Lin Jingzhe’s grip suddenly tightened.
She remembered what she had just said:
“You’re just fuel.”
“You’re a **.”
She had wanted to tear his pride to shreds; she had wanted to see if his flesh was truly rotten.
But now she knew.
His flesh was indeed rotten.
It was so riddled with holes and decay that he had long since wished for death.
Yet, somehow, within that rotten flesh lay a sliver of stubbornness, a hint of pride, and a backbone that refused to bow even in the face of death.
That backbone caused the thorn in Lin Jingzhe’s heart to suddenly stab deeper.
It wasn’t disgust.
It was something else, something she couldn’t quite name or understand.
The monster launched another attack.
This time, it no longer tested the waters but came at them with everything it had.
All its tentacles erupted with a piercing green light at once, sweeping down toward the two of them like a collapsing sky.
Lin Jingzhe shielded Shen Mo behind her and tightened her grip on her sword.
She knew she couldn’t block it.
The backlash from the Blood Burning Technique had already begun to set in. Her meridians felt as if they were being scorched by fire, and her Spiritual Power was nearly exhausted.
But she didn’t lower her sword.
Her voice was very soft and faint, as if she were mentioning a trivial matter:
“Shen Mo, you owe me a life. If I die, remember to pay me back in the next life.”
As she finished speaking, her sword flew from her hand.
It wasn’t thrown at the monster.
Instead, it soared toward the sky.
The blade emitted a blinding light that grew brighter and brighter—
“Jingzhe!!!”
Shen Mo suddenly realized what she intended to do.
This was the self-detonation of a Natal Magic Treasure.
A Golden Core cultivator’s Natal Magic Treasure detonating carried enough power to heavily injure a Nascent Soul.
But the price—
The cultivator’s own meridians would be completely shattered. At best, their cultivation would be entirely destroyed; at worst, they would die on the spot.
The sword light grew more intense, illuminating the entire Cold Pool, the monster’s twisted face, and Lin Jingzhe’s pale yet calm profile.
She turned back to give Shen Mo one last look.
There was no hostility in her eyes, no mockery—only a strange sort of tenderness.
The sword light was on the verge of exploding—
Just then.
A clear, resonant sword hum echoed from the horizon.
The sound was extremely distant and faint, yet it was like an invisible thread that instantly pierced through the overwhelming green light.
Immediately after—
A streak of white sword light, like a thunderbolt from the highest heavens or the Milky Way hanging upside down, carrying a bone-chilling cold that could destroy heaven and earth, instantly tore through the wind and snow. It slashed down from above the clouds with a deafening roar!
Boom!!!
The sword light struck the monster.
The tentacle, thicker than a water bucket, was severed instantly.
The monster let out a shrill scream of agony as all its tentacles retracted frantically, trying to retreat back into the Cold Pool.
But that sword light was faster.
As if it possessed a life of its own, it carved one elegant arc after another through the darkness, each strike accurately hitting the monster’s vitals.
Tentacles were severed, and black blood erupted.
The monster’s twisted human head was sliced off by the final strike, rolling into the Cold Pool and sinking into the darkness.
Its massive corpse collapsed with a heavy thud, crushing the last intact piece of ice on the shore.
Everything went silent.
Lin Jingzhe’s Natal Magic Treasure fell from the sky, stabbing into the soil at her feet. The light on the blade dimmed, as if it had exhausted its last bit of strength.
She stood there dazed, not yet recovered from her moment of total resolve.
Shen Mo was also stunned.
Both of them looked up at the sky simultaneously.
Under the moonlight, a white figure slowly descended.
The figure was slender and graceful, robes fluttering in the wind, with a faint Sword Intent swirling around her.
She landed on the shore, her feet stepping onto the cracked ice with a soft crackle.
She turned around.
It was a face as cold as frost.
Her features were sharp, her lips pale, and her entire being was like an unsheathed sword, radiating a chill that warned others not to approach.
But at that moment, her gaze bypassed Lin Jingzhe and landed on the man behind her—wounded, with his robes hanging open.
In those icy eyes, a ripple of emotion suddenly appeared.
“Shen Mo.”
Her voice was soft, yet it felt like a stone thrown into a dead, silent pool.
Qin Shuying.
Peak Master of Heavenly Sword Peak, at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, and the youngest Peak Master of Yunyin Mountain.
She had arrived.
Lin Jingzhe looked at the woman who had suddenly appeared, then at the dim sword in her own hand.
Even as proud as she was, she couldn’t help but look up in awe.
The power of that single sword strike just now far surpassed any ordinary Nascent Soul.
It was enough to instantly kill that semi-demonized monster.
It was also enough to let her, a junior at the Golden Core Stage, clearly see the gap between herself and a true powerhouse.
Qin Shuying did not look at her.
From beginning to end, Qin Shuying’s gaze remained fixed on only one person.
She walked toward Shen Mo. Her steps were light, yet each one felt as if it were treading on Lin Jingzhe’s heart.
She stopped in front of him.
Her gaze swept over his open collar, the patch of skin on his collarbone reddened by the cold wind, the charred burn marks on his shoulder, and finally settled on his blood-smeared face.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Who hurt you?”
Her voice was cold—so cold it felt as if it would freeze.
Shen Mo opened his mouth, but before he could speak—
Qin Shuying had already turned to look at Lin Jingzhe.
That one look nearly caused Lin Jingzhe to drop her sword.
It wasn’t killing intent.
It was a higher level of indifference, like looking down at an ant.
“Did you hurt him?”
Lin Jingzhe wanted to speak, to explain, to say she hadn’t actually laid a hand on him, and that the monster was the true culprit—
But her throat felt as if it were being squeezed, and she couldn’t utter a single word.
The pressure of a peak Nascent Soul, even when released casually, was enough to leave a Golden Core cultivator breathless.
Shen Mo suddenly reached out and grabbed Qin Shuying’s sleeve.
“It wasn’t her,” he said, his voice raspy. “The monster hurt me. She saved me.”
Qin Shuying looked down at the hand gripping her sleeve.
That hand was trembling slightly.
It wasn’t from fear, but from exhaustion and pain.
Her gaze softened for a fleeting moment.
“Let go,” she said.
Shen Mo paused, then reflexively let go.
The next moment, Qin Shuying pressed her palm against the charred wound on his shoulder.
A wave of cool Spiritual Power surged in, and the burning pain vanished instantly.
Shen Mo’s body relaxed so much he nearly lost his footing.
Qin Shuying’s other hand moved just in time to support his waist.
The movement was incredibly natural, as if she had done it countless times before.
Witnessing this scene, the thorn in Lin Jingzhe’s heart stabbed even deeper.
She finally understood what that unsettling “scent” was.
It was Qin Shuying’s aura.
It was all over Shen Mo’s body.
This frost-cold woman and the disheveled Master’s Husband behind her shared a relationship she knew nothing about.
And clearly, that relationship was more than a one-time occurrence.
Lin Jingzhe’s hands slowly clenched into fists.
She wanted to ask.
She wanted to interrogate them.
She wanted to get the truth for her Master—
But the words died in her throat, blocked by a single look from Qin Shuying.
“Junior Lin,” Qin Shuying spoke, her voice flat. “It would be best if you forgot about tonight.”
Lin Jingzhe’s pupils shrank. “What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said.” Qin Shuying supported Shen Mo, turning to walk back the way she came. “The thing at the bottom of the Cold Pool is dead, but there are other things in these Luoxia Mountains. Do not come near here for three days.”
Lin Jingzhe stood frozen.
There were other things?
What were they?
She wanted to ask more, but Qin Shuying had already led Shen Mo far away.
Under the moonlight, the white and gray figures gradually merged into the darkness.
Lin Jingzhe stood where she was, holding her dimmed sword, watching the direction they had vanished.
She suddenly recalled Shen Mo’s eyes from moments ago.
There was no fear in those eyes, no shame.
There was only a complex emotion she couldn’t decipher.
It was like a person who had been in the dark for too long finally seeing a lamp.
But that lamp didn’t belong to her.
It belonged to that woman who was as cold as frost.
Lin Jingzhe suddenly kicked a chunk of ice on the ground with all her might.
The ice shattered, sending shards flying.
She didn’t know why she was angry.
Was it because Qin Shuying had taken her person away?
Or was it because Shen Mo hadn’t even looked back at her once when he was led away?
She didn’t know.
She only knew that tonight was far from over.