Witnessing Xu Wanci get injured, Jiang Ze's grip on the teacup in the Martial Viewing Pavilion tightened abruptly, veins faintly visible on the back of his hand.
It was rare for him to show such unrestrained emotion.
His gaze remained fixed on the deep, bone-exposing wounds on Xu Wanci's left hand.
After the Xuanming Needle incident...
She had never been this severely injured in front of him again.
Even during their sparring sessions, he had always carefully controlled his strength...
Jiang Ze watched as the crowd rushed to Xu Wanci's side, then slowly averted his eyes:
That shade of red... was truly an eyesore.
On the dueling platform, the moment the spiritual barrier descended, Jiang Qiuning rushed forward without hesitation.
She reached Xu Wanci first. Though her fingertips trembled slightly, her movements as she applied the medicinal powder were methodical, without a trace of panic.
Only after confirming that the bleeding had stopped and the wounds were gradually healing did she exhale in relief, her right hand dropping heavily to her side.
How many times had Xu Wanci been gravely injured in front of her now?
Jiang Qiuning closed her eyes in a daze:
Once during the Mo Shuang Sacred Orchid incident.
Once during the Xuanming Needle incident.
And now, yet another time.
Twice, it had been related to her. This time, though unrelated, she was still helpless to prevent it.
At that moment, Xie Tingbai also arrived by Xu Wanci's side.
With a worried glance at the injuries on her left hand, he sighed and placed a freshly retrieved pill into Jiang Qiuning's palm:
"This is a Zilin Pill I refined. Dissolve it with spiritual energy—it can alleviate pain, replenish qi, and stabilize the meridians."
Jiang Qiuning looked up at him briefly before silently accepting the pill.
Ning Menglan, who had just arrived, watched as Jiang Qiuning applied the Zilin Pill to Xu Wanci's wounds, which finally began to heal at a visible pace.
Lin Hao's wind blades were sharp, but fortunately, they lacked erratic spiritual energy, making treatment relatively straightforward.
What left Ning Menglan perplexed—or perhaps frustrated—was Xu Wanci's sword heart:
Why had she chosen such a sword path?
Once a sword heart was forged, it wouldn't shatter unless she suffered a trauma even more unbearable than before.
But this sword path...
Aside from ensuring victory, did it offer any benefits at all?
If it were like her previous matches, where she could overwhelm her opponents with sheer swordsmanship, injuries would naturally be minimal.
But if she encountered an evenly matched opponent like today, this "win at all costs" approach would only endanger herself.
What did victory matter if she couldn't guarantee her own survival?
Such a perilous sword path—
Did she truly, as before, have no interest whatsoever in the Great Dao?
For the first time, Ning Menglan found himself questioning Xu Wanci's recent actions:
If she had no intention of pursuing the Great Dao, then why was she cultivating so desperately?
Yet, seeing the unreadable calm in Xu Wanci's eyes, he ultimately held his tongue.
As the sect leader, his concerns extended beyond just Xu Wanci.
With that thought, he frowned and turned his gaze toward Lin Hao in the distance.
Xu Wanci's final strike had avoided Lin Hao's vitals. Though his injuries were serious, they weren't life-threatening.
While targeting Xu Wanci's wounded hand was unsportsmanlike, so long as no underhanded tactics were used in the sect competition, there was little room for criticism.
Ning Menglan waved a hand, signaling nearby disciples to escort Lin Hao back to the Five Elements Peak for treatment.
Beside him, the Second Elder furrowed her brows slightly, a faint worry in her eyes:
She had thought Xu Wanci had moved past the Immortal Venerable incident, but...
"Wanci, you..."
Hearing the Second Elder's voice, Xu Wanci lifted her head and offered a small, composed smile.
"I'm fine, Elder. There's no need to worry."
She wasn't lying.
To her, these injuries were far lighter than those from the Xuanming Needle.
After the initial sharp pain came numbness.
The burning agony of the Xuanming Needle had lasted seven full days.
Soon after, apart from Ning Menglan, who had to oversee the competition, the Grand Elder and Second Elder both departed. Jiang Qiuning and Xie Tingbai escorted the heavily injured Xu Wanci back to the Ten Thousand Swords Peak.
By the time Chu Qingchuan emerged victorious—battered but triumphant—over Shen Wenxin, all he saw was his master's solitary figure.
The night was still.
Xu Wanci sat by the Dark Jade Table, her gaze lowered to her left hand.
The wounds had healed, leaving only a faint ache.
Tomorrow, her opponent would be Chu Qingchuan.
The protagonist of the original story—blessed with extraordinary fortune, transcending the mundane, capable of turning certain death into rebirth.
Xu Wanci's eyes were icy and analytical as she studied her hand:
Her left hand was her weakness, a fact now known to all.
With just one day, no matter what she did, she couldn't restore it to match her right hand.
She blinked slowly, her resolve unwavering:
Then she would disregard it.
Ignore its existence. Ignore all its pain.
If she refused to acknowledge it, her left hand would cease to be a weakness. Instead, like today, it might become her trump card for victory.
With that thought, she closed her eyes:
She was now one step away from claiming the championship.
Losing would still allow her to choose the Three-Leaf Lotus, but how could that compare to the impact of selecting it as the undisputed victor?
Moreover, given her "devotion" to the Immortal Venerable, how could she tolerate even the slightest uncertainty?
To lose was to step into an abyss.
From the moment she arrived in this world of cultivation, her only option was to win.
Just like her sword heart.
Suddenly, she sensed a gaze upon her.
She opened her eyes and turned toward its source.
Amidst the darkness, Jiang Ze stood clad in black robes, his eyes as deep and unfathomable as ink.
His gaze swept over Xu Wanci's left hand, unreadable for a fleeting moment before cooling once more.
He approached unhurriedly, making no mention of her injuries. Instead, he offered a detached compliment:
"To reforged your sword heart within a month—impressive."
Xu Wanci didn't rise. She quietly averted her eyes, her tone polite and composed as ever:
"My thanks, Young Master Mo Ze."
Having sparred with her for a month, Jiang Ze was perhaps the person in the cultivation world who understood her sword path best.
And the one most capable of predicting how she would face Chu Qingchuan.
Jiang Ze had never involved himself in the karma of others.
But—
His eyes lingered on Xu Wanci's pallid complexion and those snow-cold yet eerily tranquil eyes. His fingers twitched imperceptibly before he looked away, indifferent:
The injuries from the Xuanming Needle... were ultimately tied to him.
He couldn't simply ignore them.
Jiang Ze walked to the Dark Jade Table and took a seat beside Xu Wanci.
Pouring himself a cup of tea, his voice was cool and light:
"The competition resumes tomorrow."
Xu Wanci didn't look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the dense darkness beyond.
Her voice was soft, yet brimming with unshakable determination.
"I will win."
Jiang Ze heard the steel in her words. His grip on the teacup tightened slightly.
He thought impassively:
Her sword heart was set.
This was her choice.
There was no reason for him to care.
At worst, she'd be gravely injured—the Taiqing Sect wouldn't let anything truly happen to her.
Jiang Ze lowered his eyes. For some reason, the image of Xu Wanci's injuries today flashed unbidden in his mind.
That shade of red... truly was an eyesore.
Amidst the quiet night, Jiang Ze's voice was clear and cold:
"Legends speak of a Soul-Severing Fruit in the Fallen Demon Abyss. Those who obtain it may glimpse the workings of fate."
"During the Unity Stage, I went there despite the Jiang family's objections."
Jiang Ze rarely spoke of his past to anyone. He took a composed sip of spiritual tea before continuing,
"Later, my soul was damaged, and I spent years recovering."
"Some things..."
There was no need to rush.
Before he could finish, he sensed the sudden stillness in the breath of the person beside him.
Xu Wanci turned to look at him intently, her voice carrying a faint, almost imperceptible tremor:
"Did it hurt?"
This was the first time Jiang Ze had heard anything other than calm emptiness in Xu Wanci's voice.
Her words held—
Concern.
Concern for him.
His heartbeat faltered uncontrollably for a moment.
Yet, as he registered the slight disorder in his pulse, he felt no real aversion to it.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it met hers.
Xu Wanci's eyes held a fragile tenderness, fixed on him yet somehow seeing right through him.
What she saw was a figure from a century ago—a soul long extinguished.
The pain she asked about belonged to that person, not him.
Everything she cared about had nothing to do with him.
In that instant, Jiang Ze listened to his own heartbeat slow to an unbearable crawl.
As if plunged into an icy abyss.
