A century’s reliance, the ecstasy of recovering what was lost, the attachment born of days and nights together, and deep within the heart—
That feeling that had long surpassed the boundaries of master and disciple, yet never dared to be spoken—at this moment, was completely ignited by this straightforward, burning confession!
An overwhelming happiness surged like a tidal wave, in an instant sweeping away all her reason and defenses.
She opened her mouth, yet could make no sound, only feeling her cheeks burning, her heart pounding like a drum—
The whole world seemed to shrink until only her master’s eyes, quietly and intensely fixed on her, remained.
Qing Mu gazed at her stunned expression, the string of calculation in his heart pulled tighter than ever.
He couldn’t give her too much time to think.
He must, while she was still dazed from this sudden “confession,” bind her firmly to his chariot.
He tightened his hold on her fingers slightly, his voice softening, laced with an almost imperceptible coaxing:
“So, Nong Li, stop worrying about the affairs of the demon realm. Ignore those rumors and idle talk.
They’ll only bind you, make you suffer. Come with me, let’s go somewhere with only the two of us, just like before—carefree and untroubled.”
He painted a picture of a world apart from the mundane, where only master and disciple—along with that unspoken bond—accompanied one another.
It was almost Nong Li’s deepest subconscious longing: to escape responsibility, escape conflict, just to be with her master…
Yet after the immense joy, a sliver of instinct—belonging to the Demon King’s rationality—seemed to struggle to the surface.
She opened her mouth, her throat dry: “But… the demon realm… the Demon Kings…”
“No buts.” Qing Mu cut her off resolutely, his gaze brooking no argument. “Nong Li, look at me. In your heart, what matters more—this Demon King’s throne, or me?”
His question was so direct, so domineering, it shattered the last bit of hesitation in Nong Li’s heart.
“Of course Master matters more!” She blurted out without thinking, her voice choked with emotion. “Nothing is more important than Master!”
“Then come with me.” Qing Mu’s words were final. “Tonight. Now. Just the two of us.”
Nong Li looked at him, crimson eyes shimmering with tears, an immense joy and a headlong impulse roiling within her.
She nodded hard, as if summoning all her strength.
Seeing her agree, Qing Mu felt a small measure of relief, but dared not relax.
He pulled her to sit down, and began to “plan” meticulously—though in truth, this was his final bit of persuasion, making sure she would not regret her decision at the last moment.
“Leaving here, we may face many hardships, even dangers,” he said heavily.
“Lin Qiyou won’t let it go, and the other Demon Kings might pursue us.
Are you… really ready? To give up everything you have, to follow me, maybe living a drifting, nameless life?”
Nong Li listened quietly, not answering at once.
She lowered her head, looking at their entwined hands, long lashes shading her eyes, as though deep in thought, or perhaps struggling inwardly.
Her silence made Qing Mu’s heart clench.
Did the Demon King’s authority and responsibility still weigh more in her heart, after all?
Just as Qing Mu was about to speak again, to further sway her, Nong Li suddenly looked up.
She shook her head.
Qing Mu’s heart immediately sank.
She… was unwilling? Was her earlier answer just a moment’s impulse?
Yet Nong Li’s next words left him stunned.
“Master…” her voice was a little distant, her face aglow as if in a dream, tinged with a shy embarrassment. “Just now… it’s not that I’m unwilling. I was… I was distracted.”
“Distracted?”
“Mm…” Nong Li’s face reddened even more.
She turned her head slightly, her voice small:
“When I heard Master say you’d take me away… I was so happy, I couldn’t help… couldn’t help but imagine our future life together.
Thinking about us finding a place with beautiful mountains and clear waters, building a small wooden house, Master continuing to refine pills, and I… I’ll tend the herb garden for Master, catch fish… at night we can watch the stars together…”
The more she spoke, the softer her voice became, yet it was filled with anticipation and sweetness, as if that beautiful scene were already before her eyes.
“So,” she turned back to look at Qing Mu, her red eyes shining bright, filled with unwavering conviction and happiness, “I’m willing! Master, I’m willing to go with you! Anywhere is fine!”
Qing Mu looked into her eyes—so pure, so unreserved in their trust and affection—and heard her paint that impossible “future.”
His heart felt wrenched, a surge of indescribable emotion rising up: guilt? Reluctance? He could not say.
But the weight of reality quickly suppressed this ripple in his heart.
He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and gripped her hand tightly:
“Good. Then let’s go now.”
No time to delay. Qing Mu immediately had Nong Li change into inconspicuous clothes, restrain her overflowing demonic aura.
Nong Li seemed both excited and adept at this—she’d even long prepared two sets of plain demon tribe garments for disguise.
“Master, I know a place!” Nong Li lowered her voice, her eyes sparkling.
“Deep within the Misty Marsh, there’s an abandoned ancient altar. The space there is chaotic, the aura completely isolated—even Lin Qiyou would have a hard time finding it!
I… I discovered it by accident a long time ago. Back then, I thought—if only I could go into hiding there with Master…”
As she spoke, that same bashful yet longing expression appeared on her face again.
After hearing her out, Qing Mu stared at the genuine happiness on her face for a long time, utterly dazed.
So she… had been dreaming of “eloping” with him since so long ago?
This deep, persistent attachment—now, it had become the most convenient tool for him to use.
He forced himself to look away, avoiding those eyes bright enough to burn.
“All right. Let’s go there.”
In the deepest darkness before dawn, the two slipped away from the heavily guarded palace like wraiths.
Nong Li knew every patrol route and the weaknesses in the wards, leading Qing Mu with ease past all eyes and ears, vanishing into the night without a trace.
Before leaving, Qing Mu did one more thing.
Using the subtlety of the Soul Qi Art, together with formation knowledge he’d “consulted” from Lin Qiyou, he left in the bedchamber an extremely obscure spatial disturbance, pointing in the opposite direction.
It wasn’t enough to form a true teleportation array, but it would mislead anyone trying to track them for a short time—especially Lin Qiyou, who was skilled in spatial arts.
Once everything was in place, he glanced back at the towering Demon King’s palace in the night—
Then, without hesitation, turned and followed the jubilant figure ahead of him, running off in “elopement.”
Lin Qiyou’s days were anything but easy.
The trap Qing Mu had set earlier had spread like poisonous vines through the human cultivator world.
Her past dealings with the Demon King Ben Ji were dredged up, exaggerated, and linked to her recent “softening” toward the demon tribe, leading to a crescendo of voices questioning her stance and motives.
Within the Youjian Sect, the factions she’d suppressed by force now seemed to have found a pretext.
Several senior elders joined together under the pretense of “protecting the sect’s reputation,” demanding she explain the rumors and reevaluate their policies toward the demon tribe.
Though none dared directly challenge her authority, undercurrents swirled everywhere, tying her hands and making the management of sect affairs a struggle.
This reminded the world of that famous Youjian Sect rebellion.
By nature, she was aloof and cold, not one to defend herself.
Confronted by these suspicions and internal schemes, she felt only intense vexation and exhaustion.
Only when she thought of that figure recuperating in the valley did she feel any comfort or warmth.
He was the one clear direction in her chaotic world.
But when she’d just barely suppressed another round of internal disputes and wearily returned to the sect leader’s quiet chamber, Qin Feng brought news that struck her like a bolt from the blue.
“Master… urgent report from the valley… Qing Mu, he… and that fox demon… both disappeared!”
“What?!” Lin Qiyou sprang to her feet, sword energy surging out of control, instantly shredding the tables and chairs of the quiet chamber to dust!
Her face turned pale as death, the tear mole below her left eye trembling violently.
“Explain! What do you mean, disappeared together?!”
Under her overwhelming aura, Qin Feng could only grit his teeth and speak:
“According to those on watch, there was nothing unusual last night, but come morning, Uncle Qing Mu and the one watching over—uh, tending to—the Deer Demon, were both gone.
There were no signs of a fight, only a faint residue of that fox demon’s demonic power in Qing Mu’s room… and some strange spatial fluctuation.”
He dared not tell the whole truth, for he himself was involved—
Wouldn’t the Sword Immortal skin him alive?
Best talk to his mother first.
Disappeared together… no signs of a fight… fox demon’s demonic power…
These phrases, when put together, pointed to the one possibility Lin Qiyou least wanted to believe—
Elopement?!
That Qing Mu who always seemed calm, even a little distant before her, had actually… actually run off with the fox demon who had tried to devour him more than once?!
Then what about her?
What about her century of searching, struggling, enduring slander, even… that mistaken sword’s guilt—
What did any of that mean?!
A tidal wave of betrayal and heart-wrenching pain instantly drowned Lin Qiyou’s every last shred of reason.
“Find them! Search every corner of the human and demon realms—bring them back to me!”
Her voice was hoarse, carrying unprecedented madness and despair. Sword energy raged, nearly destroying the quiet chamber completely.
She rushed out, turning into a streak of sword light that tore through the sky, heedless of all else, straight toward the demon realm.
Her powerful spiritual sense swept the mountains and rivers like a storm, searching for any trace of familiar auras.
One day, two days—
She searched tirelessly, covering nearly every inch of the border between the demon and human realms, even daring to venture deep into demon territory.
Yet Qing Mu and Nong Li seemed to have vanished from the earth, leaving not a single reliable trace.
Despair, like a cold tide, slowly consumed her heart.
At last, she collapsed atop a desolate mountain peak, spent.
The once aloof and untouchable Sword Immortal was now disheveled, white robes dust-stained, face bloodless.
She gazed out at the endless sea of clouds, her eyes—once feared by countless foes—now empty and dead, shining with the fragments of tears.
“Why… Qing Mu… why…”
Her stifled, wounded-animal-like whimper finally gave way to an uncontrollable, hopeless sobbing that was carried away by the wind atop that lonely peak.
She had lost him.
Again.
She swore, no matter what, she would find him.
Even if Qing Mu had fled to another world, she would find him!