I looked at Qing Chen, trying to recall the scene from the courtyard when I had seen the second senior brother gripping his hand tightly. Could it be that the poison had been expelled at that moment? Had Qing Chen transferred it into his own body?
The thought was terrifying. Was such a thing even possible?
If Qing Chen truly bore such a burden, how many times had he quietly shielded others without them realizing? How often did he sacrifice himself without complaint?
As if sensing my thoughts, the second senior brother sighed. “It’s useless to think about it now. No matter what, Master has already carried the weight for all of us. It’s our duty to repay him through our actions.”
Qing Chen stepped closer, his calm voice breaking through my spiraling thoughts. “Child,” he said gently.
“Master!” the second senior brother quickly interrupted, his tone urgent. He stepped in front of Qing Chen, as though shielding him from any further strain. I noticed Qing Chen’s spiritual aura begin to stabilize, its fluctuations fading away.
Qing Chen reached out to place a hand on the second senior brother’s shoulder. “This method is temporary and imperfect,” he said. His voice carried a faint hint of fatigue, yet his expression remained serene. In a flash, his glowing aura enveloped me as well, forcing me to step back instinctively. I felt the invisible force wrap around me, steady and warm, dissolving the lingering venom in the air.
A collective sigh of relief echoed from the disciples present, their tense faces softening as Qing Chen’s spiritual energy filled the space. The venomous energy that had clung to the area was now scattered, rendered harmless by Qing Chen’s actions.
I stared at him, marveling at how he made the impossible seem effortless. His every action carried grace and precision, leaving no room for error. Even as I watched him, I felt my resolve waver. How could anyone, immortal or otherwise, compare to someone like him?
The second senior brother seemed equally awestruck. “Master, you should rest,” he urged softly, his gaze filled with worry.
Qing Chen turned toward him, his eyes calm and steady. “I will handle this,” he replied simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. With those words, he moved to the center of the courtyard, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of his energy.
In that moment, the Jade Pearl Sect disciples, who had been paralyzed by fear and doubt, collapsed to their knees. Their spiritual defenses had been shattered, leaving them helpless against Qing Chen’s overwhelming presence.
I stood in silence, watching as Qing Chen’s aura dissipated slowly. Even in the face of such power, he remained unshaken, his demeanor as calm as ever. It was clear that he wasn’t just their superior in cultivation—he was their guide, their protector, and their unshakable foundation.
When Qing Chen finally turned toward me, I felt a rush of emotions I couldn’t fully articulate. Gratitude? Admiration? Awe? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that this man was unlike anyone I had ever encountered.
I sighed in relief, finally loosening my grip. The faint trembling in my hands betrayed an unease I hadn’t noticed until that moment. It was only then I realized that Qing Chen, always so composed and gentle, wasn’t entirely untouched by pain himself. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, he too bore scars that no one could see.
The Jade Pearl Sect left without achieving their goal. Without solid evidence, their accusations dissolved into nothing more than whispers, leaving the conflict at an impasse. Yet, the tension lingered.
Qing Chen led me and the junior disciple back to the courtyard. As we arrived, he gave me a quick glance, his eyes as calm as ever. I felt his hand briefly graze mine—a reassuring gesture—before he turned and headed toward the hall. I instinctively looked at his retreating figure and noticed something strange.
“Master…” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.
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