What stood before me was not simply the truth about the Demon Sect’s guardianship but a vast, layered history. Their responsibility wasn’t just protecting the mountain; they also ensured balance between realms. The Demon Sect was like a fragile yet irreplaceable thread in the tapestry of the sacred lands.
Qing He added, “One of the individuals targeted by Mount Tianlu happens to be the guardian of the spiritual gate. One isn’t simply a demon; they are also an exceptional soul with remarkable lineage. The person you now call Second Senior Brother… may have always been part of this delicate balance.”
I could only smile bitterly. The world was far more complicated than I’d ever imagined.
Qing He’s expression shifted slightly, softening as he glanced at me. “Perhaps your fate with the sacred lands was sealed the moment you entered this world,” he said. “You are no ordinary child either, are you?”
His words carried a subtle weight, but he didn’t press for an answer. Instead, he gestured for me to stand. “It’s time to leave. The path ahead is still long.”
“You’ve been lost these past few days. Qing Zi is not at peace either. After the Demon Sect’s forces withdrew from Qingling, he seems entirely at a loss.”
Qing He was speaking to me casually, his voice unhurried. It sounded like we were simply exchanging idle talk, but his words cut deep.
“Qing Zi is like his younger sister’s shadow, always following her and protecting her. But it’s a difficult task. The raging waves threaten to drown them both.”
When Qing Zi left for the sect all those years ago, it was clear that his sister played a huge role in his decision. She was the anchor that bound him to his responsibilities.
Qing He’s tone shifted as he continued, his voice filled with something almost like regret.
“Everyone has their reasons,” he said. “But if Qing Zi left for his sister, his sense of duty is misplaced.”
It was an unusual remark, but Qing He rarely wasted words, so I let him continue.
“Do you believe Qing Zi can free his sister and himself from the chains of his position?” Qing He asked, looking directly into my eyes, as if waiting for an answer that I didn’t have.
I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper, “What about you? Can you?”
Qing He didn’t reply immediately. When he finally did, his words were quiet but resolute. “No one can truly escape their responsibilities, no matter how much they want to.”
The conversation turned back to Qing Zi. “He fights not just for his sister’s freedom but also for himself,” Qing He added. “The scars from his battles tell a story of their own. He is a warrior of immense strength, but even warriors have limits. If he falters, what becomes of those he protects?”
I said nothing, feeling a deep sense of unease. Could it be that Qing Zi’s struggle was as much about saving himself as it was about saving her?
A realization struck me: Qing Zi’s fight wasn’t just for his sister; it was for something much larger—a battle for identity and meaning in a chaotic world.
Qing He gave me a sharp glance, his tone gentler now. “Do you still think you can judge him? None of us are without fault. Qing Zi’s story may seem grand, but his burdens are heavy, heavier than you can imagine.”
He was silent, his demeanor calm, as though he was pondering the same question I had asked him on the first day he brought me here. I asked him this question again, and he answered just as straightforwardly.
Actually, I had already figured it out, but I needed confirmation. He had likely already experienced such a level of detachment—both lofty and agonizing. Only by achieving this state could he bring someone like me, who had lived as a high-ranking immortal, to a place like this and then declare, with absolute certainty, that this was where I belonged.
Perhaps he could even rationalize his actions, believing that by bringing me here, he had severed all connections with his former life. He had left everything behind and sought nothing further, living a life that was both tranquil and suffocating.
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