Duan Ziwei watched as Xu Wanci's blood dripped steadily from her left hand, his attention now wholly consumed by nothing else.
He rushed forward, intent on treating her wound.
Xu Wanci, noticing Duan Ziwei’s gaze fixed on her left hand as he strode toward her, slowly blinked before finally looking down at her own injury.
The blood had already soaked through her sleeve, staining the pale blue fabric a deep crimson. Drop by drop, it pooled on the ground, forming a small, dark puddle.
Even at the sight, her expression remained unchanged.
When Duan Ziwei reached out to touch the wound, she calmly withdrew her hand.
Her voice was indifferent. "It's just a minor injury."
Duan Ziwei abruptly lifted his head, his eyes burning with suppressed fury as he enunciated each word:
"Just a minor injury?"
Her blood was nearly drained from her body.
And all she offered was this dismissive remark.
Did she not realize that if this continued, she could bleed to death?
But—
Recalling Xu Wanci’s recent behavior, he lowered his head helplessly:
Perhaps this was exactly what she had been waiting for.
His gaze darkened.
For the first time, he recognized the jealousy festering in his heart.
That person… What was so special about him?
Worthy enough for her to follow… even unto death?
Silently, he retrieved a blood-staunching spiritual herb from his storage jade pendant. When he looked up again, his voice was soft:
"Didn’t you say you didn’t need it anymore?"
"This tree."
That day, when he had offered to enhance the tree’s spiritual rank with a treasure, she had clearly refused.
If it was no longer needed, why go to such lengths for it?
Xu Wanci’s retreating hand stilled abruptly, so distracted that she didn’t even notice when Duan Ziwei seized it.
After a brief silence, her voice betrayed no emotion:
"It’s just… habit."
A hundred years.
A hundred years was far too long—long enough to feel endless.
And the things connected to him were so few that even an illusory tree became a memory she couldn’t bear to let go of.
Duan Ziwei’s hands paused. Suppressing the ache in his chest, he applied the spiritual herb to her wound.
But before he could speak, he saw the blood still flowing relentlessly.
His eyes widened in shock, all other thoughts vanishing.
His voice was frantic:
"Why isn’t it working? The Snow-Settling Bamboo is the most effective hemostatic herb in the cultivation world—how could it possibly…"
Fail to stop the bleeding.
At that moment, Ning Menglan’s low voice cut through the air:
"This is one of the most feared poisoned weapons in the cultivation world—the Profound Nether Needle."
"Once struck by its silver needle, the victim bleeds until death."
"No spiritual herbs or pills in the cultivation world can counteract it. Only the accompanying antidote needle can neutralize the poison."
As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly, his voice laced with restrained anger as he addressed the figure standing at the entrance:
"How much longer does Young Master Moze intend to stand there and watch?"
Duan Ziwei whipped his head toward the door.
The moment he noticed the figure, it became impossible to ignore.
Clad in dark robes, his expression icy, the man stood unmoved even under the Taiqing Sect Leader’s accusation. His brows lifted slightly, but his eyes held nothing but frost.
His aura was restrained, yet it exuded an overwhelming sense of danger—merely standing there was enough to make others tremble, not daring to act rashly.
That was… Jiang Ze.
The most outstanding genius of the Jiang family’s previous generation, the Young Master Moze who had reached the Great Ascension Realm at just five hundred years old.
As if sensing Duan Ziwei’s gaze, Jiang Ze cast a fleeting glance in his direction.
A single look was enough to make Duan Ziwei’s breath hitch, forcing him to avert his eyes.
If Jiang Ze wanted to harm Xu Wanci, he wouldn’t even be able to lift a finger to stop him.
Was this… the pressure of absolute power?
Jiang Ze paid Duan Ziwei no mind.
His gaze lingered on Xu Wanci, who still hadn’t looked up, as if entirely unconcerned about her own condition. Then, indifferently, he turned away.
With a flick of his hand, a surge of dark spiritual energy shot toward a hidden figure in the air.
The next moment, a man materialized, kneeling on one knee before Jiang Ze, his left shoulder gushing blood—his condition even more gruesome than Xu Wanci’s.
Jiang Ze didn’t spare him a glance, instead addressing Ning Menglan with a perfunctory bow:
"Jiang Qi acted on his own after learning of Qiu Ning’s injury, seeking vengeance without orders. My apologies to Sect Leader Ning and—"
His eyes flicked briefly toward Xu Wanci, still bleeding. "—this fellow cultivator for the disturbance."
Ning Menglan’s sleeves flared as he responded coldly:
"Young Master Jiang has already received our apology and forgiven Xu Wanci."
"I was unaware the Jiang family held the Frostbloom Orchid in such contempt that even after obtaining it, they would still pursue retribution."
"Sect Leader Ning misunderstands." Jiang Ze’s voice was detached, his explanation hollow. "Since it was an independent act, the Jiang family had no knowledge of it."
With another wave of his hand, another surge of spiritual energy pierced Jiang Qi’s right shoulder.
"Does this satisfy Sect Leader Ning?"
His tone suggested that if Ning Menglan expressed dissatisfaction, he wouldn’t hesitate to carve a hundred more wounds into Jiang Qi without hurry.
Ning Menglan glanced at Xu Wanci, her face even paler than when she had been on Ruoxu Peak, and could no longer waste words with Jiang Ze.
Through gritted teeth, he replied:
"Satisfied."
"Now, will Young Master assist in treating my Taiqing Sect disciple?"
Jiang Ze gave a slight nod. Jiang Qi, still kneeling, struggled to his feet and passed the antidote needle to Duan Ziwei.
After catching it, Duan Ziwei glanced at Ning Menglan for confirmation before carefully applying it to Xu Wanci’s wound.
As the bleeding gradually ceased, Ning Menglan exhaled in relief.
Turning back to Jiang Ze’s cold, shadowed expression, he took a deep breath and asked:
"Might I ask the purpose of Young Master Moze’s visit to our Taiqing Sect?"
The spiritual energy that had struck the Profound Nether Needle earlier must have been Jiang Ze’s doing.
Meaning, he had been present before Jiang Qi attacked Xu Wanci.
Or perhaps, Jiang Qi had acted under his orders from the start.
He had used Xu Wanci’s life… to test her.
At this realization, Ning Menglan’s frown deepened.
Had Jiang Ze also uncovered something?
The Jiang family…
Though he had ordered Xu Wanci’s identity sealed, with his disciple Chu Qingchuan’s recent odd behavior… Given Jiang Qiuning’s intelligence, she might have already pieced it together.
Jiang Ze ignored his scrutiny. Taking a few measured steps forward, he stopped precisely seven paces from Ning Menglan and spoke with deliberate courtesy:
"Upon hearing of Qiu Ning’s recovery from severe injury, I grew concerned and came to pay my respects."
His gaze drifted once more toward Xu Wanci.
She still hadn’t looked at him—or rather, she seemed indifferent to everything unfolding around her, even her own fate.
He recalled how she had shielded that tree from the needle.
For a tree…
Hah.
With a cold smirk, he averted his eyes and continued:
"I came by to express my gratitude to the previous host of the Frost Orchid for their reluctant generosity."
"So Young Master Moze is here to offer thanks," Ning Menglan replied with a sarcastic edge. "If you had come to repay a debt of gratitude, Xu Wanci might not even be alive right now."
"Now that you've seen her and 'thanked' her, this sect leader won’t keep you any longer."
Jiang Ze remained unfazed as he countered Ning Menglan’s words: "Earlier, before I could properly express my gratitude, Fellow Daoist Xu was injured by someone from the Jiang family."
"The wound inflicted by the Nether Needle will require careful treatment for several days. If I leave now, I would find it hard to rest easy."
Though he spoke of being unable to rest easy, his expression remained as cold as ever.
In his eyes, were it not for her status, Xu Wanci wouldn’t even be worth a glance from him.
Whether it was genuine or not, no cultivator would refuse an opportunity to advance further.
If it was false, then it should simply be destroyed.
Ning Menglan understood the implication behind his words and barely suppressed his disgust.
After treating Xu Wanci like this today, Jiang Ze still wanted to use her as a means to sever his karmic ties with Immortal Venerable Qingyan.
How utterly repulsive!
Unfortunately, the Taiqing Sect could not afford to antagonize the Jiang family...
With that in mind, he forced an exaggeratedly insincere smile. "Young Master Moze has countless responsibilities to attend to. How could we trouble you with such a trivial matter?"
"As a disciple of the Taiqing Sect, this sect leader will naturally take good care of her. There’s no need to trouble you, Young Master."
"Sect Leader Ning, you misunderstand," Jiang Ze replied, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "The Nether Needle is, after all, one of the most potent weapons in the cultivation world. If her condition were to worsen, causing Fellow Daoist Xu further harm..."
"That would be my fault."
Ning Menglan caught the veiled threat in his words, and his fake smile vanished instantly.
Even knowing Jiang Ze wouldn’t harm Xu Wanci again, he remained wary.
"If the Young Master insists on this kindness, then I shall arrange accommodations for you—"
"No need." Jiang Ze didn’t even glance around before declaring, "This place is quiet enough."
With a wave of his hand, a lavish residence—complete with pavilions, terraces, and a miniature mountain stream—materialized not far from the courtyard.
From there, he could clearly observe Xu Wanci’s every move.
Once the residence was in place, Jiang Ze didn’t look at Ning Menglan but instead instinctively turned his gaze toward Xu Wanci, who had not spared him a single glance the entire time.
Even now, the lingering pain from the Nether Needle’s bone-melting agony still coursed through her body.
Yet her expression remained blank, her eyes fixed on the Illusionary Blossom Tree before her.
As if nothing around her mattered.
Wherever Jiang Ze went, he was always the center of attention.
He had seen every kind of gaze—awe, fear, flattery—but never indifference.
He withdrew his gaze and, before Ning Menglan could voice another refusal, remarked coolly:
"The peace we enjoy today is only due to Immortal Venerable Qingyan’s sacrifice—offering his life to seal the heavens."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xu Wanci’s breath hitch.
Turning fully toward her, he continued, "To trade soul and body for the salvation of the cultivation world—such a heroic act commands nothing but reverence."
Xu Wanci seemed to stop hearing his words altogether.
Her brows furrowed in confusion, and a sharp pain in her chest made her instinctively raise her right hand.
Duan Ziwei, unaware of her connection to Immortal Venerable Qingyan, misinterpreted her gesture.
"Is your left arm hurting too much?" he asked anxiously, frowning as he rummaged through his storage jade for pain-relieving pills.
At his words, Xu Wanci obediently moved her hand from her chest to her left arm, like a puppet following orders.
She murmured,
"It hurts."
"So much."
Jiang Ze saw through every motion—how her right hand now rested nowhere near the actual wound.
With a derisive scoff, he turned and strode out of the wooden gate, his steps just a fraction quicker than when he had arrived.
Recalling the words the Jiang family head had spoken to him before his visit, his gaze turned disdainful.
Love?
Hah.
