Chapter 944: Qingque vs Jing Liu (Comic)

It was especially clear on the street frozen into a dead silence.

It sounded like someone snapping an ice pop, crisp and clean, with shards of ice crystals falling onto the stone pavement.

Sai Fei Er's cat ears turned toward the source of the sound.

Huo Huo's sobbing paused for a moment.

The two of them looked at the broken piece of ice at the same time.

Qingque stood amid the pile of broken ice, her ash‑white long hair still clinging to unmixed ice shards, her dull emerald eyes filled with bewilderment as she lowered her head to stare at the fragments of ice on her hands.

She had only been in the ice layer for a few seconds.

Jing Liu's sword qi froze her together with the few nearby mo‑yin bodies, but the chill lingered only on the surface of her skin before dissipating like water sliding off a lotus leaf.

She wiggled a finger in the ice, and the ice shattered.

Qingque stepped forward, and the whole ice shell covering her fell to the ground with a clattering crash, like a shattered eggshell.

Without any effort.

Even easier than crawling out of a blanket.

Qingque blinked, and ice shards fell from her eyelashes onto the back of her hand, turning into tiny droplets.

She looked down at her hand, confirmed none of her fingers were missing, then lifted her head to glance around.

Ice sculptures filled the street.

The few mo‑yin bodies that had been gnawing on wood in the distance were now all frozen into Performance Art installations.

The air was so cold that her breath turned directly into white mist; a layer of white frost clung to the stone pavement at her feet, and stepping on it produced a crisp creaking sound.

Qingque withdrew her gaze from the cluster of ice sculptures and then saw the white‑haired woman standing in the middle of the street.

Moonlight bathed her, casting a cold white hue from head to toe.

Her white long hair fell to her waist, fluttering in the night wind like a stream of polar ice water.

The silver crescent on her black Eye Mask gleamed painfully in the moonlight, and the ice‑blue long sword in her hand still bore the afterglow of its sword qi burst; its tip angled toward the ground, and the cold light flowing along the blade resembled liquid moonlight sealed within.

Somewhat familiar.

Qingque tilted her head, and ice shards slipped down through her hair.

She was sure she had seen that face somewhere.

Not the person herself, but in some file of Tai Bu Si, or in a casual description by Fu Xuan, or perhaps General Jingyuan, etc.; General Jingyuan is mad now, so she shouldn't dwell on it.

But she was certain she knew this person.

White hair, Eye Mask, Ice Sword.

That combination of features yields only one match on Luofu Xianzhou.

Former Sword Leader.

Jing Liu.

Qingque's mind had just retrieved the name "Jing Liu" from memory, and before she could fully digest its meaning, Jing Liu turned his head toward her.

It wasn't a quick glance and then looking away, nor a casual sighting and passing by.

It was precisely, directly, without deviation, turning that face, mostly hidden by the black Eye Mask, toward her direction.

Qingque felt the weight of that gaze landing on her.

Cold.

She had used that word many times tonight: cold when Xue Yi chased her with a broken demon spear, cold when ignored by mo‑yin bodies, cold when she realized she had become a mo‑yin body.

But those previous colds, compared to the cold of Jing Liu's gaze, were not on the same scale.

His gaze was as if someone compressed all the ice of winter into a single needle, then drove it through her pupil, stabbing along the nerves all the way to the cerebral cortex.

Qingque shivered violently.

Even the floral branch on her shoulder quivered, shedding several half‑withered gray‑purple petals that fell onto the broken ice at her feet.

She slightly widened her eyes, staring at him, her dull emerald eyes flashing many emotions: confusion, insecurity, and a growing ominous premonition.

Oh. Huh.

Qingque realized that in everyone's eyes she was just a mo‑yin body.

A moving mo‑yin body!

And in his eyes, what did he see?

A Abundance Offspring.

A pollutant that should be eradicated.

The next second, her premonition came true.

"Abundance Offspring."

Jing Liu's lips moved, spitting out those four words.

The instant Qingque heard those four words, the stone that had hung in her heart for ages finally fell, striking precisely on the sole of her foot.

Doomed!

She opened her mouth, a garbled string of syllables forced out of her throat; she wanted to say "Wait," "I'm not a Abundance Offspring," "I am Qingque of Tai Bu Si, Diviner of Fu Xuan, and though I look a bit off right now I still have Reason String, I can still think—I was just internally mocking how Destruction doctrine is no different from Medicine King Secret Transmission."

Too many words tried to escape, all jammed in her throat, pushing outward in a rush, and not a single coherent word emerged, only a rustling like wind through dead branches.

Jing Liu, of course, did not hear.

Even if he had heard, he would not have reacted.

The Ice Sword in his hand instantly ignited entirely, the cold light on the blade exploding, illuminating the whole street brighter than the moon overhead.

The chill that had been vague moments ago suddenly sharpened, turning from diffused cold mist into tangible ice blades, resting on Qingque's still thudding heart.

Qingque was frightened enough to step back.

Her heel cracked a thin piece of ice, producing a crisp crack.

Immediately after, they made a decision that, in hindsight, was extremely wise but at the time was purely instinctive.

"Goodbye! No! Never see you again!"

When she shouted those words, she had already turned and left.

Her ash‑gray long hair arced through the air, sweeping over the half‑withered blossoms on her shoulder and flinging several petals away.

Her legs kicked deep gouges into the ice‑covered stone slab floor, and she surged toward the far end of the street at a speed far beyond that of an ordinary demonic shadow body.

Sai Fei Er watched Qingque dash into the alley at a speed that a demonic shadow body could never have, her cat ears twitching atop her head.

Then she looked at Jing Liu.

Jing Liu still held the stance from just a step earlier, but his head tilted slightly, clearly also watching the swiftly running demonic shadow body.

Her lips moved again; this time Sai Fei Er caught what she said, but only saw Jing Liu's mouth corner dip slightly.

Then the figure vanished.

A footprint‑shaped dent appeared in the ice on the stone slab, as if scorched by high heat and instantly frozen.

Sai Fei Er's cat ears perked up with a swish, her eyes brightened, and her cat tail curled behind her into a plump question‑mark shape.

"Wow!"

The excitement in her tone was like a cat watching two mice fight, "Got gossip!"

She looked down at Huo Huo, who was still pretending to cry in her arms.

Huo Huo lifted her tear‑streaked little face, her bright green eyes watery as they stared at her, lips slightly open as if about to say something—probably something like, "Sai Fei Er sister, where are you going?" to keep up her character.

But before she could speak, Sai Fei Er scooped her up in one swift motion.

One hand slipped under her knees, the other cradled her back—a classic princess carry.

"Let's go!"

Huo Huo's voice finally squeezed out from deep in her throat: "Put me down!!"

"No, no, the show over there is about to start; if we're late we won't get front seats!"

With a single step, Sai Fei Er vaulted onto the roof of a three‑story old building at the edge of the plaza.

Huo Huo felt as if she'd been thrust into a supersonic roller coaster, the surrounding scenery turning in her view into streaks of color—white, black, blue—all blended together and streaked past her peripheral vision.