Chapter 95

“An hour earlier?”

“Yes.”

“The divine talisman?”

“Already used.”

“And the Ancestor?” Wei Lingjiang asked.

Chen Hang lightly tapped his brow with his finger, saying nothing.

…

The two fell into an odd silence once more.

Behind Wei Lingjiang.

Qingzhi yawned weakly, glancing at the two with listless eyes, then lifted the jar of lotus-seed soup she held in her hands with a “Heya!” and drank deeply, gulping it down in loud swallows.

“Nothing’s even been decided yet—why are you in such a rush? After we kill this evil anger-yin-sheng demon, we’ll still have to return to the Red Ming Sect and sit in prison inside the ‘Nine Emperors Eternal Yang Golden Palace’ cave-heaven! We’ll all sit in prison together, hard!”

She grumbled inwardly, but her lips kept moving; as her cheeks puffed and deflated, the lotus-seed soup in the jar visibly neared its bottom.

“And your master—she definitely hates this little Chen! That clumsy, quiet old nun! That cold, unlikable, bony old madwoman!”

“When I become a Great Sage of the demonic race, I’ll drag her off to Gui Xu and make her stay forever in the sea’s eye!”

At this thought, she felt a flicker of smug delight, her lips twitching toward a smile.

But the next instant, a single lotus seed lodged squarely in her throat, choking her; she rolled on the ground, eyes rolling wildly, coughing as if her soul were being torn out.

…

“With that talisman, you’ll be fine. It’s just a heavenly demon—it can’t harm you.”

Wei Lingjiang took a deep breath.

“Actually, I’ve always wanted to ask.”

Chen Hang lifted his gaze slightly, then spoke: “Isn’t this just too convenient?”

“Convenient?”

“Everything—since the moment I met you, sister.”

He spoke softly:

“Don’t you feel… every step has been meticulously arranged? As if someone deliberately guided us here?”

Why did we meet by chance on the road?

Why did Wei Lingjiang obtain the “Scattered Shadow Concealing Form Art,” and why did it perfectly harmonize with my “Primordial True Origin”?

Ancestor Fu Can, the Golden Light Divine Talisman, the heavenly demon, and the Lord of Huaiwu Cave…

“Your trial requires you to eliminate the evil anger-yin-sheng demon alone to count as success? But am I not an external force?”

Chen Hang gazed at her quietly and spoke:

“My true qi, combined with the Scattered Shadow Concealing Form Art, just happens to deceive perception… You said before descending, you were granted only one ten-thousand-li illuminating talisman forged by Ancestor Fu Can—nothing else. It seems not only were you planning to use me as a blade to kill the demon, but your sect elders likely thought the same?”

But to use an external force, you must first deceive the demon. If it sensed any refined true qi, it would hesitate, never revealing its true heavenly demon form—then the plan to use a blade would be impossible.

And if you had simply picked any random person to assist you—someone with low-grade true qi—

He wouldn’t be valued by Lord Huaiwu enough to receive an elixir, let alone rank among the top three in Huaiwu Cave. This method wouldn’t work either.”

Wei Lingjiang stared at him, lips moving, but no words came out.

“Too convenient? Isn’t it?”

Chen Hang fell silent for a long while, then smiled soundlessly:

“If you hadn’t met me, and if I hadn’t known you, how would you have eliminated the evil anger-yin-sheng demon with only one ten-thousand-li illuminating talisman…?”

You’re only at Qi Condensation, yet you’re expected to act alone, to subdue a heavenly demon.

Yet you somehow possess the Golden Light Divine Talisman and other means.

The twists and turns, the hidden paths—

It’s as if

Someone meant for us to meet…

“Too convenient? Perhaps. It does resemble the usual handiwork of my sect’s Grand Daoist of Marvelous Completion.”

Wei Lingjiang felt a hollow ache. She met Chen Hang’s gaze directly, thinking silently:

“There are many ways to repay the debt of Ai’s gift of art—why must it be this evil anger-yin-sheng demon, forged by Ai Yuan, that must be destroyed? Why must I accomplish this alone with my spiritual body, with no outside aid? What is the Daoist’s true intent? And that opportunity…”

After eliminating the evil anger-yin-sheng demon,

That opportunity that could help her pass one of the Three Pure Yang Calamities…

“Is my younger brother… my opportunity?”

Wei Lingjiang whispered to herself.

A slow, needle-like pain pierced her, making her eyes flicker; suddenly, she felt ashamed and hesitated.

“If you suspect something’s amiss, why not leave?”

Only after a long while did she speak, her voice rough.

The heat rose like smoke.

Beyond his shoulder, distant pavilions were bathed in deep golden shimmering light, like fragile glass bubbles—dreamlike, hazy, yet close enough to touch; one finger’s poke could shatter them.

“Why not leave like Yuan Yang did? And why help me?”

Wei Lingjiang hoped for his answer, yet feared it wouldn’t be the one she wanted; she instinctively lowered her head.

Wei Lingjiang hoped for his answer, yet feared it wasn’t the one she wanted, lowering her head unconsciously.

She slowly clenched her slender fingers hanging by her skirt, gripping the specially prepared flower branch hidden in her sleeve, her gaze glued to the narrow cracks in the wooden floor, staring blankly.

It felt as if an eternity passed, time stretched inch by inch in the unbearable wait; after Wei Lingjiang believed he would never speak, the light before her suddenly shifted, casting erratic halos.

A human shadow stretched long against the wall, blurred and indistinct.

“Because I care for you.”

He said.

Wei Lingjiang looked up in shock.

Chen Hang’s expression was one she had never seen—hard to describe: self-mockery, laced with a strange irony, heavy as a tide.

These emotions flashed across his face so swiftly Wei Lingjiang barely registered them; then they vanished, leaving only profound silence.

Just as Wei Lingjiang began doubting whether she’d heard correctly, heart racing in panic, the man before her spoke again.

“Sister, because I care for you.”

Chen Hang repeated it, his eyes fixed on her:

“No one has ever treated me like you have—whether with fleeting sincerity or false intent born of inner demons.

No one has ever treated me like you have…”

His tone was flat, unrippled. Yet Wei Lingjiang’s heart pounded wildly, an indescribable sensation pounding as if tearing open her chest.

His tone was flat, offering no ripple—yet Wei Lingjiang’s heart suddenly raced, an indescribable sensation pounding as if tearing open her chest.

Chen Hang lowered his gaze and spoke softly:

“In this life, I only—”

“Don’t say it!”

Wei Lingjiang interrupted him, unusually.

“Sister.”

“Don’t say it…”

Chen Hang met her gaze; Wei Lingjiang’s voice carried a faint plea.

“I don’t know if this is an inner demon or something else—wait for me. Not now… please?”

Chen Hang’s throat moved slightly, but beneath that silent, nearly desolate gaze, his fingers trembled, and finally he turned his face away, unable to finish.

Chen Hang’s throat moved slightly, but beneath that silent, nearly desolate gaze, his fingers trembled, and finally he turned his face away, unable to finish the rest of his words.

After another silence, Wei Lingjiang suddenly spoke.

Chen Hang shook his head.

“It’s Fengsi Festival—the Heavenly Offering Ceremony. When you return, lanterns will be lit on the lake shore.”

Wei Lingjiang stared stubbornly at him: “Do you know what Fengsi Festival is?”

After a brief pause, seeing Chen Hang shake his head again, Wei Lingjiang’s tightly clenched fingers slowly uncurled, her lips stretching into a wider smile.

“When you return, let’s all go watch the lanterns.”

She blinked at him, smiling, her tone leaving no room for refusal:

“I’m Wei Lingjiang, True Disciple of the Red Ming Sect—Wei Lingjiang!”

“I’m Wei Lingjiang, true disciple of Chiming Sect—Wei Lingjiang!”

He gazed at her, raised his hand, sighed deeply within, and finally gave a complex, respectful bow:

“Qi Condensation cultivator, Chen Hang.”

…

…

Footsteps faded into the distance; the fluttering white hem of her robe vanished from sight within moments.

Wei Lingjiang’s expression finally relaxed completely; she exhaled slowly, feeling absurdly like a survivor—like a fox that had stolen a chicken, she clenched her fist in triumph.

Only now did she finally turn her gaze to Qingzhi.

At this moment, she finally had time to turn her gaze toward Qingzhi.

After a moment of stunned silence, she helplessly grabbed the back of her collar and slapped her back, forcing the lotus seed stuck in her throat out.

After a fit of agonizing coughing and gagging, Qingzhi rolled her eyes, slowly rose from the ground, and stared at Wei Lingjiang with a blank expression.

“...”

Wei Lingjiang shifted uncomfortably, but Qingzhi pressed right up to her face, not blinking once.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Miss, you don’t have to care about me. Even if Qingzhi dies, it doesn’t matter—after all, you don’t care. Qingzhi, just a bird, can live well enough even after death.”

Qingzhi’s lips curled sideways:

“From now on, put all your heart on him. Qingzhi will find her own food by rummaging through trash—it’s delicious. When thirsty, she’ll dig through snow to drink. Goodbye, Miss. I’ll take good care of myself. I wish you happiness. In the days without me, you—”

“When we return to the sect, I’ll let you leave the Heavenly Cave for a month, alright?!”

Wei Lingjiang’s head throbbed; she scooped Qingzhi up. “A month! That’s enough for you to travel all the way to the Eastern Sea!”

“Is this true?!”

Qingzhi’s face lit up instantly; she clung to Wei Lingjiang’s neck, haggling: “Two months!”

“Impossible. Then you’re not going out at all.”

Wei Lingjiang shook her head.

At this, Qingzhi’s ears, which had been perked high, drooped instantly; her face fell into a mournful pout.

“Still, Miss, you just acted that part beautifully—so pitiful... If I didn’t know you so well, I almost believed you!”

She sighed deeply, then asked curiously:

“You knew Chen Hang was about to refuse you outright, yet you cleverly feigned pity to soften his heart. While he hesitated, you shifted the topic, arranged to watch the lanterns together, and shut his mouth so he couldn’t speak. Brilliant!”

“Where did you learn this tactic of retreating to advance?”

“You.”

“Me?!”

Qingzhi gasped in alarm, waving her hands frantically: “I’m just a baby bird—I haven’t even been born long! Don’t say such things! You’re ruining my reputation!”

“I learned it from the human storybooks you hoard. Didn’t expect it to actually work.”

Wei Lingjiang shook her head:

“It seems the saying ‘All things are myriad, yet the Dao is one’ truly holds some truth.”

“That’s from the Purple Mansion’s Secret Precepts—it’s about spiritual energy affinities, not this!”

Qingzhi rolled her eyes. “Miss, don’t bully me for being uneducated.”

“He lied just now.”

Wei Lingjiang pretended not to hear.

Instead, she hugged Qingzhi tightly, her eyes curled into crescent moons; the suppressed sorrow she’d shown before Chen Hang had vanished entirely.

Two faint dimples appeared on her radiant cheeks as she said:

“The Fensi Festival is clearly a Rong Kingdom holiday—he lived there for over a decade! How could he not know about it?!”

“...What does that prove?”

Qingzhi scratched her head.

“His heart is still unsettled!”

Wei Lingjiang lightly wrinkled her nose, a touch of quiet triumph.

“That’s not love—it’s just softness. Seeing you look so pitiful, like you were about to cry, he softened.”

“Shut up!”

Wei Lingjiang ignored her.

After a moment, she hesitated, wavering for a long while, then finally fixed her gaze and made up her mind.

“Qingzhi, I’m taking Chen Hang back to Chiming Sect!”

She said.

“Are you mad? Chiming Sect is one of the Eight Great Sects and Six Major Clans—it’s not some Fifth Light Sect you can just waltz into!”

“I have sixty-four Great Dao cultivations, plus the two celestial relics left by True Person Yanxi. Together, they should be enough to trade for an entry into the Lower Courtyard.”

Wei Lingjiang spoke calmly: “Once he enters the Lower Courtyard, under my watch, his entry into Chiming Sect is merely a matter of time.”

“You’re giving away the relics?!”

Qingzhi was truly stunned:

“But what about the Dan Yuan Assembly? What if you take something from those relics, you could rank like Junyao of Yucheng Sect—maybe even win first place! If you give them up, what will you do at the Dan Yuan Assembly?!”

“True Person Yanxi had the Yin Celestial Lord’s destiny. Those two celestial relics are the most valuable of all relics—only one with the Yin Celestial Lord’s destiny can unlock them.”

Wei Lingjiang dismissed it:

“But the Yin Celestial Lord’s destiny is incredibly rare. Aunt Ai Yuan and the Ai clan of Shangyu searched for years on my behalf and found nothing. How can such a thing be rushed?”

“Still, they seem to think I want the Yin Celestial Lord’s destiny to cultivate the sect’s ‘Tongyou Dongguan’ Great Art—how utterly mistaken.”

Qingzhi fell silent for a long while, then finally scratched her chin and shook her head:

“Miss, is this worth it?”

“It is.”

Wei Lingjiang smiled, her gaze shimmering with countless unspoken words:

“He seeks immortality? Then Wei Lingjiang will give him immortality. Once he enters Chiming Sect, day by day, year by year—even if Chen Hang is an iron tree impervious to oil or salt—he will bloom eventually!”

At this moment.

On an islet at the center of Fuyu Lake.

Two heavenly horses, each ten feet tall, pulled a jeweled canopy carriage as it slowly descended before a grand palace, three hundred zhang long and wide, with four corner towers each crowned by a bronze statue of the Four Symbols.

Colorful light filled the sky, dazzling and radiant.

At the palace’s center stood a colossal purple-scaled dragon pillar, nearly piercing the heavens, sinking deep into the dense clouds—like a divine blade anchoring the four directions, its peak invisible to the eye, breathtaking.

After delivering Chen Hang to this vast palace, Chai Zhonghong did not linger; he merely bowed and smiled, then drove off.

After watching him depart, Chen Hang swept his sleeves and strode forward without hesitation toward the palace.

Before he could even cross the threshold, several colorful-robed maids stepped forward with smiling curtsies, guiding him deep into the palace.

Corridors twisted endlessly, pavilions over water, jade staircases, lofty towers, jumping platforms, golden bridges.

Everywhere he looked were lavish carvings and decorations, overwhelming the senses.

The palace was astonishingly vast—easily capable of housing hundreds, and from some distant side hall, distant melodies of flutes, pipes, and jade chimes drifted sweetly, exquisitely pleasing to the ear.

After passing through five or six courtyards and circling several floating bridges, the maids suddenly halted before a pavilion in the southwest, bowing in unison and singing softly:

“Please, honored guest, bathe and cleanse your body.”

Chen Hang was slightly surprised.

At that moment, the voice of Master Fu Can echoed again in his mind:

“Don’t worry—this isn’t some beauty trap. That damned demon is about to test you! Hold your qi, bones, and blood tightly—don’t alert it. Don’t let it all collapse at the last moment!”