“I…”
He spoke, his voice trembling violently.
Qin Shuying interrupted him.
“Those people in the Marketplace,” she said, her voice flat. “I killed them.”
Shen Mo’s blood ran cold.
“They deserved to die,” Qin Shuying continued. “But have you wondered why they deserved it?”
Shen Mo didn’t know what she was trying to say.
“You are too weak.”
Those four words fell lightly, yet they weighed on his heart like a mountain.
“You are at half-step Foundation Establishment, yet you are powerless. You couldn’t even break free from a few Loose Cultivators at the early stages of Foundation Establishment,” Qin Shuying said. “I happened to be passing by today, but what if I hadn’t been?”
Shen Mo clenched his fingers. His nails dug into his palms; the pain helped him clear his head.
“If I hadn’t,” she said, “you would be on your way to Chaoyun Peak by now.”
She paused.
“Locked up. Played with slowly. And once they were bored, given to the subordinates.”
Those were the words Zhou Yunying had spoken. Yet, hearing them from Qin Shuying’s mouth made Shen Mo feel even colder than when Zhou Yunying had said them.
“What do you have to fight back with?” Qin Shuying asked.
Shen Mo opened his mouth, but no words came out.
‘Fight back with what?’
‘What do I have to fight with?’
He was only at half-step Foundation Establishment; he couldn’t even struggle or escape.
When Zhou Yunying had grabbed his chin and pulled him into her embrace, he could do nothing but bite her, earning himself the remark, “Don’t be ungrateful.”
Then he had been pinned to the ground, his face pressed against the snow, waiting to be taken away. Waiting to be locked up, played with slowly, and given to others once they were bored.
Shen Mo closed his eyes. The images swirled in his mind, making his stomach churn.
In the midst of his turmoil, he suddenly noticed that his cultivation boundary, which had been stuck for years, showed signs of loosening!
‘What… what is happening?’
He looked up and saw Qin Shuying’s hands pressed against his back.
Her left hand had formed a small Yang Absorption spiritual energy vortex, and the impurities in his body seemed to rush out toward it like small tadpoles seeking their mother.
A faint purple light flowed between the fingers of her right hand, containing the Ethereal Yin power that was both extremely dark and cold, continuously transmitting energy into him.
Shen Mo stood there in a daze.
Meridian Combing.
This was an extremely intimate act between cultivators. Spiritual energy entered the other person’s body and traveled along their meridians; the slightest mistake could lead to disaster.
Usually, only masters and disciples or Daoist partners would do such a thing.
As he thought of this, the two vortexes of Ethereal Yin and Yang Absorption grew even larger!
He felt the previous blockages and impurities in his dantian being gradually cleared away, replaced by an unprecedented sense of freshness and clarity.
His meridians were opened. His internal organs were cleansed.
Shen Mo closed his eyes, his tense body gradually relaxing as he allowed that power to flow through him.
His consciousness hovered on the edge of pain and pleasure, causing him to involuntarily let out a low, trembling moan.
A tingling sensation spread throughout his body, and he suddenly lost all strength, slumping weakly.
He felt as though his body were incredibly light, like a wisp of rising smoke that would lose its balance and collapse if the wind blew.
Checking his cultivation again, he had already entered Foundation Establishment.
“Look at me.”
The voice rang out again.
He opened his eyes. Qin Shuying stood before him, her eyes still just as cold.
“Now, you have two paths,” she said. “First, I send you back to Jiaoyue Peak. You continue to be your Virtuous Lord, continuing to guard that empty peak while waiting for your wife to finish her Seclusion. The next time you encounter something like this, you will continue to bite, continue to struggle, and continue to be pinned to the ground, waiting for the next person who ‘happens to pass by’ to save you.”
Shen Mo’s throat tightened.
“Second.” She paused. “Stay here.”
Shen Mo’s heart skipped a beat. “Stay… stay here?”
“Heavenly Sword Peak needs someone to look after the Spirit Beast Garden,” Qin Shuying said, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Since you can raise Spirit Chickens, I assume other beasts won’t be a problem. Stay, and I will teach you the Dao. I will teach you Sword Kinesis. I will teach you how to pierce someone’s throat with a sword the next time someone tries to pin you down.”
Shen Mo was stunned. He looked at her, trying to read something from those icy eyes. But he could see nothing.
“You…” he started, his voice raspy. “Why are you helping me?”
Qin Shuying looked at him. Her gaze fell on his face without the previous sense of pressure; she just watched him quietly, as if examining whether a tool was fit for use.
“To save my Cloud-Soaring Crane,” she said.
Shen Mo was taken aback.
“You must save it.”
Those four words fell flatly, but they caused Shen Mo’s heart to sink.
It wasn’t that she was helping him. It was to save her Cloud-Soaring Crane.
He suddenly remembered what Manager Zheng of the Spirit Beast Garden had said — Peak Master Qin Shuying of Heavenly Sword Peak kept a Cloud-Soaring Crane.
She had raised it for thirty-seven years, starting from when it was just an egg.
That crane had blocked a spell from a demon cultivator for her and was now gravely injured and on the verge of death; countless people had been consulted, but none could cure it.
‘So that’s why she appeared in the Marketplace?’
‘So that’s why she killed those people?’
She hadn’t just been passing by; she had come specifically to find him.
Shen Mo’s hands slowly clenched. He remembered the words she had spoken in the quiet room — “Stay here, and I will teach you the Dao. I will teach you Sword Kinesis. I will teach you how to pierce someone’s throat with a sword the next time someone tries to pin you down.”
Those words sounded like a gift. But it turned out they were just a transaction.
“You knew I could treat spirit beasts?” he asked.
Qin Shuying did not deny it. “The matters of the Jiaoyue Peak Spirit Beast Garden are not hard to inquire about,” she said. “That Golden-feathered Chicken… you raised it.”
Shen Mo’s breath hitched for a moment.
The Golden-feathered Chicken. He thought of the little chicken with the gold line on its back and the way it had transformed this morning — pure reddish-gold feathers, a clear and long cry, and that sharp, sword-like aura within its body.
‘So she had known all along.’
“Did you send people to watch Jiaoyue Peak?” he asked.
“I was passing by,” Qin Shuying said, her voice flat. “The manager of the Spirit Beast Garden went down the mountain for business and mentioned it in passing.”
‘Mentioned it in passing.’
Shen Mo didn’t believe it. But he didn’t have the right to press further.
“Your Cloud-Soaring Crane,” he said, his voice steadier than he expected, “is it badly injured?”
Qin Shuying did not answer immediately. She turned around, walked toward the door, and pushed it open. A cold wind rushed in, making the candlelight flicker.
“Follow me.”
She stepped over the threshold without looking back. Shen Mo watched her back, hesitated for a moment, and then followed.
……
The night was deep.
Snow was still falling, fine and dense, leaving a thin layer on the bluestone path.
Qin Shuying walked ahead, her frost-white robes particularly conspicuous in the darkness.
Shen Mo followed three steps behind her, stepping in the footprints she left behind, walking forward step by step.
They passed through a corridor, through a moon gate, and entered a courtyard larger than the previous one.
In the center of the courtyard stood a huge cage.
The cage was over a person’s height, cast from refined iron, with its door tightly closed. Thick cushions were laid inside the cage, and atop them lay a snow-white crane.
The crane was large, more than twice the size of an ordinary crane. But now it lay there, its head drooping, its eyes half-closed, and its feathers dull and lusterless.
Its chest was wrapped in thick white cloth, with faint traces of blood seeping through.
Shen Mo took a few steps closer. The crane sensed someone’s arrival and opened its eyes to glance at him.
Those eyes must have been extremely bright once, but now they looked as if they were covered in a layer of dust, heavily clouded.
It wanted to stand up, struggled for a moment, and then fell back onto the cushions.
“Do not move.”
Qin Shuying’s voice rang out. Hearing her voice, the crane indeed stopped moving, though its eyes still watched Shen Mo with an indescribable look.
Shen Mo knelt down and slowly reached out his hand toward the bars of the cage.
He pressed his palm against the bars but did not reach inside. He closed his eyes.
Spiritual energy slowly probed out, passing through the bars and landing on the crane.
In that instant, his blood ran cold.
The crane’s injuries were far more severe than he had imagined. The spell had not only injured its flesh but had also damaged its meridians.
The spiritual energy inside it had almost collapsed, racing around like a severed river, slamming into its internal organs.
The wound on its chest appeared to have healed, but beneath the flesh, hidden injuries were spreading like a spiderweb across half of its body.
Worse still, it was too weak. So weak it didn’t even have the strength to struggle.
Shen Mo opened his eyes. Qin Shuying stood beside him, looking down at him.
Those eyes were still just as cold, but now there was something else in that coldness that he couldn’t read.
“Can it be saved?” she asked.
Shen Mo was silent for a while. “It can,” he said. “But it will be difficult.”
Qin Shuying did not speak.
Shen Mo stood up and looked at her. “Its injuries have been dragged out for too long,” he said.
“The meridians have already collapsed, and spiritual energy is rampaging everywhere. I must first stabilize the injuries within its body, then slowly repair those broken meridians. This process cannot be rushed; if it is, the crane won’t be able to endure it. It might take several months, or even longer.”
Qin Shuying listened, her face devoid of expression. “What do you need?” she asked.
Shen Mo blinked. “What?”
“What do you need to treat it?” Qin Shuying said. “Elixirs, spirit herbs, artifacts, Spirit Stones — just ask.”
Shen Mo looked at her. In those icy eyes, there was only one thing now: seriousness.
She was being serious. This crane was truly important to her.
He remembered the sentence she had spoken in the quiet room — “My people are not to be touched by others.” At that time, he thought it was about possession, control, or something else he couldn’t define. But now he suddenly understood. She was talking about this crane.
“I’ll try,” he said.
Qin Shuying did not say thank you. She simply raised her hand, and the chain on the cage door fell away.
“Go in.”
Shen Mo pushed open the cage door and bent over to crawl inside. Seeing him enter, the crane slightly raised its head.
He knelt down and gently placed his hand on top of its head, his palm pressing against the soft feathers.
Spiritual energy slowly seeped in. Slow and light, like a trickling stream. The crane’s body trembled slightly, then quieted down.
Shen Mo closed his eyes, guiding that wisp of spiritual energy to probe into its body bit by bit.
The collapsed meridians, the rampaging spiritual energy, the spiderweb-like hidden injuries — he probed through each one, committing them to memory.
Then he began to comb through them.
Like untangling a mess of yarn or mending a tattered garment. His spiritual energy was too weak, so he could only work bit by bit.
For every small section of meridian he repaired, another layer of sweat formed on his forehead.
He felt more and more exhausted. That exhaustion wasn’t physical; it came from somewhere deeper — as if someone were digging a hole in his body and scooping something out bit by bit.
His temples throbbed, and his vision began to darken, yet his hand remained on the crane’s head, and his spiritual energy continued to seep out.
‘Just a little longer.’
‘Just a little longer will do.’
He gritted his teeth and pushed that wisp of spiritual energy, now as thin as a silk thread, a little deeper.
The crane’s body suddenly shuddered.
Shen Mo opened his eyes. It was looking at him. Those clouded eyes were a bit brighter now.
Not the brightness of a full recovery, but something else — as if something within its body had come back to life.
It let out a soft cry. The sound wasn’t as weak as before; it carried a bit of strength, a bit of…
Before Shen Mo could finish the thought, the crane suddenly lifted its head and gently nudged his palm with its beak.
In that moment, all the strength in his body seemed to be drained. His vision went black, and he fell backward.
He didn’t hit the ground. A hand reached out from behind him, steadily supporting his waist. The hand was very cold, as cold as snow.
Shen Mo leaned against that hand, gasping for breath. Sweat poured down his cheeks, dripping onto the person’s sleeve and staining a small patch a darker color.
“You — “
The voice rang out above him. Just one word, yet it trailed off.
Shen Mo looked up. Qin Shuying was looking down at him.
Those icy eyes had changed. It wasn’t the kind of change where a crack appears in the surface of a frozen river; it was something else.
Her gaze slid down from his face, down to his neck, down to his sweat-soaked collar, and to his rising and falling chest.
Then it slowly slid back up and landed on his lips.