"See you tomorrow."

— I have no interest in the secrets hidden within your flesh and blood.

[Xie Qianjing, do you truly believe that?]

Xie Qianjing was uncertain.

Just as he was uncertain about many things.

Separated for years, old friends lose trust.

The mocking laughter of his inner demons echoed in his ears. He fixed his gaze on the person before him, unsure if Sheng Ningyu was deceiving him once again, as she had many times before.

But looking at Sheng Ningyu now—her complexion pale, almost translucent under the moonlight, lips devoid of color; the long hair she once styled elaborately in childhood was now simply tied back with a strip of cloth, lonely and bare.

Even that cloth had been torn from a corpse moments ago.

He found himself unwilling to kill her again.

At least, not now.

Lowering his eyes, he turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing gently against the wrist of the right hand that she had placed behind his head.

“Very well.”

It seemed that ever since this encounter, that word was all he kept saying.

Sheng Ningyu’s hidden right hand was suddenly touched by a stranger, and she immediately clenched it tightly.

Even when lying bored in the coffin in the past, Sheng Ningyu rarely dared to touch or recall the injury on her right hand.

Beyond the pain, there was something absurd.

A revered Sword Master, stripped of the spiritual bone that enabled swordsmanship—it was utterly ridiculous, even to Sheng Ningyu herself.

It was a wound she preferred not to dwell on. Now, even having someone walk behind her or near her right hand sent a chill through her heart.

Yet strangely, when Xie Qianjing touched it, she was only somewhat tense, not fully on guard.

Sheng Ningyu stared at him for several seconds.

Yes, that face was truly etched in her heart.

She loosened her grip on the black hair in her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No matter,” Xie Qianjing replied silently, a faint smile curling his lips. “We should leave here as soon as possible.”

What followed went smoothly.

Pretending to be wandering cultivators traveling together, guided by Xie Qianjing, they successfully slipped into an inn within the nearby city before dawn.

The route was clear; if their identities matched, they might even make some friends.

Sheng Ningyu pondered, and with smooth movements paid for two low-grade rooms. When the waiter hesitated, staring blankly at their faces, she took the lamp from his hand and naturally pointed to the nearest room on the second floor. “This one. You stay here and rest early.”

Xie Qianjing nodded obediently.

Just before entering the room, he turned to Sheng Ningyu. “See you tomorrow.”

Rather polite, indeed.

Sheng Ningyu tilted her head, leaning against a pillar, and waved at him. “See you tomorrow.”

After the door closed, the waiter finally whispered, “Sir, shouldn’t that guest’s wounds be treated? His moon-white clothes are soaked in blood—it nearly scared me out of my wits standing at the door just now! If not for that face, so ethereal and heavenly, I might have thought a corpse demonI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.