Rumors had spread that the West Jiang Tribe had poisoned three sisters before, and later, it was discovered that the tribe elder had covered it up. Perhaps the tribe was trying to avoid a scandal, but by doing so, they’d placed the burden of guilt on Zijing. I had overheard whispers suggesting that he’d been sent to the tribe as an offering, bound by responsibilities that weren’t truly his.
I stared blankly at him and finally asked, “Why?”
His answer was short and cutting. “Because I could.”
“...I can’t tell if Zijing’s attitude toward me is out of indifference or something deeper. Perhaps it’s neither love nor hate, but rather his own unresolved guilt,” I thought to myself. So I asked, “Zijing, what kind of grudge do you have against the West Jiang Tribe?”
“It’s a long story,” he replied. “When the elder passed away, word of his final wishes spread. I left the tribe afterward, choosing to take the poison left behind as my burden to bear.”
I vaguely remembered overhearing snippets of that rumor when I was younger, though I never knew the full story or why it had been passed on to Zijing. To this day, I still didn’t fully understand his reasoning or why he had brought me into it.
A few days later, Zijing returned. By that time, my patience had worn thin. I stood at the door, gripping the edge of the wooden frame, waiting for him to look my way. He finally did. “Why are you still here?” I asked quietly.
He stopped, his gaze unreadable as the sunlight outlined his figure. “Let’s go,” he said after a moment.
“To where?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Is your grudge with the tribe finally over?” I pressed.
“It’s not.”
“Then why?” My voice grew sharper as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why did you save me and bring me out of the West Jiang Tribe? What exactly am I to you?”
Zijing stared at me, his expression unchanging. “You’re nothing more than someone I rescued,” he said bluntly. “I didn’t bring you out for your sake.”
His words struck me harder than I expected. I dropped my gaze to the ground, clutching my hands tightly. “I… I’m willing to be your disciple, Zijing. Isn’t that enough?”
Zijing’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “Do you think it’s that easy?”
His words left me speechless. He turned to leave, but I grabbed his sleeve before he could walk away. My fingers trembled as I held on, my voice breaking. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen. I’ll work harder. Please… don’t cast me aside.”
Zijing looked down at me, his eyes cold yet tinged with faint pity. He slowly removed my grip from his sleeve. “Stay here if you must,” he said softly. “But I won’t wait for you.”
He said this…
But in the days that followed, I didn’t see Zijing again, not even once. My initial frustration turned into quiet acceptance. After all, he was someone whose respect I deeply valued, even though I couldn’t always comprehend his actions. Deep down, I knew his cultivation level and mastery of swordsmanship far surpassed mine, and I couldn’t hope to match him, no matter how hard I tried.
Just when I started to convince myself that life would carry on as it was, following this unsteady path, an incident occurred.
Suddenly, the calm of the inn was interrupted. I heard voices and rushed to the door, but Zijing was nowhere to be found. I stepped outside and asked a passerby what had happened, only to learn that a group of people—possibly tied to the grudge between Zijing and the West Jiang Tribe—had left in the direction of the southern mountains.
My heart clenched with unease. Without thinking, I summoned my sword and gave chase.
I couldn’t explain why I felt compelled to follow him. Perhaps it was because my progress in cultivation had been frustratingly slow, and I felt that following Zijing was my only way to grow. Or maybe I was simply drawn by the faint hope that I could help him in some way.
I didn’t know which direction Zijing had taken, and I dared not fly too high, afraid I might lose track of him or draw unnecessary attention. Instead, I followed the trail of turbulent energy in the air, weaving through mountain paths. The air ahead seemed charged with hostility, and I knew I was closing in on something.
My grip tightened on my sword. I pressed forward, unable to turn back.
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