Chapter 21.2

Ming Jing instinctively frowned.

She had never heard the name Yuwen Zheng before, nor had she ever known anyone by that name.

Naturally, if Ming Jing did not know her, neither would Zhe Yu.

But in the next instant, something profound passed through Ming Jing’s eyes.

Yuwen Zheng.

She did know her.

The Dao Venerable of the Wanxiang Dao Sect seemed to be named Yuwen Zheng—Yuwen as her compound surname and Zheng as her given name.

Because almost everyone respectfully addressed her only [unauthorized copy]as the Dao Venerable, Ming Jing had failed to remember immediately that the Dao Venerable of the Wanxiang Dao Sect was indeed called Yuwen Zheng.

“I am not her disciple.”

Zhe Yu struggled to breathe. She shook her head slightly, denying it in a faint but unwavering voice.

“Yuwen Zheng never accepted me as her disciple. She never announced such a relationship to heaven and earth. I am not her disciple.”

Ming Jing raised an eyebrow in surprise.

This was the first time she had ever heard Zhe Yu address that person directly by name, without even granting her the title of Dao Venerable.

In the past, Zhe Yu had revered the Dao Venerable of the Wanxiang Dao Sect more than anyone.

She had revered her so deeply that she cultivated the same sword path.

With absolute conviction, she had declared that she would pursue that woman’s departing bailiantales.comfigure, climb the same sword peak, and meet her at its summit.

Murong Chi did not believe her.

“The aura of your sword path clearly originates from the same lineage as hers. Could it be that, now that your life is in danger, you wish to sever all association with her merely to cling to your final breath?”

Her smile was filled with contempt and disdain.

She looked down from above, cruelty and hostility poised within her eyes.

A trace of killing intent sank into her palm, nearly strangling all the breath from Zhe Yu’s body.

Zhe Yu showed no fear.

Beneath the weakness of her voice remained her usual cool composure as she declared with absolute certainty,

“The sword path I once cultivated was exactly the same Great Dao as Yuwen Zheng’s.”

“But that was only in the past.”

The woman in green looked away.

With difficulty, she turned her head toward Ming Jing. Blood ran down her face, making her appear somewhat frightening beneath the dense darkness of the night.

In an utterly miserable state, she called,

“Xiao Jing.”

Ming Jing lowered her head, her eyes dark.

She watched Zhe Yu curve her lips and struggle to raise a smile.

Her voice came in broken fragments.

“In the future… don’t call me Young Dao Venerable.”

“Even if you are unwilling to call me Junior Martial Aunt, don’t call me Young Dao Venerable again.”

Why?

Ming Jing instinctively wanted to ask.

But when the question reached her lips, only a dry, painful ache remained.

Her lips moved, yet she could not produce a single sound.

Murong Chi’s gaze moved between the two of them.

She smiled faintly and released Zhe Yu, then brushed the dust and blood from her hands.

Straightening, she looked toward the crescent moon in the sky.

Without Murong Chi’s grip or support, Zhe Yu immediately slid down the sharp rocks of the rockery.

She used her sword to support herself, preserving the final trace of her pride.

Her chest rose and fell violently as she gasped and looked at Ming Jing with a faint smile.

“Because I am no longer a disciple of the Wanxiang Dao Sect.”

“From this moment onward, Zhe Yu has no connection whatsoever to the Wanxiang Dao Sect.”

“I am not the Young Dao Venerable of the Human Realm. And if, to you, I am no longer your Junior Martial Aunt…”

“Then I am merely Zhe Yu.”

“Zhe Yu, a wandering cultivator with no sect, no family, and no friends.”

Heaven and earth were vast and boundless.

She possessed nothing.

Zhe Yu smiled, tears and blood mingling together in an indescribably tragic beauty.

Then she turned toward Murong Chi.

“I am not Yuwen Zheng’s disciple, but she did teach me my sword path.”

“When I left the sect, I destroyed half of it. When I fell from the cliff, most of what remained was ruined as well. I should have only a little sword aura left now.”

“If Senior Murong finds it worthy, you may take it.”

Those without fear were invincible.

At this moment, Zhe Yu had nothing left to fear.

Murong Chi studied her face.

She could faintly see the despair of someone whose heart had already turned to ashes.

The violent killing intent in her eyes gradually faded.

As the breeze passed, she suddenly felt a little cold.

She instinctively turned toward Ming Jing.

The woman in red had her head lowered and her lashes downcast, [bailiantales.com]concealing every emotion and thought within her heart.

Both hands were hidden inside her sleeves, revealing nothing.

“Since she taught you the sword path, you naturally bear the name of her disciple.”

Murong Chi abruptly laughed, her eyes as cold as ice.

“This sovereign does not care whether that relationship belongs to the past.”

Whatever had happened between them had nothing to do with her.

“A master’s debt is repaid by the disciple. Yuwen Zheng imprisoned this sovereign for thousands of years. Since you have come here, how dare you still imagine returning?”

Murong Chi smiled wildly.

A trace of crimson lifted at the corners of her eyes as she extended one long, pale finger.

Zhe Yu immediately sprayed out a great cloud of blood, repeatedly soaking her robes until their green had become almost entirely crimson.

“At the bottom of Asura Cliff dwells an Asura that thirsts for blood and knows no mercy.”

“So, Young Dao Venerable, remain here and cultivate bitterly for another thousand years.”

Murong Chi withdrew her hand.

A hazy blood-red light burst from her fingertip and surrounded Zhe Yu, isolating her within a narrow space.

Bloodlust and vicious hostility filled Murong Chi’s raised brows.

Escaping alive.

A blood feud deeper than the sea.

Everything needed a first step.

Who had told Zhe Yu to appear directly before her at precisely the wrong moment?

Who had told her to be Ming Jing’s Junior Martial Aunt and bear the title of Young Dao Venerable?

Murong Chi’s smile was restrained and oppressive.

When she turned around, Ming Jing was slowly raising her head.

Her gaze seemed to have only just withdrawn from Zhe Yu, and something she had not hidden in time remained deep within her eyes—

Darkness.

And… heartache.

Their eyes met.

Murong Chi’s gaze became entirely cold.

With a sweep of her sleeve, she collected all the spiritual fruit piled upon the rock, together with the object that was simultaneously a bird’s nest and a twig circlet.

She did not look again at the blood-soaked Zhe Yu behind her.

Instead, she turned toward Ming Jing with a faint smile upon her face.

“My little one.”

“Come here and carry me away.”

She extended a hand toward Ming Jing.

The aura surrounding her surged without pause, as though it might erupt at any moment.

Zhe Yu was also watching.

Her green robes were torn, and blood stained her cheeks.

She lay against the jagged rocks, using the Yaoyue Sword to support herself.

Her nearly dim eyes remained fixed upon Ming Jing without blinking.

Faced with those two very different gazes, Ming Jing’s expression remained as calm as the deep sea.

She approached Murong Chi, took her hand, then bent down and followed the movement of her rising body to lift her horizontally into her arms.

Under the burning gaze behind her, Ming Jing began walking.

Step by step, she left the rockery and returned to the familiar edge of the cold pool.

Murong Chi looked up at Ming Jing’s smooth jawline.

She tugged on her favorite section of Ming Jing’s sleeve, indicating that she should be put down.

After sitting upon the rock, she crossed one leg over the other, picked up a spiritual fruit, and placed it in her mouth.

She looked at Ming Jing with a smile that was not quite a smile.

“My little one, does your heart ache?”

Ache for what?

For the severe injuries covering Zhe Yu’s body and the blood flowing from her?

Or because Murong Chi had imprisoned her with blood energy, preventing her from leaving the crimson barrier?

Ming Jing lowered her head and met Murong Chi’s smiling gaze.

Her eyes were clear as glazed crystal, yet impossible to penetrate.

Coldness surrounded her.

She was languid, seductive, and dangerous, with a trace of her earlier icy hostility still remaining.

Little one.

Since Zhe Yu appeared beneath the cliff, this was the third time Murong Chi had addressed her that way.

Ming Jing nodded.

“My heart does ache.”

Murong Chi’s gaze grew increasingly intense and solid.

Ming Jing laughed softly, drawing out her tone before enunciating every word as clearly and crisply as jade beads falling upon a plate.

“My… big one.”

She reached out.

With a tearing sound, she ripped a strip of red fabric from the hem of her own robe.

As the smile on Murong Chi’s lips froze, Ming Jing leaned closer.

She carefully rolled up Murong Chi’s right sleeve and lowered her already [stolen content]loose outer robe beneath her collarbones.

Touching the sword wound with her fingertip, she tilted her head.

“Doesn’t my big one hurt?”

When Murong Chi raised her head, she once again seemed to catch a trace of heartache within Ming Jing’s obsidian-black eyes.

Her breathing slowed, and her thoughts became slightly blurred.

So Ming Jing was worried about her?

As the thought arose, Ming Jing gently treated the sword wound on Murong Chi’s right arm with only a few movements.

Then she held a clearly jointed, porcelain-white hand before Murong Chi and pressed her lips together pitifully.

“My beautiful, spotless hand. I clearly didn’t do anything.”

She had merely stood to one side and happily watched the spectacle.

Yet somehow, a sword wound had appeared upon her hand for no reason.

Sword aura and demonic energy tangled within it.

The pain was not particularly severe, but it came in waves and greatly affected her mood.

Murong Chi read all those unspoken complaints within Ming Jing’s eyes, which somehow appeared both clear and unfathomably deep.

For a moment, her mood became… indescribably complicated.

She simply shoved the half-eaten spiritual fruit into Ming Jing’s mouth, clearly intending to make her shut up if she did not know how to speak properly.

Ming Jing did not mind in the slightest.

She removed the fruit and took a large bite.

As the juice spread through her mouth, she narrowed her eyes in satisfaction.

Only when she swallowed did she suddenly remember something.

She looked accusingly at Murong Chi.

“It isn’t a spiritual fruit.”

Murong Chi curved her lips.

She shifted into another position upon the smooth rock, supporting her head with one hand while half reclining.

It was her favorite posture upon the white-jade couch.

Her voice was faint and mysterious.

“This is a fruit you can eat.”

Ming Jing did not understand and gave her a questioning look.

Murong Chi’s smile deepened.

She produced another fruit from somewhere and tossed it.

It traced a smooth arc through the air before Ming Jing caught it securely.

Tender green peeked through its bright red skin, and spiritual energy flowed across it.

Under the moonlight, it resembled a glowing gemstone made of colored glass.

“This fruit ripened through the demonic energy you used to accelerate its growth.”

“Strictly speaking, it should be called a demonic fruit.”

“So naturally, you can eat it.”

A demonic fruit.

Ming Jing stared at the vividly fresh fruit in her palm and blinked.

She could not identify the emotion within her heart.

She merely hid the fruit inside her sleeve and asked Murong Chi,

“Have your injuries healed?”

Naturally, she was asking about the backlash Murong Chi had suffered earlier when breaking the blood-red chains.

Murong Chi did not answer.

She rose lazily from the large rock and smiled at Ming Jing for a long time.

After brushing away dust that did not exist upon her clothing, she raised her tone slightly.

“We can leave now.”

Where would they go?

Naturally, to the world above the cliff.

To the Human Realm.

Ming Jing softly murmured, “Oh,” and silently followed Murong Chi.

Without warning, a charred length of wood was thrust toward her, violet light flowing across its surface.

Was this… Purple Lightning Wood?

Ming Jing was somewhat surprised.

When Murong Chi saw that she did not take it, she simply threw the wood against her and commanded,

“Keep it.”

“…Where am I supposed to put it?”

Ming Jing opened her eyes innocently, completely bewildered.

She was only in the Fourth Realm.

The inner spatial world available to Fifth-Realm cultivators had nothing to do with her.

Where else could she possibly put it?

“Inside your sleeve.”

Murong Chi’s voice drifted lightly.

After pausing, she still offered an explanation.

“This wood will benefit your cultivation. Keep it with you.”

But Ming Jing truly had nowhere to put it!

One or two fruits were manageable.

But this piece of wood was so long and large.

Putting it into her sleeve would be completely improper.

Ming Jing was unwilling.

Murong Chi snapped impatiently,

“It can become smaller, but only you can shrink it.”

“…Oh.”

Then why had she not said so earlier?

Taking advantage of the moment when Murong Chi was not looking, Ming Jing rolled her eyes.

She accepted the charred, violet-black wood and tentatively sent a stream of demonic energy into it.

The next instant, the wood began shrinking endlessly.

It quickly became no larger than a fist.

Ming Jing tucked it into her sleeve beside the demonic fruit.

She examined it curiously several times, then followed Murong Chi.

Soon, she saw a simple, ancient pavilion that closely resembled the one inside the cavern that Red Lotus Karmic Fire had destroyed.

Murong Chi stood beneath the pavilion.

The smile at the corner of her lips was somewhat chilling.

Only after a long time did she say,

“By stepping onto this ancient pavilion, we can return to the world above the cliff.”

Was that true?

Would it truly be as effortless and simple as Murong Chi claimed?

Standing behind her with her head lowered, Ming Jing remembered Zhe Yu’s words.

She had said that the formation beneath the cliff and the astral winds between the cliffs existed specifically because of Murong Chi.

Their sole purpose was to imprison her and prevent her from leaving the bottom of Wuchang Mountain.

It sounded as though leaving this place would be extremely difficult for Murong Chi, just as leaving the cavern had been.

Breaking that single crimson chain had left Murong Chi in such a miserable state that she had lacked the strength to walk.

Then what price would she have to pay to tear through the astral winds between the cliffs?

Moreover, Murong Chi also intended to take Ming Jing with her.

Ming Jing possessed only Fourth-Realm cultivation.

She was no longer a sword cultivator and could not fly upon a sword.

Nor did she possess any other bonded spiritual artifact.

Naturally, she could not fly.

As Ming Jing considered this, concern appeared deep within her eyes.

Her chin was suddenly lifted.

Murong Chi’s profound, cool gaze stared directly into her eyes, her voice faintly bewitching.

“What are you thinking about?”

What else could Ming Jing possibly be thinking about?

She found the question inexplicable.

With no intention of hiding anything, she explained every concern and hesitation within her heart.

It was not that she was worried about Murong Chi.

Rather, she simply did not wish to acquire more random injuries elsewhere upon her body.

Her body genuinely could not endure any more torment.

Before she could finish speaking, Murong Chi had already curved her lips into a smile.

She looked partly delighted and partly amused, her brows and eyes bending as every part of her conveyed careless nonchalance.

“You’re adorable,” declared the breathtaking woman in red.

Ming Jing: “…”

Why did those words sound so familiar?

“A mere formation and a single astral wind wish to imprison this sovereign?”

Murong Chi smiled frivolously.

Her body remained languid, almost as though she possessed no bones, and she made no effort to stand properly.

Yet as Ming Jing watched her, she felt that she truly saw a great demon who towered across the Nine Heavens and Ten Lands.

Murong Chi wore stunning robes redder than flames and smiled with lifted lips.

The arrogance and recklessness flowing from her bones seemed powerful enough to ignite the night itself.

All things beneath heaven and earth were merely specks of dust within her eyes.

But a single Blood Talisman Formation had already imprisoned her until hostility filled her heart and forced her to exhaust all her strength.

At that thought, Ming Jing instinctively raised her gaze and looked seriously at Murong Chi.

She wanted to hear whether Murong Chi would explain the difference between the two.

Instead, Murong Chi suddenly leaned close.

Her breath brushed Ming Jing’s face as though she intended to kiss her.

Her lips grazed the corner of Ming Jing’s mouth, her voice filled with teasing amusement.

“That Zhe Yu’s Emotionless Dao is about to collapse. Did you know?”

Ming Jing’s breathing paused.

She could not understand how the subject had returned to Zhe Yu.

Murong Chi continued with absolute certainty,

“Her Dao was destroyed because of you.”

Most of the reason her Dao heart had shattered was Ming Jing.

“Ming Jing, she likes you.”

Murong Chi half narrowed her eyes.

Watching Ming Jing’s pupils abruptly contract, she smiled and nodded.

“Yes. She likes you in exactly the way you’re thinking.”

The kind of affection that wanted to form a Dao-partner contract and spend the rest of their lives together.

“So, do you like her?”