An old man and a young man glared at each other, exchanging harsh words.
It looked like they were about to come to blows.
"Have you two had enough?" Wu Xie's icy voice cut through the tension. "Do you even know where we are? Dragging all these deadweights along—do you want to get everyone killed?"
Hearing this, Li Zhaoye and Feng Guanhai immediately bristled.
Feng Guanhai sneered, "Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"
Li Zhaoye added, "If you know you're deadweight, then get the hell out of here. Don't drag down the rest of 'us'." He gestured broadly, drawing an invisible line to mark his side, reluctantly including Feng Guanhai as part of "us."
The old man happily shuffled into the boundary Li Zhaoye had drawn and settled in.
Wu Xie fumed. "You—!"
Zhen Tu pulled her back, mediating, "This is a place where death lurks at every turn. We must work together if we hope to survive." Her gaze swept over the Tai Xuan Sect disciples, and she sighed, her expression sorrowful. "Even a Dao Lord wouldn’t dare claim he could walk out of here alive. Pointless squabbles are unnecessary. Sacrifices are inevitable—cut your losses when you must."
Her words were diplomatic, but the meaning was no different from Wu Xie’s.
For these two, the ideal scenario would be to ditch the Tai Xuan Sect disciples and travel only with Feng Guanhai.
Unfortunately, the Dao Lord had no such intention.
Wu Xie scoffed. "Fine, let them be. Just don’t drag us down when these useless fools cause trouble later."
The Tai Xuan Sect disciples, now fully alert, seethed with anger.
Sure, their cultivation was weak, but none of them had panicked or drawn the attention of demons, had they?
Even when trapped in this damned Trial of the Heart formation, not a single one had slipped up.
So why were they being blamed for things they hadn’t even done?
Even the usually composed Xu Junzhu was breathing heavily with indignation.
Just as resentment simmered, a faint, eerie sound of wind and falling objects reached their ears.
Then came the scent of blood, carried by the breeze.
Thud!
The first mangled corpse plummeted, scraping against the towering, solemn walls of the temple, leaving a long smear of blood—like a mop dragged across the surface—before smashing onto the floor tiles like a torn sack.
Blood pooled beneath the priestly robes—a divine official, killed by the backlash of the Eight Trigrams Golden Seal.
Li Zhaoye cursed under his breath.
Soon, a second corpse fell. Then a third… Bodies that had been caught in the ruins tumbled down one after another into the Sealed God Temple.
Among them were the four unfortunate pregnant women.
"This is bad."
Behind them, within the statue-filled hall, terrifying auras began to awaken. Worse yet, from the unexplored depths of the temple corridors ahead, more stirrings arose—fresh blood had roused demons slumbering for millennia.
A faint, continuous crack-crack echoed around them.
To the group, it felt as though the ground beneath them was a vast sheet of ice, fracturing over an abyss.
Feng Guanhai stroked his chin. "Fight?"
"No!" Wu Xie and Zhen Tu tensed. "There’s no end to them. Fighting and blood will only draw more demons!"
This was the Sealed God Temple.
Once surrounded, there would be no escape—only death awaited.
"If we disturb that thing—" Zhen Tu abruptly fell silent.
Even speaking of it was forbidden.
The two holy maidens exchanged a glance, then instinctively looked at Li Zhaoye.
Li Zhaoye laughed. "Why look at me? What, you deadweights want to drag us down with you now?"
He pointed mockingly, mimicking their earlier words.
Despite the dire situation, the Tai Xuan Sect disciples couldn’t help but snicker.
"Hypocrites!"
"Yeah, absolute hypocrites!"
As holy maidens of the Divine Palace, they were revered and respected—never had they been so openly insulted.
Their faces paled, but they knew this wasn’t the time for anger.
These people’s lives were worthless. Why should they risk themselves for them?
Wu Xie took a deep breath, then flicked her sleeve, lifting the shattered corpse from the ground. "Since it’s one of ours, I’ll handle it."
She had to take the risk of moving the body back into the main hall before the scent of blood drew demons into the corridor.
"Don’t go attracting demons now," Feng Guanhai taunted, mimicking Zhen Tu’s earlier words. "If you’re discovered, remember—'sacrifices are inevitable. Cut your losses when you must.'"
Zhen Tu: "..."
Wu Xie vanished in a flash, corpse in tow.
Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the direction of the main hall.
"Hey, isn’t Luo Luo taking too long in that Trial of the Heart?" Feng Guanhai frowned. "No one stays this long. With all this yin energy around, if her soul stays detached much longer, she’ll wither into a living corpse."
Li Zhaoye glanced down at Luo Luo, still unconscious.
He was furious. "A simple Trial of the Heart, and you’re stuck? Pathetic."
For some old man, no less?
If he spoke to her when she woke up, he’d be a dog.
Narrowing his eyes, he summoned Changtian Sword and shoved it back into her sword vault.
Luo Luo lay on the bed, eyes obediently shut, breathing softly, making no sound.
After a while, hearing no conversation between her master and Li Zhaoye, she couldn’t resist peeking through one barely open eyelid.
Two figures sat facing each other under the moonlight, their silhouettes as still as finely carved statues.
Neither moved.
As long as they’re here.
Satisfied, she closed her eyes again.
In what felt like a blink, she found herself beneath a pear blossom tree.
Her broken leg had mostly healed, but Li Zhaoye still refused to spar with her.
He lounged on a branch, eyes shut, basking in the sun.
Weird.
Luo Luo touched her leg. Hadn’t it just broken? How was it already better?
Tilting her head, she recalled everything that had happened—after winning the tournament, countless people had sought Li Zhaoye out. Annoyed, he’d moved into her Radiant Pavilion.
When visitors came, he’d push her out in a wheelchair, making her play the pitiful invalid.
"It’s my duty to care for her," he’d say shamelessly. "No time for anything else."
Human shield Luo Luo could only giggle awkwardly. "...Oh, hehe."
No one had the heart to argue with a girl in a wheelchair, so they’d leave.
And so, Li Zhaoye comfortably settled into Radiant Pavilion.
Days passed in a blur.
Luo Luo blinked slowly.
Strange. She remembered every detail, yet… time had flown by. Was it because life had been so peaceful?
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling her skin.
She looked down—and froze.
She noticed that the shadows cast by the trees weren’t just dappled. Each leaf bore tiny sword marks, and with just a glance, she could picture it—Li Zhaoye idly poking at the leaves with Changtian to pass the time.
How utterly dull and tedious, yet he still insisted on lingering in her Liuguang Pavilion.
Every day, he’d either catch cicadas in the trees or stab at the leaves.
She secretly pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, then glanced up at him—only to freeze.
He was strikingly handsome, his profile bold and beautiful. Once her gaze landed on him, she couldn’t look away.
Her heart clenched, an indescribable ache washing over her.
It was as if she already knew what would happen next.
[He leapt down from the pear tree, hugging his sword, his expression cocky as he called out, “Hey, hey, hey—you’ve got a thing for me, don’t you?”
Caught staring, she was mortified.
Before she could even think of an excuse, he burst out laughing. “What a coincidence—I’ve got a thing for you too!”
Just like that, she found herself dragged into a soul-bond with him…]
She remembered the sharp pain in her left wrist.
That pain had seared into her very soul—her hand hurt, but her heart hurt even more.
Something in her mind teetered on the edge of surfacing.
Her gaze trembled, instinctively dropping to the sword at his waist—and she froze.
Li Zhaoye was pretending to be asleep.
The fingers resting at his waist were unconsciously tapping against Changtian’s hilt.
—She had almost missed that detail.
But knowing him as well as she did, Luo Luo sensed it immediately: he was nervous.
Why?
Just then, his eyes snapped open.
True to her vision, he jumped down from the tree, arched a brow, and sauntered toward her. Leaning in, he stared straight into her eyes. “Hey, hey, hey—”
Luo Luo knew her own limits.
She didn’t dare let him finish. Cutting him off, she blurted, “Hey, what did Master say to you that day?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Master had specifically called Li Zhaoye to the Zhaoye Pavilion to talk—meaning it wasn’t for her ears. Yet here she was, prying.
Strangely, she had no memory of what followed.
Weird… Why did she suddenly care so much?
Li Zhaoye’s reaction was even weirder.
He stood frozen, unmoving for a long moment. Just like that night when she’d forced him and Master to stay in Liuguang Pavilion—they had sat by the window in silence, like two statues.
As the air grew heavy, Changtian suddenly twitched.
Li Zhaoye’s brow lifted. “Oh,” he said casually, “the old man told me to switch swords.”
Changtian rattled violently in its scabbard: “Clang! Clang!”
Li Zhaoye pressed a hand over it, then jerked his chin at Luo Luo. “You know that Taiyi Divine Sword in the back mountain?”
Luo Luo blinked, dazed.
Her thoughts were a mess, but she answered instinctively, “I think Changtian’s better than Taiyi.”
Changtian: “Clang!”
Li Zhaoye’s dark eyes gleamed. Suddenly, he leaned in, his expression delighted. “Damn right—I turned the old man down!”
Luo Luo pressed, “Then why were you nervous?”
Li Zhaoye stiffened. After a pause, his gaze shifted evasively. “Well… with the number one divine sword in the world, my future wife would have serious bragging rights, right? I was worried you’d be mad I refused…”
Her heart skipped a beat.
She stared at him, stunned.
Realizing his slip, his lips twitched—since when had he started calling her his wife in his head?
As Luo Luo reeled, time slipped away like flowing water.
Fleeting as a spark from stone, a dream within a dream.
Luo Luo hadn’t seen Master in a while. Not that it was unusual—the old man had always been elusive, even before.
Yet an inexplicable restlessness gnawed at her.
These days felt like a dream.
She and Li Zhaoye had formed a heart-bond, but their daily interactions remained unchanged.
It was as if they’d just keep going like this until the end of time.
Li Zhaoye tilted his head. “Come on, let’s roast a chicken!”
Luo Luo: “…”
He strode up the mountain path. “We’ll be gone a while—eat one now, take one for the road.”
Her pulse quickened.
Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint why.
Before she could dwell on it, Li Zhaoye was already far ahead. She pushed the thought aside and hurried after him.
A stretch of the Qingyu Peak path was pitch-black, the dense canopy blotting out the moonlight.
Li Zhaoye suddenly stumbled, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulders and nearly knocking her off balance.
“Hey,” he grinned, “the old man says I’m the Chosen One, destined for greatness. What do you think?”
As he spoke, he swayed closer, bumping into her.
Hearing his bragging, Luo Luo’s chest ached again for reasons she couldn’t explain.
But she’d never ruin his mood. “Of course!”
He laughed. “The old man said if I kill that demon in the Black Abyss Sea, I can ask him for anything.”
At the words “Black Abyss Sea,” Luo Luo’s heart lurched, her head spinning.
No… no… this isn’t right… don’t… don’t…
“I’ve decided,” he said airily. “When I get back, I’ll make the old man pay for a grand wedding—eighty-eight tables. If we wait for you to save up, we’d need another lifetime.”
Luo Luo gaped.
So that’s what he’d meant.
His presence was so overwhelming, it left her dizzy—she hadn’t even processed it.
In the dark, he kept leaning in, his nose almost brushing hers.
His words faltered more than once.
Had he been waiting for her response?
‘Luo Luo, you idiot,’ she scolded herself. ‘He literally said wedding—how did you miss that?!’
She stood frozen like a quail, turning what should’ve been a romantic farewell into just another chicken-roasting night.
Only when he waved goodbye did her heart suddenly feel like it was tearing apart.
Before she could speak, he vanished down the mountain path.
“Li Zhaoye… Li Zhaoye!”
She couldn’t catch up. She couldn’t find him.
Gasping, driven by panic, she flew toward Master’s Hall of Reflection.
Master wasn’t there.
He’d left a wooden puppet in his place for seclusion—no one knew where he’d gone.
But Luo Luo already knew: the Black Abyss Sea.
Logically, with Master and Li Zhaoye together, she had nothing to fear.
Yet she grabbed Qiushui and set out for the Black Abyss Sea.
“Master’s going to mock me so hard.”
Luo Luo bit her lip.
The old man would definitely tease her for chasing her man across the land.
She tried to smile, but her lips felt leaden, refusing to lift.
The coastline stretched endlessly.
Luo Luo ran for what felt like ages, arriving at dusk.
The setting sun dyed the sea crimson, bleeding into the horizon.
A chill gripped her.
Qiushui trembled beneath her feet as she rode the sword through the sea wind, racing toward fate.
“Clang—”
That single, brilliant swordstroke lit up the heavens.
Luo Luo stood frozen on the blood-soaked beach, watching as Li Zhaoye—his bones shattered, meridians torn—gripped the sword Changtian and drove it deep into their master’s body.
She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her throat.
“Ah,” she heard their master sigh softly. “This strike… is truly perfect.”
His expression was one she no longer recognized.
He raised a hand and wrapped his fingers around Changtian’s hilt, still embedded in his flesh.
Lifting his gaze, he locked eyes with the dying Li Zhaoye.
Li Zhaoye struggled weakly, his broken bones emitting a sickening crunch.
Even now, he refused to fall.
“Enough, enough. You can die in peace,” Qing Xu said. “I have no reason to kill her.”
Luo Luo’s vision blurred into a haze of red. An invisible force pressed down on her, rooting her to the spot, rendering her helpless.
All she could do was watch—
Watch as Li Zhaoye gave a slow, heavy nod.
With the last of his strength, he pulled Changtian free from Qing Xu’s body.
Qing Xu, patient even with a dying man, lowered his head slightly as the bloodied blade scraped against flesh and bone, withdrawing inch by inch.
Just as the sword was about to fully dislodge—
Li Zhaoye suddenly laughed, a raw, wild sound, and with a fierce twist of his wrist—
Clang—clang-clang!
He poured every last shred of his spiritual energy and will into Changtian. The blade shattered instantly, exploding into a storm of razor-sharp fragments that rained down on Qing Xu.
Qing Xu cursed under his breath.
He vanished in a flash, reappearing several feet away as the shards lost momentum and scattered across the sand.
Li Zhaoye collapsed.
A dull thud—bloodied grains sprayed upward before settling again.
His eyes remained open, one arm outstretched, fingers pointing rigidly toward Mount Tai Xuan even in death.
Qing Xu walked back.
“Lucky I knew this brat was cunning,” he muttered, collecting Li Zhaoye’s corpse as if speaking to no one in particular.
Luo Luo’s head spun. Each breath felt like swallowing knives.
Grief and agony crashed over her like a tidal wave, an unbearable weight crushing her to her knees.
Qing Xu left, leaving behind only the cold, crimson-stained shore.
Strangely, she didn’t feel surprised.
She just… just…
Had foolishly believed the three of them—master and disciples—would stay together forever.
She’d taken those ordinary days for granted, never treasuring them enough.
She’d never truly looked, never truly wondered—what kind of person was her master, really?
If she’d been smarter, more observant… could she have stopped this?
Regret—so much regret—
She crumpled onto the sand, chest burning, limbs numb.
So cold…
Her body stiffened as the air grew frigid around her.
Then, a voice brushed against her mind—
“Do not blame yourself. This was never your fault.”
Luo Luo lifted her head, dazed.
The voice was neither male nor female, neither young nor old—stern yet kind.
A gentle force steadied her, helping her rise on trembling legs.
“Master… he killed Li Zhaoye,” she whispered.
“Qing Xu planned this long ago. Nothing you did would have changed it.”
“Who… are you?”
The voice hesitated before replying, “Go. Do not linger in sorrow or guilt. You already know what must be done.”
Before Luo Luo could react, an unseen hand pushed her forward—
Time unraveled before her eyes.
Her body shrank, scenes flashing past in reverse.
From one blood-stained dusk, she returned to another.
This time, it was the dusk she lost her parents.
For years, she’d blamed herself for sleeping too deeply that day.
If she hadn’t, could she have saved them?
As time rewound, Luo Luo glimpsed a memory buried deep—
She had woken up once.
Peering through the window, she saw her father, hoe in hand, standing bravely between the demon and their home.
“Quick, hide Luo Luo—keep her quiet!” he’d urged her mother.
The demon’s claws pierced his chest as he spoke.
He bit back his screams, lips white with pain, refusing to wake her.
Seven-year-old Luo Luo, still groggy, hadn’t understood.
Then her mother rushed in—
Gathering Luo Luo in shaking arms, she pressed a finger to her lips in warning.
A physician with calloused hands, she pressed two fingers to Luo Luo’s neck—
And darkness swallowed her again.
Now Luo Luo remembered.
When she’d finally awoken, she’d been wrapped tightly in blankets, buried under a heap of straw.
She hadn’t been lazy—she’d been hidden.
Time spiraled further back.
The child within her watched wide-eyed, etching every moment with her parents into her heart.
There was so little she could do.
With clumsy fingers, she wove grass sandals for her father and a medicine pouch for her mother.
She knew they’d never use them.
But seeing their stunned joy, their laughter—her chest warmed, the hollow ache inside her finally easing.
Luo Luo opened her eyes to find herself cradled in Li Zhaoye’s arms.
He glared down at her, expression stormy.
“Li Zhaoye,” she smiled tearily. “I saw them… I miss them so much.”
A single tear clung to her lashes.
Li Zhaoye said nothing.
“I saw you too,” she whispered.
—I missed you just as much.
Li Zhaoye’s stare intensified.
He’d sworn he’d ignore her. That if he ever spoke to her again, he’d be a dog.
Well.
Dogs bark.
After a long, searing glare, his face remained ice-cold.
“Woof.”
