Nestled in a warm and soft embrace, Jiang Huai nevertheless felt a faint sense of restraint.
He shifted slightly, freeing himself from Wu Zhaohua’s overly tight hug.
Raising his head, he gazed intently at the face before him.
It was not the face he remembered.
In his memory, Wu Zhaohua was a plain woman, pallid and weary from illness, lying on her sickbed.
Her features were ordinary, her brows marked with the exhaustion of battling sickness, and she would occasionally bicker with him.
But the beautiful woman before him possessed a pair of noble phoenix eyes, a fine, high nose, lips tinted like vermilion, and an aura of regal grace.
She held a long sword, her white robes whiter than snow, her entire being surrounded by a cold sword aura, like a female Sword Immortal untouched by the dust of the mortal world.
One was a sickly, ordinary woman with whom he had shared hardship; the other, a peerless, awe-inspiring Sword Immortal who shook the Central Plains.
How could these two figures overlap before his eyes?
A complicated, indescribable emotion surged in Jiang Huai’s heart.
It was familiar, yet utterly foreign.
He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat and ultimately dissolved into silent stillness.
The Wu Zhaohua he had cared for with his feelings seemed nothing like the person before him.
So, had the Wu Zhaohua from before disappeared?
To the side, White Dew’s expression was blank, her icy-blue eyes filled with unchanging indifference, as if she had always been that way.
Chi Hong, on the other hand, was entirely different. Her fox-like eyes danced with interest between Jiang Huai and Wu Zhaohua, the corners of her mouth curled in an amused smile.
How interesting, truly interesting.
The dignified Sect Master Wu and that mad Dragon, fighting to the death over a little man in the Qi Refining Stage?
What peerless man?
Only then did Wu Zhaohua realize her loss of composure, a faint blush rising on her face. She shifted her lotus-like steps, putting some distance between them.
Compared to Qin Qingyue’s straightforwardness and dominance, Wu Zhaohua was more reserved by nature, more adept at self-restraint and propriety.
When Qin Qingyue took a liking to Jiang Huai and realized he could stay by her side for a long time, she didn’t care for any rules—off came her dress and straight to action.
The Black Dragon firmly believed in striking first, acting with fierce decisiveness, unconcerned by the consequences.
Wu Zhaohua, in matters of love, was much more ladylike.
After all, she hadn’t confirmed a Dao Companion relationship with Jiang Huai yet.
“You find it hard to accept that this is me, don’t you?” Wu Zhaohua’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost imperceptible nervousness.
“Yes. The Wu Zhaohua in my memory was very ordinary.” Jiang Huai answered honestly.
So, was the Wu Zhaohua before him still the Wu Zhaohua of the past?
Wu Zhaohua, hearing this, instead smiled, her expression like melting ice and snow, carrying a comforting warmth:
“It doesn’t matter. Whether in the past or now, Wu Zhaohua is always Wu Zhaohua.”
“My promises from before still stand. Let’s return to Wenxuan Sect first.”
She instinctively wanted to take Jiang Huai’s hand, her fingers twitching, but she restrained herself just in time, suppressing the impulse.
Once they returned to Wenxuan Sect and formally became Dao Companions, everything would happen naturally.
Now was not the time to be too rash.
How could she know that, out of her sight, Qin Qingyue’s nimble Dragon tail had already twisted Jiang Huai into all sorts of unthinkable shapes and poses.
Legs entwined like scissors, calves hoisted onto shoulders, even his waist being lifted and held aloft by the Dragon tail for a fierce onslaught…
And above his lower abdomen, a brand unique to the Black Dragon, winding into the shape of a heart, had been left.
“Thank you both, Palace Masters, for your assistance this time.”
Wu Zhaohua turned to White Dew and Chi Hong, her expression solemn:
“My promise stands—Wu Zhaohua never goes back on her word. If Qin Qingyue stirs up trouble because of this, you may come to Wenxuan Sect to find me.”
Her gaze fell on White Dew’s cool face, and she added:
“As for the Three Tribulations Return-to-Truth Record, I’ll deliver it to North Sea Dragon Palace soon.”
“But let me offer a word of advice, Palace Master Bai.”
She paused, her tone carrying rare gravity:
“The Three Tribulations Return-to-Truth Record—unless absolutely necessary, do not cultivate it.”
Throughout history, she alone had barely succeeded, and only thanks to Jiang Huai sharing the burden of tribulation had she managed to survive that Nine Deaths, One Life Calamity.
The hardship was beyond words, and Jiang Huai had been left covered in scars.
A subtle ripple flashed across White Dew’s ice-cold face, but she only nodded slightly and said no more.
“Sect Master Wu, I’ll visit your esteemed sect when I have the chance.” Chi Hong smiled charmingly, her gaze once more sweeping over Jiang Huai before she offered a graceful salute.
“You’re always welcome.” Wu Zhaohua nodded.
Once the White Dragon and Red Dragon transformed into streams of light and shot toward the skies of Northern Plains and Southern Ridge, Wu Zhaohua returned to Jiang Huai’s side.
Her eyes fell on Jiang Huai’s arm. With cautious fingers, she gently touched the back of his hand, then slowly lifted his sleeve.
Shocking red marks covered his arm—some had scabbed over, while others still showed raw, unhealed skin.
Three days’ worth of accumulated wounds overlapped, as if he’d been repeatedly whipped by rough vines, so brutal it made one’s heart tremble.
Wu Zhaohua’s breath caught sharply, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Her fingertips were cold as she lightly traced the savage scars, her voice trembling and broken:
“She did this to you? She bullied you like this?”
Almost in a panic, she crouched down and abruptly rolled up Jiang Huai’s pant leg.
The same wounds, the same glaring red.
“I’ll kill her. I swear I’ll kill her.” Wu Zhaohua gritted her teeth, her fists clenched tight.
How dare someone abuse her man like this—was this a death wish?
Seeing these wounds reminded Wu Zhaohua of the days when they lived together, when Jiang Huai often suffered injuries from misfortune and was covered in wounds.
After all, as a mortal, sometimes just falling off a bridge and surviving was considered lucky.
But now that the tribulation had passed, why did he still have to endure such suffering?!
“Why are you crying? I’m fine.”
“This isn’t her abusing me; it’s just something I have to go through for cultivation.” Seeing the tears glistening at Wu Zhaohua’s eyes, Jiang Huai’s heart softened, and he instinctively reached out to wipe them away with clumsy fingers.
He couldn’t wrongly accuse Qin Qingyue—though her methods were harsh, she’d given him the best resources.
This was a necessary path for him to grow stronger, and his cultivation and physique had indeed improved greatly.
“I just feel bad. Back in the little courtyard, you were always covered in wounds because of me.”
“Now that you’ve overcome the Human Tribulation, why are you still getting hurt because of me?”
“Even for cultivation, you shouldn’t have to suffer like this.” Wu Zhaohua sniffled, shaking her head.
She stroked Jiang Huai’s cheek and softly said, “I won’t let you suffer so much.”
“There are many ways to refine Qi—why choose this one? We’re not Gold Dragons from West Sea Dragon Palace.”
“This is clearly Qin Qingyue tormenting you. You’ve been bewitched by her and are suffering needlessly.”
Did this wicked Dragon really have no other way to train Jiang Huai? Was cruelty all she understood?
Jiang Huai looked into Wu Zhaohua’s eyes, shimmering with tears and so gentle they could drown a man, yet felt a vague sense of discomfort in his heart.
It felt like being swept into a seemingly calm but secretly turbulent pool of tenderness.
If Qin Qingyue’s attitude toward Jiang Huai was one of endless pampering,
Then Wu Zhaohua’s was one of boundless doting—she couldn’t even bear for him to suffer a few days of hardship.
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a big deal. If it helps me get stronger, I can accept it.” Jiang Huai tried to explain.
“And Qin Qingyue treats me very well. She hasn’t abused me.”
At these words, Wu Zhaohua’s expression instantly darkened.
She scrutinized Jiang Huai, a gentle yet irresistible current of spiritual power quietly probing his body.
Her brow furrowed tighter and tighter, her face growing ever more grim.
Suddenly, she lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a Black Dragon tail, cleverly coiled into a heart shape on his lower abdomen—the Black Dragon Mark, clear for all to see.
Wu Zhaohua was so furious she nearly fainted. How could someone scribble all over her moonlight’s body like this? What was this thing?
“Jiang Huai, you’ve been bewitched and deceived by her.”
“Come back to Wenxuan Sect with me now. I’ll help you purify yourself.”
“Of everything she’s told you, probably nine out of ten things are lies!” Wu Zhaohua seized Jiang Huai’s hand, saying sternly.
Looks like I really do need to ‘purify’ you properly.
Jiang Huai looked down in confusion at the mark on his lower abdomen, which still carried Qin Qingyue’s aura, and muttered:
“Bewitched?”
Wasn’t this supposed to help with cultivation?
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