Yu Zhiling hadn’t seen her little disciple for seven days.
He had shut himself away, claiming he needed to retreat in order to break through to a new realm, asking for a few days’ time.
But Yu Zhiling’s merit points hadn’t updated in days, so she knew he was lying. If Mo Zhu had been cultivating, his merit points wouldn’t have remained so stagnant. The boy was usually diligent, a model of relentless discipline.
Every morning, Yu Zhiling descended the mountain with her disciples, sweeping outward from the Yingshan Sect, exterminating demonic fiends in over a dozen locations. Just as she had suspected, You Zhou had been breeding these vile creatures in these areas.
The number of disciples following her grew, and she taught them methods to combat the fiends—what formations to use, how to position themselves, when to engage in close combat or long-range attacks. Her mind was wholly focused on this task.
As her disciples grew more adept at handling the fiends, their presence around Yingshan dwindled, and the unease that had plagued Yu Zhiling for days gradually settled.
At the end of another long day, she walked up the stone steps toward Tingchun Cliff. It was deep autumn now, and the orange blossoms along the path had begun to wither. The higher she climbed, the colder the air grew.
Having been apart from her little disciple for days, she found herself missing him. Tomorrow would be his eighteenth birthday.
Passing by Mo Zhu’s courtyard, Yu Zhiling paused. Since arriving in this world, she had never been separated from him for more than seven days—this was the longest stretch yet.
She didn’t know what he was really doing—whether he was truly in seclusion, or if he was still upset over what she had said last time.
Her lips pressed together. She had never been in a relationship before and didn’t know how to navigate one. Should the elder party be the one to coax the younger?
The master hesitated, her hand hovering over the brass knocker on the door. Several times, she nearly rapped on it, only to withdraw at the last moment, wavering back and forth.
With a sigh, she decided to give him more time to sort out his feelings. She wasn’t good with words and feared saying the wrong thing again.
Just as she turned to leave, the door behind her creaked open. A hand seized her wrist and pulled—Yu Zhiling, caught off guard, stumbled backward into Mo Zhu’s embrace.
"Master, didn’t you miss me?"
Mo Zhu chuckled lowly, tightening his arms around her.
Yu Zhiling pushed lightly against his chest. "I’m filthy. I haven’t cleaned up yet."
With one hand, Mo Zhu shut the courtyard gate; with the other, he pinned her against the door.
"A cleansing spell will do."
In an instant, the dust and bloodstains vanished from Yu Zhiling’s body, leaving only her tattered robes—another set ruined from her excursions down the mountain.
Now that she was clean, she buried herself in his arms, inhaling the cool, familiar scent of her disciple. Her arms wound around his lean waist.
"What were you doing all this time? Weren’t you supposed to be cultivating?"
Mo Zhu kept her close, eyes shut as he savored her presence. Without missing a beat, he murmured, "I lied."
Yu Zhiling tilted her head back. "Lied?"
Mo Zhu seized the chance to press a fleeting kiss to her lips. "We’ll talk later. Let me kiss you first—I’ve missed you to death."
His mouth covered hers again before she could react. His tongue slipped past her lips, scorching hot, carrying the faint taste of tea—floral, like the blend she had left in his courtyard, the one she had dried herself.
A soft whimper escaped her, but Mo Zhu didn’t stop. He lifted her by the waist, and the sudden weightlessness made her instinctively wrap her legs around him. He carried her into the courtyard, never breaking the kiss.
He sat on a stone bench with her in his lap, her body pliant against his. She could only cling to his neck, eyes shut, occasionally responding to his fervent kisses.
What began as gentle soon deepened, and once she melted into it, he grew ravenous—sucking at her lips with bruising intensity, his breath ragged and hot. His hand at the small of her back tightened, as if he wanted to fuse her into his very bones.
"Mo—Mo Zhu—"
Yu Zhiling arched her slender neck, fingers twisting into his robes, crumpling the once-neat fabric.
Dazed, she barely registered when his kisses trailed to her ear, only hearing his low, ragged panting.
The sound was deep, rough—maddeningly pleasant.
Mo Zhu had missed her terribly. Seven days without her had left his bones aching. Every day, listening to her pass by his courtyard in the morning and return at night, he had wanted to rush out and hold her.
But shedding a serpent’s scales took at least seven days. For that entire time, he couldn’t even maintain his human form—he had no choice but to endure.
Now, finally, he didn’t have to hold back.
His lips burned against her neck, his pent-up longing and desire erupting like a dam breaking. He kissed her as if drinking poison to quench his thirst—claiming her lips, sucking at her earlobe, nipping her throat, kneading her waist.
The collar of her robe had come undone, and it wasn’t until Mo Zhu’s lips brushed her heart that Yu Zhiling finally snapped back to her senses. She pressed a hand between their chests, murmuring, "Mo Zhu, stop… wait, just wait a moment."
Mo Zhu’s breathing was ragged, the haze of desire slowly receding as he realized what he’d been doing.
Yu Zhiling sat in his lap, her robes thin and loose, the delicate edge of her undergarment peeking out. Her neck and collarbone were littered with marks—tiny, scattered bruises left by his lips.
She looped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I have to go down the mountain tomorrow. What have you been busy with these past few days?"
Mo Zhu’s hands trembled as he adjusted her collar, his voice rough. "Sorry. I couldn’t hold back."
Yu Zhiling didn’t answer, retreating into his embrace like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.
She shifted slightly on his lap, and though he noticed, Mo Zhu didn’t stop her. He shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself to acknowledge the heat coursing through him. He couldn’t suppress it—whenever he saw her, he couldn’t resist drawing closer.
He pressed a light kiss to her neck and whispered, "Did you miss me?"
Yu Zhiling could never bring herself to say such intimate words. She was bold in her usual teasing, but now, not a single phrase would come out.
She stayed silent, but Mo Zhu already knew the answer. His master was terrible at hiding her feelings.
He chuckled lowly. "I know you missed me. You pause outside my courtyard every day. You’ve grown used to having me around."
Yu Zhiling smacked his shoulder. "If you knew, why didn’t you come find me?"
Mo Zhu hurried to appease her. "My fault. I’ve been occupied lately. Punish me however you like."
She turned her head away with a huff. "What have you been doing?"
Mo Zhu gently set her aside and raised his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a delicate silver chain.
But the chain wasn’t the focus—it was the scale dangling from it.
Yu Zhiling had seen Mo Zhu’s true form before: a majestic winged serpent, its scales dark and cold, each one larger than her palm.
Yet this scale was nothing like those. It resembled a seashell, its edges smooth and rounded, no bigger than a fingernail. Strung on the slender chain, it looked like a crystal.
"What… is this?"
Mo Zhu fastened the necklace around her neck. The scale settled against the hollow of her throat, warm to the touch, as if spiritual energy seeped into her meridians, weaving an unbreakable net around her heart.
He said, "The reverse scale."
Yu Zhiling froze. "The reverse scale?"
Was it what she thought it was?
Mo Zhu traced the corner of her eye with his thumb, his throat bobbing as he answered softly, "Yes. I’m giving you my life. A serpent’s reverse scale is indestructible—it can withstand any attack, even divine punishment. Heaven grants serpents a second life through this scale. Only the serpent itself can shatter it."
"This scale will protect your heart. As long as it’s with you, you’ll never die."
He kissed her lips gently. "I love you, Master. I’d give you my life. My death is yours to decide. But I want your heart to keep beating, for you to live on."
Yu Zhiling blinked, then immediately reached to remove it. "No. Put it back."
Mo Zhu caught her wrist, amused and exasperated. "Once removed, it can’t be returned."
Her eyes reddened, her voice rising. "I said I don’t want it! Why didn’t you ask me first?"
Mo Zhu leaned in to kiss her again. "Don’t cry, Master."
"Don’t kiss me. I’m angry."
Yu Zhiling turned her face away, struggling to pull the necklace off, but an unseen force resisted her. The scale refused to leave.
"Mo Zhu, take it off!"
Her voice shook with panic as she felt the protective energy encasing her heart.
Mo Zhu sighed, clasping her hand and pressing a kiss to her ear.
"Master, once given, it can’t be undone. Everyone covets a serpent’s reverse scale. For cultivators, guarding the heart is like gaining a second life. This is the greatest gift I can give you."
"It’s alright. When serpents die, they shatter their own reverse scales to prevent others from stealing them. It’s a treasure. Keep it, please."
Yu Zhiling whispered, "Mo Zhu, I don’t want it."
"Master, let it stay. I want you to live, free from danger."
She fell silent.
Mo Zhu held her tighter, sensing her distress. Softly, he asked, "When your heart shattered, when you turned your blade on yourself… did it hurt?"
Shattering one’s divine soul means every strand of the heart’s meridians will rupture one by one, until that heart ceases to beat.
It must have been painful—there’s no doubt about that.
To use the Frostblade Slash on oneself means that, at that moment, death was harder to endure than living. The only way out was to wield the Frostblade Slash, the supreme technique of the Enlightened Heart Path, to ensure a single strike would end it all.
Yu Zhiling hugged him back, forcing out her answer with difficulty: “…It hurt.”
Suddenly, she found an outlet for her anguish, as if she were once again staring into an endless darkness, where a solitary figure knelt on the ground, deathly still.
When the sound of footsteps faded into the distance, she spoke in a hoarse voice:
—I can’t get out. If possible… could you leave a light for me?
She didn’t know who she was pleading to in the memory she saw, but a single lantern was the only wish she held in her heart at that time.
Tears welled up in Yu Zhiling’s eyes instantly, her voice choked with sobs: “It was so dark, so painful… I hurt so much I couldn’t stand. I begged someone for a light, but no one gave me one. I held on for so long… I don’t know how long it was, Mo Zhu, I don’t know.”
“There was a voice. It kept asking me—do I regret it? But what exactly am I supposed to regret?”
—Do you regret it?
—I don’t.
—Do you regret it?
—No.
—Do you regret it?
—I don’t.
—Do you regret it?
—No.
No matter how many times she was asked, her answer remained the same.
—No regrets. Not even in death. I will never regret it.
Mo Zhu held her tighter, his breathing growing increasingly ragged as he listened to her weep in his ear, pouring out her pain and suffocating despair.
“In the end… I think I lost my mind. I don’t remember what happened, only that when I was on the verge of death, that voice asked me again—”
—Yu Zhiling… was it worth it?
Mo Zhu’s voice trembled as he asked, “What did you say, Master?”
Yu Zhiling shook her head. “I didn’t answer. I think… I was already dead.”
Truly dead. Gone without a trace.
Mo Zhu was nearly frantic with despair. “How long… were you trapped there?”
Yu Zhiling fell silent, drying her tears against his robes before murmuring, “I don’t know. A very, very long time.”
Mo Zhu felt the metallic tang of blood rise in his throat, his heart wrenching violently.
A horrifying suspicion suddenly seized him.
Though he didn’t know how she had suddenly reappeared in the Yingshan Sect or how she had escaped the Abyss of Demons, the fact remained—she had died once. So, how long had she been trapped in the Abyss before her death?
While they had all doubted that imposter, testing her repeatedly yet finding no answers, while every piece of evidence pointed to that person being Yu Zhiling, while her fellow disciples and closest friends had suppressed their grief and sorrow, choosing to respect “Yu Zhiling’s” decision to distance herself and focus on her cultivation to ascend…
While everyone had forgotten her, the real her… might have been trapped in the Abyss all along, struggling desperately to escape, forced to watch in lucid agony as she remained imprisoned.
An illusionary darkness, where day and night blurred into nothingness, where time lost all meaning. She didn’t know how long it had been. After a while, she might have even wondered if she was already dead. On the brink of collapse, she had begged for a single light—just a glimmer to hold onto.
No one gave it to her.
And then… something happened. Something that shattered her completely. She lost her mind.
So she ended it. With the Frostblade Slash, the supreme technique that could kill her in a single strike.
Mo Zhu crushed her against him, swallowing back the blood in his throat. Regret and heartache tore through his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he choked out his apology: “Master… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Never again…”
From now on, he would never let such a thing happen.
As long as he lived, she would never suffer again. No one would ever forget her.
Yu Zhiling could only cling to him, holding on as tightly as she could.
In the end, she accepted the reverse scale. It couldn’t be removed, nor could it be returned to him. The power of the scale shielded her heart’s meridians—it had given her a second life.
She lay on Mo Zhu’s bed, the young man sleeping beside her. He hadn’t seemed to rest in the past seven days—his complexion was pallid, his lips bloodless.
Yu Zhiling had just bathed and changed into clean inner robes. Mo Zhu hadn’t taken any of the blankets, leaving the brocade quilt entirely wrapped around her. The space between them remained starkly divided.
She lay on the inner side of the wide bed, breathing in the scent of him.
Yu Zhiling nestled into his arms, poking his nose before tilting her head up to press a kiss to his lips. Warmth bloomed in her chest as the reverse scale hanging around her neck slid to rest over her heart. She glanced down—the black scale lay against her skin, right where her pulse beat.
The gift he had promised to give her on his eighteenth birthday… was this reverse scale.
The winged serpents came of age at sixteen, but their reverse scales only fully matured by eighteen. After that, they would never change again.
The night deepened, slipping into the next day.
Yu Zhiling kissed his lips once more and whispered, “Mo Zhu… happy birthday.”
The young man opened his eyes, meeting her gaze in the heavy silence.
Yu Zhiling touched his cheek, her calloused fingertips tracing the contours of his face. "Happy birthday, Mo Zhu," she murmured.
A red string was tied around the young man's wrist. Yu Zhiling lowered her long lashes, carefully fastening it for him.
"It's a love knot—I made it myself. I didn’t know what else to give you, but I thought this might be best. It’s not valuable, but then again, you don’t seem to lack anything of material worth."
"There’s a saying among mortals—'bound together as one heart.' This red string is my promise to you. I will only ever love you, and that will never change."
Her sleeve slipped slightly, revealing an identical red string around her own wrist, resting beside the coiled green serpent bracelet. The contrast of black and red was strikingly beautiful.
It wasn’t an expensive gift, yet it was more precious than anything else he had ever received. What she had given him was her very heart.
Mo Zhu responded with a fervent kiss.
Pulling her into his arms, he brushed his lips against hers.
"Master, stay with me tonight. I’ll keep watch over you."
Yu Zhiling wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest as she closed her eyes. A faint glimmer of light flickered within the serpent bracelet.
"Alright. I’ll watch over you too."
At the break of dawn, visitors arrived at the foot of Yingshan Sect.
"The Jiang family?" Yan Shanqing, who had been awake all night, set down the scrolls in his hands with a frown. "You’re saying Jiang Kuangqiu is here?"
Ning Hengwu nodded. "Yes. Jiang Kuangqiu, the Jiang family’s ancestral matriarch."
"Who else?"
"Jiang Ciran, the current head of the Jiang family."
Yan Shanqing narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain it’s them?"
Ning Hengwu replied, "Yes. They carry the Jiang family’s jade tokens, have brought a few disciples, and presented an edict from the Immortal Alliance. Their identities have been verified."
Nowadays, approaching Yingshan Sect required prior authorization from the Immortal Alliance—only those bearing an official decree could come near the mountain.
Yan Shanqing stood and motioned for Ning Hengwu to follow. "Let’s go greet our guests."
Ning Hengwu nodded. "Understood."
The two descended to the base of the mountain, where the entire Yingshan Sect was enveloped in an impenetrable barrier. Without permission from within, no one could enter.
At the foot of the mountain, Yan Shanqing spotted a group of about a dozen people, all clad in the Jiang family’s sect robes. The Jiangs of the Central Continent cultivated the Path of Emotionlessness, and their gazes were as cold as their doctrine. Perhaps to avoid alarming Yingshan Sect, they had come with only a small retinue—yet even so, Yan Shanqing hesitated to let them in.
Standing behind the barrier, he clasped his hands in greeting. "This junior pays respects to Ancestral Matriarch Jiang."
Jiang Kuangqiu, the former head of the Jiang family, was now over eight hundred years old. Her appearance, however, resembled that of a mortal woman in her thirties, untouched by time. Years of leadership had honed her into a figure of unshakable authority.
She presented the edict. "This is the Immortal Alliance’s decree granting us passage. We’ve come to see the Jade Purity Sovereign."
Yan Shanqing glanced at the spiritual seal on the document—signed by all thirteen elders, confirming their identities.
He exchanged a look with Ning Hengwu, who gave a slight nod.
Stepping back, Yan Shanqing opened the barrier, allowing the Jiang delegation inside.
Jiang Kuangqiu led her disciples up the stone steps, flanked by Yan Shanqing, Yingshan’s sect leader.
"Little Five might still be asleep," Yan Shanqing remarked.
Jiang Kuangqiu gave a faint nod. "Then we’ll wait until she wakes."
"Why have you come? To take her back to the Jiang family?"
"If I wanted her back, would you allow it?" Jiang Kuangqiu countered lightly.
Yan Shanqing scoffed. "She doesn’t cultivate the Path of Emotionlessness. What use would she have in returning?"
"She could still take it up. There are many who switch paths midway," Jiang Kuangqiu said.
The moment the words left her lips, the air grew heavy. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yan Shanqing and Ning Hengwu’s expressions darken like storm clouds.
Not just them—even the Yingshan disciples stationed along the path had turned cold, their gazes sharp with hostility toward the Jiang family.
Jiang Kuangqiu chuckled but said nothing. Instead, the current Jiang family head, Jiang Ciran, spoke up.
"My mother was only joking. Jade Purity was raised by Yingshan—taking her back would be no different than stealing your child. The Jiang family would never do such a thing."
Yan Shanqing, still tense from the earlier exchange, replied coolly, "Then why are you here?"
Jiang Ciran answered, "We’ve come to see Yingchen’s child."
At the mention of Jiang Yingchen, silence fell over the group. Yan Shanqing glanced at Jiang Kuangqiu, but her expression remained unreadable—as if they were discussing a mere disciple, not the child she had carried for ten months.
Yan Shanqing sneered inwardly. Those who walked the Path of Emotionlessness truly were devoid of sentiment. To them, spouses were mere alliances, and blood ties existed only to continue the lineage. Had Yu Zhiling been sent to the Jiang family as a child, forced to cultivate emotionlessness, who knew what she would have become?
There was no chance he would ever let her leave with them.
Leading the guests into the Hall of Discipline, Yan Shanqing had tea served by a disciple. "Xiao Wu hasn't woken up yet. Please forgive the wait."
The Jiang family didn’t insist on having Yu Zhiling roused, calmly accepting his words and sitting quietly in the hall until she awoke.
And Yu Zhiling often slept until mid-morning.
When she woke in Mo Zhu’s arms, the serpentine youth was still deep in slumber. Having gone all night without a blanket, his Tengshe heritage kept him from feeling the cold. His long lashes rested peacefully against his cheeks.
Yu Zhiling poked at his eyelashes, then pinched his cheeks—only to be caught red-handed by her little disciple, who retaliated by nibbling on each of her fingers.
"Mo Zhu, Mo Zhu, I’m sorry, alright?"
Her disciple chuckled and pulled her into a lazy embrace, lingering in bed until the jade token at her waist lit up.
Yan Shanqing’s voice came through: "Xiao Wu, come to the Hall of Discipline."
Mo Zhu sat up, lifting Yu Zhiling into his arms as he carried her to the washroom. "Master, freshen up first. The Sect Leader may have business for you."
After washing up and changing into fresh robes, Yu Zhiling haphazardly tied up her hair and pointed at the marks on her neck. "What do we do about these? Get rid of them, quick."
Mo Zhu turned his head slightly, ears tinged red, and murmured, "Alright, I’ll help you conceal them."
Such marks were easy to erase. Mo Zhu pressed his warm spiritual energy against her skin, and soon the visible traces faded—all except one near her collarbone, close to her heart. A deliberate omission.
Yu Zhiling knew but didn’t call him out. Adjusting her sash, she smiled to herself where he couldn’t see.
Then, rising on her toes, she planted a sudden kiss on his cheek.
"I’m off. Wait for me to come back for your birthday feast—I want stir-fried pork and sweet-and-sour fish. And don’t you dare eat them without me!"
Mo Zhu touched his cheek, momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.
With so many demands, was it his birthday or hers?
Yu Zhiling stepped into the Hall of Discipline.
"Senior Brother, I’m here!"
Her voice was playful, always fond of acting spoiled around Yan Shanqing and Ning Hengwu.
Today’s robes and hair ornaments had been chosen by her disciple—a soft green dress embroidered with flowing ribbons, fresh velvet flowers adorning her hair, and dangling earrings with tasseled beads.
The moment she entered, Ning Hengwu’s eyes lit up with delight. "Xiao Wu, you look absolutely lovely today."
Yu Zhiling grinned, twirling in her skirts. "Fourth Sister made this dress, and Mo Zhu bought the flowers. Do you like them?"
Ning Hengwu nodded warmly. "Beautiful. You’re always beautiful."
Her senior siblings never failed to shower her with praise, as if everything she did was perfect in their eyes.
A soft cough came from the high platform. "Xiao Wu, we have guests."
Only then did Yu Zhiling notice the two figures seated below Yan Shanqing, flanked by over a dozen silent attendants.
It had been years since outsiders last visited Yingshan Sect—let alone the Hall of Discipline. At first glance, she’d mistaken them for Yan Shanqing’s disciples.
Hesitant, she asked, "You are…?"
Jiang Kuangqiu studied her calmly, her gaze unreadable.
When it became clear her mother wouldn’t speak, Jiang Ciran set down her teacup and answered in a measured tone, "Xiao Wu."
Yu Zhiling’s brows furrowed instantly. Yan Shanqing and Ning Hengwu’s expressions darkened.
Aside from her Yingshan seniors and the late Fuchun, only her closest friends, Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan, called her "Xiao Wu." The intimate nickname wasn’t for strangers to use.
Yet Jiang Ciran seemed oblivious to her discomfort, staring at Yu Zhiling as if seeing someone else.
"You visited the Jiang family as a child and befriended my daughter. Back then, I thought you resembled my third brother—your eyes, your nose. But the rest of you takes after your mother, Rong."
Yu Zhiling had met Jiang Yingchen and Rong. Her eyes and nose mirrored his, while her jawline and lips favored her mother’s. By now, she knew exactly who stood before her.
"Greetings, Grandmother, Eldest Aunt."
Jiang Kuangqiu set down her tea with a smile. "Since you recognized us, why didn’t you send word, even if you couldn’t visit?"
Yu Zhiling stayed silent. She’d never planned to reconnect with the Jiang family. After returning, she’d thrown herself into leading Yingshan’s disciples against demonic threats, too busy to spare them a thought.
Besides, Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan would have informed the Jiangs about Jiang Yingchen’s fate. To Yu Zhiling, Yingshan’s safety mattered far more.
Jiang Kuangqiu asked gently, "Don’t you want to come home?"
Jiang Ciran also said, "I only have one child. If you return, the position of the Jiang family head will be yours. It should have belonged to my third brother in the first place. Had it not been for his accident, I wouldn’t have temporarily taken on the role of family head."
This was an outright attempt to poach her. Before Yan Shanqing or Ning Hengwu could speak, Yu Zhiling was the first to refuse. "No need. I won’t return to the Jiang family, nor do I want to be some so-called family head. My home is in Yingshan, and my family is there too."
Yan Shanqing’s tense posture relaxed as he lazily leaned back in his chair. "If the Jiang family came here to discuss this matter, then you may leave. Little Five isn’t going anywhere."
Yu Zhiling swiftly blinked at him, her expression mischievous and endearing, drawing a chuckle from both Yan Shanqing and Ning Hengwu.
"How wonderful."
The sigh came from Jiang Kuangqiu.
She seemed to have already anticipated Yu Zhiling’s answer and showed no trace of sadness or anger. Her gaze lingered on Yu Zhiling, distant, as if she were seeing someone else through her.
"Yingchen was the only one in the Jiang family’s history to willingly shatter his Path of Emotionlessness. Since childhood, he was unlike the other Jiang descendants—too soft-hearted. And yet, his conviction in the Path of Emotionlessness was unparalleled. How could someone so tender-hearted be the most suited for cultivating such a path?"
No one knew the answer.
Jiang Kuangqiu shook her head. "The ways of the world are unpredictable. I thought it foolish of him to be trapped by love, yet I also know that your mother must have been an extraordinary woman. The one Yingchen loved must have been the very best."
Even as she spoke these gentle words, her expression remained indifferent. Though she spoke of her own deceased son, it was as if she were talking about a stranger.
Yu Zhiling had never understood the Path of Emotionlessness before, but now she did.
They truly had no emotions.
Jiang Kuangqiu stood and walked toward Yu Zhiling.
Yu Zhiling took a step back, her expression guarded.
Jiang Kuangqiu paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on Yu Zhiling. Despite knowing the girl’s aversion to the Jiang family’s cultivation of emotionlessness, she continued forward.
This time, Yu Zhiling did not retreat again, though her brows furrowed slightly as Jiang Kuangqiu stopped before her.
The former head of the Jiang family, now its revered elder, was a woman known for her decisiveness, wisdom, and valor. She had once distinguished herself in the great war between the Central Continent and the demonic clans, wielding her long blade with unmatched skill.
She raised her hand and took out a jade bracelet, then reached for Yu Zhiling’s wrist to place it on her. As the sleeve slid back, it revealed the serpent bracelet and a red string tied around Yu Zhiling’s wrist.
Jiang Kuangqiu’s gaze did not linger on the serpent bracelet but instead fixed on the red string—a lover’s knot.
For a moment, she seemed stunned. Yu Zhiling immediately withdrew her hand, pulling her sleeve down to cover it.
But Yan Shanqing and the others had seen it clearly. The red string on her wrist was unmistakably the kind exchanged between young lovers in the mortal world.
Yan Shanqing and Ning Hengwu stiffened for a second before quickly averting their eyes, pretending they hadn’t noticed.
But… who would have thought the two of them had already reached this stage? Had they already developed feelings for each other?
Jiang Kuangqiu pressed her lips together and murmured softly, "That’s good. He must treat you well."
The "he" she referred to—perhaps they all knew who it was.
Jiang Kuangqiu pressed the bracelet into Yu Zhiling’s hand.
"This is something your father left behind. He carved it himself during the time he was gravely injured after shattering his Path of Emotionlessness. It was unfinished—likely meant for your mother. I never had the chance to meet her, and now I never will. Child, take it. If you know how, complete the carving."
Yu Zhiling accepted it numbly. The jade bracelet in her palm was only half-finished.
Jiang Kuangqiu took a few steps back and shook her head. "I didn’t come here to take you away. It’s just that Yingchen has been gone for many years, and knowing he has a daughter still living… I wanted to see you. Just to see you. Knowing you’re well brings me peace."
"Child, if you ever need the Jiang family’s help in the future, don’t hesitate to ask."
"Your grandmother… will protect you."
