Xie Xuechen found himself entertaining an uncomfortable possibility—that Mu Xuanling might have truly mistaken him for someone else. He didn't know who she had taken him for, perhaps the "big brother" she had mentioned in passing, but he knew with certainty he wasn't that person.
If Mu Xuanling could suddenly realize this truth and release her attachment to him, it might prove beneficial for them both.
Yet contemplating this possibility brought no relief, no sense of burden lifting from his shoulders.
Instead, there was only an inexplicable irritation and a dull ache he couldn't name.
After returning, Mu Xuanling went straight to the dungeon. She closed the cell door behind her and collapsed onto the pile of hay, staring at the cold stone wall with unseeing eyes. The scene from seven years ago played endlessly before her—that figure who looked so achingly similar to Xie Xuechen.
Besides Xie Xuechen, who else could it possibly be?
If it had been him back then, he wouldn't have pushed her away, would he? He had risked his life to save her—how could he bear to reject her now?
Mu Xuanling hugged herself tightly, feeling profoundly wronged, and closed her eyes in defeat. Let it be this way then. Staying here for a lifetime was acceptable. After all, there was no one left in this world who loved her deeply.
Sleep claimed her gradually, fitful and troubled. Having lost all her powers, she didn't hear the faint footsteps approaching from behind.
A figure's shadow fell across her small, curled form. Warm fingertips brushed away the tears clinging to her eyelashes. A barely audible sigh was trapped in the person's throat as they carefully draped a blanket over her, the movement finally rousing her from sleep.
Mu Xuanling rubbed her eyes and recognized the person sitting beside her in the dim light.
"Master Nan?" Her voice emerged hoarse and uncertain.
Nan Xuyue's fingertips still held the dampness from her tears. He gently rubbed them together, his gesture almost meditative. "Is this your choice? To stay here and be a prisoner?"
Mu Xuanling lowered her head, guilt washing over her. "You don't need to make such a big sacrifice to save me."
"This isn't a sacrifice." Nan Xuyue's tone was utterly serious. "It's what I desire most."
"Master Nan…"
"You can call me Nan Xuyue, or just call me by my name," he interrupted gently but firmly.
Mu Xuanling's eyelashes fluttered like trapped butterflies. She sighed heavily. "Nan Xuyue, I don't understand why you want to do this."
That day when he had embraced her in the garden and spoken those words, she had tossed and turned through countless sleepless hours, thinking hard, yet still couldn't fathom his motivations. In her mind, Nan Xuyue was an exceptionally gentle and kind young master from a noble family. That he would sacrifice his reputation to save someone was understandable—admirable, even. But she felt it wasn't necessary, and she didn't want to implicate him in her fate.
Nan Xuyue's smile was bitter as old medicine. "If you understand your feelings for Xie Xuechen, then you should understand that I feel the same way about you."
"That's what I don't understand." Mu Xuanling frowned, confusion etched across her features. "I've never given you anything, nor have I been particularly good to you."
In her heart, from beginning to end, there had only ever been room for one person. Others were just... others.
She couldn't bear to speak such cruel words aloud to Nan Xuyue, but her heartbeat was resolute in its singular devotion. Nan Xuyue found it jarring, yet painfully clear.
"You just don't realize it yourself." Nan Xuyue's eyes clouded with a gloom so deep it made Mu Xuanling lose focus for a moment.
"Ling'er, when I first met you, it was the darkest moment of my life. It was you who helped me walk out of that suffocating gloom, creating the Nan Xuyue who stands before you today."
Mu Xuanling studied Nan Xuyue's serious expression, searching her memory. She couldn't even recall exactly what she had said back then. She only remembered that he had been deeply sad, and she had offered what comfort she could with whatever words came to mind.
"I'll tell you a secret. Do you want to hear it?" Nan Xuyue's voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
Mu Xuanling hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll keep it secret."
Nan Xuyue drew a breath. "Actually, the destruction of my spirit aperture wasn't done by the demon race."
Mu Xuanling's pupils contracted sharply, her heart lurching. Then she heard Nan Xuyue continue with devastating calmness. "It was my mother, Madam Xue, who colluded with evil cultivators, pretending to be demons, and orchestrated my kidnapping."
"Madam Xue is my nominal mother. My father, Nan Wujiu, had five wives, and Madam Xue possessed the highest cultivation among them. Before I was born, her son Nan Xingye was my father's most outstanding heir. He formed his Golden Core at fifteen and showed the potential to reach the Fashen realm."
Mu Xuanling could almost predict the rest of the story, and indeed, what Nan Xuyue described was exactly the sort of tragedy commonly seen even in the mundane world—jealousy, betrayal, the corruption of love by ambition.
"Nan Xingye is my elder brother. He should have inherited Yunxiu Mountain Manor, but after I was born, my father transferred all his love and attention to me. Everyone knew that Yunxiu Mountain Manor would eventually become mine." Nan Xuyue released a low, hollow laugh. "I had long sensed Madam Xue's hatred festering beneath her polite façade, but I thought she would understand the price of harming me. I believed she would have some scruples."
"Did you discover her collusion with evil cultivators?" Mu Xuanling asked softly.
Nan Xuyue nodded. "She thought that by having people disguise themselves as our enemies, she could deceive everyone. But I still found evidence and told my father everything. The one who colluded with evil cultivators was her, but the true mastermind behind it all was Nan Xingye."
"Then... did your father handle it impartially?" The question emerged tentatively, though Mu Xuanling already feared she knew the answer.
"Handle it impartially?" Nan Xuyue repeated the words as if tasting something bitter. His brow furrowed slightly. "Ling'er, do you know what justice truly is?"
Mu Xuanling considered carefully. "Good is rewarded and evil is punished. That's justice, right?"
Nan Xuyue's smile held no warmth as he gently patted her head. "You think the same as I did when I was ten years old."
Mu Xuanling felt suddenly dazed, a terrible premonition settling in her chest like ice.
The memory crystallized before Nan Xuyue's inner vision with painful clarity. He could still hear Madam Xue's desperate cries and Nan Xingye's pathetic pleas for mercy. His enraged father had raised his iron palm high, spiritual power gathering like thunder, ready to strike them both dead where they knelt.
Madam Xue had clutched at Nan Wujiu's legs, weeping, trying to stop the fatal blow.
"She said, 'Are you going to destroy a Golden Core cultivator for the sake of a useless child?'" Nan Xuyue softly repeated Madam Xue's hysterical cry, his voice distant. "At that time, I didn't understand the weight of those words."
Now, Mu Xuanling didn't understand either. Her beautiful eyes seemed veiled by mist.
"Ling'er, it was in that moment that I understood—my father's justice was power." Nan Xuyue's smile carried profound sorrow. "The injuries I suffered, everything I lost—because they were already lost, they weren't worth mentioning. My elder brother had already formed his Golden Core and possessed the potential to reach the Fashen realm. With me crippled, he became the hope of Yunxiu Mountain Manor. My father wouldn't destroy that hope for the sake of a useless person."
Mu Xuanling's heart turned to ice, as if she stood alone in the midst of a snowy wilderness, her limbs frozen and unable to move.
Nan Xuyue continued smiling, but there wasn't a trace of genuine joy in the expression.
"I once believed I had everything—love, family, a future. But it turned out to be nothing more than illusion. When I lost my power, I lost my family along with it." Nan Xuyue's cool fingertips brushed the hair at Mu Xuanling's temples with infinite gentleness. "That year, when I went to Mingyue Mountain Manor to borrow the Chaos Zhenzhu, I met you. It was you who told me that if no one likes you, then keep all that affection for yourself. You said that even if I became useless in others' eyes, I could still accomplish things that many people in the world couldn't do. You didn't know that your casual words became the lifeline for my rebirth. I wanted to take you away then, but at that time I was just a crippled young master. When I made that request, all I received was my father's impatience and disgust."
"I vowed that one day, when I became master of Yunxiu Mountain Manor, I could rightfully ask for your hand. But before I could claim that position, news arrived that Mingyue Mountain Manor had been brutally destroyed and reduced to ruins. I went to see for myself—some half-demons lay dead, burned to ashes. Others had been taken away by Sang Qi to become his demon soldiers. I didn't know if you were among the dead or the captured. I had no way to inquire, and could only bury the regret forever in my heart."
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "But now, I finally have the power to protect you, yet you're unwilling to accept it." Nan Xuyue's sigh carried infinite melancholy. "Ling'er, I was the one who met you first."
Mu Xuanling's mind churned in confusion, unable to properly process Nan Xuyue's confession. Her heart held both pity and anger for his suffering, as well as deep helplessness at his melancholy devotion. What's past is past. Her heart was now occupied by another, whether that person was truly Xie Xuechen or not. To her, Nan Xuyue could only ever be a friend.
New moons rise at the edge of the sky, yet dawn and dusk bring the deepest longing. It seemed everyone harbored their own impossible desires, despite being so close yet remaining worlds apart.
Mu Xuanling didn't know how to respond to Nan Xuyue's tender confession. In that moment, she suddenly understood Xie Xuechen's predicament with perfect clarity—this must be the same feeling of difficulty and guilt he experienced when facing her unwanted affection.
Just as Mu Xuanling opened her mouth to speak, a violent tremor shook the dungeon, causing the flames in the wall sconces to flicker wildly.
"What's happening?" Mu Xuanling steadied herself against the stone wall, feeling the mountain itself tremble beneath her palm.
Could it be an earthquake? But Yong Xue City possessed a protective barrier—how could such a powerful earthquake penetrate it?
Nan Xuyue seized Mu Xuanling's wrist urgently. "Let's get out of here first!"
Instinctively, Mu Xuanling allowed herself to be pulled along as they ran from the cell. The mountain's tremors induced a sickening dizziness, making the corridor before them seem to twist and warp like something alive.
A familiar aura cascaded down from above, oppressive and suffocating, enveloping everything. Mu Xuanling felt as if she'd been plunged into an icy cave, her limbs instantly freezing.
"It's him…" She slowed her pace, her eyes losing focus as she muttered in dawning horror. "Why is he here?"
Nan Xuyue also sensed that intimidating presence—dark and immense, pressing heavily upon their hearts, involuntarily plunging them into primal fear. Seeing Mu Xuanling's face drain of all color, he suddenly understood what—or rather, whom—she feared.
"This power... is it Sang Qi?" Nan Xuyue could hardly believe it. The power was too vast, too overwhelming. Sang Qi was supposedly only a half-demon, known for his viciousness, cunning, and mystery. Almost no one had witnessed him take action personally, and half-demons had inherently limited cultivation potential. How could he possibly possess such tremendous power?
Mu Xuanling had spent seven years by Sang Qi's side but had never witnessed him unleash his full strength. This display of power far exceeded anything she had imagined possible.
Why would Sang Qi come to Yong Xue City? What did he want?
Could it be... that he had come for her?
In the dead of night, Yong Xue City lay enveloped in silence. An invisible hemispherical barrier covered the city like a protective dome, designed to block the invasion of evil enemies. Sang Qi's power and aura were so formidable that the moment he approached, it triggered the defensive mountain barrier. The barrier emitted a brilliant golden-white light, straining to resist the dark aura seeping from the demon realm.
Sang Qi levitated effortlessly, controlling the wind itself, his dark cloak billowing dramatically around him. His magical power erupted like a volcano, his silver hair floating wildly despite the absence of wind. His right hand extended from beneath the cloak, displaying a metallic silver color with densely packed, strange runes engraved upon the skin. At this moment, those runes seemed to awaken, moving across his arm like living things before transforming into a thin black spirit snake that shot forward. Amidst the surging waves of demonic energy, the black spirit snake rapidly expanded, growing to several hundred feet in length until it resembled an ink-colored flood dragon. It released a long, earth-shaking roar that caused the ground to tremble and the mountains themselves to quake. The ink dragon's eyes flashed with fierce red light as it lunged toward Yong Xue City's barrier. The golden light dimmed instantly under the assault, and the entire mountain shuddered violently.
The flood dragon released a roar of pain and fury, its anger fueling its power to terrifying new heights. It reared its massive neck and, with a violent shake of its head, rammed into the barrier with even greater force.
At that critical moment, an incredibly sharp sword energy materialized from nowhere, slicing through the air toward the center of the dragon's eyes. The creature couldn't dodge in time—the sword's energy struck it squarely between the brows. A cloud of black smoke erupted as it writhed and howled in agony, its colossal form thrashing in mid-air.
The golden light coalesced, returning to its master's hand. A sword cultivator in pristine white robes raised his cold phoenix eyes to regard the enemy hundreds of feet distant.
"Sect Leader Xie, long time no see." Sang Qi's cold, hoarse voice carried across the distance. Though not loud, it seemed to resound directly beside their ears, like an intimate whisper laced with malice and killing intent.
Xie Xuechen stood proudly against the night sky, his wide sleeves billowing, the cinnabar mark on his brow faintly glowing with ethereal light. He looked like a divine being descended to earth as he faced off against the dark-robed priest across the vast expanse.
"In the Battle of Ten Thousand Immortals, the power you revealed was not even a fraction of what you display now," Xie Xuechen observed coldly. "What brings the Great Priest to our gates?"
Sang Qi's thin, crimson lips curved into a smile devoid of warmth. "Naturally, I've come to retrieve my beloved disciple."
"I'm afraid I can't let you have your way." Xie Xuechen held Jun Tian Sword across his chest. The legendary blade emitted a dazzling light that illuminated the surroundings like a second sun, keeping the encroaching demonic energy at bay.
"There's no need for Sect Leader Xie to be so hostile. I bear no ill will towards you personally," Sang Qi said with deliberate slowness. "Didn't little Ling tell you that I instructed her to save you from the Molten Abyss?"
Xie Xuechen's heart lurched, but he quickly composed himself, refusing to be swayed by Sang Qi's potentially deceptive words.
Sang Qi chuckled softly, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "You don't believe me, do you? That Half-Day Fragrance pill little Ling used—I taught her how to refine it. There's only one in the world."
In response, Jun Tian Sword unleashed a heaven-shattering strike.
The sword strike blazed like the rising sun, outshining stars and moon alike, causing the demonic flood dragon to tremble violently in the sky.
Sang Qi barely managed to withstand the assault. His dark robe developed a small tear at the shoulder, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. His expression turned grave with newfound respect.
Xie Xuechen's determination was far stronger than he had anticipated. He had spoken the truth, but if the sect leader chose not to believe him, there was nothing more to be done.
He knew that Xie Xuechen had suffered severe injuries mere days ago, his spiritual power depleting daily, not yet having recovered to peak condition. However, he had personally witnessed Xie Xuechen's swordsmanship in the Battle of Ten Thousand Immortals—relentless, leaving no room for error, unleashing power that seemed to transcend human limitations.
Sang Qi had only come to retrieve a wayward disciple. He had no intention of engaging in a death battle with someone of Xie Xuechen's caliber.
A strange color flashed in his silver eyes as Sang Qi extended his other hand—his left. It was a long, delicate hand, more beautiful than most women's, yet radiating far greater power. He spread his five fingers wide, the ivory-colored fingertips slowly transforming to crimson. A drop of dark red blood emerged from each fingertip, suspended impossibly in the air. His five fingers traced a mysterious sigil in the void, and the dark red blood twisted and flowed into the pattern, floating in the air like crimson threads, emitting an ominous red glow.
Blood-red color rose in his silver eyes as Sang Qi slowly raised his hand. The crimson net suddenly began spinning frantically, expanding larger and larger. In mere heartbeats, what had been a palm-sized sigil now covered the entire sky, plunging Yong Xue City into complete darkness.
Xie Xuechen immediately felt the spiritual energy around him draining away at an alarming rate, replaced by frantically multiplying demonic energy. It was as if this place had ceased to be part of the human realm and had become an extension of the demon realm itself.
This was the notorious ghostly technique of the half-demon priest—combining arrays with demonic energy to create myriad changes. One of the most powerful configurations: the Heaven and Earth Stealing Array.
This array could only be maintained for a quarter of an hour, but during that time, within the area it covered, spiritual energy would cease to generate while demonic energy spread like wildfire. Xie Xuechen's power was drastically reduced, while the flood dragon's strength increased by more than twofold. The creature frantically absorbed the abundant demonic energy, the sword wound on its brow healing at visible speed. Two horns sprouted from its forehead, and its body grew even more massive, becoming more solid and ferocious. With fierce light blazing in its eyes, it roared and flew toward Xie Xuechen with renewed vigor.
Jun Tian Sword multiplied from one blade to ten thousand, weaving an intricate giant net of sword light to block the flood dragon's path. The dragon struggled fiercely within the luminous web, its powerful jaws biting through strands of light as it continued its assault toward Xie Xuechen. It rammed forward, but struck only an afterimage. The real Xie Xuechen had somehow materialized on its back, Jun Tian Sword gripped firmly, stabbing downward through its body.
However, this strike met no resistance whatsoever—passing through as if through mist. Xie Xuechen immediately realized it was a trap. The flood dragon had already twisted its serpentine head around, spewing a jet of concentrated black demonic energy directly at him.
Xie Xuechen evaded most of the noxious blast but was still grazed, leaving a black-purple mark spreading across his chest like a brand.
This flood dragon could shift between solid and ethereal forms at will—becoming substantial when attacking, becoming intangible when under assault.
It was nearly impossible for the creature to actually defeat Xie Xuechen, but neither could he resolve this threat with a single decisive strike.
Xie Xuechen's sharp gaze shifted to Sang Qi's position, suddenly realizing something was deeply amiss. He sent a concentrated burst of sword energy toward the dark priest, who neither dodged nor attempted to avoid it, allowing the attack to pass straight through his chest and abdomen.
Xie Xuechen's eyes darkened with understanding—it was merely a demonic energy illusion.
Sang Qi had simply used the flood dragon to delay him. His real target had always been Mu Xuanling. This was simultaneously a hidden plot and an open stratagem. Even recognizing Sang Qi's scheme, Xie Xuechen couldn't ignore the rampaging flood dragon and allow it to endanger the innocent citizens of Yong Xue City.
Nan Xuyue and Mu Xuanling burst from the dungeon, immediately spotting the massive flood dragon writhing in the distant sky, along with that dazzling sword light that cut through the darkness like hope itself.
"Sang Qi's demonic flood dragon." Mu Xuanling's breath caught painfully in her throat. Her heart suddenly seized with agony, as if all strength had been violently drained from her body. She collapsed weakly to the ground, her legs refusing to support her.
Nan Xuyue hurriedly moved to support her, his voice tight with concern. "What's wrong?"
Mu Xuanling's face had turned deathly pale, rendering her incapable of speech.
Nan Xuyue glanced toward where Xie Xuechen battled the monstrous dragon, then made a swift decision. He bent down and carefully lifted Mu Xuanling onto his back.
"Nan…" Mu Xuanling's breathing was rapid and chaotic, unable to complete his name. She lay powerlessly against Nan Xuyue's somewhat thin back, feeling the warmth and unwavering determination emanating from his frame.
"There's a teleportation array in my quarters. I'll take you there first," Nan Xuyue said firmly.
He had an old injury to his foot—half of his leg beneath the concealing long robe was actually a prosthetic. Usually he walked slowly and carefully, making it difficult for casual observers to notice his disability. But now, with Mu Xuanling on his back and moving with urgent haste, she could feel every difficulty, every hardship he had learned to overcome.
Mu Xuanling's heart ached with each labored step he took, and beyond the physical pain, there was an indescribable sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.
You don't have to be so kind to me…
Each of these thousand-plus steps seemed to tread directly upon her guilty heart.
However, before they could reach the safety of the teleportation array, a tall figure materialized to block their path.
The dark-robed priest stood smiling beneath a nearby plum blossom tree, plucking a delicate flower with an almost tender gesture, as if attending a long-awaited romantic rendezvous. He lowered his head to inhale the blossom's fragrance gently, yet simultaneously crushed the fragile petals between his fingertips. His slightly upturned silver eyes glanced sideways at the two who had frozen in their tracks, his thin lips curling into a faint, predatory smile.
"Little Ling, it's time to come home."
Nan Xuyue slowly, carefully lowered Mu Xuanling from his back and opened his magical artifact—Zhe Feng, the folding fan that served as both weapon and shield.
"I'll hold him off. You go to the array," Nan Xuyue commanded.
Sang Qi's smile held nothing but contempt. "Manor Lord Nan, I'm afraid you're not capable of stopping me."
Even Yong Xue City's formidable barrier hadn't been able to halt his advance. He simply hadn't wanted to confront Xie Xuechen directly in open combat, so he'd used the flood dragon as an elaborate diversion. Losing a bit of his heart's blood to create it was an acceptable price.
Mu Xuanling's voice trembled as she weakly pleaded, "Master, please don't hurt him."
Sang Qi's smile softened marginally. "Alright, come here obediently then."
Mu Xuanling struggled to lift her foot, to move forward, but Nan Xuyue's grip on her wrist tightened like iron. His gaze was solemn and unwavering, his knuckles white as he gripped Zhe Feng, yet without the slightest tremor of fear. He resolutely raised the magical artifact, and the folding fan opened with a sharp snap.
Sang Qi observed that one side of the fan depicted an exquisitely detailed bamboo forest, the craftsmanship so lifelike that faint sounds of rustling leaves seemed to emanate from within the painted scene. Suddenly, the bamboo leaves illustrated on the fan began to move with genuine life, transforming into countless razor-sharp green blades that whirled toward Sang Qi in a deadly storm.
Sang Qi raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then casually waved his hand. The bamboo leaves disintegrated into gray ash that scattered on the wind.
"How presumptuous," Sang Qi murmured with a light snort, but immediately his brow furrowed.
For the two people who had stood before him had completely vanished.
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