Today was the final match of the sect's grand competition.
At the break of dawn, disciples had already gathered around the martial platform, their eyes alight with excitement as they discussed among themselves:
"Who do you think will win?"
"Isn’t it obvious? Senior Brother Chu, of course!"
"Senior Brother Chu can even challenge Nascent Soul Dao Lords across realms and still stand a chance at victory. How could Xu Wanci, merely at the Golden Core stage, possibly defeat him?"
"Xu Wanci performed well in the competition, but she only narrowly defeated Senior Brother Lin. Senior Brother Chu will likely overpower her within thirty moves."
Another disciple quickly chimed in:
"Exactly! Senior Brother Chu is already renowned throughout the cultivation world. Without the Taiqing Sect, who would even know Xu Wanci’s name?"
"Besides, let’s not forget—Xu Wanci has a weakness. Her left hand…"
The disciple abruptly fell silent, recalling how Xu Wanci’s left hand had been drenched in blood yesterday, the wounds so deep the bone was visible.
Even if he prided himself on being unyielding, could he have endured such pain without so much as a whimper, let alone keeping his expression unchanged?
The thought made his attitude toward Xu Wanci grow more complicated.
He cleared his throat and changed the subject:
"I wonder which treasure Senior Brother Chu will choose after winning?"
The question immediately sparked enthusiasm among the disciples:
"Senior Brother Chu’s cultivation is fire-aligned. Without a doubt, he’ll pick the Bloodmist Spirit Flame—one of the Nine Great Spirit Flames—to refine his techniques!"
Another shook his head in disagreement. "Not necessarily. The Windshifter Needle is a half-step immortal artifact, capable of wounding even Great Ascension cultivators! If it were me, I’d choose that!"
A disciple with inside knowledge smirked mysteriously. "Senior Brother Chu has no shortage of artifacts. The Windshifter Needle isn’t even worth his attention."
"I’ve heard rumors that Senior Brother Chu might already possess a divine artifact!"
"I’ve heard the same!"
The disciples exchanged glances before one of them flicked open a folding fan and waved it leisurely.
"In that case, Xu Wanci will probably settle for the Windshifter Needle."
A young, pretty-faced disciple tilted her head in confusion.
"Why wouldn’t Xu Wanci choose the Nascent Soul Tempering Pill? It’s an eighth-grade pill with an eighty percent chance of successfully forming a Nascent Soul."
"She’s already at the late Golden Core stage. In another century, she’ll be ready to form her Nascent Soul—that pill would be perfect for her."
A voice immediately retorted, "With Xu Wanci’s talent, she doesn’t need external aids to form a Nascent Soul."
"But what if she doesn’t pick any of these three and chooses another treasure instead?"
The crowd burst into laughter.
Impossible!
In the sect’s grand competition, the only truly valuable rewards were the Bloodmist Spirit Flame, the Windshifter Needle, and the eighth-grade Nascent Soul Tempering Pill.
The rest, while rare, were hardly worth the attention of inner sect disciples.
Everyone dismissed her question as a joke.
Now, only the time it took for an incense stick to burn remained before the final battle.
Jiang Qiuning stood at the front of the viewing area, silently staring at the high platform.
At this moment, she couldn’t decide who she wanted to win.
But she knew one thing—she didn’t want to see Xu Wanci injured again.
Xu Wanci… Her body couldn’t endure another severe wound.
Above the martial platform, twenty treasures hovered midair, their spiritual light shimmering brilliantly for all to admire.
Among them, the Bloodmist Spirit Flame, the Windshifter Needle, and the Nascent Soul Tempering Pill occupied the center. Even encased in protective barriers, their overwhelming spiritual energy was palpable.
Yet, no one on the high platform spared them a glance.
Ning Menglan, the sect elders, and the peak lords all stared intently at the martial platform, their expressions grave and complex.
Until yesterday, no one had expected Xu Wanci to reach the finals.
A sword cultivator with a shattered sword heart, who had forged a new sword intent and reforged her sword core in less than two months.
Who had then defeated countless elite disciples of the Taiqing Sect to stand in the final match of the grand competition.
It sounded like something out of an implausible tale.
A pity, really.
Ning Menglan sighed softly.
He knew his personal disciple’s abilities. But Xu Wanci, with her newly reforged sword heart and exposed weakness, was no match for Chu Qingchuan.
The elders and peak lords around him shared the same sentiment.
No one believed Xu Wanci could win.
Xie Tingbai subtly observed the expressions around him. More than the competition itself, he was intrigued by the shifting attitudes toward Xu Wanci.
After her severe injury yesterday, the way people regarded her had changed—just slightly.
His gaze flicked toward the viewing pavilion.
Jiang Ze, who had never missed a single match since the competition began, still hadn’t arrived.
Xie Tingbai withdrew his gaze and calmly turned his attention back to the martial platform.
Just as the barrier around the platform sealed shut, a faint surge of spiritual energy emanated from the viewing pavilion.
Sensing Jiang Ze’s presence, Xie Tingbai’s lips curled in a thoughtful smile.
On the martial platform, Chu Qingchuan stood solemnly, his gaze fixed on his opponent, emotions churning in his chest.
Xu Wanci wore a simple blue robe, her long black hair tied back with a blue ribbon—no other adornments in sight.
She met his gaze calmly, her eyes as still as undisturbed water.
Chu Qingchuan’s thoughts tangled further.
Had it only been two months? He could barely remember what she used to look like.
The figure who once trailed behind him, overjoyed at a mere glance from him, had been replaced by the woman before him.
No matter the past, now… he didn’t want to hurt her.
"Junior Sister Xu," he began, his voice tinged with persuasion, "the martial platform is no place for mercy. You’ve suffered repeated injuries these past few days. Why not withdraw and—"
Before he could finish, the woman who once obeyed his every word coldly raised her spiritual sword, its tip aimed directly at his heart.
"Senior Brother Chu," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, "let us begin."
The moment Xu Wanci swung her sword, Chu Qingchuan exhaled a resigned sigh and countered with his Thousand Extinction Flames.
Xu Wanci shifted from offense to defense, blocking the flames with her blade.
The scorching spiritual energy searing through her right hand made her grip tighten. Her expression remained composed, but a flicker of wariness passed through her eyes.
So fast.
They had moved almost simultaneously, yet his Thousand Extinction Flames had reached her a fraction sooner.
No wonder this technique, described in the original text, allowed him to challenge opponents above his level.
Even the first form—Thousand Extinction Flames—was already formidable.
Sensing flames roaring toward her from behind, Xu Wanci sidestepped to the right and slashed without hesitation.
Despite her reflexes, the edges of her right sleeve still bore scorch marks.
Chu Qingchuan’s eyes flashed with surprise at her evasion, but his movements never faltered.
Two streams of Thousand Extinction Flames crisscrossed through the air, hurtling toward Xu Wanci from different angles.
Xu Wanci felt the overwhelming fire spiritual energy surrounding her. With a swift swing of her spirit sword toward the weakest point in the energy, she leaped from the spot her blade had just struck, narrowly evading the encirclement of two Thousand Extinction Flames.
As the flames chased after her in an instant, her mind raced:
Chu Qingchuan’s Thousand Pill Transformation currently had two layers of flames. The first layer, the Thousand Extinction Flames, was slightly less powerful, but he could unleash up to seven of them—enough to blanket the entire martial arena.
Observing the trajectories of the two flames, she made a decision:
If this continued, Chu Qingchuan would exhaust her spiritual energy.
Her sword’s essence was an unyielding will to win, but her opponent was the Thousand Extinction Flames. She couldn’t afford to perish alongside them.
She had to find a way to close the distance between her and Chu Qingchuan.
As she dodged and strategized, Chu Qingchuan unleashed another Thousand Extinction Flame.
Xu Wanci’s sharp senses caught a fleeting gap in the coordination of the three flames.
It was enough.
With a light step, she merged with her spirit sword, charging straight through the opening between the flames.
In an instant, she broke free from the encirclement and appeared before Chu Qingchuan, her sword aimed at his left chest.
Many Taiqing Sect disciples watching gasped in shock:
"Xu Wanci actually broke through Senior Brother Chu’s spiritual flames!"
Even Ning Menglan on the high platform showed a flicker of surprise in his eyes:
"Such perception of spiritual energy… and such decisive killing intent… Her talent and temperament are even stronger than I imagined."
The closer she got, the weaker the Thousand Extinction Flames became.
Her strategy was sound.
Unfortunately, Chu Qingchuan’s physical strength and reflexes surpassed even those of body cultivators.
Close combat was not his weakness.
Sure enough, as Xu Wanci’s sword was about to strike, Chu Qingchuan raised his left hand, a short blade clashing against her spirit sword with a piercing screech.
The force sent both of them stumbling back a step.
Using the momentum, Xu Wanci dodged another Thousand Extinction Flame sweeping toward her from behind, her sword flashing like a rainbow.
Chu Qingchuan retreated two more steps, barely avoiding her blade’s arc.
For a time, the two fought fiercely, their movements so fast the disciples below could barely follow.
On the arena, Chu Qingchuan blocked another of Xu Wanci’s attacks.
He hadn’t expected her to push him this far.
While parrying her lightning-fast strikes with his short blade, he controlled the three Thousand Extinction Flames.
Then, Xu Wanci’s sword grazed his right hand.
Expression unchanging, Chu Qingchuan flicked his wrist, and a Thousand Extinction Flame seared her right hand in return, leaving a scorched mark.
Seeing her ignore the wound and press forward, his gaze briefly flickered to her left hand—but he did nothing.
He wouldn’t target her left hand. He… didn’t want to hurt her.
But this duel had to have a victor.
Chu Qingchuan retreated two steps and recalled the three Thousand Extinction Flames.
Xu Wanci sensed the dissipating spiritual energy but remained on high alert.
Sure enough, the next moment, pale violet flames—warping the very space around them—roared toward her.
The second layer of Thousand Pill Transformation: Thousand Silence Flames!
Xu Wanci leaped back, narrowly avoiding the flames as they scorched past her.
The searing heat along half her body deepened the gravity in her eyes—and ignited a hint of madness.
Chu Qingchuan could only unleash two Thousand Silence Flames at most.
And each time he summoned another, the spiritual energy required would leave him momentarily vulnerable.
If she could force him to use a third flame, his drained energy and brief opening would leave him defenseless against her sword’s intent.
Without hesitation, Xu Wanci charged forward.
Now, her movements were faster, sharper—every strike carried a reckless, life-risking ferocity.
Under this relentless assault, her body bore several more scorch marks from the Thousand Silence Flames.
Each wound burned as if the flames were searing her blood dry, yet she showed no sign of pain. Her sword never faltered, only grew faster.
The watching Taiqing Sect disciples murmured in disbelief:
"Does Xu Wanci not feel any pain?"
Chu Qingchuan wondered the same. He knew better than anyone the agony of the Thousand Silence Flames.
The wounds might appear superficial, but beneath them, the heat intensified endlessly, scorching spiritual energy and blood alike.
Only by ceasing to use spiritual energy could the pain gradually fade.
His eyes lifted to her face—calm, unwavering, resolute.
In that split second of distraction, Xu Wanci found her opening.
Her scorched right hand drove her sword toward his throat with lethal precision.
Chu Qingchuan barely dodged, a thin cut appearing on his neck.
The sting darkened his gaze.
This couldn’t continue. The Thousand Silence Flames demanded too much energy. He had to end this now.
Retreating several steps, he kept one hand controlling the flames while raising the other. After a breath of gathering energy, pale violet fire flickered in his palm.
Xu Wanci’s eyes sharpened: Now.
The earlier Thousand Silence Flame was already upon her.
She didn’t hesitate.
Chu Qingchuan’s opening lasted only an instant. She had no time to dodge.
If she was fast enough, the flames would only gravely injure her—not kill her.
Facing the space-warping violet fire, Xu Wanci stepped forward—into it.
The crowd watched as she became a sword-wielding shield, piercing through the flames.
Amid the inferno, a blue-clad figure fused with her blade, charging straight into the heart of the fire.
Jiang Ze, watching from the pavilion, shot to his feet, fists clenched, veins bulging.
His Great Ascension-stage spiritual energy surged, ready to intervene.
On the high platform, Ning Menglan gripped the Sect Leader’s Token, capable of dismantling the arena’s barrier. The elders beside him tensed, spiritual energy gathering in their hands.
Just as everyone believed Xu Wanci was on the brink of death—
A figure burst from the flames.
Cloaked in violet fire, her sword’s edge gleamed as she lunged at Chu Qingchuan.
He, still channeling energy, had no time to react.
In the next instant, a longsword pierced through the palm of his raised right hand.
The blade continued forward relentlessly, finally stopping at his heart.
Drop by drop, blood stained his chest crimson.
Chu Qingchuan stared blankly at Xu Wanci before him.
She was enveloped in the Thousand Silence Flames, their pale violet fire licking at her body, still unextinguished.
The agony—enough to drive any cultivator mad—was hidden beneath her calm, indifferent expression.
Feeling the sharp pain in his right hand, he slowly clenched his left fist and withdrew all the Thousand Silence Flames.
"I’ve lost."
Once the flames dissipated, everyone caught sight of Xu Wanci’s current state.
Her body had been ravaged by fire, her robes tattered and scorched.
Beneath the torn fabric lay layers upon layers of burn marks.
Countless fiery scars, like blooming lotuses forged in flame, covered every inch of exposed skin—her calves, waist, arms, neck, even the side of her face.
The blue of her robes intertwined with the red of the fire-born lotuses, a sight so breathtaking it was almost… painful to behold.
The disciples below the stage took a long moment to process the scene before murmuring in awe,
"Xu Wanci… defeated Senior Brother Chu."
She had defeated the most talented, the most formidable cultivator in the immortal realm, the one countless elders and grandmasters had praised endlessly.
Before the match, no one had expected Xu Wanci to win—let alone in such a devastating, unforgettable manner.
Her sword technique, one that embraced death to seize life, left them all in trembling admiration.
So this was how extraordinary Xu Wanci truly was.
Memories surfaced of her trailing meekly behind Chu Qingchuan, never once revealing even a hint of her true strength.
Had she simply displayed her talent, she could have had everything—
The reverence of the Taiqing Sect disciples, a master any would envy, even the position of the sect’s head disciple…
Yet she had done nothing, choosing instead to conceal herself, willingly following in Chu Qingchuan’s shadow.
Watching as he ascended to the heights she should have rightfully claimed.
How deeply must she have loved him?
The thought brought sorrowful sighs from many of the more sentimental disciples.
One female disciple, tears in her eyes, whispered,
"Senior Brother Chu will never know what he’s lost."
A fellow disciple beside her clasped her hand and reassured her firmly,
"But Xu Wanci has moved on now."
"With the sect competition’s grand prize, she’ll have a future brighter than before."
On the high platform, the Second Elder overheard their words and gazed at the dueling stage, his expression dazed.
Had Xu Wanci truly moved on?
As the spiritual barrier around the stage faded into the earth, Ning Menglan stepped onto the platform before the crowd could fully recover.
He spared only a brief glance at Chu Qingchuan’s disheveled, broken form before turning away, his eyes filled with pity as they settled on Xu Wanci.
Xu Wanci remained standing—or rather, she no longer had the strength to move.
Every inch of her body burned as if her blood had boiled dry, the pain bone-deep. Yet she clung to consciousness with sheer will.
In this moment, she was almost grateful for the torment of the Profound Nether Needles.
Had she not endured their searing agony for so long, she might have collapsed under the final onslaught of spiritual flames.
But now, with the battle decided, she was on the verge of… giving in.
No!
She couldn’t faint—not now!
Xu Wanci blinked slowly, her mind sharp despite her exhaustion.
In the original story, the Three-Leaf Lotus had remained by Chu Qingchuan’s side for years, inspected by countless grandmasters, yet none had detected its true nature.
Only when Chu Qingchuan lay near death, his scattered divine sense resonating with the lotus, had its secret been revealed.
Now, she too was gravely wounded, her divine sense even stronger than his had been…
With such perfect timing, such opportunity—if she missed it now, who knew when the next chance would come?
She had to claim the Three-Leaf Lotus while conscious. She had to form the contract today.
She couldn’t leave others to speculate—whether the lotus was tied to the Immortal Venerable, or if it was merely a treasure surpassing the Blood Mist Spirit Fire and the Wind-Shifting Needles.
She had to confirm it.
Confirm that her month of madness had all been for that person.
Confirm that her shattered sword heart, her reforged resolve—all of it had been for that person.
As she endured the agony, piecing together the original plot, several figures rushed to her side.
Someone channeled spiritual energy into her, mending her meridians.
Another applied medicinal salves to her wounds.
Yet Xu Wanci couldn’t spare a single thought for any of them—not even herself.
Her gaze remained fixed on the high platform, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
Her voice, hoarse from the flames, was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her entire being:
"Can I… have it now?"
Have what?
Ning Menglan followed her line of sight to the twenty treasures displayed on the platform. Understanding dawned, and he asked cautiously,
"What do you want?"
"The Blood Mist Spirit Fire? The Wind-Shifting Needles? Or—"
"The Three-Leaf Lotus." Her voice was unwavering.
The elders on the platform exchanged glances, their expressions uniformly puzzled.
Ning Menglan frowned.
Had Xu Wanci not mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed the lotus among the rewards.
His eyes swept over the delicate but unremarkable fourth-grade artifact, suspicion flickering.
By all appearances, the Three-Leaf Lotus was nothing more than a mid-tier treasure for calming the mind. Why would Xu Wanci—?
The disciples below wore expressions of utter disbelief.
After winning the sect competition, she was choosing… a fourth-grade artifact that was clearly just filler?
Did she not realize how rare the three central treasures were?
Most cultivators would only ever glimpse such relics from afar. If she passed this up, she might never get another chance!
One disciple, recalling her past lovesick behavior, muttered in exasperation,
"Does she still have feelings for Chu Qingchuan? Is she afraid of taking what he wants, so she’s picking some random leftover?"
Regardless of their shock, Xu Wanci’s focus never wavered from the Three-Leaf Lotus.
Though healers worked tirelessly on her, her injuries were too severe—their efforts barely made a difference.
As her divine sense began to dull, she finally tore her gaze away and looked at Ning Menglan.
On the left side of her face were layers upon layers of firelotus scars, seared by the Thousand Silence Flames—a stark contrast between the vivid crimson and her nearly translucent complexion.
Yet what was even more arresting were her eyes. Within their pitch-black depths, swirling with chaos, lay an unsettling mix of longing and sorrow that pierced the heart.
Ning Menglan seemed to realize something and averted his gaze. With a wave of his hand, the spiritual barrier surrounding the Three-Leaf Lotus dissipated, and the flower drifted down from the high platform.
Xu Wanci watched as the Three-Leaf Lotus drew nearer, instinctively reaching out and stepping forward, one slow step at a time.
Each movement must have felt like walking on blades to her in her current state, yet her eyes shimmered with the clear, childlike anticipation of joy.
Step by step, she distanced herself from all those who had been tending to her wounds, moving to the very edge of the martial platform.
Then, the Three-Leaf Lotus floated before her.
By now, Xu Wanci’s consciousness had begun to blur. Lost in the role she had immersed herself in, she instinctively cupped the lotus in both hands.
The Three-Leaf Lotus had three layers of petals, each layer composed of three petals, shifting from deep blue at the top to a pale, almost transparent blue at the center.
It resembled an exquisite ornament more than a magical artifact.
Xu Wanci lowered her gaze slightly, channeling her spiritual awareness into the lotus, bit by bit.
Cold.
No matter how much of her consciousness she poured into it, the Three-Leaf Lotus remained unresponsive, as inert as any ordinary artifact.
Under normal circumstances, Xu Wanci might have felt despair—might have panicked briefly before forcing herself to think of another solution.
But now, her mind was a haze, her spirit saturated with the all-consuming devotion of the role she had embraced.
Her love was like an endless ocean, gently enveloping the Three-Leaf Lotus.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three breaths.
Just as her spiritual awareness began to scatter, a faint, tender glow flickered to life within the lotus.
In the next moment, an aura erupted from Xu Wanci’s palm—one so overwhelming that it forced every witness to bow their heads, their very blood trembling in submission.
The spiritual energy swirled around her, lifting her into the air before circling her several times, then finally retreating back into the Three-Leaf Lotus.
As the light faded, the artifact returned to its unremarkable state—a mere fourth-grade treasure.
Yet that surge of power had been unmistakable. Never before had a single wisp of spiritual energy cowed so many Transcendent Realm experts into silence, let alone compelled their own cultivation to kneel in reverence.
There was only one person it could belong to.
The Three-Leaf Lotus had been crafted by Immortal Venerable Qingyan.
In that instant, everyone understood why Xu Wanci had chosen the Three-Leaf Lotus.
Or rather, why she had even participated in the sect competition.
It had always been for this.
Her shattered sword heart—because of him.
Her desperate reforging of that heart—because of him.
The reckless, life-risking sword heart she had forged—still because of him.
For the past month, many had rejoiced at Xu Wanci’s recovery, at her return to cultivation. Now, those same people could only sigh in sorrow.
The Second Elder, who had witnessed everything, closed her eyes wearily.
Of course. After learning of the Immortal Venerable’s soul-scattered demise, Xu Wanci had shattered her own sword heart. How could she have thrown herself back into cultivation without reason?
To reforge a sword heart in a single month—a feat most swordsmen would dismiss as fantasy—yet she had done it.
The Second Elder had once marveled at Xu Wanci’s talent. But now, she wondered—just how far had Xu Wanci pushed herself in that month?
Love that drove someone to seek death for another’s sake was moving, but death was swift, requiring only a single moment of resolve.
But to live for someone—to push oneself to the brink, to surpass every limit, even at the cost of one’s own life—that was far more heartbreaking.
Xu Wanci’s century of suffering had been too cruel.
So cruel that the Second Elder wished this were merely a tale from a storybook, not the reality Xu Wanci had endured.
Beside her, the ever-stern First Elder sighed and turned away.
He had long puzzled over the nature of Xu Wanci’s reforged sword heart—one that gambled with death for victory, one that teetered on the edge of annihilation.
Now, he had his answer.
She had never planned for a future. Never considered the Great Dao.
All she had wanted was to compete, to win, to claim the Three-Leaf Lotus.
Everything—every sacrifice—had been for one person, and one person alone.
The thought drew another sigh from the First Elder.
Chu Qingchuan snapped out of his daze at the sound. He paid no attention to the injury on his right hand, his gaze fixed solely on Xu Wanci.
Watching her cradle the Three-Leaf Lotus, her lips curved in a soft, radiant smile, his eyes reddened with unshed emotion.
This competition had shown him Xu Wanci’s strength—and the depth of her devotion.
He had always known she loved that man enough to die for him.
But he had never imagined she would go this far.
A selfish thought flickered through his mind:
What if he had responded to her from the start?
What if he had treated her well, never ignored her?
What if she still believed he was the reincarnation of Immortal Venerable Qingyan—
Would she have done the same for him?
The pain in his right hand jolted him back to reality. He laughed bitterly at himself.
There were no "what ifs" in this world.
The expressions of those around them were a mix of awe, sorrow, and something unnameable.
This was the kind of scene Xie Tingbai usually relished—a chance to observe the hidden thoughts behind every face, to dissect the selfishness and malice lurking beneath.
Human nature was universally self-serving.
Except… for Xu Wanci.
The one person he had never been able to decipher from their first meeting.
How could this be?
How could such selfless devotion exist in the cultivation world?
He had seen comrades turn on each other in desperation, master and disciple betray one another for treasure, parents sacrifice their own children for power.
At their core, humans were creatures of greed.
So why had Xu Wanci gone to such lengths for someone long gone?
Now, he no longer doubted her connection to Immortal Venerable Qingyan.
But the question in his heart had only grown heavier.
A surge of tightly leashed spiritual energy snapped him from his thoughts. He turned and met Jiang Ze’s icy glare.
Jiang Ze’s lips pressed into a hard line as he recalled everything he had witnessed over the past month.
He had seen Xu Wanci’s training from beginning to end—seen just how merciless she was toward herself.
From enduring the agony of the Netherworld Needles to fighting without regard for life, to standing here now, battered but victorious.
He had marveled at her talent, admired her diligence.
But in the end, all of it—every sacrifice—had been for that man.
It was merely that person’s Three-Leaf Lotus.
He should have mocked her.
Mocked her foolishness, her disregard for innate talent, her sacrifices for the sake of love…
Yet, as he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest—one he had never known before—he could only press his lips tightly together.
His gaze involuntarily fell upon Xu Wanci, his eyes filled with a focus and… pity that even the coldest air could not suppress.
Xu Wanci paid no attention to the gaze behind her.
Feeling the response from the Three-Leaf Lotus, a faint smile curved her lips.
Invisible to all, wisps of spiritual energy slowly mended her wounded soul.
The Three-Leaf Lotus was finally hers.
As she sensed her soul gradually solidifying, she finally allowed herself to faint.
Since arriving in the cultivation world, two full months had passed without a single night of peaceful sleep.
Her nerves had been stretched taut, terrified that a single misstep would expose her lies.
Terrified that someone, out of suspicion, might invade her dreams or lure her into an illusion.
But now, with the Three-Leaf Lotus in hand, she could finally rest easy.
Her eyes closed in tranquility, and her body suddenly plummeted from midair.
The moment Xu Wanci’s eyes shut, a figure appeared beside her, catching her with gentle care.
Jiang Ze held her in his arms, feeling her weight so light it was almost negligible, his lips pressed into a thin line.
With a flick of his divine sense, a dark outer robe draped softly over the figure in his embrace.
Xie Tingbai arrived a step later. His gaze swept over the burn marks on Xu Wanci’s face, his voice tender:
"Such injuries will likely require a long recovery."
Within the Taiqing Sect, his medical skills were unmatched.
Naturally, Xu Wanci’s destination could only be Qingzhu Peak.
At Qingzhu Peak, Xie Tingbai listened to the rustling bamboo outside the window, his eyes fixed on the figure lying in bed.
Seven days had passed, and Xu Wanci’s wounds had healed, the burns on her face faded.
Yet, the severity of her injuries meant she still needed much time to recuperate.
His gaze lingered on the Three-Leaf Lotus clutched tightly in her hand. Lowering his eyes, he concealed all emotion:
Countless elders of the Taiqing Sect had examined the Three-Leaf Lotus, yet none had detected anything unusual.
To all cultivators, it was merely an ordinary fourth-grade artifact.
Only in Xu Wanci’s hands did its true nature reveal itself.
Xie Tingbai’s fingertips twitched slightly:
If the Three-Leaf Lotus was crafted by Immortal Venerable Qingyan, what extraordinary purpose did it serve?
Over these days, he had personally tended to Xu Wanci’s injuries.
So, it was not healing.
Nor was it defense.
Then what was it?
As he pondered, a chilling divine sense abruptly descended.
Jiang Ze had not once set foot on Qingzhu Peak these past days.
Yet his divine sense had swept through multiple times a day, never ceasing.
Xie Tingbai acted as if unaware, simply retrieving a vial of Jade Spirit Dew and rising to carefully drip three drops into Xu Wanci’s lips.
One drop spilled onto the corner of her mouth. He reached out, gently wiping it away.
In the next instant, Jiang Ze’s divine sense erupted with overwhelming pressure. Xie Tingbai remained unfazed, meticulously drying the dew from Xu Wanci’s lips.
In the end, Jiang Ze still did not appear.
Once the divine sense receded, Xie Tingbai’s expression was one of quiet understanding.
The human heart was not so difficult to decipher.
His eyes lingered on Xu Wanci, a faint smile touching his lips.
Unbeknownst even to himself, his gaze upon her had grown ever more frequent.
