2 Traveling Together

Sheng Ningyu was, of course, not merely coveting his good looks.

Though Xie Qianjing’s appearance was indeed one in a million, who among those who walked alongside Sheng Ningyu in the past was not also peerlessly magnificent?

Whether it was her fiancé, the young master of the Chu family, Chu Changan; her second senior brother, Rong Que, known as the "First Gentleman"; or even her wicked friend, Feng Qingli... let alone her junior sister or that little phoenix—everyone was of the highest caliber in the world of cultivation.

Sheng Ningyu proposed traveling together for two reasons: first, to test his origins and keep him under her watchful eye; and second...

Times have changed, and sixty years have slipped away in the blink of an eye.

Sheng Ningyu did not know the way.

She did not know how to get out.

This place was clearly not where she had been sealed away all those years ago. Though it was called the "Mitian Realm," it was vastly different from the Mitian Secret Realm she knew, which lay in the Great Wilderness Mountains in the far west. Moreover—

Even sixty years ago, Sheng Ningyu had never needed to memorize a route.

She had always been free-spirited and casual. Whenever she traveled in the past, it was either her friend pointing the way with an impatient huff, or her second senior brother sighing as he kept her company. Thus, Sheng Ningyu never had to learn the paths in advance, nor did she ever force herself to remember them.

Come to think of it, a person as undisciplined as her should never have been able to take charge of the Sword Pavilion or serve as the "Sword Venerable."

In the world of cultivation, "Sword Venerable" was a lofty title.

There are immortals in Yunmeng, and they span the fourteen continents.

Across these fourteen continents, sects of all sizes stood like trees in a forest. If one had the fate for it, anyone could become an immortal.

For hundreds of years, some sects had remained evergreen, while some rogue cultivators had flickered like shooting stars. Amidst the rise and fall of noble clans and powerful families, one act followed another, playing out countless tales of love, hatred, and vendettas, leaving future generations either in awe or with endless sighs.

Yet, amidst all this bustling coming and going, whenever the "Sword Pavilion" was mentioned, no prefix was ever needed.

Because there was, and had always been, only one Sword Pavilion.

The Sword Pavilion was located on Mount Guiyi, and every generation’s master was known as the "Sword Venerable," revered and admired by all in the cultivation world.

The Sword Pavilion had a rule: unless a major catastrophe threatened the three realms, the Sword Venerable of each generation was not to leave the Star-Gazing Terrace, not to tread upon the dusty earth, and not to fall into the vanity of the mortal world.

But Sheng Ningyu did not want to be the Sword Venerable, and she did not believe in such superstitions.

So, after cultivating the "Ninefold Sword" to the fourth level, she descended from the White Jade Star-Gazing Terrace without hesitation, stepping into the mortal world to roll through its seven emotions and six desires.

Back then, when the elders of the cultivation world mentioned her, they would stroke their beards in admiration: "Sheng Ningyu! Born with a sword bone, truly no common creature; she is the number one among the disciples of the Sword Pavilion! It’s just that..."

It’s just that she was too disobedient.

The people of the Sword Pavilion were always upright and disciplined, practicing self-restraint and propriety. How could they have ever seen someone like Sheng Ningyu?

She laughed, cursed, drank to excess, and lived with abandon.

Sheng Ningyu had visited the Hehuan Sect, plucked the passionate flowers by the Nishang Pool, casually altered thousand-year-old talismans, created unique magical artifacts, and owned a towering pavilion that stood above the East Sea...

She did whatever she pleased.

At that time, Sheng Ningyu thought that if someone like her could become the Sword Venerable, then the Heavens must be blind.

Who would have known that the Heavens really were suffering from cataracts.

After her master, the Sword Venerable Ning Guihai, passed away, Sheng Ningyu became the new Sword Venerable.

She still did not follow the rules.

And so, she met with retribution.

Among those who had once ridden horses and reveled in the mortal world with her, and who had pointed out the way for her, it was unclear how many had participated. They joined forces with the demonic cultivators of the Mitian Realm, plucked out her sword bone, stripped her of her spiritual power, and sealed her inside a coffin.

In the blink of an eye, sixty years had passed.

...

"Fellow Daoist Ning, I found these on that person."

A soft voice interrupted Sheng Ningyu’s drifting thoughts.

She looked at the handsome young man before her. He was smiling at her, his expression sincere and obedient, appearing not to have noticed her distraction at all.

Sheng Ningyu accepted the items without changing her expression.

This habit of letting her mind wander was something she had brought out of the coffin.

She had to change it.

She lowered her head to examine the items in her hand and raised an eyebrow.

A bag of low-grade spirit stones and a bottle of medicinal pills.

As for her sword, Sheng Ningyu had discarded it to avoid being tracked, so she had not retrieved it.

She took the spirit stones and stuffed the pills back into the young man's hand. Picking up a tree branch, she twirled it in her left hand and bluffed, "My talent is insufficient, and I have yet to draw energy into my body. These pills are of little use to me; you should keep them."

Xie Qianjing tilted his head, and he actually complied, obediently putting the pills away.

Sheng Ningyu: "..."

***

Sheng Ningyu: "Open them and see if any can heal your wounds."

Xie Qianjing smiled, walked to her right side, and said, "Thank you for your concern, Fellow Daoist, but my wounds are not serious; they will recover soon."

He was standing too close.

Sheng Ningyu’s right hand, hidden under her sleeve, spasmed. She maintained a nonchalant smile on her face while pinching her own palm hard beneath her robes.

Only now did she notice that this junior was unexpectedly tall. Her own height of 1.7 meters was considered quite tall for a woman, yet this person was significantly taller than her.

Her right hand trembled even more severely.

This habit of suspicion, it seemed, would not be broken anytime soon.

Sheng Ningyu moved unobtrusively, letting Xie Qianjing walk on her left side, and glanced at the dried blood on his body, as well as the bloody marks on his neck and wrists.

"Soon?"

"Yes." Xie Qianjing nodded and said obediently, "My flesh is somewhat special. Even if I am injured, as long as it is not severe, it often recovers within half a day."

Sheng Ningyu: "..."

Could such a secret be revealed so easily to a stranger she had just met?

Sheng Ningyu was speechless for a moment, then looked at Xie Qianjing.

If this were in the past, upon hearing this, she would surely have reminded—

Reminded whom?

Sheng Ningyu tilted her head and pondered for a few seconds, but could not come up with an answer.

She suppressed the fluctuations in her heart, assuming her memory was simply unclear.

In any case, things were not like the past. She could barely protect herself and had no energy to waste on useless matters.

"As long as you can recover, that is good."

Sheng Ningyu skipped the topic and kept walking without turning back. "Four of those cultivators escaped. To prevent them from calling for reinforcements, we should leave quickly and find a nearby town to settle down."

Seeing her bypass his topic, a flash of red and black energy surged in Xie Qianjing’s eyes for an instant, but it quickly faded.

He lowered his gaze.

Sheng Ningyu took a few steps and felt incredibly awkward.

"Don't stay behind me; come to my side."

"Alright."

Xie Qianjing stepped forward and walked alongside her.

His obedience and quietness made Sheng Ningyu feel somewhat uneasy.

Perhaps because she had been locked up alone for sixty years, she found herself desperately wanting to talk, yet not knowing what to say.

Fortunately, Xie Qianjing spoke first.

"That black box from earlier." Xie Qianjing pondered, gesturing with his hand, his tone soft and filled with innocent confusion. "The coffin-like thing that trapped you, Fellow Daoist Ning—you don't want it anymore?"

It wasn't "coffin-like"; it really was a coffin.

Sheng Ningyu: "..."

It would have been better if he hadn't opened his mouth.

And...

Sheng Ningyu raised her eyelids and swept a glance at the person beside her.

Again and again, was this person mentioning it unintentionally, or was he intentionally testing her?

Xie Qianjing met her gaze without flinching. His eyes were clean and pure, his tone soft—like butterfly wings brushing against his lips—and his demeanor was genuinely concerned: "Fellow Daoist Ning?"

It seemed she was overthinking it.

As time turned, she had always laughed at her friends for being suspicious, yet now, she had developed the same habit.

Sheng Ningyu recalled the past and could not help but chuckle, her tone becoming lighter: "Of course I don't want it; it was just a little toy used for a prank."

That coffin had been comfortable to sleep in, but it was too bulky to carry. Besides, Sheng Ningyu wasn't sure if there were any tracking talismans on it, so she decided to let it "return to its owner" and be buried underground once more.

With Xie Qianjing leading the way, they soon walked out of the Mitian Realm.

But before they left, they saw the corpses of the four cultivators who had fled earlier.

Sheng Ningyu hurried forward, squatted down, and used a wooden branch to prod them.

The corpses had pale faces and ceramic-like cracks on their bodies, as if they had been shredded by wires, and the flesh over their hearts was rotting and black.

She frowned involuntarily: "Demonic energy."

And not ordinary demonic energy at that.

It seemed that sixty years later, the cultivation world was still far from peaceful.

***

As she was pondering, Xie Qianjing’s voice came from above: "Fellow Daoist Ning, they have medicinal pills on them too."

Sheng Ningyu’s thoughts were interrupted. She set aside her many doubts and looked up to see the young man standing before her, holding a bag of pills in one hand, slightly bent over, and reaching out with the other.

The young man was breathtakingly beautiful, smiling in the night, with a spot of vermilion between his brows that made him look fragile and thin, like a butterfly shadow in the water under the moon.

A fleeting touch, gone in an instant.

Not like an ethereal immortal, but more like a bewitching specter.

It made one feel an inexplicable, heart-stopping shock.

Sheng Ningyu looked away, avoiding his hand.

She stood up alone, took the pills, and lowered her head to examine them carefully, thus missing the flash of intense, undisguised malice that rose in Xie Qianjing’s eyes after being rejected.

Why was she no longer looking at him?

Xie Qianjing still wore a smile on his lips, but the black mist beneath his skin swirled in waves.

Did she think he wasn't good-looking anymore? Who did she prefer now? Was it that young master of the Chu family she had been betrothed to? Or her second senior brother, the so-called "First Gentleman"? Or perhaps that phoenix who had also searched for her for so long—

A pitch-black pill fell into Xie Qianjing’s palm.

His fingertips were ice-cold, causing a tremor in his heart as it brushed his palm, like the light of a cold moon, easily shattering his thoughts.

Sheng Ningyu’s gaze fell on Xie Qianjing, who swallowed the pill directly, and she said with a subtle tone: "You didn't even ask what I gave you before swallowing it?"

Xie Qianjing looked at her: "What did you give me?"

Sheng Ningyu raised her eyebrows, a playful, teasing glint in her eyes: "Poison."

Xie Qianjing lowered his eyes and clenched his empty palm: "Alright."

The response was lonely. Sheng Ningyu was stunned for a moment, her conscience pricking her.

She brushed aside the blurry figures in her mind and coughed lightly: "This bag contains disguise pills. Although they are only entry-level, they should at least be able to cover our appearances." Sheng Ningyu took another pill and placed it in Xie Qianjing’s palm. "As for the one from before, it was to treat your wounds."

As she spoke, she continued walking, but suddenly there were no footsteps beside her.

She turned her head to see Xie Qianjing staring at her without blinking.

He said softly: "My wounds heal faster than others; I don't need pills."

That was the second time.

Sheng Ningyu sighed in frustration and endured it.

Forget it.

She could barely protect herself now, and it was better to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Sheng Ningyu took the disguise pill herself, pulled Xie Qianjing over, and looked straight into his eyes.

Xie Qianjing seemed dazed for a second, then lowered his eyes, his long, raven-like lashes shielding the expression within, and said, "What does Fellow Daoist Ning mean by this?"

Sheng Ningyu said in a teasing tone: "Using your eyes as a mirror to see if my face has changed."

Xie Qianjing chuckled upon hearing this and looked up again, a ripple rising in his abyss-like, desolate eyes.

"And now?"

"It has indeed changed a little."

Her tone was casual, the tail of her sentence drawn out, filled with an indifferent laziness.

As she finished speaking and was about to turn away, her fingers were held by someone.

"Fellow Daoist Ning, look here."

Xie Qianjing held her hand, guiding her fingertips to his right wrist.

His tone was soft, seemingly trembling.

But if Sheng Ningyu could have looked past those long lashes into the depths of his eyes, she would have discovered that the base color of those abyssal pupils was not pain, but a quiet, silent joy burning like the flames of the Nine Netherworlds.

"Do you remember? My wrist was bleeding just now, and now the bleeding has stopped, and soon the flesh will—"

*Thud!*

Sheng Ningyu, unable to bear it any longer, grabbed Xie Qianjing’s wrist and pinned his back against a tree.

The movement was fast and fierce, without a moment’s hesitation.

"Xie Qianjing."

Sheng Ningyu narrowed her eyes, pressing down on his wrist with force—his skin was cold, as if frosted with snow—and her voice deepened with a warning.

"I don't care what your reason is, but do not repeat this before me again."

"I have no interest in the secrets of your flesh."