In the Ink Rain Pavilion.
Jiang Ze stood clad in black robes, his gaze indifferent as he looked at the scenery beyond the pavilion. Behind him, Jiang Qiuning stood with a grave expression. She had just learned of everything that had transpired on the Ten Thousand Swords Peak.
When she had sent word to her father, she had already guessed who the person arriving at the Taiqing Sect would be. Over the past thousand years, Jiang Ze was the most talented genius the Jiang family had ever produced—her uncle. If there was one person in the Jiang family who could ascend to immortality, it would be him, and no one else.
So, the one who came to the Taiqing Sect could only be him.
She had thought that her uncle, devoted as he was to cultivation, would protect Xu Wanci once he learned of her identity—even if he was aloof and cold by nature, even if he didn’t befriend her, he would at least…
But recalling the news she had just received, Jiang Qiuning raised her head, her voice carrying a faint yet unmistakable note of reproach:
"Uncle, today at Ten Thousand Swords Peak…"
"What of it?" Before she could finish, the man before her interrupted carelessly. He turned slowly, his deep, icy eyes sweeping over her with indifference.
"Have you come to question me?"
"Qiuning wouldn’t dare." She knew Jiang Ze’s temperament well—even her father, the head of the Jiang family, wouldn’t dare use the word "question" in his presence. Though she was the Jiang family’s young mistress, he was still her elder, his status equal to her father’s.
She took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart.
"It’s just that Xu Wanci’s identity is special. Forming a good relationship with her would be beneficial for karmic ties."
Jiang Qiuning knew Jiang Ze cared most about cultivation, so she could only appeal to that.
"If something like today were to happen again, I fear it might affect Uncle’s opportunities."
Jiang Ze glanced at her, his expression as cold and unmoved as ever. His voice was icy.
"If someone seeks death, what does it have to do with me?"
"But it’s because she…" Jiang Qiuning’s voice softened as she recalled the events of the past few days involving Xu Wanci. "Her spirit has suffered a severe blow."
"After learning of… that news, her sword heart shattered. Just days ago, she used Soul-Severing Bone on herself."
"After the Soul-Severing Bone, she didn’t even rest before extracting the Inkfrost Saint Orchid from her own flesh and blood."
By the end, her voice trembled slightly.
"And today, there was the Netherfrost Needle…"
She looked up at Jiang Ze earnestly, her gaze filled with both heartache and pleading.
"She truly cannot endure any more injuries."
Jiang Ze listened to her heartfelt words, his cold eyes laced with undisguised mockery.
For the sake of love.
Pathetic.
Foolish.
Jiang Qiuning heard his derisive scoff. She took another deep breath and could only return to the topic of cultivation.
"Great Dao opportunities are rare."
She bowed respectfully, as a junior should. "I implore Uncle to treasure them."
"Qiuning takes her leave."
As she turned to go, Jiang Ze suddenly spoke.
"You’re going to see Xu Wanci."
Jiang Qiuning’s steps faltered, a sense of foreboding rising in her chest.
Before she could respond, she saw Jiang Ze step beside her from the corner of her eye, his voice carrying a subtle hint of malice.
"Let’s go together."
"I’d like to see my… opportunity again."
Jiang Qiuning stiffened, forcing down her unease. "Uncle, didn’t you already see her today—"
Before she could finish, Jiang Ze had already walked out of the pavilion. She hurriedly summoned her spiritual energy and followed.
In the courtyard.
Ning Menglan sat beside the Dark Jade Table, stroking his beard as he engaged in… awkward small talk with Xu Wanci.
The conversation revolved around nothing of consequence:
"The weather is lovely today."
"The weather was nice yesterday too."
"This table is quite beautiful."
"The wooden chairs are exquisitely crafted."
Ning Menglan was exhausted from forcing these topics.
He didn’t want to do this, but he had forty-nine defensive artifacts to place on Xu Wanci—one by one.
So, he had no choice but to distract her while subtly layering the artifacts onto her.
Just then, he heard footsteps at the entrance and looked over like a man spotting salvation.
But the moment he saw who it was, his hopeful expression instantly shifted into one of dignified solemnity.
He didn’t rise, merely nodding slightly at the newcomers.
"Young Master Moze, Young Mistress Jiang."
Jiang Qiuning returned the greeting hastily, her eyes immediately seeking out Xu Wanci with concern.
When she had last seen her at Ruoxu Peak, Xu Wanci’s complexion had already been deathly pale, almost unbearable to look at.
Now, not only was her face devoid of color, but even her wrists, visible beneath her sleeves, were so pale they seemed translucent.
Her entire being exuded exhaustion and illness, yet her lips still held a gentle, serene smile.
When she looked at Jiang Qiuning, her gaze was calm and distant, carrying only quiet weariness—not a trace of blame.
A strange, aching emotion surged in Jiang Qiuning’s chest.
This was… guilt.
Every injury Xu Wanci had suffered these past few days was because of her.
With that thought, she didn’t bother with pleasantries for Ning Menglan. Instead, she strode quickly to Xu Wanci’s side.
The closer she got, the more she could feel Xu Wanci’s frailty.
Her aura was so faint it was nearly imperceptible, and her body temperature looked frigid even from a distance—let alone to the touch.
Jiang Qiuning’s gaze instinctively fell to Xu Wanci’s injured left hand.
It rested on the edge of the Dark Jade Table, so bloodless it seemed almost transparent, like fragile glass that might shatter at the slightest touch.
After being struck by the Netherfrost Needle, even with immediate treatment, the wound would continue to burn for days.
Jiang Qiuning closed her eyes, guilt weighing heavily on her. Her voice trembled faintly.
"Fellow Daoist Xu’s injuries today are the Jiang family’s fault—and mine most of all."
"It was my negligence that led to your suffering." She opened her eyes, meeting Xu Wanci’s gaze with remorse.
"Injuries?" Xu Wanci blinked, genuinely puzzled. "But I’m still alive, my soul intact. How is this a serious injury?"
She truly didn’t consider it severe.
Apart from the pain she had long grown accustomed to, the Netherfrost Needle—now neutralized—had done her no lasting harm.
Hearing her reply, Jiang Qiuning froze.
Not all grave wounds were physical.
Every injury Xu Wanci had endured these past few days would horrify any cultivator—yet she treated them as nothing.
Was this what it meant to lose the will to live? To become indifferent even to pain?
Jiang Qiuning clenched her fists. The warmth of the object in her right hand brought her back to herself.
Carefully, she placed a half-step immortal artifact—the Sunheart Jade, capable of neutralizing a hundred poisons—on the table beside Xu Wanci.
"This is my apology. I hope Fellow Daoist Xu will accept it."
Xu Wanci didn’t even glance at the jade. She only sighed softly, her voice gentle but firm.
"I am unharmed. I never lost consciousness, so this isn’t a serious injury. There’s no need for an apology or a gift."
Jiang Qiuning looked up, meeting Xu Wanci’s eyes directly.
Beneath the surface of warmth and patience, in the depths of her gaze, she saw only desolation—a barren wasteland of silence.
Yes. To Xu Wanci now, nothing mattered anymore.
Even a treasure like the Sunheart Jade, coveted by countless cultivators, might only feel like a shackle to her.
A hindrance that kept her from achieving her heart's desire.
Xu Wanci was too gentle—so gentle that her very existence seemed to persist only because of the expectations of those around her.
She could never bring herself to reject the kindness and concern of others, even when it became a burden to her.
Not far away, Jiang Ze watched the scene unfold with a cold sneer.
His voice was icy and detached:
"In the far northern lands, there lies a place where demons fall—a place that erodes both the soul and flesh of cultivators..."
"Young Master Moze—" Ning Menglan's chest tightened at his words, and he hastily cut him off.
If Xu Wanci actually took his words to heart, the consequences would be unthinkable!
This Jiang Ze—really!
He cursed him a thousand times in his heart, yet his expression remained polite:
"I’ve long heard of Young Master Moze’s unparalleled talent. After years apart, your cultivation has only grown more profound. Surely, within a few centuries, you’ll be ready to ascend to the Tribulation Transcension realm."
At his words, Jiang Ze finally shifted his gaze away from Xu Wanci and replied indifferently:
"You flatter me, Sect Leader Ning."
His talent was peerless, and as a scion of the Jiang family, he had been showered with praise since childhood. Wherever he went, adulation followed.
It had taken him only a century to grow from accustomed to weary of such compliments.
Ning Menglan smiled with practiced diplomacy, his flattery flowing effortlessly, as if rehearsed a thousand times:
"Young Master is too modest."
"Forming your Golden Core at thirty, reaching Nascent Soul by fifty, and achieving Unity within a century—such speed is unrivaled, leaving no room for competition!"
"And in just three hundred years, you broke through Unity to ascend to the Mahayana realm!"
"Three hundred years!"
"Such talent is unheard of in the cultivation world for a millennium!"
Jiang Ze listened to Ning Menglan’s praise with detached indifference, his expression cool.
Then, as if recalling something, he tilted his head slightly toward Xu Wanci, his gaze laced with lofty arrogance.
At that moment, Xu Wanci seemed to sense his stare and slowly lifted her head.
She looked at him—yet not quite at him, as if her eyes were fixed on something beyond, something intangible.
Her voice was soft, tinged with sorrow:
"Three hundred years."
"What a long, long time."
Jiang Ze’s face stiffened instantly. The hidden pride and arrogance in his eyes shattered abruptly:
Three hundred years to reach Mahayana... and she called that long??!!
