Yan Huirou was summoned. She rarely attended to Jiang Xidai in her bedchamber.
“Sect Master Jiang. Just a moment ago, you did not wish to see me. What is it this time?”
“It’s nothing.”
The woman turned her gaze to her, studying her. For some reason, this time, Jiang Xidai looked at her for an exceptionally long time.
It seemed she looked her over from head to toe, not missing a single strand of hair.
After a long while.
The woman’s voice said softly, “Yan Huirou, you have been practicing your swordplay for some days now, but you haven’t had much real combat experience. In my opinion, it is time for you to go out and test your skills.”
“Then where do you think,” Yan Huirou replied, “would be a good place to go?”
“Recently, a demon beast has been wandering near the Shasheng Sect,” Jiang Xidai said. “I order you to take your newly acquired Golden Tower Jade Palace and find a way to kill it.”
“By myself?” Yan Huirou asked. “Sect Master Jiang, I have heard rumors of this matter while walking around the disciples’ quarters.”
She looked up, puzzled. “That demon beast’s strength is worlds apart from mine. I am afraid this trial will be impossible to complete.”
The woman smiled faintly but said nothing. The curve of her lips lingered for a long time before the smile gradually faded.
“You can do it.”
“…”
Jiang Xidai’s expression didn’t change. As the faint smile disappeared, a layer of ashen shadow fell over her face, making her seem even more indifferent.
She looked impassively at that gentle, harmless face, wanting to see any trace of panic or disgust.
The longer she stared, a longing even grew in her heart—Yan Huirou, just hate me. Hate me to the extreme.
Just like those people outside, drench me in hatred, fear, and contempt.
At least don’t try to use that soft emotion, that vast, mother-like tolerance, to obstruct my path anymore.
But it was a pity.
A subtle change appeared on Yan Huirou’s face. First, it was confusion, then, as if she had figured something out, it turned to understanding or perhaps resignation.
And Yan Huirou’s slightly pursed lips even curved into a faint smile to match her eyes—she wasn’t truly smiling.
It wasn’t hatred, and it definitely wasn’t disgust.
It was just confusion, and a hint of faint sorrow.
“Sect Master Jiang. You are a person who always keeps your word,” Yan Huirou said, looking at her gently. “Was it me who prompted you to make such a decision? You are finally tired of me, after all. Just like you said that night?”
Jiang Xidai’s expression flickered, but not wanting her to see it, she simply closed her eyes and said coldly, “Go if I tell you to. There’s no need to discuss this with me.”
Yan Huirou said, “You are in a bad mood today because of this matter, aren’t you.”
“Yan…”
“It is my honor that the Sect Master would be saddened by this decision, even for a short while.”
“Yan Huirou—!”
The woman scolded her in a low voice, then silently bit her lower lip.
Stop talking.
Although she was no saint, she was unwilling to let her own guilt be reflected in front of Yan Huirou.
Guilt meant weakness, hesitation, and a flaw.
It was just killing someone. The number of people who had died at her hands was countless. What was there to be guilty about?
But for the first time, Yan Huirou didn’t obey her command to be quiet. Instead, she said in a soft, faint voice, “Sect Master Jiang, you don’t need to feel guilty about this. Have you forgotten? This life of Yan Huirou’s, it might not have died even if it wasn’t saved.”
“You were the one who saved her.”
“She owes you a life for being alive, and has always owed it. If you want to take it back, for whatever reason, it is naturally reasonable. Isn’t it?”
Yan Huirou drew her sword and held it in her hand. “Since that is the case, I don’t need to prepare any further.”
She turned and walked away.
Her steps were light, as if she had never been there.
When Jiang Xidai came to her senses again, she didn’t realize that the sky had already darkened. In the dim twilight, a white line appeared on the horizon, and soon after, the rain began to pour.
The window of Qionghua Hall was not closed. The bleak wind and cold rain splattered into a mist, dampening the woman’s lowered lashes. Washed by the rain, her beautiful face seemed much paler.
It’s this late. Jiang Xidai looked up at the sky, wondering how long Yan Huirou had been gone and if she had encountered the demon beast.
Why isn’t the System warning me with a sharp pain? Did something go wrong?
The door to the bedchamber was still open, empty.
Jiang Xidai closed her eyes and comforted herself. If she failed, it would just be starting over once more. She had started over ninety-nine times before. What was there to be afraid of?
What is there to be afraid of.
But what if, it succeeds?
If Yan Huirou dies. If that little brat she could never kill dies. And there is no starting over.
Will she be happy? Should she throw a banquet to celebrate finally twisting this damn fate? And then use the same method to immediately kill that bastard Li Xinghe, and finally live out her days in the Shasheng Sect without a care in the world?
Even if she fails, and time rewinds…
This little female lead, with a heart full of dessert recipes and a sharp mind, will go back to not knowing me.
At this thought, Jiang Xidai suddenly felt a vast emptiness in her heart.
She couldn’t imagine what that would be like. She just stared at the wide-open door and thought in a daze—
If it succeeds, there will never again be a girl as quiet and gentle as an osmanthus flower, walking in from there with a plate of colorful little desserts, calling out to me in a gentle voice, “Sect Master, come and have a taste.”
The thought made Jiang Xidai uncomfortable. She needed to go for a walk.
Going out in a storm was probably not a good choice, but she felt the room growing more and more suffocating.
As she left, she was so distracted that she unintentionally opened her wardrobe and took out an outer robe to put on. But when she touched the collar, she realized it wasn’t her own clothes; it was too rough.
She looked closely, then felt it again, realizing it was stitches.
Red thread had been used, densely sewn, and the stitches were quite fine.
It was sewn by Yan Huirou.
Her hands were quite fast. She had fixed it in no time and even hung it back in her wardrobe. She didn’t know when she had snuck in.
She hesitated for a moment, then hung the robe back.
Jiang Xidai composed herself, seemingly pondering something.
For a moment, her entire figure was frighteningly still.
Until the next clap of thunder, accompanied by the sound of rain lashing through the forest, sounded at the same time.
She turned, picked up her embroidered umbrella, and walked out of the room.
Yan Huirou followed the boundary of the Shasheng Sect to Piyue Peak, then went down the mountain steps she had trodden countless times.
If it were the old her, she might not have been so quick. But after walking with Jiang Xidai so many times, she was already very familiar with the path.
Yan Huirou gripped the Golden Tower Jade Palace in her hand, the cool, jade-like touch gradually warming in her palm.
Death itself was not something that made her feel particularly sad.
As she had always understood, a life worse than death was the most painful.
And now, that feeling seemed to be amplified. As the saying goes, the higher you are lifted, the harder you fall. She had escaped that plight and enjoyed a relatively happy period of time, but…
Now, the giver wanted to take back all her gifts. For whatever concrete reason, or for reasons she couldn’t fully discern, Jiang Xidai had made this decision with a drastic change in her recent behavior.
In any case, Yan Huirou didn’t want to ask anymore.
Jiang Xidai knew what she was doing, her conscience was clear. If she was happy, that was enough.
She didn’t want to dwell on the previous cultivation or gentleness. It didn’t have much meaning.
She walked for many miles, not knowing where she was.
The heavy rain had loosened the soil, turning it into mud. Every step sank into a pit, making the mountain path very difficult to walk.
She lost her footing, stumbled, and her heart leaped as she slid down several steps. Her survival instinct made her grab onto the roots of a low-lying plant, which had also become loose.
In the deafening sound of the rain, Yan Huirou heard her own panting.
And a faint, angry cry from the horizon, like a bird’s call. She looked up into the distance and, in the vast, white expanse of rain, saw flames burning from the ground.
The rain was falling, the fire was burning.
White and vibrant red intertwined, a strange and magnificent scene.
When Yan Huirou finally saw the edge of a giant wing rise from the mountaintop, she tilted her head back, letting the rain pour down her face, and sighed in her heart.
So it really is here…
It came so quickly.
Her constitution had been tempered by “Nirvana,” so her aura could be detected by that demon soul.
When Yan Huirou finally saw the full body of the thing, she couldn’t help but flinch.
Although it was bird-shaped, its appearance was truly strange. Amidst a mass of bright, dancing flames, a full nine bird heads grew from the same massive, bloated torso, twisted at odd angles, looking very ferocious.
That ball of fire was creeping toward her from the mountaintop, following her aura, its roar sharper and higher than before.
An overwhelming pressure poured down from it like a flood, pressing down on her so hard she could barely move.
Fighting was impossible. It seemed she couldn’t even stand with composure.
It was better to go with some dignity.
Yan Huirou stopped walking. She knelt on the ground, carefully wiped her sword, then plunged it vertically into the mud before her.
She gripped the hilt, her gaze lowered to the ground, motionless.
Slowly, the ground began to shake. At first, it was as slow as a heartbeat, but it soon far surpassed that rhythm.
A wave of heat washed over her, blowing her hair back violently. Yan Huirou could almost feel her cheeks burning, as if a layer of skin was about to be torn off.
In her final moment, she was no longer so nervous.
Yan Huirou relaxed her body, calmly welcoming death.
An image of Jiang Xidai flashed through her mind for a moment, then she fell into darkness in a dead silence.
She opened her eyes a little and saw a dazzling brilliance of fire, as if it didn’t belong to this world.
However, with a clang—
The roaring flame that accompanied the bird’s cry did not consume her.
At the critical moment.
Yan Huirou felt a gentle breeze brush past her.
A large umbrella with a white silk surface and red embroidered flowers was thrown from a distance with immense force, spinning until it lodged itself right in front of her.
Like a shield, it blocked the bleak wind, bitter rain, and scorching flames.
She saw a burst of fire in front of her.
The oncoming heatwave crashed entirely against the enchanting pattern on the umbrella’s surface.
Like karmic fire, burning three thousand red lotuses.
