Jiang Xidai released the silver chain she was holding. The cold air here was bone-piercing, making the four black dogs on the ground dare not take another step forward.
But she was not afraid.
She lowered her head and leaned against the ice coffin, gazing at Yan Yan’s unchanged face within the transparent casket. Pale and beautiful, forever frozen in this moment.
“I’ve come to see you again, Yan Yan.”
Jiang Xidai brushed her knuckles against the ice coffin, as if caressing her cheek through a layer. Though she couldn’t touch anything, the smile on her lips was exceptionally gentle. “You’re still so cute.”
“…Now the Shasheng Sect is growing more powerful. Just as you wished, that group of people has no choice but to obey me. It seems I’m no longer some demonic witch.”
“Some of the younger ones are a bit annoying. Even though I’m very fierce, they always find opportunities to get close to me.”
Jiang Xidai leaned against her, closing her eyes wearily. “But it’s different from you, after all. They want to exchange love for my love.”
“People have come and gone over the years. Perhaps only you tried to make me love myself more by loving me. Isn’t that so?”
“I want to say… you really succeeded.”
She still couldn’t say she liked this world, or people, but at least she no longer secretly loathed herself.
While she hated Yan Huirou, she was also immersed in a strange happiness. After all, besides her, those pitiful things… even if they lived a smooth life, without worries, with a happy family, they were still mediocre, unable to find the true path.
They were a few ink dots flicked from a brush, cannon fodder, a background, mud flicked from Nuwa’s willow branch. No one remembered them when they were born, and no one would remember them when they died.
But she was different.
She was meticulously carved. She had her creator’s most extreme favoritism, the most cherished emotional attachment, the deepest despair, the most admired desire. Even if her creator had given her suffering because of this, it was precisely the suffering that made her so special.
Even if Jiang Xidai was destined to end in failure in this life, she was not some unnoticed stepping stone. Someone remembered where she came from, and her ending was magnificent.
And Yan Huirou had personally come to redeem her, to love and protect her.
And those cannon fodder, those supporting characters, even the protagonists… had anyone shed so much blood and tears for them? Had anyone poured such deep emotions into them?
Their creators had probably long since forgotten them, just a few hasty strokes.
How pathetic.
Jiang Xidai sneered mockingly. How pathetic. She used to be jealous of these people—so laughable.
She was clearly the happiest…
She murmured in her heart.
She was the happiest…
Just repeating it, but unknowingly, another line of tears slid down.
Yan Yan was gone, but she existed in everything that was Jiang Xidai. Jiang Xidai was not a rootless duckweed; she could never shake off Yan Huirou’s shadow in this life.
So even if she was cruel, brutal, did all kinds of evil, and was notorious, she would no longer consume herself from within. She was willing and accepting… Wasn’t that all thanks to Yan Huirou? It was her “mother’s” best praise and criticism, a sharp blade or a shield, everything she had left for her.
Every time she thought of this, her eyes would lower slightly, her breathing would quicken, and a soft, lingering pink would appear at the corners of her eyes.
This scene was still faithfully recorded by the screen. Chen Cha’an, holding her morning coffee, shrank back a little.
Help me… why is her face red like a bubble teapot! That’s a corpse, even if it’s frozen, it’s still a corpse! Not some sleeping beauty waiting for her kiss to awaken.
Chen Cha’an, while keeping a close eye on Jiang Xidai, silently aimed the camera at the character and brought up her basic stats.
But what was puzzling was—Jiang Xidai’s emotions were very stable, almost a straight line.
Chen Cha’an propped her chin on her hand.
…Perhaps this was the madness of calmness.
It was unimaginable what would happen if she were brought to the “main world” and saw Yan Huirou. Jiang Xidai might instantly turn to dust, or, as Ms. He had speculated, she might survive. No one had done such an experiment, and no one could guarantee it.
Actually, for a test subject, there was no need for too much emotion. After all, Jiang Xidai was not considered a “person” in the legal sense. After receiving the order, Chen Cha’an could have sent someone in, regardless of their life or death, to forcibly bring her back. There would certainly be some damage along the way, but the goal would be achieved quickly.
“…”
But she didn’t want to do that. After all, she had been watching for so long, watching her grow up with Yan Huirou.
Chen Cha’an stared at the screen, deep in thought for a long time, her mouse randomly clicking, unintentionally opening a pile of compressed documents. A permission interface popped up on the screen, requiring a fingerprint to continue browsing.
These were all the plot setting documents, the foundation of this small world. Only when it was gradually completed could it slowly become independent.
Chen Cha’an paused, her eyes brightening.
She clicked into the most basic setting section, about the worldview. The sound of a keyboard clattering rose. Chen Cha’an had a brilliant idea. She modified a small line of text in the document.
Just this one line was enough to cause a cataclysmic change in the two worlds.
In the fourth year, the Shenji Pavilion was annihilated.
Jiang Xidai looked at the woman, Su Yuxi, with some puzzlement. In the vast Qionghua Hall, Su Yuxi was shrinking in a corner, unwilling to meet her gaze, looking very low-key.
“This thing actually became the master… Is there no one left in the Shenji Pavilion?”
Alano said cheerfully, “Yes, weren’t they all killed by you?”
“…”
Because during the war, Su Yuxi had been quietly forging in her room. She was completely unaware that her master was gone, her sect was gone, and her sect was almost gone. It wasn’t until someone asked her to return that she awkwardly discovered she was now the highest-ranking person in the entire sect.
Su Yuxi had a bad relationship with her sect, but she was still sad for two days. Because being the master meant she couldn’t study artifact refining every day, which was a bolt from the blue for her. Fortunately, Jiang Xidai saved her from her predicament, taking down the entire Shenji Pavilion in one fell swoop.
Su Yuxi quickly relinquished her responsibility as master. She was a little apprehensive about being captured and brought back to the Shasheng Sect. She looked up at the Sect Master a couple of times and said shyly, “Senior Cat, hello.”
“Jiang.”
“I’m sorry!” She became flustered and quickly corrected herself, stuttering, “Senior Jiang…”
Seeing this girl’s foolishness, Jiang Xidai smiled faintly for a rare moment, perhaps reminded of Yan Huirou. Yan Yan was much more clever than this one.
But this smile made the disciples below shiver, afraid the Sect Master would go crazy again and turn the entire Qionghua Hall into a river of blood.
“Never mind.” Jiang Xidai’s expression dimmed slightly, and she lowered her eyes again. “Come forward.”
Su Yuxi wrapped her robe tightly and cautiously moved forward one step.
Jiang Xidai drew a broken sword from her sleeve. It was pale gold, with intricate patterns, but unfortunately, it was broken in two. As an artifact refiner, Su Yuxi was very sensitive and recognized it at a glance. “Is this Miss Yan’s Golden Tower Jade Palace?”
“Fix it.” Jiang Xidai handed her the broken sword and said faintly, “And this Seat will spare your life.”
To have the honor of repairing a weapon of this level. Su Yuxi’s pupils lit up instantly. A moment later, she reacted and said belatedly, “Ah, so you were planning to kill me?”
“Get down.” Jiang Xidai didn’t waste words with her. She propped her forehead with one hand, leaning like this, and looked up at the open gate, at the clear, boundless sky.
The disciples standing in attendance dared not speak, all lowering their heads.
Until Jiang Xidai’s eyelashes drooped, as if she were a little tired, her face pale.
Wen Xianyin said softly, “Sect Master, do you need to treat the wound on your body?”
“Withdraw.”
Returning from this campaign, Jiang Xidai had several cuts on her arm. Though not serious, they were always bleeding. This shouldn’t be happening, Wen Xianyin thought.
It was just that Jiang Xidai had been diverting a large portion of her spiritual energy to maintain Yan Huirou’s body. It had been like this for years, and her own body was getting worse and worse.
The person is already gone… when will the Sect Master’s actions come to an end?
Su Yuxi’s artifact refining skills were indeed excellent. But just as she reached a critical step, she had to bother Jiang Xidai again. “You see, the patterns on this sword show that it’s a pair.” Su Yuxi wanted to strive for perfection. “To make it perfectly natural, I want the destroyed patterns on the other to be exactly the same. May I ask, Sect Master…”
Jiang Xidai didn’t hesitate and gave her “A Ten-foot Soft Red,” taking a few days’ break from battle.
A few days later, she finally retrieved the pair of swords. Under the Shasheng Sect’s moonlight, she drank too much wine, staring at the two swords for a long time, then touched them together. When they touched, a brilliance flowed over them. The patterns of the Qionghua Palace and the mortal world’s splendor connected, forming “Heaven and Earth.”
So it turned out that there had been signs everywhere long ago. It was just that Jiang Xidai had thought too shallowly, and when she looked back, she was lost in a daze. So Yan Huirou really came from “heaven,” while she was in the “mortal world” she cherished.
Realizing this, Jiang Xidai smiled silently, but at the same time, felt a stuffiness in her chest. She slowly caressed the patterns on the sword, sitting alone on the cliff, drinking her sorrow away. It used to be by the cup, but recently, it was always by the jar.
As she got drunk, her excessive thoughts sank. The next moment, the woman flicked her sleeve, unsheathed her sword, gathered her robes, and fell backward, loosely falling from the cliff.
The wind caught her, and she could move freely in the air, like a fish in the sea. Her vibrant robes billowed, wrapping around her whole body like a flower. Jiang Xidai forced herself not to think anymore. She was a little too drunk to think clearly, riding the wind and clouds, floating who knows how far.
Finally, she saw a neat rooftop, its eaves majestically upturned. She gracefully landed, leaned against a roof beast, took out the wine from her storage ring, and wanted to drink another jar.
But the storage ring was empty.
There was some movement beside her. Jiang Xidai drunkenly turned her head to look. It was also a woman’s figure, holding a pot of wine, looking as if it had just been opened.
Isn’t this just perfect?
Jiang Xidai’s fingertips flicked, and she used her cultivation to directly snatch the pot of wine. Ignoring the woman’s expression, she tilted her head back and drank, finding the taste exceptionally clear and mellow.
She leaned back again, but the gaze from beside her was still fixed on her.
“Sect Master Jiang.” The woman said, “Why are you sitting here?”
Jiang Xidai didn’t even turn her head, her eyes narrowed. “Where can this Seat not sit? It is you who should get lost. Withdraw.”
“…” the woman asked, “Why don’t you see where this is?”
What kind of person dares to speak to her like this.
Jiang Xidai sneered, formed a hand seal, and was about to take her life. But when she glanced over—her drunkenness cleared considerably. Jiang Xidai found herself leaning on the roof of the Haoran Sect’s main hall. And Xie Minting was holding a sword, looking at her with a guarded expression.
