Xiao Yue gazed into her Honored Master’s eyes, which were tinged red from suppressing pain, and the reverence in her heart was unexpectedly replaced by a surge of inexplicable courage.
She took a deep breath, as if gathering all the wisdom she had accumulated through years of struggling and surviving in the mundane world and at the bottom of the sect.
“Honored Master, forgive this disciple for speaking bluntly.”
“I don’t think Young Lord Jiang is the kind of ordinary male cultivator who can be manipulated at will.”
“There’s something about Young Lord Jiang… he’s not like the men we’re used to seeing among the scholars and cultivators.”
Honestly, people born in different worlds naturally possess different auras.
Wu Zhaohua’s willow brows knitted slightly, and the sword intent around her grew sharper instinctively, but she ultimately did not lash out. She only gave a cold “Hm?” to indicate for her to continue.
What? Do you think you understand Jiang Huai better than I do?
Deep within those cool, phoenix-like eyes, however, there was a trace of urgent curiosity and conflict—one she herself did not even notice.
“Sometimes, I feel like Master Jiang has become some kind of treasure, fought over by everyone,” Xiao Yue mustered her courage, looking her Honored Master straight in the eyes.
“You see him as something lost and now regained, but deep down, he’s actually quite proud.”
Upon hearing this, Wu Zhaohua’s delicate body stiffened ever so slightly, instinctively wanting to refute:
“I have always treated him…”
“Honored Master,” Xiao Yue interrupted before she could argue, her tone picking up pace.
“This isn’t about whether you’ve treated him well or not, nor about what should or shouldn’t be.”
“You saved him back then, but didn’t he also bear tribulation for you?”
“This time, you saved him again. It was a good opportunity, but I’m guessing you didn’t say a single word to Jiang Huai aboard the immortal boat…”
“And yet you only invited him to stay with you—after everything was over. To spend the night.”
“Not even a word of greeting, as if by waving your hand, Jiang Huai should follow you without question.”
Xiao Yue felt Jiang Huai had a certain pride to him.
When Wu Zhaohua and Qin Qingyue were bargaining whether Jiang Huai would accompany one for a hundred days or a month, she had noticed the particularly unpleasant look in his eyes, though he was helpless to protest.
Xiao Yue seemed to see again that youth in the trial grounds, challenging Dao Foundation cultivators with only his Qi Refining cultivation, his eyes bright and resolute.
“If it were Qin Qingyue, she’d at least make small talk with Jiang Huai, ask how things have been at Nine Heavens Palace lately, ask if he’d hit any bottlenecks in his swordsmanship lately—these friendly but non-offensive questions. Even if she had something else to say, she couldn’t say it right away.”
“She wouldn’t just stand there coldly, waiting for Jiang Huai to come over on his own…”
Xiao Yue hesitated, unsure how to phrase things without being disrespectful.
“To come feed me medicine, feed me food, take care of me,” Wu Zhaohua muttered thoughtfully, almost to herself.
Wu Zhaohua fell silent for a long time, just standing there dazed, the wind tugging at her snowy white robe, lending her a hint of solitude.
After a long while, she slowly turned her head.
For the first time, her cool and stunning face shed all the dignity and pride of a great sword immortal, leaving only a dazed confusion—like a maiden experiencing love for the first time.
“Do you mean… you want me to let go of the past, and pursue him anew?”
Perhaps that really was most appropriate.
Wu Zhaohua herself had to admit that she had always regarded Jiang Huai as something that had been taken from her.
She expected him to act as he had in the mortal realm—taking the initiative to care for her, to speak with her, to be with her.
But before Xiao Yue could answer, Wu Zhaohua slowly shook her head:
“There are too many women around him. I’ve already said, from now on… we go our separate ways.”
As soon as she said it, she felt her cheeks heat up.
Saying “separate ways” changed nothing at all.
“If you truly meant to go your separate ways, Honored Master wouldn’t have taught him the Wenxuan Swordsmanship, nor would you have gone to rescue him, let alone suggested he stay with you for a hundred days,” Xiao Yue replied.
“That’s just how things are. What you do is up to you, Honored Master.”
Wu Zhaohua came back to herself. The resentment in her heart faded, replaced by thoughtful reflection.
Xiao Yue cautiously sat by her side, carefully reviewing her words for any mistakes.
It was her first time acting as a strategist, even though she had little experience herself.
Master and disciple—one dared to speak, the other dared to listen.
“What do you think the next step should be?” Wu Zhaohua suddenly asked.
Xiao Yue pondered for a moment, then answered:
“Though Jiang Huai didn’t agree to accompany you, he’s the kind to repay grace with grace.”
“Next, he’ll probably come personally to Wenxuan Sect with resources as a gesture of gratitude. In any case, this matter isn’t finished yet.”
Within the withered Recognition Sea.
Jiang Huai wandered through the ruins of this world, feeling the sorrowful resonance brought by the source of his bloodline.
Is this what a Recognition Sea is? Is it truly a world?
Is a person’s Recognition Sea an entire world unto itself?
The sky was leaden gray, devoid of sun, moon, or stars—only a dead and lifeless haze.
The land was parched and cracked, crisscrossed by enormous ravines like claw marks left by some monstrous beast.
Everywhere he looked, there were only the charred remains of ancient trees, twisted and reaching for the sky, as if making their final, silent lament.
A sorrowful stillness permeated the air, as though all life force in the world had been drained away.
Though withered and decaying, this was Innate Primordial Qi, sharing the same origin as himself.
“Do you… still have consciousness?” he called softly, utterly shocked.
There was no response, only his lonely voice echoing across the dried earth.
Then, Jiang Huai suddenly felt as if he were being watched; specks of faint light appeared before his eyes.
The scene changed abruptly.
He found himself in the Void, surrounded by shattered stars, before him a solitary back blocking the myriad living beings, and at last, a barely audible sigh.
“I… I have no children, and my mother has perished in battle. Who are you?”
That figure did not turn, only asked instinctively, “Who are you?”
“I am this generation’s Yin-Yang Body,” Jiang Huai replied.
“Yin-Yang Body, you are Yin-Yang Body…”
The figure seemed to waver with emotion, still unsure but turning to face Jiang Huai for the first time.
Boom! Jiang Huai felt a splitting headache.
That beautiful and powerful woman dissolved into fragments of starlight.
Countless chaotic thoughts and messages flooded into his mind—not concrete techniques, but a far vaster understanding.
About the balance of yin and yang, about the weight of the world, about the price of guardianship.
And a hint of deep-seated unwillingness and regret.
“The world is entrusted to you.”
The woman’s only lingering obsession faded like smoke.
At that very moment, in the outside world, in the Crystal Coffin, a single teardrop of crystalline ice quietly slipped from the eye of that peerlessly beautiful woman.
White Dragon—transformed from White Dew—let out a low, sorrowful dragon’s cry.
Jiang Huai was immersed in this insight.
The Chaos Qi within his Dao Foundation spun ever faster, merging with the lingering resonance in this Recognition Sea.
His cultivation quietly increased without him noticing, and his understanding of his own constitution deepened yet another layer.
“So this is the path you chose?” he silently wondered.
Within the Secret Realm Void, Jiang Huai’s soul was immersed in the boundless legacy of the withered world, while his physical body stood before the Crystal Coffin, eyes closed, oblivious to everything happening around him.
The enormous White Dragon, transformed from White Dew, gazed at him quietly, the emotions in her ice-blue eyes churning more violently than ever before.
He knows. He now knows the destiny of the Yin-Yang Body. But how will he choose? White Dew’s heart sank.
From Jiang Huai’s conversation with Qin Qingyue, she had long seen through this man’s nature.
He values relationships, but may not care for the lives of all in the world.
Especially after Qin Qingyue’s words—each sentence had distanced him from this world’s responsibilities.
If he truly chose to ascend to the Immortal Realm with Qin Qingyue, abandoning the fate of this world, then when the Heavenly Demon descended again, who would stand against it?
This thought was like eternal black ice, instantly freezing White Dew’s heart.
She could not gamble, and neither could the White Dragon Clan.
A bold, even heretical plan abruptly took shape in her always-cool heart.
The previous generation’s Yin-Yang Body died in battle, leaving no heir—this was the greatest regret of this world.
For this generation, such a mistake could never be repeated!
The White Dragon’s massive body shimmered with a ghostly light, transforming back into a slender, coldly elegant girl in white.
She walked to Jiang Huai and gazed quietly at his tranquil, unperturbed face, still deep in the trance of inheritance.
She slowly knelt before him, her actions completely unwavering.
White Dew’s face showed not a trace of lust or embarrassment—only a kind of ceremonial solemnity and resolve.
She did this for the ancient covenant of the White Dragon Clan, and for the last glimmer of hope for this world.
“If you leave, I must at least ensure the Human Race and the Dragon Race have a sliver of hope.” White Dew murmured to herself, as if seeking justification for her actions.
She gently untied Jiang Huai’s belt and removed it.
Yet her eyes remained as cold as ever, regarding him not as a living man, but as a vessel for hope, a sacrificial “offering.”
White Dew stared, her face receiving, her hands holding aloft as if bearing a sacred relic, her expression reverent.
Her warm, soft lips, carrying the chill of ice and snow, carefully pressed forward.
Her movements were awkward, but unspeakably earnest.
The proud, aloof leader of the White Dragon Clan, at this moment, took on the most humble posture to perform the most intimate act.
This contrast gave her a strange and fragile beauty; the white-scaled dragon tail flicked lightly.
She was afraid—afraid that Jiang Huai would one day, like Qin Qingyue, abandon this world.
So she would secretly leave behind a new Yin-Yang Body, personally teaching it from birth, instilling the mission of guardianship from the start, allowing not even a shred of wavering.
She did not need Jiang Huai’s love, nor even his awareness.
What she needed was only the essence that could carry hope forward.
Jiang Huai’s body began to react, but his soul remained deeply absorbed in the inheritance, completely unaware of what was happening to his body.
White Dew closed her dragon-like eyes, feeling the abrupt intrusion in her mouth, and pushed Jiang Huai down to the ground.
If you are willing to be hope, I will protect your Dao. If you choose to flee, I will bear hope for you.