fray and died in sacrifice. After that, Xie Changji had ventured alone into the Otherworld. They had already learned of this from Kun Xuzi.
Su Luoming stared at him blankly. “…Isn’t she dead?”
“She didn’t.”
“Are you certain?”
Kun Xuzi finally spoke. Xie Changji turned to him, eyes firm. “I’m certain.”
“Why? She gave you a fascinating—”
“In the illusory realm, she had memories every night,” Xie Changji said steadily. “I found Lingbei, and even confronted her myself to confirm it.”
Kun Xuzi frowned. “But the soul-locking lamp…”
“When the Western Hehuan Palace was trapped, she was poisoned. Her blood was changed beyond recognition. She can’t sense the soul-lock lamp, nor can she be verified by the Heart Sword.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The tragedy that befell Hehuan Palace two hundred years ago had been even worse than the collapse of the Life-and-Death barrier. The Heavenly Sword Sect nearly perished. Four hundred disciples of the Heart Sword lineage, and after that battle only Xie Changji remained.
At least the Heavenly Sword Sect preserved the elite of the Amorous Sword lineage. But Hehuan Palace…
Nothing remained.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, Xie Changji bowed deeply.
“Uncles,” his voice was low and hoarse, “For two hundred years I guarded the sect… guarded the Life-and-Death Realm. Now the sect prospers, the realm is pacified, and the Heart Sword lineage endures. The sect no longer needs me to remain. Please, for the sake of these two centuries, allow me to descend the mountain.”
“But…”
The Sixth Peak Master Bai Yingmei hesitated, worry clouding her expression. “Changji… if she is Wanwan, and now she has chosen Xiuwen—do you understand what that means?”
Xie Changji trembled ever so slightly. After a moment, he said quietly, “I know.”
“Long Silence,” Bai Yingmei pressed gently. “In matters of the heart, devotion doesn’t guarantee return. Even if you sacrifice your status, even if you leave the sect for her, it may have nothing to do with her. She may not—”
“I understand.”
Xie Changji cut her off. “But I must do something.”
“Whether for her… or for myself,” he continued, voice resolute, “I must go to the West with her.”
“But in all of ten thousand years, no sword master of the Heart Sword has ever left the realm!” Fourth Peak Master Xiao Wenshan burst out. “If everyone follows your example—”
“Let him go.”
Before Xiao Wenshan could finish, Kun Xuzi spoke.
Everyone turned toward him in shock.
The old man looked suddenly, unbearably old.
“The sect has no rule forbidding it,” Kun Xuzi said quietly. “Long ago, the first Heart Sword Master said: if one wishes to leave the Life-and-Death Realm, they may. But the price is heavy. First—disperse your path, and cultivate anew. Second—receive twenty soul whips.”
He rose slowly and faced Xie Changji. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
“The disciple has already shattered his heart and changed his path. The way will be rebuilt.” Xie Changji bent forward, touching the ground with both hands. “Please give me the whip.”
“…Very well.”
Kun Xuzi lifted his hand. From the altar before the spirit memorial, the soul whip flew into his grasp. Spiritual power surged through it, barbs standing upright, glowing faintly.
He looked down at the whip, his voice dropping into soft reminiscence. “You were born in the dead of winter. Your family slaughtered by demons. You alone survived, buried under snow. Your master divined your fate and asked me to retrieve you. After ten years of raising you, we sent you into the Life-and-Death Realm, where you inherited Yunting’s teachings. I asked you then—would you practice the Heart Sword? And you said yes.”
Kun Xuzi’s eyes dimmed. “At nineteen, the first time you and Wanwan stood before me, I asked again—and you said yes.”
“I have no regrets.”
Xie Changji’s voice was steady.
Kun Xuzi closed his eyes briefly. Then gritted his teeth—and brought the whip down.
A streak of blood tore across Xie Changji’s back, shimmering faintly with violet—the burn of soul-level pain.
Even he couldn’t suppress the tremor that ran through him.
But he did not move.
Kun Xuzi struck again. And again. As though releasing two centuries of grief and helpless fury.
“No regrets?! Who do you think you are?!” Kun Xuzi’s voice broke. “When I kept you alive—did I raise you to abandon the Heart Sword?! Did your master teach you to be cold? To betray your purpose? To forget that everything in this world is born of great love?! What are you doing?!”
Another whip tore across flesh.
“What are you doing now?!”
“And this—this is my fault! I didn’t make your Dao-heart strong enough!”
Another strike.
“I failed to teach you unwavering resolve!”
Another.
“I failed to teach you obedience!”
Another.
“I failed to make you see clearly!”
The lash fell again and again, soul-fire burning into bone. Xie Changji curled slightly from the pain, his blood soaking the floor.
Bai Yingmei could no longer bear it. She surged forward. “Senior brother, enough!”
Xiao Wenshan also rushed in. “Changji, say something! Must you go down the mountain?!”
But Xie Changji simply lowered his head and whispered, unwavering:
“Please… give me the whip, Uncle.”
Kun Xuzi’s eyes reddened entirely. With a shudder, he pushed aside the peak masters and delivered the remaining lashes.
“Go!” he cried hoarsely. “Go! Your master is gone, you are a hero who slaughtered the Otherworld, no one can restrain you! If you wish to leave—then leave!!”
At last, twenty whips were done.
Xie Changji still knelt, blood-soaked but unmoving.
Kun Xuzi staggered back, supported by Su Luoming.
“You have too many eyes on you,” he said tiredly. “Abandoning your Dao and rebuilding is dangerous. You may leave today—but you must promise me one thing. No one else must know that your path has changed.”
“Yes.”
Kun Xuzi continued, “Take the Heart Sword with you to the West. As for restoring the lost spirit—we leave that matter in your hands.”
“Disciple accepts.”
Silence lingered for a long moment. Then Kun Xuzi said, voice hoarse, “Go. You should have gone two hundred years ago. As for Xiuwen—I will explain it.”
“Uncle.”
Xie Changji bowed deeply and rose.
Bai Yingmei hurried forward to check his pulse, sending spiritual power into him. “Changji, rest first. Then—”
“I can’t.” Xie Changji shook his head. “She told me to return. She’s waiting. I will change clothes and return to the new house.”
He turned to leave. Behind him, Kun Xuzi murmured, “Long Silence…”
Xie Changji paused.
Kun Xuzi added, low and earnest, “If you do not want to remain in the Western Realm… the Heavenly Sword Sect will always welcome you back.”
Xie Changji stood still for a long time, then nodded. “All right.”
He stepped outside.
His steps were unsteady. Bai Yingmei watched his retreating figure, distressed. “He… he just endured the heavenly tribulation, then twenty soul whips. And he refuses to rest. You don’t care?”
“Mei Ying,” Kun Xuzi said, exhausted, “let him go.”
He lifted his gaze to Xie Changji’s blood-streaked back. “He has waited for two hundred years.”
Leaving the Sword Pavilion, Xie Changji returned to his chamber on the Second Peak.
With practiced ease, he stopped the bleeding of his wounds, washed, and dressed. He donned the bright red wedding robes Kun Xuzi had sent, and carefully placed the gold crown adorned with pearls and jade upon his head.
Facing the mirror, he shaved away the blue stubble, revealing the clean lines of his handsome face.
When he was prepared, he stepped outside. Xie Wushuang and another disciple waited at the door.
“Master,” Xie Wushuang greeted respectfully.
Xie Changji nodded. “Thank you.”
“It is this disciple’s duty to share Master’s burdens.”
Xie Wushuang led the way.
Lights glimmered everywhere. The noise of mortal festivities drifted through the air—soft, distant, unfamiliar after so many years.
They entered the courtyard.
The disciples of Hehuan Palace immediately stiffened like startled birds.
Xie Changji walked forward. Lingnan reacted first, darting in front of him.
“Shangjun, our young master is asleep! Maybe… maybe you could return tomorrow?”
Xie Changji paused. His gaze lifted, calm and unreadable. Lingnan’s hand trembled.
“Move,” Xie Changji said quietly.
“I— our young master ordered—no one is allowed to disturb—”
Xie Changji only stared at him.
Behind him, Xie Wushuang spoke coldly, “Ling-you-shi, please make way.”
Lingnan faltered, swallowed nervously, and finally stepped back.
Xie Changji stepped past him and reached the door.
He hesitated briefly, then pushed.
A cool wind rushed through the open window across the room. The curtains billowed. Furniture was shifted. The bowl of scallion noodles—now cold—sat alone on the table.
The disciples of Hehuan Palace dropped to their knees at once.
Lingnan stammered, “Shang… Shangjun, the young master felt a little stuffy, so she… she went out to breathe! Lingbei has already gone to look for her!”
Before Xie Changji could reply, hurried footsteps echoed outside.
“Shangjun, bad news!”
Jiang Yiran rushed into the courtyard, knelt, and gasped, “Just now, the mountain guard disciple reported—half an hour ago—he saw Young Master Hua carrying a mount and running away with Senior Brother Shen!”
The courtyard fell dead silent.
Lingnan broke out in a cold sweat.
Wind swept through the courtyard. Xie Changji’s wedding robes fluttered softly.
He looked at Jiang Yiran, expression perfectly calm.
“Which Senior Brother Shen?”
Jiang Yiran realized instantly that he had misspoken. He lowered his head and answered in a strained voice:
“The Second Peak… Shen Xiuwen.”When Su Luoming heard this, he immediately wanted to reprimand him, but for a moment he couldn’t even form the words.
Kun Xuzi stood to the side, let out a long sigh, and raised a hand to stop him. “Enough. Let’s go to the Sword Pavilion first.”
Su Luoming swallowed back his anger. Terrified that Xie Changji would say something even more outrageous in front of the elders, he turned and strode out of the house.
The group walked toward the Sword Pavilion. The moment they stepped inside and closed the door, Su Luoming spun around, face flushed with fury.
“Kneel down!”
Xie Changji knelt with unnerving calm. Kun Xuzi silently walked to the seat beside Su Luoming and sat down, saying nothing.
Su Luoming paced in agitation, his voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?! Do you want to publicly save face for Xiuwen’s marriage? Does the Heavenly Sword Sect still want dignity?!”
“She’s my wife.”
“You’ve only met her on the road of the spirit for a few days, she is your—”
“She is Wanwan.”
The words struck like a thunderbolt. For a moment, the entire Sword Pavilion fell deathly silent.
The name “Wanwan”… Every peak master present had heard it. During the sealing of the Life-and-Death Realm, the woman who rushed into the fray and died in sacrifice. After that, Xie Changji had ventured alone into the Otherworld. They had already learned of this from Kun Xuzi.
Su Luoming stared at him blankly. “…Isn’t she dead?”
“She didn’t.”
“Are you certain?”
Kun Xuzi finally spoke. Xie Changji turned to him, eyes firm. “I’m certain.”
“Why? She gave you a fascinating—”
“In the illusory realm, she had memories every night,” Xie Changji said steadily. “I found Lingbei, and even confronted her myself to confirm it.”
Kun Xuzi frowned. “But the soul-locking lamp…”
“When the Western Hehuan Palace was trapped, she was poisoned. Her blood was changed beyond recognition. She can’t sense the soul-lock lamp, nor can she be verified by the Heart Sword.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The tragedy that befell Hehuan Palace two hundred years ago had been even worse than the collapse of the Life-and-Death barrier. The Heavenly Sword Sect nearly perished. Four hundred disciples of the Heart Sword lineage, and after that battle only Xie Changji remained.
At least the Heavenly Sword Sect preserved the elite of the Amorous Sword lineage. But Hehuan Palace…
Nothing remained.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, Xie Changji bowed deeply.
“Uncles,” his voice was low and hoarse, “For two hundred years I guarded the sect… guarded the Life-and-Death Realm. Now the sect prospers, the realm is pacified, and the Heart Sword lineage endures. The sect no longer needs me to remain. Please, for the sake of these two centuries, allow me to descend the mountain.”
“But…”
The Sixth Peak Master Bai Yingmei hesitated, worry clouding her expression. “Changji… if she is Wanwan, and now she has chosen Xiuwen—do you understand what that means?”
Xie Changji trembled ever so slightly. After a moment, he said quietly, “I know.”
“Long Silence,” Bai Yingmei pressed gently. “In matters of the heart, devotion doesn’t guarantee return. Even if you sacrifice your status, even if you leave the sect for her, it may have nothing to do with her. She may not—”
“I understand.”
Xie Changji cut her off. “But I must do something.”
“Whether for her… or for myself,” he continued, voice resolute, “I must go to the West with her.”
“But in all of ten thousand years, no sword master of the Heart Sword has ever left the realm!” Fourth Peak Master Xiao Wenshan burst out. “If everyone follows your example—”
“Let him go.”
Before Xiao Wenshan could finish, Kun Xuzi spoke.
Everyone turned toward him in shock.
The old man looked suddenly, unbearably old.
“The sect has no rule forbidding it,” Kun Xuzi said quietly. “Long ago, the first Heart Sword Master said: if one wishes to leave the Life-and-Death Realm, they may. But the price is heavy. First—disperse your path, and cultivate anew. Second—receive twenty soul whips.”
He rose slowly and faced Xie Changji. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
“The disciple has already shattered his heart and changed his path. The way will be rebuilt.” Xie Changji bent forward, touching the ground with both hands. “Please give me the whip.”
“…Very well.”
Kun Xuzi lifted his hand. From the altar before the spirit memorial, the soul whip flew into his grasp. Spiritual power surged through it, barbs standing upright, glowing faintly.
He looked down at the whip, his voice dropping into soft reminiscence. “You were born in the dead of winter. Your family slaughtered by demons. You alone survived, buried under snow. Your master divined your fate and asked me to retrieve you. After ten years of raising you, we sent you into the Life-and-Death Realm, where you inherited Yunting’s teachings. I asked you then—would you practice the Heart Sword? And you said yes.”
Kun Xuzi’s eyes dimmed. “At nineteen, the first time you and Wanwan stood before me, I asked again—and you said yes.”
“I have no regrets.”
Xie Changji’s voice was steady.
Kun Xuzi closed his eyes briefly. Then gritted his teeth—and brought the whip down.
A streak of blood tore across Xie Changji’s back, shimmering faintly with violet—the burn of soul-level pain.
Even he couldn’t suppress the tremor that ran through him.
But he did not move.
Kun Xuzi struck again. And again. As though releasing two centuries of grief and helpless fury.
“No regrets?! Who do you think you are?!” Kun Xuzi’s voice broke. “When I kept you alive—did I raise you to abandon the Heart Sword?! Did your master teach you to be cold? To betray your purpose? To forget that everything in this world is born of great love?! What are you doing?!”
Another whip tore across flesh.
“What are you doing now?!”
“And this—this is my fault! I didn’t make your Dao-heart strong enough!”
Another strike.
“I failed to teach you unwavering resolve!”
Another.
“I failed to teach you obedience!”
Another.
“I failed to make you see clearly!”
The lash fell again and again, soul-fire burning into bone. Xie Changji curled slightly from the pain, his blood soaking the floor.
Bai Yingmei could no longer bear it. She surged forward. “Senior brother, enough!”
Xiao Wenshan also rushed in. “Changji, say something! Must you go down the mountain?!”
But Xie Changji simply lowered his head and whispered, unwavering:
“Please… give me the whip, Uncle.”
Kun Xuzi’s eyes reddened entirely. With a shudder, he pushed aside the peak masters and delivered the remaining lashes.
“Go!” he cried hoarsely. “Go! Your master is gone, you are a hero who slaughtered the Otherworld, no one can restrain you! If you wish to leave—then leave!!”
At last, twenty whips were done.
Xie Changji still knelt, blood-soaked but unmoving.
Kun Xuzi staggered back, supported by Su Luoming.
“You have too many eyes on you,” he said tiredly. “Abandoning your Dao and rebuilding is dangerous. You may leave today—but you must promise me one thing. No one else must know that your path has changed.”
“Yes.”
Kun Xuzi continued, “Take the Heart Sword with you to the West. As for restoring the lost spirit—we leave that matter in your hands.”
“Disciple accepts.”
Silence lingered for a long moment. Then Kun Xuzi said, voice hoarse, “Go. You should have gone two hundred years ago. As for Xiuwen—I will explain it.”
“Uncle.”
Xie Changji bowed deeply and rose.
Bai Yingmei hurried forward to check his pulse, sending spiritual power into him. “Changji, rest first. Then—”
“I can’t.” Xie Changji shook his head. “She told me to return. She’s waiting. I will change clothes and return to the new house.”
He turned to leave. Behind him, Kun Xuzi murmured, “Long Silence…”
Xie Changji paused.
Kun Xuzi added, low and earnest, “If you do not want to remain in the Western Realm… the Heavenly Sword Sect will always welcome you back.”
Xie Changji stood still for a long time, then nodded. “All right.”
He stepped outside.
His steps were unsteady. Bai Yingmei watched his retreating figure, distressed. “He… he just endured the heavenly tribulation, then twenty soul whips. And he refuses to rest. You don’t care?”
“Mei Ying,” Kun Xuzi said, exhausted, “let him go.”
He lifted his gaze to Xie Changji’s blood-streaked back. “He has waited for two hundred years.”
Leaving the Sword Pavilion, Xie Changji returned to his chamber on the Second Peak.
With practiced ease, he stopped the bleeding of his wounds, washed, and dressed. He donned the bright red wedding robes Kun Xuzi had sent, and carefully placed the gold crown adorned with pearls and jade upon his head.
Facing the mirror, he shaved away the blue stubble, revealing the clean lines of his handsome face.
When he was prepared, he stepped outside. Xie Wushuang and another disciple waited at the door.
“Master,” Xie Wushuang greeted respectfully.
Xie Changji nodded. “Thank you.”
“It is this disciple’s duty to share Master’s burdens.”
Xie Wushuang led the way.
Lights glimmered everywhere. The noise of mortal festivities drifted through the air—soft, distant, unfamiliar after so many years.
They entered the courtyard.
The disciples of Hehuan Palace immediately stiffened like startled birds.
Xie Changji walked forward. Lingnan reacted first, darting in front of him.
“Shangjun, our young master is asleep! Maybe… maybe you could return tomorrow?”
Xie Changji paused. His gaze lifted, calm and unreadable. Lingnan’s hand trembled.
“Move,” Xie Changji said quietly.
“I— our young master ordered—no one is allowed to disturb—”
Xie Changji only stared at him.
Behind him, Xie Wushuang spoke coldly, “Ling-you-shi, please make way.”
Lingnan faltered, swallowed nervously, and finally stepped back.
Xie Changji stepped past him and reached the door.
He hesitated briefly, then pushed.
A cool wind rushed through the open window across the room. The curtains billowed. Furniture was shifted. The bowl of scallion noodles—now cold—sat alone on the table.
The disciples of Hehuan Palace dropped to their knees at once.
Lingnan stammered, “Shang… Shangjun, the young master felt a little stuffy, so she… she went out to breathe! Lingbei has already gone to look for her!”
Before Xie Changji could reply, hurried footsteps echoed outside.
“Shangjun, bad news!”
Jiang Yiran rushed into the courtyard, knelt, and gasped, “Just now, the mountain guard disciple reported—half an hour ago—he saw Young Master Hua carrying a mount and running away with Senior Brother Shen!”
The courtyard fell dead silent.
Lingnan broke out in a cold sweat.
Wind swept through the courtyard. Xie Changji’s wedding robes fluttered softly.
He looked at Jiang Yiran, expression perfectly calm.
“Which Senior Brother Shen?”
Jiang Yiran realized instantly that he had misspoken. He lowered his head and answered in a strained voice:
“The Second Peak… Shen Xiuwen.”
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