The peach grove in the afternoon was unnaturally quiet.
It was already mid-spring, with peach blossoms in full bloom, covering the branches like drifts of pink clouds.
Yet no birdsong filled the air, and no bees or butterflies danced among the flowers.
Only the rustle of wind through the blossoms and the occasional muffled surge from deep within the pool broke the silence.
Shuang Feixue stood at the edge of the pool, gazing into the dark waters.
Her face was pale as she gripped Nanxi’s hand tightly, her fingertips ice-cold.
“Xiaoxi, are you sure we should do this?” she asked in a low voice.
“Seeking a tiger’s skin is dangerous enough—how much more so with a dragon…”
“Master, we have no choice,” Nanxi replied, turning to look at her with calm eyes.
“Madam Xuanji could come at any moment. With our current strength, we couldn’t even flee.”
He released Shuang Feixue’s hand and took two steps forward.
Crouching down, he pressed his palm against the damp mud at the pool’s edge.
Cold qi seeped from his palm, threading into the soil like living strands, reaching toward the depths of the water.
Ripples began to spread across the surface—slow at first, then growing more urgent.
“Miss Ao,” Nanxi called out.
“An old acquaintance has come to visit. Might we have a word?”
The pool fell silent for a moment.
Then, a dark shadow rose rapidly from the depths.
It broke the surface with a column of water several yards high.
Amid the splashing spray, a graceful figure stepped onto the waves.
Her jet-black scales gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and the twin horns on her forehead were carved like jade.
Ao Xian gazed at the two on the shore, her golden-brown vertical pupils narrowing into thin slits.
“I wondered who it might be,” she said, her voice laced with cool mockery.
“So it’s the little brat who broke his promise two years ago. What, you finally remembered there’s someone locked away in this pool?”
Nanxi stood, meeting her gaze without humility or arrogance.
“That matter from back then had its reasons. It wasn’t intentional faithlessness. I’ve come today to discuss something with you.”
“Discuss?”
Ao Xian let out a scoffing laugh.
With a flicker of her form, she drifted to the shore.
Her soaked ink-black hair clung to her cheeks, water droplets sliding down her neck and into her collar.
“What makes you think you’re qualified to discuss anything with me?”
“Because I can break your seal.”
At the boy’s words, Ao Xian’s pupils contracted sharply.
She stared at Nanxi, then glanced at Shuang Feixue before suddenly smiling.
“With just the two of you? A stinking Acquired realm brat and an old woman in the Innate realm.”
She appraised Shuang Feixue with a playful tone.
“Your aura is unstable, your inner force stagnant. You must have neglected your cultivation for years, haven’t you? And you think you can break the seal left by that person?”
Shuang Feixue’s expression remained cold.
She couldn’t be bothered with this loach, even if the words were true.
Nanxi, however, showed no change in his face.
“We alone wouldn’t be enough, of course. But what if we add this?”
The boy drew a short sword of warm white jade from his sleeve.
A faint glow emanated from it—subtle yet incredibly pure.
The mockery on Ao Xian’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by shock.
“This is…”
She stared at the short sword, her voice trembling slightly.
“This is something from the heavens. How did you get it, boy?”
“How I obtained it is none of your concern, Miss Ao. For now, you can trust us master and disciple.”
Nanxi put the sword away, and the glow disappeared with it.
Ao Xian fell silent.
She lowered her head to look at the pool.
Its surface reflected her form, bound by invisible chains—formless yet stronger than refined steel, colder than ice.
They had imprisoned her for two full centuries.
Two hundred years of solitude.
Two hundred years of captivity.
Two hundred years of hatred.
She slowly raised her head.
A dim flame ignited in her vertical pupils.
“Terms,” she said, spitting out the word.
“Help us kill someone,” Nanxi replied.
“A person who has lived for centuries, known as Madam Xuanji. She wields a chain sword and possesses secret arts.”
Ao Xian raised a brow.
“Interesting. But…”
She curled her lips into a demonic, icy smile.
“What makes you think I’ll keep my word once I’m free? Dragons aren’t exactly known for benevolence. Going back on promises is second nature to us.”
“Because you need us,” Nanxi said, meeting her eyes directly.
“We’ll only loosen the seal by a thread. You’ll be able to break free, but the chains will remain. To remove them completely, you’ll need our continued help. Until then, you won’t kill us—at the very least, you won’t kill me.”
His tone was certain, as though he had already seen through her thoughts.
Ao Xian held his gaze for a long while before suddenly bursting into laughter.
The sound was clear and resonant yet laced with desolation, startling a few crows from their roosts in the grove.
“Good. Very good—a clever little boy.”
She stopped laughing, her eyes sharp as blades. “I’ll take this deal.”
She raised a hand and pointed at Shuang Feixue.
“First, you need to prove you’re capable. If she can’t even wield her cold qi properly, we have nothing to discuss.”
Shuang Feixue instinctively looked at Nanxi.
He nodded to her.
“Give it a try, Master.”
Shuang Feixue bit her lip, took a deep breath, and slowly raised her right hand.
Her fingers curled loosely, palm upward.
Cold qi rose from her dantian, flowing through her meridians to gather in her palm.
At first, it went smoothly.
The qi was pure and biting, condensing into a small cloud of white mist in her hand.
But when she tried to force it out of her body, a sudden stab of pain shot through her meridians, as though something were blocking the flow.
Her true qi abruptly stagnated.
The mist wavered violently, nearly dissipating.
Cold sweat beaded on Shuang Feixue’s forehead.
She gritted her teeth and persisted, but the harder she pushed, the stronger the blockage became.
The old injuries from the Qilian Mountains, combined with years of neglected cultivation and atrophied meridians, now formed an insurmountable barrier.
Just as she was about to give up, a hand gently pressed against the center of her back.
A warm palm rested against her thin clothing.
A gentle yet resilient inner force flowed into her body, traveling along her meridians and clearing the blockages one by one.
It was Nanxi.
The boy stood behind her, his expression focused, silver hair stirring lightly in the wind.
His inner force was not particularly powerful, but it was exceptionally pure.
More remarkably, it carried a vitality like snowmelt in early spring, nourishing her long-parched meridians.
Shuang Feixue’s eyes grew hot.
She forced down the surge of emotion and concentrated on guiding the external force.
The two streams of inner force merged and fused within her, finally transforming into a clear, piercing current of cold that burst from her palm.
Where the cold qi touched the water, the surface froze at a visible speed.
Ice spread rapidly.
In just a few breaths, a thin layer covered the entire pool, refracting rainbow light under the sun.
Ao Xian watched the ice, then looked at Shuang Feixue’s pale yet resolute face.
She remained silent for a long time.
“Enough,” she finally said, her voice betraying no emotion.
“Three days from now, on the night of the full moon when yin qi is at its peak, come here. I will suppress the seal’s backlash. You must strike the array eye at the bottom of the pool with your cold qi. Remember—there is only one chance. If you fail, the backlash will leave you crippled, if not dead.”
With those words, her form sank back into the water.
The ice on the surface cracked with a sharp sound and soon melted away, restoring the pool to its original dark stillness—as though nothing had happened.
Only the lingering chill on the shore proved that it had all been real.
Shuang Feixue’s legs gave way, and she nearly collapsed.
Nanxi caught her in time, pulling her into his arms.
“You did well, Master,” the boy said softly.
Shuang Feixue leaned against his shoulder, trembling all over.
It wasn’t fear but a complex mix of shame, gratitude, and determination.
She lifted her hand and looked at her palm, where a faint coolness from the qi still remained.
So she wasn’t completely ruined after all.
So she could still do something for her child.
“Xiaoxi, Master will definitely protect you.”
Nanxi did not reply. He only held her tighter.
He looked up toward the depths of the peach grove, his gaze passing through layers of blossoms toward the Zhang estate.
The plan was in motion. All the pieces were in place.
Now, they only needed to wait for the opponent to make her move.
In the study of the Zhang estate at that very moment, Zhang Yiwei had just sealed her third letter.
She handed the folded paper to her trusted maid waiting nearby, her voice as soft as a whisper.
“Deliver the letters to the Eight Treasures Pavilion in the county seat. Give them to the proprietress there. One should go by post road, northbound.”
The maid bowed and withdrew silently.
Zhang Yiwei sat alone in the study, gazing at the blooming peach trees outside the window.
Slowly, the corners of her lips curved upward.
She was looking forward to it—when Nanxi discovered that the dragon girl he trusted was unreliable, when he found the northern escape route already cut off, when he had nowhere left to turn.
What sort of help he would seek from her then.