“Stop staring. Everyone’s already gone so far ahead—what’s the point of still watching?”
“With eyes at the Qi stage, what can you possibly see?”
Qin Qingyue paced back and forth at the cabin door of the Immortal Vessel, displeased to see Jiang Huai still standing at the bow, gazing longingly into the distance.
The setting sun sank low, its golden afterglow casting a lonely halo around Jiang Huai’s silhouette.
Qin Qingyue crossed her arms and stood behind him, her dragon tail flicking impatiently against the deck with a soft thud-thud-thud.
“Are you thinking of going after her? I’m telling you, don’t even think about it! I won’t let you go.”
“I’m different from her. I won’t play the part of some sorrowful lover, nor will I just walk away like that.”
Jiang Huai remained silent.
Qin Qingyue’s eyes flickered, and in an instant, her form transformed into a slender ink-black little dragon no wider than two fingers, its scales shimmering with a faint glow.
Softly, she curled around Jiang Huai’s body, her delicate dragon head resting affectionately on his shoulder as they both watched the sun dip beneath the clouds.
“Look, what a beautiful view.”
“We can watch this kind of scenery together for many years, so many years, so many, many years.”
“I’ve never longed for the future like this before, nor felt so free of hatred toward the world,” Qin Qingyue murmured.
Why leave? When you have the one you love, you should hold on tight.
Why hand them over to others, hide in the shadows to cry, and watch helplessly as they find happiness with someone else?
Qin Qingyue gently shook her dragon head, the warm sunset rippling in her crimson dragon eyes.
She would never do such a foolish thing. Even if it meant fighting till the skies darkened and blood flowed, she would never yield an inch.
Nor would she weep and flee, handing over the one she loves.
“I’m remembering so many things from the past…” Jiang Huai whispered quietly, staring at the horizon.
He hadn’t managed to convince Qin Qingyue in the slightest, and Wu Zhaohua hadn’t even given him the chance to speak—only a heartbroken kiss and a resolute back left behind.
“Husband, Main Wife, dinner is ready,” Su Yingman’s figure appeared at the cabin door just in time, her voice gentle and respectful.
They, as high-level cultivators, had long since ceased eating, but Jiang Huai was still at the Qi stage and needed worldly food.
Qin Qingyue used her slender dragon tail to lightly tap Jiang Huai’s backside:
“Stop thinking. What’s there to think about?”
“Come back and eat with me. I’m not stopping you from seeing her; when you have time later, go ask at Wenxuan Sect about her.”
With this major trouble gone on its own, Qin Qingyue felt much lighter and even spoke with a bit more cheerfulness.
The sword light fell like a meteor to the ground as Wu Zhaohua’s figure reappeared in front of Wenxuan Sect’s mountain gate.
The scars from the broken Shan Huzhen had yet to be fully repaired, glaring harshly into sight and darkening her expression further.
“Senior Sister, you’ve returned.”
“Where is Young Master Jiang? Didn’t he come back with you?” Qi Yuyong hurried over, puzzled to see Wu Zhaohua alone.
Wasn’t Jiang Huai supposed to have stopped those two from fighting? Why hadn’t he returned?
At the mention of “Jiang Huai,” Wu Zhaohua’s eyes suddenly burned with moisture, a sharp pang rising to her nose.
She abruptly turned her face away, swallowing back a sob before turning back with her usual cold composure.
But the faint red mark lingering near her beautiful eyes betrayed the recent struggle.
“He has his own place to go. No need to mention him again,” Wu Zhaohua said, her voice faintly hoarse.
He ran off with another woman.
She refused to meet Qi Yuyong’s worried gaze, instead sweeping her eyes over the shattered formation with a heavy sense of responsibility pressing down on her heart.
Sadness was useless, and wallowing in love’s sorrows was not who Wu Zhaohua was.
She had dominated the Central State for a hundred years—she would not crumble like this.
Now that her Celestial Immortal Form was complete, she should be revitalizing the sect!
She took a deep breath, forcefully banishing that figure from her mind and straightening her back:
“Order all elders and core inner disciples to assemble in the Yanshi Hall in one incense stick’s time!”
Her voice regained its former majesty, ringing clearly inside and outside the mountain gate, instantly dispelling the confusion clouding the disciples’ hearts.
The sect leader has returned, the pillar of strength is here.
A Great Ascension Dragon Lord with the Celestial Immortal Form.
After the meeting and the arrangement of all affairs, Wu Zhaohua stood alone atop Wenjian Peak.
The night wind fluttered her robes.
She opened her palm; a small jade sword token lay quietly there, cool and smooth.
Her fingertips unconsciously traced the sword’s surface, as if trying to sense someone far away.
“I hope you will become an unparalleled powerhouse in the future.”
The next day, at the training grounds.
Wu Zhaohua’s gaze landed on a young girl in sturdy clothes, brows filled with spirited determination.
She was Wu Zhaohua’s only direct disciple, Xiao Yue.
The girl’s sword moves were sharp and agile, her footwork nimble, with a solid foundation; she was already the rising star of Wenxuan Sect’s new generation.
Most importantly, she had reached the peak of the Foundation Establishment stage, with the next step being Nascent Soul Formation.
“Yue’er,” Wu Zhaohua called.
Xiao Yue immediately retracted her sword and saluted respectfully, “Master!”
Without Jiang Huai, she had received much of Wu Zhaohua’s attention and felt proud in her heart.
“Hmm, your progress is acceptable, but not enough,” Wu Zhaohua said, approaching her.
“Your sword heart is not yet condensed; your killing aura insufficient.”
Xiao Yue bowed her head under the scrutiny. “Disciple will work doubly hard!”
Wu Zhaohua nodded slightly, her tone softening with a hint of hope:
“You will soon form Nascent Soul. There is a Secret Realm suited for you.”
“A gathering of prodigies, opportunities everywhere, ancient legacies and rare spiritual herbs.”
Secret Realms on the Five Continents were peculiar ecosystems, apparently related to the great war from ten thousand years ago.
She looked at Xiao Yue’s eyes lighting up suddenly:
“I want you to go. Surpass all others and take the crown.”
“Bring glory to Wenxuan Sect, make them know that Wenxuan Sect has successors.”
In Wenxuan Sect’s future, it wouldn’t be just Wu Zhaohua but also Xiao Yue who would stand tall.
This was the sect’s legacy, passed down through generations.
Xiao Yue’s heart raced, her fists clenched tightly, cheeks flushed with excitement:
“Disciple will not fail Master’s hopes, and will do everything possible to bring honor to the sect!”
A wave of ambition surged within her, yet amid that fervor, unexpectedly and naturally, a clear and gentle figure emerged in her mind.
That figure on the training platform, striking down several opponents with a single sword, still at the Qi stage, far from a true Foundation Establishment rival.
“Master, what about Master Gong… uh, will he go too?”
Wu Zhaohua’s expression stiffened; the more she avoided mentioning it, the more it surfaced.
Would Jiang Huai come? Given that Demon Dragon’s personality, he’d probably bring Jiang Huai along, and they might even meet at the Secret Realm Entrance in the Central State.
She was silent for a moment before forcing down the swirling emotions:
“He has his own place to go. You just focus on preparing for battle. Don’t get distracted.”
Xiao Yue noticed Wu Zhaohua did not deny the title “Master Gong.”
Where had Master Gong gone? She didn’t know. Elder Qi and Elder Bai were also tight-lipped, and she heard no rumors.