In Fan Yue’s bedchamber, a faint Seven-Star Array glimmered on the floor, and the demon fire in the crystal lamp flickered unsteadily. The owner of that flame reclined lazily on the throne behind his desk, his fingertip resting on his forehead, his gaze icy and dark.
Bai Shuo, trapped in a plush cushion in front of the desk, tried to sit up, but strips of cloth emerged from the cushion, binding her hands. Startled, she looked down.
Fan Yue’s gaze, as sharp as a blade, fell upon her, but he remained silent.
Without hesitation, Bai Shuo summoned a sword into her palm and cut through the strips. She stood up, meeting his gaze directly.
“What exactly is the Hall Master’s intention?”
This was the first time Bai Shuo had faced Fan Yue without deference or fear. Her tone was calm, driven purely by curiosity.
Fan Yue’s eyes briefly flicked to the bundle she carried before he spoke slowly.
“If I recall correctly, by the shores of Ziyue Lake, someone said they wanted to join Hao Yue Hall. I also remember someone saying, ‘In life, I am a person of Hao Yue Hall; in death, I will be a ghost of Hao Yue Hall.’ The world’s promises mean nothing, Bai Shuo. What about yours?”
Bai Shuo tilted her head slightly, forcing a smile.
“The Hall Master’s kindness to me is like the sun and moon.”
“Oh?” Fan Yue’s gaze held an unreadable expression. “Is that so?”
Bai Shuo took a step forward, unfolding her hands as she placed her Qiankun Bag on the table, filling it with various elixirs. Leaning over, she looked down at him. “In here are exactly three hundred forty-five Grade-One pills and two hundred seventy-eight Grade-Two pills. Enough to match an immortal sect. Whether I stay in Hao Yue or not changes nothing for Hao Yue Hall.”
The atmosphere grew tense. Fan Yue sneered coldly. “So, the spirit herbs from the Far North and the pills refined with Hao Yue Hall’s alchemy furnace? You’re repaying my kindness with my own resources?”
“The spiritual energy for refining them was my own…” Bai Shuo trailed off, then admitted, “Alright, fine, you provided it.”
Fan Yue’s eyes narrowed. “Is this what you call ‘like the sun and moon’?”
“Of course.” Bai Shuo leaned in, her gaze unwavering as she countered, “You’re a demi-god. You don’t need any of these things. But the young lady you brought back, she needs them to keep her alive. Doesn’t that make her worthy of being ‘like the sun and moon’ to you?”
An amused glint appeared in Fan Yue’s eyes as he broke into a cold smile.
“That temper of yours—rare indeed.”
Fan Yue abruptly reached out, grasping Bai Shuo’s wrist and pulling her close. Their faces were mere inches apart, and their breaths intermingled. In a low voice, he asked, “Does it matter to you, Bai Shuo, whether or not she is my sun and moon?”
Bai Shuo raised her head, their gazes locked, and the powerful demonic energy surrounding him nearly enveloped her. Looking into his dark eyes, she opened her mouth. “I…”
Just then, Fan Yue’s gaze shifted toward the side hall, his expression flashing with surprise. Without a word, he vanished.
Bai Shuo looked in the direction of the side hall, where an unfamiliar surge of spiritual energy had just appeared. The person Fan Yue had brought back from the Abyssal Swamp had awakened.
How precious she must be. Bai Shuo let out a bitter sigh, slapped her Qiankun Bag, and swept the elixirs back into her sleeve. She turned to leave the hall.
As she stepped out, the table behind her cracked, shattering into pieces.
Bai Shuo’s foot paused on the threshold, and she suddenly turned to look back at the Seven-Star Array in the hall, narrowing her eyes.
Only three of the stars were still lit, yet in the Abyssal Swamp, she had retrieved the fourth piece of the Bodhi tree for Fan Yue. Why hadn’t he absorbed it?
Fan Yue appeared in the side hall but stopped in his tracks just outside.
In the courtyard, amidst the swirling snow, a slender girl in a thin, white dress stood in the snow, seemingly oblivious to the cold. She extended a hand, catching snowflakes and watching them melt in her palm.
Sensing his presence, she suddenly turned, and upon seeing him, her previously lonely, indifferent expression softened into a faint smile.
She stood quietly in the snow, gazing at him.
Almost unconsciously, Fan Yue found himself walking toward her, and when he reached her, he draped a fur cloak over her shoulders.
“You don’t remember me,” the girl said with certainty.
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you bring me back?”
“I don’t like owing people,” Fan Yue’s voice was laced with a trace of bitterness. “I may not remember you, but perhaps I once killed you.”
Countless nights, in his nightmares, Fan Yue would see divine light descending from above, a blood-soaked array, and a woman in red vanishing into smoke.
When he awoke, the weight of guilt and regret was unbearable.
He couldn’t recall the woman’s face, but he never forgot the starlit eyes, just like the eyes of the girl before him.
“You know, I’m dying,” the girl sighed softly. “So you brought me back only to save me.”
Silence fell, long and cold in the snowy courtyard.
“What if I don’t want to be saved? If you can’t remember who I am, then whether I live or die seems meaningless.”
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