Eye contact.
Li Zhaoye lowered his dark, ink-black eyes, his gaze devoid of warmth.
Luo Luo told him, "I've pieced Changtian back together—it's resting in my Sword Mansion."
Changtian was his shattered lifebound sword.
After reaching the Golden Core stage, sword cultivators could open a Sword Mansion within their consciousness to nurture their spiritual swords. She had formed a Heartbond Pact with him, allowing her to tend to his sword.
For a sword cultivator, even if the sky were collapsing, their sword would always come first.
Yet Li Zhaoye remained unmoved.
Luo Luo blinked in surprise. "You don’t even remember Changtian?"
Confirmed—he was truly gravely ill.
Her eyes curved into crescents. "Then of course you wouldn’t remember me either! Li Zhaoye, I’m Luo Luo!"
She patted the hilt of her own lifebound sword and introduced it proudly. "This is Qiushui!"
Both my sword and I… missed you so much.
Finally, his expression shifted. The corner of his lips twitched, as if he had something to say.
Just as he was about to speak, a fragile, heartbroken voice interrupted.
"So you’re Fairy Luo… Li-dage’s fiancée?"
Luo Luo turned toward the sound and met a pair of tearful, sorrowful eyes.
The woman before her was breathtakingly beautiful—her simple wooden hairpin and coarse robes couldn’t conceal her delicate charm. She hunched slightly, her posture timid, her fingers lightly clutching the edge of Li Zhaoye’s sleeve.
Luo Luo’s gaze locked onto those hands, her brows gradually lowering.
Noticing Luo Luo’s stare, the woman flinched as if scalded, hastily withdrawing her hands from Li Zhaoye.
"I didn’t mean to—"
She fumbled awkwardly.
Earlier, Immortal Lord Qingxu had made it abundantly clear—she and Li-dage belonged to different worlds, and she should abandon any foolish hopes. Moreover, Li-dage already had a fiancée. They were childhood sweethearts, deeply devoted to each other.
His fiancée must despise her…
The woman bit her lip, tears welling even thicker in her eyes. To keep them from falling, she strained until her eyelids turned red.
Luo Luo moved.
She leaned forward, extending two fingers toward the woman’s retreating hand.
A Golden Core cultivator’s strike was impossible for an ordinary mortal to evade. The woman paled in panic, a fat tear finally escaping down her cheek.
Luo Luo said, "Miss Gu, you—"
On the way back, Senior Brother Yang had told Luo Luo that this woman, who had saved Li Zhaoye, was named Gu Meng.
Snap!
The moment Luo Luo’s fingers brushed Gu Meng’s wrist, a cold, unyielding hand shot out like lightning, clamping down on Luo Luo’s pulse point.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Li Zhaoye demanded, his voice hard.
Luo Luo froze, following the grip upward until she met his icy stare.
Amused, she remarked, "At least you haven’t forgotten how to fight."
His grasp on her vital point was ruthless and precise—even more refined than before.
After that life-and-death battle, he had grown stronger.
Li Zhaoye repeated, word by word, "I asked—what were you going to do to her?"
Luo Luo felt a flicker of joy for him before belatedly realizing his suspicion. "Senior Brother Yang told me Miss Gu was infected with demonic poison. I was checking for her."
She noticed the faint black veins creeping over the back of his hand.
"Unnecessary," Li Zhaoye said coldly. "She’s already taken medicine."
His grip was iron-tight, numbing her entire arm.
"Medicine only suppresses the toxicity. It takes days to fully cleanse," Luo Luo explained patiently. "Miss Gu is just a mortal. The pain at night—"
She added earnestly, "It’s unbearable. Most people can’t endure it."
Hearing this, Gu Meng’s tearful almond eyes flashed with indignation. "It’s fine. I can bear it. We mortals may lack cultivation, but our willpower isn’t necessarily weaker than yours!"
The words spilled out before she could stop them.
Immediately, she regretted her impulsiveness.
How dare she speak so sharply to an immortal?
But she was so aggrieved—was saving someone a crime against heaven? Did she do it for a few dismissive words of thanks? For their condescending charity of precious pills?
Every one of them wore masks of righteousness, yet she could feel their disdain.
If not for Li-dage’s insistence on protecting her…
She swallowed the bitterness. "Li-dage, don’t argue with Fairy Luo on my account."
Luo Luo perked up at that. She wiggled her pinned wrist. "Hear that? Don’t argue with me. Let go."
She had already sensed his depleted spiritual energy.
Breaking free wouldn’t be difficult—she just didn’t want to wound his pride.
The instant Li Zhaoye released her, Luo Luo struck again, seizing Gu Meng’s pulse point.
Gu Meng: "…"
Before she could even cry out, a torrent of spiritual energy surged from Luo Luo’s fingers into her meridians.
Contrary to her slow, deliberate speech, Luo Luo’s energy was fierce and relentless—like a tiny girl brandishing an oversized sword, charging headlong into battle.
Terrified, Gu Meng felt the energy sweep through her body like a tidal wave, scouring away the frigid, invasive poison nestled in her bones and blood.
"Luo Luo!" Master Qingxu’s rebuke came too late. He nearly choked on his fury. "What are you doing?"
As a Nascent Soul grand cultivator, he recognized it instantly—Luo Luo was circulating her Golden Core, using her own purified spiritual energy to displace the venom in Gu Meng’s body.
She was taking the suffering upon herself.
After a long moment, Luo Luo withdrew her hand-seal and turned with a grin. "Shifu, I don’t fear pain."
She shifted her bright, clear eyes back to Gu Meng. "Well? Feeling better?"
Gu Meng hesitated. "I… yes. But why would you help me like this?"
Luo Luo beamed. "You saved Li Zhaoye. I don’t know how else to thank you."
As she spoke, she rummaged through her Qiankun pouch, piling treasures into Gu Meng’s arms.
"This—Red Lotus Eastern Pearl. It lights up at night and warms a whole room in winter."
"This—Heavenly Silkworm Armor. Impervious to fire, water, and blades."
"This—Purple Qi Heaven-rank Spirit Jade. You can trade it for anything. Li Zhaoye’s been trying to steal it for ages."
"And this—"
She paused.
"That’s… all."
Luo Luo scratched her head sheepishly. "We sword cultivators are broke."
Gu Meng stared at the increasingly heavy heap of treasures, more bewildered by the second.
She knew immortals were cunning—never as simple as they appeared. But… this Fairy Luo was giving away too much.
Before she could process it, Luo Luo added, "This is mine and Li Zhaoye’s entire fortune."
Gu Meng’s lips curled in sudden, bitter understanding.
Of course. How naive to think it was pure kindness. This was just another way to flaunt their unshakable bond, to warn her against delusions.
She got the message. Good cop, bad cop—soft and hard tactics to drive her away.
She never planned to cling anyway!
"Fairy Luo needn’t go to such lengths," Gu Meng said, fighting tears. "Now that I know the truth, I won’t overstep. I’ll leave the mountain tomorrow."
Li Zhaoye frowned at her.
"Li-dage." Her smile shattered. "Don’t say anything. Immortal Lord Qingxu raised you, taught you everything—his grace is as vast as the sea. And Fairy Luo… she’s so good to you. You’ve just forgotten. The lord offered to let me stay as an outer disciple, but I know my place. It’s better to cut ties cleanly."
Master Qingxu nodded slightly with a faint smile.
"Good, you understand now." The venerable Nascent Soul cultivator, feigning an air of transcendent detachment, spoke calmly. "I’m not favoring my little disciple out of bias. It’s just that many things in this world are not meant to be forced."
Gu Meng lowered her head. "Yes."
Li Zhaoye suddenly let out a derisive scoff. "You two talk as if my opinion means nothing."
"Brother Li!" Gu Meng forced a smile. "Your future is boundless, while I... am ultimately not part of your path. The immortal is right—celestials and mortals walk different roads. You follow your path of cultivation, and I will live my mortal life to the fullest. Let’s leave it at that. Farewell."
Without hesitation, she turned, straightened her back, and walked step by step out of the hall.
Night had fallen, and Master Qingxu arranged a guest chamber for her. Two wooden puppets led the way, and Gu Meng bowed politely to them before following them up the mountain path—never once looking back.
Her decisiveness only made the moment all the more poignant.
Li Zhaoye stood motionless, staring at the doorway until Gu Meng’s figure vanished.
He smirked coldly, then turned to Luo Luo. "Driving her away won’t work. I won’t marry y—"
Master Qingxu winced as if pained and flicked his hand, silencing Li Zhaoye with a muting spell.
Better than letting that dog’s mouth spew nonsense.
Luo Luo opened her mouth to speak, but her master cut her off. "You shut up too! Not a single one of you gives me peace! Go detoxify yourself—now!"
What kind of living bodhisattva would draw someone else’s poison into their own golden core?
"The rest can wait. Get lost!"
Luo Luo obediently returned to her Radiant Pavilion.
Master Qingxu had only two disciples—her and Li Zhaoye—each with their own small pavilion perched on twin peaks, facing one another.
She sat on the wooden steps outside, chin resting on her palm, waiting quietly. But Li Zhaoye never came to reclaim his sword.
As dusk deepened, the poison in her body began to flare.
Luo Luo let out a long laugh, drew her sword, and swept into the open courtyard. Under the rising moon, she danced with her blade—swift as the wind, graceful as snow, her reflection startling as a fleeting swan.
On the opposite peak, Master Qingxu gestured for Li Zhaoye to look across.
Beneath the moonlight, Luo Luo leaped and twirled, her sword gleaming like autumn water, like flowing light.
Li Zhaoye’s expression remained indifferent.
Master Qingxu said, "You never knew, did you? Years ago, her entire village was slaughtered by demons. Her parents died before her eyes—and you were the one who saved her."
Li Zhaoye’s brow twitched slightly.
Master Qingxu sighed. "Back then, you were just a child yourself. After rescuing her, you recklessly chased after the other demons without a second thought. She was only seven."
"Such a tiny girl, all the adults around her dead, her body already poisoned..."
Master Qingxu shook his head, drawing out the pause.
Only when Li Zhaoye’s impatience became obvious did he continue, "By the time you remembered and told me, days had passed. When we rushed back, it was a night just like this—bright with moonlight."
"That little girl hadn’t died. Alone by the river, she’d picked up a stick and mimicked the way you slew demons in front of her. She practiced like that, over and over, even through the pain... Night after night, until she mastered the first stance of the Taiyi Sword."
Li Zhaoye arched an eyebrow.
"That single sword technique helped her endure the poison—and earned her the rare privilege of becoming my last disciple."
Master Qingxu turned, meeting Li Zhaoye’s gaze. "She knows exactly how much the poison hurts. And right now, she’s in that same agony."
"It’s unbearable for most."
Master Qingxu chuckled softly, his gaze drifting toward the guest quarters in the distance.
There, beneath a magnolia tree, Gu Meng—who had pretended to be strong—sat hugging her knees, weeping as if her heart were breaking.
"All living beings suffer, Li Zhaoye."
Who can you comfort? Who should you comfort?
