Under the flowers and moonlight.
"Since ancient times, the trials of love have never been easy," Master Qingxu sighed. "All debts, alas~"
Li Zhaoye remained silent.
Master Qingxu nudged him with an elbow. "Who are you planning to see?"
"Speak up."
"Why aren’t you saying anything?"
"Can’t you even make a sound? Have you gone mute?"
Master Qingxu suddenly turned his head and met a pair of eyes simmering with barely concealed fury.
Li Zhaoye raised a hand and made a silencing gesture.
Master Qingxu: "...Ah, I forgot. Forgot I cast a silencing spell on you, haha."
He laughed loudly to mask his guilt, all while dispelling the spell on Li Zhaoye.
"Annoyed, aren’t you?" Master Qingxu teased, his tone dripping with mockery. "Good! Don’t forget—I’m your master. Disciplining you is only right and proper!"
"So, where exactly are you planning to go?"
"Even if you won’t see your junior sister, at least stay away from that mortal girl!"
Gu Meng curled up beneath the qiong flower tree, weeping so hard she could barely breathe.
The tail end of winter bled into early spring, and the mountain winds cut like knives.
A thick fur cloak had been prepared for her in the guest quarters, but she hadn’t taken it. Right now, how could she care about something as trivial as cold or warmth?
Besides, she no longer wanted anything from the Tai Xuan Sect—no favors, no kindness.
After tomorrow, they would part ways forever.
...What else could she do?
In the eyes of immortal cultivators, mortals were little more than ants.
She knew. That Master Qingxu had never truly regarded her as Li Zhaoye’s savior.
To him, his prodigious disciple had merely found a safe place to recover. Her tireless care—staying by his side day and night—was nothing more than the work of a servant, fetching tea and water.
The rewards the sect had given her far outweighed her contributions. In their eyes, she’d gotten the better end of the deal.
But was that what she’d wanted?
And her feelings for Li Zhaoye? Worthless.
Of course.
Their beloved junior sister had stood by Li Zhaoye’s side for years. To them, Gu Meng was nothing but an interloper, taking advantage of his vulnerability.
Luo Luo was heaven’s favored daughter—noble, powerful, fair-skinned, and breathtakingly beautiful. Everything about her radiated privilege and grace.
No matter what Luo Luo truly thought, her actions were always impeccable, her demeanor magnanimous.
What could Gu Meng do? Force Li Zhaoye to choose between his master, his duty, his future, his betrothed… and her? It would only humiliate her further.
Gu Meng lowered her tear-filled eyes to her right hand.
Her slender fingers clenched slowly into a fist.
She’d rather endure the poison’s torment than owe Luo Luo anything.
These immortals…
Before them, she would not bend.
But her heart ached, sharp and unrelenting. How could emotions be discarded so easily?
Pretending to be unaffected didn’t change the truth—she still longed to see Li Zhaoye one last time.
"He won’t come. He won’t," she whispered through her tears, her smile bleak. "Even if he did, it would only bring more pain."
She wept until her voice broke, then lapsed into silent sobs, hugging her knees in numb despair.
The night deepened, the wind grew colder.
The mountain’s biting chill seeped into her bones, into her very soul.
As the moon dipped westward, her heart sank with it.
He, too, was heartless.
Luo Luo hadn’t felt pain like this in a long time.
Searching for Li Zhaoye had cost her too much—her soul’s blood, her spiritual energy, the strain of nurturing his shattered Changtian Sword back to life.
Her golden core dimmed, her meridians hollow.
Forcing herself to endure the poison’s assault now was no easier than when she’d been mortal.
It felt like ten thousand icy ants gnawing at her bones, the agony relentless.
Her entire body trembled—except for her sword hand, steady as ever.
"Shua—"
A silver arc split the air, a lethal wave of sword intent.
"Weng!"
The blade halted perfectly at the wooden training dummy’s forehead—not a hair’s breadth further, not a scratch left behind.
Every part of her shook except the sword.
She let out a soft laugh, pivoted, and delivered a flying kick before withdrawing the blade. In one fluid motion, she thrust it behind her.
"Zheng!"
The cold steel flashed past her brow, reflecting a pair of smiling eyes.
"A mere poison."
"What can it do to me?"
Dawn had yet to break when shouts erupted from the guest quarters.
Was Gu Meng leaving?
Luo Luo hastily sheathed her sword, hands still trembling, and dashed inside to change out of her sweat-soaked robes. She tied her hair neatly and hurried toward the guest hall, dew soaking her shoes.
Master Qingxu and Li Zhaoye were already there.
Gu Meng lay on the bed, her face deathly pale, shivering uncontrollably.
Half-delirious with fever, she struggled to rise. "Let me go… I want to leave… I won’t… stay here!"
Tears streamed down her cheeks like pearls.
A steward explained to Luo Luo: Gu Meng had tried to slip away unnoticed at dawn but collapsed on the mountain path, overcome by the cold. A patrolling disciple had found her and brought her back.
"I’m not sick," Gu Meng murmured weakly, her delicate features fractured with pain. "Let me go…"
Master Qingxu rubbed his temples. "Leave? Rest! Who goes wandering in the middle of the night catching chills? You brought this on yourself—fine, fine. Someone give her a couple of Cold-Warding Pills. She’ll be fine by noon."
Li Zhaoye stepped to the bedside and looked down.
Gu Meng’s breath hitched at the sight of him. She instinctively curled in on herself, helpless against the flood of sorrow.
"Li Zhaoye, please go. We agreed… we wouldn’t meet again…"
A sob choked off her words.
"I never agreed to that," Li Zhaoye said calmly, his expression unreadable.
Gu Meng blinked in surprise. "But… but…"
He continued, "Time for medicine."
Her eyes widened. When she’d nursed him back to health, those had been her exact words.
He remembered.
Gratitude and heartache welled up together, spilling fresh tears down her cheeks.
"Alright. I’ll take it."
Li Zhaoye, of course, carried no pills. He glanced at Master Qingxu, who in turn looked at Luo Luo.
Luo Luo: "..."
Yesterday, she’d emptied her entire qiankun pouch for Gu Meng.
With an awkward smile, she untied Gu Meng’s bundle and fished out the Cold-Warding Pills.
Li Zhaoye took them, thanked Luo Luo absently, then brought water to help Gu Meng swallow the medicine.
Luo Luo, with nothing else to do, tucked the blankets snugly around her.
"Sleep it off," Luo Luo reassured her. "The medicine works fast."
"Enough," Master Qingxu coughed. "Luo Luo, come with me. Let your senior brother watch over her."
"Yes."
Luo Luo took her seat beside her master.
Master Qingxu tapped his knee thoughtfully before speaking. "That mortal girl was too distraught to explain clearly, and your senior brother doesn’t remember who reduced him to such a state."
Luo Luo nodded. "His injuries?"
Li Zhaoye didn’t remember her, so she couldn’t exactly strip him to inspect them herself.
"Shattered meridians, crushed joints," Master Qingxu said, narrowing his eyes. "This was torture—not the work of demons."
Luo Luo’s eyes mirrored his. "Then it was done by human hands."
Li Zhaoye—who was he?
The Tai Xuan Sect’s head disciple, the undisputed champion of the Qingyun Tournament, the rising star of the cultivation world, a sword prodigy unseen in three thousand years.
Destroying him was an attack on the sect’s fortunes for decades, centuries, even millennia to come.
Master Qingxu’s voice turned icy. "Whoever did this—once uncovered, it will be a fight to the death."
The cultivation world preached righteousness, but beneath the surface, it was survival of the strongest.
No one genuinely wishes for another sect to produce a peerless genius.
Yet no one dares to resort to underhanded tactics either—no sect would be so deranged as to let their senior cultivators indiscriminately slaughter the young talents of others. If that were the case, everyone might as well give up—just unleash a few Daoist patriarchs to annihilate the world and perish together!
No one dares to cross that line.
At least, not openly.
Luo Luo counted on her fingers. "It's either the Heavenly Dao Sect or the Heavy Star Sect."
In the current cultivation world, the three major sects maintained a delicate balance, and only these two would dare to target Li Zhaoye.
"Master," Luo Luo grumbled, "if you hadn't insisted it was a demon, I would’ve gone after them already."
Master Qingxu sucked in a sharp breath. "You stay put! No stirring up trouble!"
Luo Luo muttered under her breath, "I won’t get caught."
A sharp flick to her forehead silenced her.
Outwardly obedient, Luo Luo seethed inside.
After Li Zhaoye’s incident, it was Master Qingxu, Sect Leader Master Lingxue, and Elder Master Yuan—three Nascent Soul grandmasters—who combed through the scene.
Had they not concluded that Li Zhaoye had been devoured by a great demon, Luo Luo wouldn’t have spent a hundred days scouring the Black Abyss Sea.
"Who knows how your senior brother escaped that bastard’s clutches," Master Qingxu sighed. "Injured to that extent, yet he dragged himself hundreds of miles. He must’ve been thinking of you—refusing to give up."
Luo Luo turned her head calmly, blinking at the sunlight outside the window.
"When he remembers, we’ll take revenge."
She knew.
Li Zhaoye—that fool—would crawl back from death itself, grinning as he declared he was fine.
That was just the kind of man he was.
The master and disciple were discussing where to "borrow" some rare spiritual treasures to help Li Zhaoye recover when the doors of the Hall of Heart’s Trial were violently kicked in—
BANG!
Master Qingxu panicked. "Stop! Those are expensive!"
If they broke, where would the money for repairs come from?
With a swift wave of his sleeve, he channeled a surge of spiritual energy to swing the doors open.
Li Zhaoye stormed in, carrying Gu Meng in his arms.
His face was icy, his laughter laced with fury. "Look what you’ve done!"
His killing intent was directed squarely at Luo Luo.
For a fleeting moment, Luo Luo thought he might draw his sword and "spar" with her.
Only when her sword meridian throbbed in pain did she remember—his sword was still shattered.
Only when she met his gaze did she remember—her Li Zhaoye hadn’t returned yet.
She watched him approach.
The way he held someone in his arms felt so unfamiliar.
Gu Meng lay limp in his embrace, her eyes shut, her breath faint. Pale as parchment, fragile as glass.
"What happened?"
Master Qingxu and Luo Luo hurried forward.
Li Zhaoye shot Luo Luo a frigid glare, shielding Gu Meng as he turned away.
"After taking the medicine she gave, her condition worsened," he sneered. "Quite the potent effect."
Master Qingxu rolled up his sleeves to check Gu Meng’s pulse.
"No, the Frostward Pill should’ve cured her…" His expression tightened, brows furrowing as he probed deeper. "Hmm… the wrong medicine was used."
Li Zhaoye’s lips curled. "The wrong medicine?"
Master Qingxu clarified, "She took a Heatbane Pill."
Instead of warding off cold, she’d been given a remedy to dispel heat—pouring frost atop snow.
For a cultivator, it might’ve been tolerable, but mortals were delicate. A common cold could be fatal.
Taking the opposite medicine? Practically poison.
Master Qingxu hid his face behind his sleeve, shooting Luo Luo a sidelong glance. Did you grab the wrong one in your rush?
Luo Luo insisted, "I gave her the Frostward Pill. I couldn’t have mistaken it."
Li Zhaoye let out a derisive chuckle. "Heh."
"Enough, enough," Master Qingxu groaned, feeling his head swell to twice its size. "No more pointless talk. Quickly—take her to Elder Peak and let your medicine-savvy martial uncle examine her. Go, go! I’ll come too."
Honestly, a decade’s worth of trivial matters paled compared to the chaos of these past two days.
"Cough…" In Li Zhaoye’s arms, the frail woman stirred weakly, her voice a whisper. "Brother Li, don’t blame Fairy Luo… She’s so kind… She couldn’t have meant to…"
Li Zhaoye fixed Luo Luo with a piercing stare before turning away, carrying Gu Meng out.
That gaze was like an icy blade scraping bone.
Elder Peak.
Morning lessons were in session, and a crowd of disciples had gathered outside the medicine hut, buzzing with gossip.
"Honestly, I’d have done the same!"
"Come on, that mortal girl said she’d leave—though she fainted before she could. But fainting over and over? Little Martial Sister went too far."
"How can you be sure it was her?"
"Master Qingxu and Senior Brother Li saw her hand over the medicine."
"Even so, it might’ve been an accident. Did you see how pale she looked? She was barely holding herself together."
They didn’t notice Luo Luo standing not far behind.
Master Qingxu nearly leaped up to smack the chatterboxes.
Luo Luo murmured, dazed, "Master, I didn’t mix them up. I’d never harm Miss Gu."
Master Qingxu declared firmly, "Of course I believe you!"
Luo Luo smiled faintly. "You’re just comforting me, Master."
"Not at all." Master Qingxu narrowed his eyes. "I’ve figured it out."
"What?"
"It was her." Master Qingxu’s voice turned cold. "You probably didn’t know—last night, she deliberately exposed herself to the cold, making herself sick. Today, when you gave her medicine, she used it to frame you! Your pills were in her possession. While your senior brother wasn’t looking, she swallowed a few Heatbane Pills. Just wait—once my junior brother diagnoses her, I’ll kick her down the mountain myself!"
Luo Luo frowned.
"And that idiot senior brother of yours," Master Qingxu fumed, "he didn’t just lose his memories—he fed his brains to the dogs!"
Luo Luo sighed. "Master, you’re just biased in my favor."
