The moonlight flowed like water, quietly streaming down.
As the night deepened, that familiar scorching sensation awakened within Bai Yue as expected.
She had just furrowed her brows when Mu Chenxi beside her noticed immediately.
It had been like this every night for days—she had already memorized this moment by heart.
Ignoring her own unhealed injuries, Mu Chenxi instantly mobilized her spiritual energy, channeling an incomparably pure ice cold qi like a gentle stream into Bai Yue’s body, dispelling the burning heat that tormented her from within.
The surge of spiritual energy inevitably tugged at her still-healing wounds, sending sharp pain through her meridians.
But Mu Chenxi paid it no mind.
Compared to Master’s safety, this pain was insignificant—she completely ignored it.
“Chenxi, are you really okay?”
Bai Yue asked worriedly.
She could clearly sense the faint, almost imperceptible disorder in her disciple’s aura.
“It’s fine, Master.”
Feeling her Master’s concerned gaze—like the warmest spring sun—Mu Chenxi’s heart filled with warmth, easing her pain.
Focused on healing Bai Yue, she didn’t even notice how her Sword Dao cultivation was silently advancing, growing ever more refined.
When the last trace of Fiery Poison was dispelled, an overwhelming fatigue washed over her like a tide.
Mu Chenxi tightly gripped her Master’s hand and drifted into a deep sleep.
Bai Yue turned onto her side.
By the dim moonlight through the window, she gazed at her disciple’s peaceful sleeping face.
The exhaustion on her pale, beautiful face was impossible to hide, making Bai Yue’s heart ache.
She lifted her other hand, fingers softly brushing Mu Chenxi’s pale cheek.
Bai Yue’s gaze was gentle, her touch even gentler.
This disciple was truly too good to her.
Night after night, she dispelled the Fiery Poison for her without complaint.
Now, even injured, she still put Bai Yue’s safety above her own.
“I wish I could have that kind of dao companion relationship with Master too…”
The words Mu Chenxi had spoken, filled with longing, echoed uncontrollably in her mind.
Thump, thump…
Bai Yue felt her heartbeat race out of control, like a startled fawn, sending her into a fluster.
She snatched her hand back as if shocked, pressing it tightly to her chest, her cheeks burning.
I can’t let my imagination run wild anymore…
I need to rest…
She took several deep breaths, barely calming her restless heart, and slowly closed her eyes.
Listening to her disciple’s steady, soft breathing, she gradually drifted to sleep.
***
The next morning, the first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window lattice, scattering dappled light across the wooden cabin.
Mu Chenxi’s long lashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes.
She instinctively reached beside her, but her hand touched only cold emptiness.
Bai Yue was gone.
A wave of panic surged, blanking her mind.
“Master!?”
In a panic, Mu Chenxi struggled to sit up.
Anxious, she turned into a streak of light, burst through the wooden door, and rushed outside.
Her unhealed wounds throbbed with pain, but she paid them no heed.
Fortunately, she quickly spotted the figure she had worried about by a gently flowing stream not far away.
Bai Yue stood elegantly in the clear water, her gray Dao robe’s hem tied at her waist.
Two slender, graceful legs shimmered beneath the rippling surface, dazzling to behold.
She was leaning forward slightly, seemingly trying to catch something, her full curves stretching her simple robe taut, swaying with her movements.
The plumpness seemed about to burst through the old patches on her Dao robe at any moment.
Mu Chenxi stared in a daze for a while before snapping back to herself.
So Master was catching fish.
The crimson carp looked ordinary at first glance, but who knew how many years it had grown in this spiritual energy-rich place.
The fish had become intelligent, making it slippery and hard to grasp.
No matter how Bai Yue, at Foundation Establishment Stage, tried, she couldn’t catch it—sweat beaded on her smooth forehead in frustration.
Relieved to have found Master, Mu Chenxi’s anxious heart finally settled.
She slowed her steps and walked over.
Bai Yue quickly noticed her.
Seeing Mu Chenxi approach, she hurried ashore and stepped forward to support her.
“Chenxi, you’re still injured. Why did you come out? You should be resting!”
Bai Yue scolded.
“Master, I woke up and couldn’t find you, so I came out to look for you.”
Mu Chenxi explained softly.
“My injuries have improved a lot, and I can use spiritual energy again.”
As she spoke, she raised her hand, fingers forming a sword, and pointed toward the red carp still swimming leisurely in the stream.
A solid Sword Qi shot out, silently piercing the water.
The red carp, which had defied Bai Yue moments before, stiffened.
Its head was instantly pierced, and it floated to the surface, belly up.
“I really have recovered a lot—that’s wonderful,”
Bai Yue said, visibly relieved.
She quickly waded into the stream to retrieve the large fish.
“Master, were you going to eat this?”
“Yes, I was going to cook it for you, to help you recover.”
Bai Yue held up the fish, her smile radiant in the morning sun.
Mu Chenxi wanted to tell her that, at her current cultivation, spirit fish of this level offered little benefit.
But seeing the sweat on Bai Yue’s brow, and that smile warmer than the morning sun, she found herself unable to say it.
“Thank you, Master. I want to eat your fish too.”
During these days with Bai Yue, the usually reserved Mu Chenxi had somehow learned how to please her Master.
“Last time’s stir-fried sweet beans were delicious—your cooking is really good!”
At her words, Bai Yue’s eyes curved in delight, overjoyed.
She eagerly began preparing the spoils.
“Master, let me do it.”
“Are you sure? Don’t strain your injuries.”
“Don’t worry—I’ll be fine.”
Seeing Mu Chenxi insist, Bai Yue placed the fish on a flat stone by the stream.
Maintaining her sword gesture, Mu Chenxi pointed at the fish.
It floated up weightlessly.
Countless fine Sword Qi shot from her fingers like a swarm of living bees, swiftly darting across the fish’s body, so fast they were almost invisible.
In an instant, the scales and innards were cleanly removed, the scraps plopping into the water.
With another flash, the plump fish was sliced into perfectly even, translucent slices.
The fish pieces were neatly arranged on the stone, gleaming enticingly in the morning light.
Bai Yue stared in shock again.
Such exquisite Sword Qi.
It seemed that Mu Chenxi, now at Nascent Soul Stage, had reached a terrifying mastery of Sword Dao.
But…
Wasn’t using such swordsmanship to slice fish a bit excessive…?
Suppressing her amazement, she started a fire by the mountain stream and placed a small pot over it.