Jiang Ze had always maintained an aloof and indifferent demeanor, as if utterly unmoved by any praise or flattery.
Yet—
Talent and cultivation were his greatest sources of pride.
Even without the prestige of the Jiang family, even stripped of all other accolades, the mere fact that he had reached the Great Ascension Realm at just four hundred years old was enough to place him at the pinnacle of the cultivation world, revered by countless.
But Xu Wanci had just…
Three hundred years was an eternity.
Jiang Ze turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze fixed on Xu Wanci, eyes brimming with icy hostility.
His voice was low and deliberate: "Oh?"
Before Ning Menglan could even attempt to console Xu Wanci, he heard the barely restrained fury in Jiang Ze’s tone.
Noticing the darkening expression on Jiang Ze’s face, he cleared his throat.
Only when Jiang Ze looked at him did he speak meaningfully:
"Back then…"
As if recalling something, he glanced at Xu Wanci, who stood as still as a porcelain doll, and withheld the name, simply adding lightly, "It took nearly fifty years to advance from the Unity Realm to the Great Ascension Realm."
Finally, he steered the conversation back with a smile.
"So, for the Young Master to break through from Unity to Great Ascension within three hundred years is already a feat that places him above his peers, unrivaled among the elite!"
Though these words seemed like consolation, each one was a knife twisting in Jiang Ze’s heart.
He prided himself on his unparalleled talent, always standing above his contemporaries.
Yet there were a select few—especially that person—who remained insurmountable peaks he could never surpass.
Despite his usual coldness, Jiang Ze had always maintained impeccable courtesy. But for the first time, he departed without a word of farewell, his sleeves flicked dismissively in an undignified exit.
Jiang Qiuning watched his retreating figure, then hastily bowed to Ning Menglan and Xu Wanci before hurrying after him.
She knew Jiang Ze was capricious by nature, rarely considering consequences…
She feared he might hold Xu Wanci’s words against her, even test her again in retaliation.
So she quickly explained, "Uncle, don’t misunderstand."
"Xu Wanci was merely lamenting the length of three hundred years—there was no deeper meaning…"
For Xu Wanci, who had lost her beloved, even a single day was unbearably long—let alone a century, or three.
Her explanation only stoked Jiang Ze’s anger further.
He shot her a frigid glance, his voice icy:
"Don’t you have anything better to do?"
Jiang Qiuning frowned, knowing words were futile now. She clasped her hands and withdrew.
After five steps, she couldn’t help but pause, murmuring softly:
"A single century nearly drove her mad."
"Three would be unbearable."
Jiang Ze’s steps slowed imperceptibly at her words, though his expression remained indifferent.
In the courtyard.
Ning Menglan’s smile was genuine and satisfied, his earlier irritation at Jiang Ze now considerably soothed.
Jiang Ze was indeed gifted, but across the entire cultivation world, who could compare to… the Immortal Venerable Qingyan?
At this thought, he instinctively turned to Xu Wanci.
In mere moments, she had already schooled her emotions back into perfect composure.
She inclined her head slightly, her gaze respectful yet distant: "Sect Leader."
Ning Menglan noted the weariness clinging to her:
"Wanci, rest well today."
Between the grievous injury from the Netherfrost Needle and the disruptions caused by Jiang Ze and Jiang Qiuning, she had endured enough.
Now that matters were settled, it was time for her to recuperate.
Ning Menglan rose to leave.
Then, Xu Wanci suddenly picked up the Sunwarm Jade from the table.
Though she tried to mask it, exhaustion seeped into her voice:
"Sect Leader, please return this jade to Young Master Jiang on my behalf."
Ning Menglan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the sight of the jade.
He had been shortsighted—focusing only on stacking defensive artifacts on Xu Wanci, neglecting the threat of poison.
Often, poison was far deadlier than any wound.
Though Jiang Qiuning’s methods were underhanded, her apology gift was at least useful.
For the first time, he found her slightly more tolerable.
Ning Menglan waved a hand dismissively. "The Jiang family dared to harm you with the Netherfrost Needle—they must pay the price."
"You were grievously injured. A mere Sunwarm Jade is hardly sufficient…"
Seeing Xu Wanci’s indifference, as if her wounds meant nothing to her, he changed tactics:
"If you return the jade, Young Master Jiang may be consumed by guilt—it could hinder her cultivation in the future."
Though he had known Xu Wanci for only a few days, he recognized the kindness hidden beneath her despair.
Even in death, she considered others’ feelings—how could she let Jiang Qiuning bear such remorse?
As expected, Xu Wanci’s grip on the jade loosened slightly at his words.
Ning Menglan pressed his advantage:
"The Sunwarm Jade is precious, but to the Jiang family, it’s nothing extraordinary."
"If you dislike it, just tuck it away in your storage pouch."
Xu Wanci felt the jade’s warmth against her palm and sighed inwardly.
Lowering her eyes, she acquiesced with a slight bow:
"As you wish."
A talisman drifted down from the sky, landing precisely before Xu Wanci.
Ever since Jiang Ze had taken up residence across from her courtyard, even in the privacy of her own home—even when she sensed no eyes upon her—she maintained the same cool detachment as in public.
Fortunately, aloofness came naturally to her, reminiscent of her past self, so it wasn’t difficult.
Thus, when the talisman descended, her expression betrayed no surprise or confusion.
She merely caught it with graceful composure.
Unfolding it, her gaze froze at the words inscribed.
An invitation—to the Taiqing Sect’s Grand Competition, to be held in a month.
The Grand Competition was held once every decade, with lavish rewards.
Outstanding performers could earn the favor of peak masters—even the Sect Leader—and become their personal disciples.
Xu Wanci paid no heed to that. Her eyes were fixed on the prize listed at the very bottom.
Amidst the high-grade spirit treasures and supreme elixirs coveted by countless cultivators, her attention snagged on the most inconspicuous item: the Three-Leaf Lotus.
The top twenty disciples would receive rewards, ranked in order of merit.
But only the top ten prizes held real value, with the top three being the most exceptional.
The rest, though coveted by ordinary disciples, were mostly fourth or fifth-grade artifacts—fillers, really.
The Three-Leaf Lotus was among them.
After a long silence, she closed her eyes, veiling all emotion.
The Three-Leaf Lotus… So it appeared during this competition.
In the original timeline, Chu Qingchuan had saved a severely injured Taiqing Sect disciple, who later gifted him the Three-Leaf Lotus out of gratitude.
Everyone, including Chu Qingchuan himself, had assumed it was merely a fourth-grade artifact with calming properties.
Until one time, when he was severely injured in a secret realm, his soul resonated with the Three-Leaf Lotus.
It was then that he discovered the Three-Leaf Lotus was a treasure left behind by Immortal Venerable Qingyan, capable of solidifying the soul and piercing through illusions.
And it was this very Three-Leaf Lotus that helped him escape the layers of illusions.
At this thought, Xu Wanci’s heartbeat suddenly quickened.
Solidifying the soul and piercing through illusions—these were precisely what she needed most right now.
She could maintain her facade while awake, but what about when she wasn’t?
The world of cultivation had too many ways to render someone unconscious: secret realms, illusions, even the art of dream invasion.
This time, it was Jiang Ze who tested her, using the Profound Nether Needle.
But what about next time?
If someone used illusions to probe her, how could she remain lucid?
Though her surroundings seemed peaceful and stable now, danger lurked at every step.
A single misstep, and she would face the wrath of the Jiang family and the entire Taiqing Sect.
Before any mishap occurred, she had to methodically patch every flaw.
The Three-Leaf Lotus was the perfect solution to seal those gaps.
Moreover—
The Three-Leaf Lotus of Immortal Venerable Qingyan was the best excuse for her, who had once been "utterly broken," to pick up cultivation again.
Xu Wanci slowly opened her eyes, gathering spiritual energy in her palm as she carefully wrote her name stroke by stroke on a talisman.
In the next moment, the talisman dissolved into a shower of glowing sparks.
On the plaque for the Taiqing Sect’s grand competition, the name "Xu Wanci" silently appeared, lost among countless others.
Under the Illusionary Beauty Tree.
Xu Wanci suppressed her body’s instincts with all her might, practicing the most fundamental sword technique of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect—the Origin-Returning Sword Art—over and over, according to her own understanding.
Once, twice, thrice…
The wound on her left hand, struck by the Profound Nether Needle, had yet to heal. The vigorous movements made it burn as if scorched by spiritual flames.
Xu Wanci blinked slowly, as if realizing something:
When her spiritual energy flowed correctly, the burning sensation in her left hand seemed to intensify.
And so, she continued, using pain as her guide, stumbling through the sword forms.
Time was running out.
She had to rebuild—or even relearn—this body’s instinctive mastery of the sword within a month.
The original owner of this body, tempered by the Inkfrost Sacred Orchid, had talent second only to the story’s protagonists. Combined with the countless rare treasures accumulated in her body during this time…
No matter what, for the sake of survival,
She had to give her all in the sect’s grand competition.
Even when she sensed someone’s gaze upon her, Xu Wanci didn’t stop.
Jiang Ze watched her sword practice with cold, mocking eyes:
"After your sword heart shattered, have you even forgotten how to hold a sword?"
He couldn’t care less why Xu Wanci had picked up the sword again or why she was so desperate to master the forms through such reckless training.
Arms crossed, his frown deepened the longer he watched.
Finally, as if he could bear it no longer, his voice turned icy:
"Did no one ever teach you how to wield a sword?"
Xu Wanci’s movements froze abruptly.
She didn’t turn around, answering almost reflexively, "They did."
How could there not have been?
Her gaze drifted into the distance, lost in thought, as a faint smile touched her lips.
It was the first time Jiang Ze had seen Xu Wanci smile—not the distant, polite kind, nor the weary indifference she often wore.
This smile was light, clear, and captivating, her eyes shimmering with a soft glow.
But then, slowly, that smile faded into something bittersweet, the light in her eyes dimming.
Watching her expression, Jiang Ze suddenly realized who had taught her the sword.
For some reason, the bitterness in Xu Wanci’s smile irritated him.
He averted his gaze, his voice cool:
"Then it seems they weren’t a very good teacher."
At this, Xu Wanci lifted her head, her eyes meeting Jiang Ze’s for the first time.
Her voice was quiet, tinged with sorrow:
"No."
"It’s that I wasn’t a good disciple."
