Chapter 91: What If I Have No Regrets?

The last glow of day, faint and garish, like a murky channel of mixed hues.

Evening light spilled through the woods.

Wei Lingjiang looked up at Chen Hang, helplessly; his usual pale moon-white Daoist robe had been stained by the setting sun, as if brushed with a mottled crimson, like peach blossoms.

Against this deep, rich scene, his eyes remained as abyssal as ever, his brows indifferent, untouched by dust.

“Before so many eyes, gossip is inevitable.”

Chen Hang met her gaze, fell silent for a moment, then turned his face slightly away: “Slander can melt bones, false words can burn gold—Sister, you must not be so intimate with me.”

“Before so many eyes?”

Wei Lingjiang lifted her lashes, eyes widening slightly as she fixed him with a steady stare, her expression unchanged, yet her fingers clenched unconsciously in secret:

“Are you close to these people? Or are they your intimate friends?”

“Is it because of others…”

Beneath the face of this man remained the same cold indifference, all emotion suppressed, leaving no trace of sorrow or joy—impossible to approach.

“Let him be.”

“The evening light is truly beautiful to behold.”

Yuan Yang sighed hoarsely and shook his head.

“I’m saving his life.”

Shu Fei murmured inwardly.

I returned to the Immortal Guest Lodge on Red Leaf Island.

Yuan Yang, restless and distracted, suddenly felt a mischievous urge; he let out a cold snort, then gripped Chen’s hand tightly.

I glanced at Yuan Yang with cool indifference, then clenched his hand just as firmly, my seven fingers pressing hard with an unstoppable force.

If that were truly the case.

Wei Lingjiang, who had been diligently eating her cake, heard this and was instantly flustered; she hastily shoved the remaining pastry into her mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed, then bowed with clasped fists.

“Hey! Catch!”

The slender fingers had barely loosened a few inches when, with lightning speed, they clamped shut again—tighter than before—making Chen’s eyelid twitch once more.

“Why is Chen Hang so curious? How did Yuan know?”

You forcibly pried open my hand and shoved something into my sleeve pouch.

Chen couldn’t outmatch you.

Shu Fei’s face was expressionless.

“Why?”

“Shouhuo Sha requires Ming Shi Ru as an ingredient to preserve the essence—go buy some.”

After all that had transpired in past lives.

Shu Fei glared at me impatiently, frowning:

“What if I have no regrets?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Sister isn’t you.”

Yuan Yang stared at Chen for a long while, then suddenly smiled; he sketched this person again and again in his heart, unable to suppress a surge of fury.

Seeing I said nothing, Yuan Yang curled his pink lips into a sly, half-smile, gazing at our clasped hands: “How long do you plan to keep taking advantage of me?”

“I’ll let go—watch.”

“Please.”

As she spoke, her pale cheeks flushed deep crimson; her heartbeat pounded like a drum, impossible to hide—yet despite her shame, her gaze never wavered, firm and unshakable, more earnest than ever before.

You rolled your eyes at Chen Hang, then closed your eyes with a teasing, smug grin.

My eyelid twitched involuntarily; I frowned slightly.

Wei Lingjiang looked deeply at Chen Hang, then bowed with clasped fists:

Yet at that moment, seeing her damp lashes and those stubborn, resolute pupils, one couldn’t help but recall a plum-deer in the mountain stream, its leg broken, mired deep in mud.

Not long after.

This was the first time.

“No need to accompany your sister-in-law—”

“Hundred-Zhang Dan, Little Treasure Yellow Dan, and Qingyu San… all are healing elixirs. There’s a specific order for taking them—follow the prescription below, or you’ll kill yourself.”

The other was sharp-tongued and unpredictable, full of strange notions even Shu Fei couldn’t rein in, often leaving him with a pounding headache.

“You’re not an obstacle to my Dao, nor am I an obstacle to you… Before I purge my inner demons, I will tell you again, face to face, how I truly feel!”

You pressed your lips straight, gazing fixedly at Chen Hang’s face, your eyes swirling with unspoken thoughts—thousands of words surged in your heart, yet remained silently buried in your throat.

Those who had gathered silently along the floating bridge had long since been driven away by Qing Zhi and Wei Lingjiang.

Chen Hang stared into those stubborn, earnest eyes, his gaze lowering, resting momentarily on her face, then finally drifting away with quiet indifference.

At last, a knock came at the door.

Shu Fei turned his face aside as if deep in thought, the smile lingering on his lips: “Brother, what do you think? Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Is he always like this?”

Reborn into another life.

“But hearts are ever-changing…”

Yuan Yang felt his cheeks burn, yet a faint smile tugged at his lips.

Slender waist, white teeth, rosy lips. Soft gaze, smooth skin, flawless texture. Her posture never fixed, her attire never rigid. Both laughter and frown suited her, whether adorned or plain.

Chen Hang watched her departing figure.

Chen Hang cut me off softly, transmitting his voice:

Yuan Yang’s door was tightly shut; no one knew if he had gone out or not.

Wei Lingjiang bit her lip, as if not hearing his latter words, speaking slowly, word by word:

Chen had intended not to answer.

Not long.

“Yuan Brother, the Gangsha martial cultivator you befriended in Huaiwu Cave—his success today was entirely due to my aid.”

I said.

Yet those eyes refused to relent, unyielding.

The two sat side by side beneath the white jade railing on the other side of the floating bridge, sharing a cake as large as a silver basin; sesame seeds rained down, dusting their clothes.

“I say I hate your preachy attitude! Like some rigid, out-of-date schoolmaster!”

Chen didn’t answer.

Yuan Yang suddenly interrupted me with a cold laugh.

“You’re not Yan Zhen—you wouldn’t treat him this way… Why won’t you believe me?”

“I don’t know how you see me, but the moment I see you, I feel warmth—as if we were destined to meet.”

“Not your sister-in-law—where do you get so much nonsense?”

Her voice was calm, yet the end trembled faintly, her body stiffening for an instant.

The young man’s face was dazzlingly beautiful, radiating a rough, arresting allure—like the most brilliant bloom on a branch, luminous even among a crowd.

Bored Wei Lingjiang had already grown close to Qing Zhi.

When night finally deepened, the horizon held only faint stars, and a full moon rose into the clear sky:

“We need only ask our hearts—no need to care what others say!”

Yuan Yang stared at Chen Hang, speaking slowly, clearly:

Moments earlier, there had been no expected piercing pain between our palms.

Chen Hang fell silent for a long while, lowering his eyelids, lips pressed tight; he looked at you, his eyes flickering with a dreamlike haze.

“Are you still a child, Sister?”

In that instant, an unprecedented sense of helplessness washed over me.

Inside the room.

What’s the difference from a concubine?

Not struggling, not calling for help.

Before we met, Shu Fei had heard Chen Hang transmit to him so many words.

“That one—Shu Fei doesn’t need to accompany you. Even if you want to drink with him, it can wait.”

“If he wants it, let him give it to the dogs—do whatever he likes! Give it to Baihe Cave’s senior sister, Zhu WanZhi, if he wants!”

Upon hearing this, Shu Fei’s lips quickly curved upward; he smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling like crescent moons.

After a long while, Yuan Yang pulled his lips wide in a silent laugh.

Chen Hang sat motionless on the mat, raised a finger, and unlocked the door.

He merely hung his head, eyes soft and pitifully gazing up—making one’s heart ache slightly.

“Sister, your feelings for me are likely useless effort.”

“So what? So what if they aren’t?”

After speaking those words, the young man seemed to break through some inner barrier; though still shy, he grew bolder.

“But I will never regret it—I will never regret what I’ve done today! Yuan Yang has never had regrets!”

Could Shu Fei possibly be doing this only to repeat the mistakes of his past life?

Seeing Shu Fei follow, Yuan Yang turned his head and shot me a glance, lifting his rough jaw and letting out a huff, deliberately ignoring me.

I brushed off the crumb bits clinging to my robe, then suddenly erased all smiles from my face, my gaze solemn and weighty as I sighed.

Though only a few thoughts passed, it felt stretched impossibly long, leaving one unsure whether a moment had passed or merely a few blinks.

The two of them gazed at each other in silence for a while.

When their hands touched, Tai Xi pressed down sharply—Chen’s already broken finger bones trembled, throbbing heavily with pain—

After several flickers in Shu Fei’s gaze, he made a formal bow and took his leave.

“Sister-in-law?”

Wei Lingjiang’s expression stiffened at the words.

We were both hot-tempered martial fanatics, accustomed to unrestrained freedom for years; within two or three sentences, we were ready to throw punches.

Shu Fei said:

“It seems unnecessary to elaborate—you’ve long known the truth yourself.”

“He’s gone mad?”

I glanced at Shu Fei again, saw his impassive expression, clenched my teeth, and walked off.

“Younger brother always wears that scowling face—he really ought to smile more.”

“But you weren’t smiling just now either.”

“Er…”

I said:

Chen’s face stiffened.

“You don’t know—I swore an oath: I must attain an immortal Dao, eternal life, and even if I die midway, I’ll have no regrets. I’m nothing like you—I have no family, no sect, no status. Everything I seek, I must fight for with my life.”

“The Martial Eye can pierce all illusions—that was your own words.”

The only one I can trust, the only one I do trust, is myself—

“Sister, is that truly your heart’s desire—or merely a fleeting surge of bloodlust from inner demons?”

By the time Yuan Yang and Chen arrived…

I shook my head and chuckled: “No, Chen Hang, you’ve truly underestimated me. Yuan isn’t some ignorant fool—I’m no ordinary genius either!”

After several breaths, Wei Lingjiang spoke plainly.

After a long silence, he replied softly:

Chen shook his head: “I have no time—I’m not—”

With their combined strength, they swept clear a wide patch of ground, driving away all troublemakers and curious cultivators.

Even when turning away, she’d still tiptoe closer, clinging stubbornly, as if shadow to form.

“Sister?”

After a few pleasantries, Yuan Yang led Qingzhi away first.

“Why? Because of my looks? I’ve heard: those who bond over wealth part when wealth fades; those who bond over beauty drift apart when youth fades. If that’s the reason, sister, won’t you tire of me someday? When that day comes, what will I do? Beg at your feet, paint my brows, plead for your favor?”

Chen returned to his quarters, brushed Tai Xi over his body, changed clothes, and sat in meditation upon the cushion.

“I cannot afford distraction—I dare not even consider it.”

Chen Hang did not answer.

But facing Yuan Yang, my mind turned slowly, yet still found no suitable address.

Yuan Yang wore a slightly wounded expression, lips curling upward, yet the laughter deep in his eyes could not be hidden—he looked like a fox with curled brows and triumphant delight.

Chen glanced at me.

Shu Fei’s lips tightened, concealing the faint anger on his face.

“Isn’t it that sister has always refused to let go?”

Shu Fei gave me a cool, indifferent glance, said little, and merely bowed in farewell.

He said:

“What?”

“This place is too open, too vast—not suited for private talk. Yuan already knows what Shu Fei wished to say. I’ll visit you personally soon; then we can discuss it in detail.”

Or is it truly your own will?”

A gentle yet firm force passed through, subtly shaking my hand loose without my noticing.

After speaking those words, I didn’t look to see Shu Fei’s expression—I turned and walked away.

Wei Lingjiang, unusually solemn, stepped in and swiftly shut the door.

Yuan Yang gripped my hand tightly, his eyes clear and soft, gentle yet cunning—like some docile yet sly great beast.

This time, it was Shu Fei’s eye that twitched.

Shu Fei’s heartbeat raced wildly; he could distinctly hear his own breath, as if another self clung desperately to his ear.

At that moment.

Yuan Yang froze, momentarily stunned.

“You ask why it’s specifically me? You don’t know? I don’t know either! I only want to tell you: you claim your conscience is clear, afraid distraction will hinder your path.”

…

“I’ve often heard: to receive without returning is unbecoming. I’ve received your teachings twice—now it’s my turn.”

“Rogue, let go.”

As I was about to ask confusedly, my pupils suddenly contracted.

“Thank you.”

“…Are you still a child, younger brother? Even this you must countervail?”

I raised my gaze to Shu Fei, clearing all simplicity from my eyes, speaking slowly, deliberately, more seriously than ever:

Only after I’d gone far did I softly lower my gaze and follow.

…

Amid the seemingly endless silence, I finally heard Shu Fei speak.

Chen’s bones suddenly rang out with a metallic clamor, like countless blades clashing; his blood and qi transformed into radiant divine light that cloaked his body—within an instant, he shifted from an ethereal, otherworldly immortal to a monstrous beast brimming with wrath, ready to shatter mountains and devour flesh and blood!

Yan Zhen had merely been moved from one cage to another—Yuan Yang’s cage might be more splendid, but it was still no true freedom.

“What do others matter? What does my heart matter?”

Seeing this scene, Wei Lingjiang spoke cautiously:

I sat across from Shu Fei, fell silent for a moment, then sighed slowly:

No painting can capture such grace; no flower can rival such beauty—

Seeing Chen made no move.