Meanwhile, Tian Yu stood atop Qianqiu Pavilion, watching that flash of divine light disappear into the sky with a light chuckle. “She’s actually left.”
“Who does the Palace Master mean?” Fu Ling asked, oblivious to the divine light’s presence, her face blank with confusion.
Tian Yu did not elaborate but wore a pensive look. Fu Ling, sensing his mood, cautiously glanced at his expression and said, “Palace Master, although Fan Yue managed to escape this time, we didn’t come away empty-handed.”
“Go on.”
“It seems Hao Yue Hall Master has a weakness. If we use it correctly, Hao Yue Hall will no longer be an impenetrable fortress,” Fu Ling finished in a low voice, waiting, though Tian Yu only chuckled softly. She looked up, finding him watching her with an unsettling, amused gaze. A shiver ran through her, and she quickly lowered her head.
“Hao Yue Hall has a weakness. And what of my left and right hands?” Tian Yu replied, hinting at something before abruptly asking, “When did you place the Ling Flower Armor on that boy?”
Fu Ling’s head snapped up.
In a room at the northern edge of Phoenix Island, Song Feng watched a golden pill, darkened with a swirl of black qi, turn to ashes in his hand. “Unworthy disciple!” he muttered, coughing weakly, his already aging face appearing even more worn.
“Second Uncle…” Er Yun hurriedly offered him a bowl of spirit-infused medicinal broth. “Senior Brother brought this on himself; please don’t burden yourself with sorrow. Take care of your health.”
Song Feng waved a hand. “I know. He has been prideful and arrogant since he was young, and after a century under my teaching, he still could not rid himself of his greed. If only I’d sent him to the Celestial Palace for punishment sooner, he wouldn’t have caused this disaster!”
“Uncle, don’t blame yourself. Sparing his life was an act of mercy,” Chong Zhao reassured him.
Song Feng looked at Chong Zhao with a sense of relief. “Fortunately, we have you, Zhao’er. Without your aid in Foreign City, helping the Hao Yue Hall Master eliminate the evil spirit and saving our Immortal and Demon disciples, Miao Miao would have faced a great calamity.”
“Uncle…” Chong Zhao hesitated, as if he wanted to say something. But Song Feng clasped his hand heavily. “Jin Yao has selected you for spiritual teachings at the Celestial Palace. You also forged a bond of life and death with the Kunlun Sword Cultivator during your journey to Foreign City. Blessings come in disguise, Zhao’er. Take your Senior Brother’s lesson to heart—do not entangle yourself with the Demon Clan or any evil forces, lest you repeat his mistakes!”
A flash of the broken Ling Flower Armor crossed Chong Zhao’s mind as Song Feng’s worried cough broke the silence. Coming back to himself, Chong Zhao replied solemnly, “Yes, Uncle. Your teachings will be my guide.”
Late at night, as Chong Zhao left Song Feng’s residence, he wandered toward a stone pavilion. The two clans had gathered on Phoenix Island, and in the distance, lights twinkled, with disciples from various sects passing by in small groups. Meanwhile, Miao Miao’s Pine Crane Courtyard remained silent and cold.
Under the moonlight, Chong Zhao pulled out a jade flute from his robe. Just as a small smile began to form on his lips, an image flashed in his mind—Bai Shuo rushing into the stone hall to Fan Yue’s side, unhesitating. A surge of frustration rose in his chest, and he let out a pained grunt, blood seeping from his mouth as his face turned pale.
Suddenly, a stream of spiritual energy entered his mind from behind, stabilizing his nearly unsteady Dao heart.
“If you’re injured, focus on recovery. With an unsteady heart, you’ll risk losing control!”
Chong Zhao heard a chiding voice behind him. His face changed slightly as he looked up in silence.
Fu Ling raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Why are you looking at me like that? What, not calling me a demoness this time?”
“Thank you,” Chong Zhao said suddenly.
Fu Ling was taken aback. “What…what did you say?”
Chong Zhao replied, “Thank you, my Lord, for saving me on multiple occasions.”
A smirk appeared on Fu Ling’s face. “Well, at least you have a bit of conscience. What, after spending a few days in Foreign City with that little fox from the Fox Clan, you don’t feel the need to smite us demons anymore?”
Chong Zhao shook his head, speaking in a low voice, “Immortals and demons are different. I would prefer not to have further entanglements with you, my Lord.”
“You…!” Fu Ling’s face darkened in anger. “Ungrateful!”
She turned to leave, but Chong Zhao’s voice sounded behind her. “For your repeated help, if there’s anything you need in the future—so long as it doesn’t violate the principles of the Immortal Clan or harm Miao Miao—if you ask it, I’ll do all I can.”
Fu Ling stopped, pulled a porcelain bottle from her robe, and tossed it to him. “As if I care. If you really want to repay me, your cultivation level needs a lot of work!”
With that, Fu Ling strode off. Chong Zhao looked down at the medicine bottle in his hand, sighing.
Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, Bai Shuo flew clumsily across a cloud, her small cloth bag slung over her shoulder. A sudden gust of wind tore apart her flying charm in an instant. “Aaaaaah! I’m done for!” she screamed, plummeting headlong through the clouds.
0 Comments