The black market at the foot of Tianjue Sect had gained quite a few new treasures.
Now that Ji Zhaoxi had a spiritual root of her own, she wanted to help Liuli get one too.
She decided to replicate her own path from before.
Ji Zhaoxi was sure it must have been that divine artifact from earlier.
Liuli absolutely refused. She didn't want to haul water, practice sword forms, or sit in meditation under a waterfall...
Every time her young miss came back, her hands were trembling or her legs were shaking—it was too terrifying.
Ji Zhaoxi dragged Liuli toward the booth selling divine artifacts, while Liuli dragged Ji Zhaoxi toward the food stalls.
In the end, Liuli won. The two of them carried a pile of snacks and returned to Tianjue Sect, high spirits all the way.
The sect-wide tournament at Tianjue Sect was coming up soon, and every disciple was training with fierce dedication. Liu Fuyin had even stopped picking fights with Ji Zhaoxi—she said she needed to conserve her strength so she could achieve a great result in the tournament.
Wen Shubai took Ji Zhaoxi to the Sword Repository.
The Sword Repository had nine floors. The deeper they went, the thicker the sword aura in the air became. Countless famed swords were thrust into the sword pool, emitting resonant hums.
"Little junior sister, this floor holds the most difficult spirit swords to tame," Wen Shubai said softly.
Ji Zhaoxi nodded solemnly.
That was right—only a sword this formidable was worthy of her.
Wen Shubai watched her serious expression, his heart itching with the urge to ruffle her hair again, but he held himself back.
"Little junior sister, try sensing with your heart."
Ji Zhaoxi walked past sword after sword steeped in killing intent. Some emanated a repulsive aura toward her, while others showed no reaction at all.
Ji Zhaoxi: ...
She wasn't about to pick a sword that didn't like her!
Finally, Ji Zhaoxi stopped in front of a long sword that was pitch black and even looked a little worn. Its blade had no luster, and among all the swords, it seemed rather unremarkable.
But Ji Zhaoxi could feel that this sword liked her. It liked her very much.
Ji Zhaoxi: ...
She stole a glance at Wen Shubai's Chongli sword, then looked back at the sword in front of her.
But she didn't want such an ordinary-looking sword...
Sensing that Ji Zhaoxi wanted to pick a different one, the battered sword let out a sword cry, trembling with agitation.
"Senior brother, it really seems to like me," Ji Zhaoxi said, her face scrunched up in distress.
Before Wen Shubai could even speak, there was a crisp ring, and the long sword flew out of the sword pool on its own, landing directly in Ji Zhaoxi's palm. The rust on the blade gradually peeled away, revealing an interior like red agate.
Ji Zhaoxi's disdain for the sword vanished instantly. She looked up at Wen Shubai with bright eyes: "Senior brother, I want this sword!"
This version of the sword was actually worthy of being held in her hand.
If she carried it in its pre-transformation state, people would think she was playing house with a rusty old blade.
A glimmer of amusement flickered in Wen Shubai's eyes. He said gently, "Then take this sword, little junior sister."
At the waterfall behind Tianjue Sect's mountain, the crashing waters slammed against the boulders, sending up a fine mist that filled the air. The sound of sword practice cut through the surroundings without pause.
Ji Zhaoxi's long hair was damp with moisture, plastered against her cheeks. She was panting with exhaustion, but her hands never stopped moving.
"Little junior sister, don't rush. Follow the direction of the sword aura."
Wen Shubai's hand covered hers, his movements slow as he guided her through an arc, hand in hand.
Ji Zhaoxi's face was set in concentration, droplets of water splashing against her cheeks without her even noticing.
She practiced over and over, never once complaining of fatigue.
"Little junior sister, raise the sword tip an inch. Drop your shoulders."
Ji Zhaoxi followed Wen Shubai's instructions. By the end, her hand holding the sword was trembling, and her originally light moon-white robe, soaked through, hung heavy on her body.
The sky was gradually wrapped in crimson clouds. After the final round of training, Ji Zhaoxi was completely spent—even her fingertips were twitching.
The two sat beneath an ancient tree, and a gentle breeze blew, quickly drying the dampness from their robes.
"My hand hurts..." Ji Zhaoxi slumped weakly against Wen Shubai's shoulder.
But she liked it.
Wen Shubai carefully tended to her hand, covered in red marks. Her thumb webbing had been rubbed raw, a bead of blood seeping out, looking especially conspicuous.
"It's senior brother's fault..." Wen Shubai lowered his gaze, his voice laced with guilt.
"Yes, it's your fault," Ji Zhaoxi said, utterly unrepentant.
Wen Shubai felt even more guilty. Ji Zhaoxi was delighted, leaning into his embrace. She was so tired now she barely wanted to speak.
Wen Shubai gently applied white jade salve to her hand, murmuring, "Little junior sister, does it hurt?"
Ji Zhaoxi breathed in the sandalwood scent of his robes, her taut nerves slowly loosening. She gave a muffled hum of acknowledgment and felt her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
Anyway, even if she fell asleep, senior brother would carry her back...
With that thought, in no time at all, her head tilted into the curve of his neck, and her breathing evened out.
Wen Shubai paused his movements. He looked at her face, flushed from the exertion of sword practice, and his heart softened into a puddle.
The surroundings were utterly quiet, the distant sound of the waterfall fading into background noise. Wen Shubai stared at the lips so close to his, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.
She was completely curled into his arms, looking so utterly dependent on him.
She trusted him this much...
Wen Shubai slowly leaned down. Just as the tip of his nose was about to brush hers, a petal twirled through the air and landed softly on her cheek.
Wen Shubai froze. He stared at the petal, the stubborn longing in his eyes gradually fading until they returned to their usual calm.
He gently picked off the petal and gave a self-deprecating smile.
Wen Shubai didn't wake her. He slipped off his outer robe, draped it over her, and lifted her into his arms.
Ji Zhaoxi stirred awake, half-conscious, her face pressed into his chest. She murmured, "Senior brother..."
"Hm?"
"Senior brother... are we heading back now..."
Wen Shubai hummed softly in reply, pressing a light kiss to her hair. "Yes, little junior sister."
Ji Zhaoxi said nothing. In a moment, she had drifted back to sleep.
She had long grown used to Wen Shubai carrying her back after training. He had done it many times now.
Their shadows stretched longer and longer in the afterglow, and at last, they merged into one.
Only when their figures had completely vanished did a person step out from behind a tree.
Squinting triangular eyes, the man wore a look of sudden realization on his face.
So that was why Wen Shubai's spiritual energy had been unstable lately—and why he'd been caught with an unsteady Dao heart, nearly consumed by his heart demon.
So this was the heart demon.
He knew Wen Shubai was deeply valued by the Sect Master and the elders. If Wen Shubai slipped up during this trial—and over an emotional attachment, no less—he'd love to see how those elders reacted.
The night grew thicker, and a late breeze rustled through the bamboo grove with a soft rustling sound.
Wen Shubai's face was pale, his spiritual power surging recklessly through his meridians as he struggled to suppress the backlash from his heart demon. He stumbled back to his courtyard.
Just as he was about to enter his room to meditate, he noticed something on the stone table: a soft outer robe. It was the one his little junior sister had forgotten to take today.
Wen Shubai's gaze lingered on the thin garment. Almost without thinking, he picked it up, the soft fabric slipping through his fingers as a scent that belonged only to her drifted straight into his consciousness through his nose.
His fingertips clenched tightly, and he slumped against the stone table, every breath trembling with a faint rasp.
"Mmm..."
A low groan escaped him despite himself. His Adam's apple bobbed rapidly, and the corners of his normally cool eyes flushed with a tinge of red.
His breathing grew heavier. He bowed his head slightly and pressed his face directly into the thin garment.
"Little junior sister... Xixi..."
He murmured, his voice breaking into fragments.
His spiritual energy was in complete disarray.
