After a Fake Death, the Emotionless Dao Senior Sister Became Obsessed - Chapter 47.2

She finally touched a long, delicate sword box.

Opening it, a warm, faintly luminous sword lay quietly inside. The hilt was made of jade, the body of dark iron, without decoration, looking refined.

As she opened the seal, the obscure inscriptions carved on the blade instantly shone.

This must be Gui Ji.

Chu Zhao shook her head, not knowing why she was so certain.

She hugged the heavy sword tightly. The sword seemed to absorb her demonic power, gaining life. Its body slowly glowed with an unsettling crimson halo, leaning into her embrace with surprising obedience.

“Do you also want to take me to find Zhi Zhi?” Chu Zhao asked softly, stroking the seemingly affectionate sword.

The sword immediately cooled down.

In a short while, it stopped humming, became cold and silent, and never responded to her again.

Chu Zhao was a little disappointed.

But not discouraged. She carefully hid Gui Ji in the quilt and reluctantly dealt with the people who came to visit that day.

Enduring until dusk, she seized the moment when the door was briefly left ajar, hugged the sword, and slipped out.

She vigilantly avoided the “clansmen” with horns on their foreheads, panting heavily. It was only when the moon hung high overhead that she reached the boundary of the territory.

Yaoguang Marsh was a large expanse of water. Looking out, the waves surged, vast and endless.

Chu Zhao could never swim out, not to mention the barrier, which she couldn’t break at all.

Just as she was anxious and hesitant, the supposedly unbreakable barrier suddenly rippled slightly, shattering into shreds.

Outside the water, a woman’s figure lightly landed.

Her appearance was exquisite and transcendent, her long eyebrows extended to her temples, and her arms were adorned with a glowing sash. Like an inviolable emerald bamboo, she was clearly in a high position.

Yet, she bent down slightly, extended a hand toward her, and spoke in a soft voice, “Zhao Zhao, do you want to go to Zhongzhou?”

“How about I take you there.”

…

The woman who carried her away from Yaoguang Marsh on her sword was named Luo Yu.

Because the woman was a sword cultivator, just like the person she was desperately seeking, Chu Zhao unconsciously felt a sense of closeness.

Therefore, even when the woman lightly wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, holding her entire body in her embrace, she only felt a little awkward but did not resist.

“Luo Yu, do you know Zhi Zhi?” The clear blue light of the sword beneath her feet streaked across the sky, flying swiftly. The wind roared in her ears, yet Chu Zhao still felt it was too slow and couldn’t help but ask anxiously.

The woman behind her was silent for a long time.

Her voice remained gentle, “Is it the sword cultivator named Si Jing? I heard she is currently trapped in the epicenter of the demonic outbreak in Zhongzhou, which is… Yunshui Chamber on the Lush Green Peak.”

“That place is already extremely dangerous. Does Zhao Zhao still want to go?”

Chu Zhao nodded emphatically, “I must go!”

She was originally shy about seeing Si Jing, but as she neared Zhongzhou, she couldn’t help but feel flustered and helpless.

She looked down at the flowing clouds beneath the sword: a stark, bloody crimson, and the atmosphere was desolate and sinister.

She was afraid of demons, but if Si Jing was in the depths of the demonic energy, she must also be in danger.

…She had to protect Zhi Zhi.

The sword landed in a barren area. At the foot of the mountain, white bones were piled high, and blood soaked the earth, emitting a sickening stench.

Chu Zhao quickly broke free from Luo Yu’s embrace and jumped off the sword.

Before her was a narrow, winding mountain path ascending the steps. The scenery of the forest on both sides was gloomy, with shadows of demons flickering, sharp and mournful.

Upon seeing the rapidly moving crimson figure, the multitude of demons rushed toward Chu Zhao like moths to a flame, greedily grabbing her ankles.

Gui Ji unsheathed with a zheng sound. The blade was dyed scarlet, eerie and sinister, instantly severing the tangled demons.

Chu Zhao didn’t notice this at all. She quickened her pace, plunging into the mountain path where the demonic energy raged and the way ahead was indiscernible.

Her heartbeat was frantic. Her round eyes were slightly red from helplessness.

The only remaining fuzzy words in her mind were “Zhi Zhi.”

Luo Yu watched the girl leave, a slight smile on her lips.

Emerald green spiritual energy protected her body. She moved through the raging demonic energy as if entering an unmanned territory.

She took a small wooden carving from her sleeve, lowered her head, and caressed it with a look of infatuation and pity.

The wood carving was palm-sized, carved in the pattern of scales, depicting a little fish with flowing cloud tails.

…

The stone steps were covered in sticky crimson, staining the beautiful dress Chu Zhao had carefully changed into before leaving, but she barely noticed.

Halfway up the mountain, there was a moss-covered doorstep stone. The cinnabar inscriptions were soaked in fresh blood, but the three characters “Yunshui Chamber” could still be faintly recognized.

On the stone, a plush bird had its head tucked into its feathers, completely silent.

Her heart pounding with fear, Chu Zhao paused briefly to look.

She seemed to have seen this doorstep stone and this demon bird before.

A cacophony of voices echoed vaguely in her ears.

Many young men and women in light blue Daoist robes appeared before her eyes. Some were shy and quiet, bringing pastries to feed her, while others were free-spirited and casual, drawing clumsy ghost talismans between jokes.

She looked at those young faces through the hazy water of a clear porcelain jar, occasionally leaping out of the water to hear everyone calling her, in awe or longing, “Koi Fairy!”

At that time, the winter snow outside was gradually melting, the spring light was enchanting, and everything was leisurely and peaceful.

Chu Zhao would lie in the water and take a lazy nap. When she woke up, she would always see the snow-robed woman’s clear eyes.

The woman kept her in the clear water, feeding her. Even when she transformed into human form and climbed into the woman’s arms, soaking wet, the woman merely lowered her long eyelashes and did not resist.

Her palm supported Chu Zhao’s waist, afraid she might fall. Strands of hair slipped over her ear, barely concealing the faint pink behind it.

Her voice was no longer the flat tone she used to instruct her martial siblings, but was laced with a hint of tenderness and shyness, “…Presumptuous.”

Chu Zhao tightly hugged the sword, her knuckles relaxing.

Unconsciously, cold, salty tears rolled down her cheeks.

But why couldn’t she remember any of this before?

Who were those blurry faces?

She only remembered Zhi Zhi.

The clear pool in the back mountain had long turned red. The spiritual mist had become a blood mist. The spirit herbs withered, and there was dead silence.

Chu Zhao was helpless and confused, running toward the increasingly bleak mountaintop, searching for the snow-white figure from her memories.

Behind the collapsed hall, she saw the lush peach tree now drooping its branches, the tender pink petals completely soaked in fresh blood.

Most of the dense red silk ribbons hanging on the branches had faded to white.

They swayed in the wind like funeral streamers, then heavily dropped.

And in front of the peach tree, a slender snow-white figure stood silently, her back to Chu Zhao. The plain sword in her hand had slipped to her feet from exhaustion.

The woman slightly lowered her head. Her robe was no longer as clean as in the memories, but splattered with horrific bloodstains.

She used her palm to catch the tattered shreds of silk, hiding them in her blood-splattered sleeve, remaining utterly silent.

Chu Zhao’s heart felt gently grasped by the woman’s actions.

Her chest burned, hiding all the fears of nearing home.

She had never been so certain that this was her Zhi Zhi.

Unable to restrain her eagerness, Chu Zhao rushed to the peach tree and stopped behind the woman. Her ears were hot. She cautiously wrapped her arms around the other’s slender waist.

“Zhi, Zhi Zhi…?” she called softly.

“I finally found you. Ah Chu… missed you so much.”

She thought of the sleepless nights, the daily torment of chaotic, blurry fragmented scenes, the unbearable anxiety, and how, even when she closed her eyes, she was always imagining the scene of their reunion.

Would Zhi Zhi embrace her tenderly and indulgently, like in her dreams?

Or, out of shyness, would she only curl her fingers around her hand, her peach blossom eyes holding restrained affection?

She wanted to hear the woman call her “Zhao Zhao” softly.

But after waiting anxiously for a long time, the person in front of her remained motionless.

She didn’t even turn around.

The wind near the top of the Lush Green Peak was bitterly cold. Chu Zhao shivered slightly. Layers of mist welled up in front of her eyes, and her heart was filled with sourness and grievance.

Is Zhi Zhi still angry?

Is she blaming her for abandoning her, or has she forgotten her?

“Zhi Zhi.” She tugged at the woman’s sleeve corner and offered the treasured sword she had carefully protected, her voice full of hope, “This is Ah Chu’s gift to you. It’s a very powerful sword!”

The woman did not reach out to take it.

“Aren’t you a sword cultivator?” Chu Zhao’s voice softened.

“You’ll like it, won’t you?”

“…Please forgive Ah Chu, okay?”

She stubbornly held the sword, walked around to face the woman, and gazed up blankly at the exquisite and transcendent features for a long time.

Yet, on the woman’s pale, cold cheek, she caught a glimpse of a faint watermark that was almost wiped away by the wind.

The woman was numb and cold, her expression distant, with a lingering redness at the corners of her eyes, her body swaying precariously.

Chu Zhao panicked, reaching out to wipe Si Jing’s eye corners, feeling as if her heart was being carved by a knife.

She transformed into her original fish form, quietly curled up in the woman’s icy palm, and tried hard to peck the other’s finger webbing, “Zhi Zhi, don’t cry…”

Seeing no effect, she leapt into the familiar snow-white lapel, gently flicking her fish tail.

Separated by the cloth, pressing against the woman’s soft, rising and falling curve, she racked her brain to coax a smile from the woman.

“Ah Chu will never leave again. I will stay with Zhi Zhi forever. Don’t be sad, okay?”

In the fragmented past memories, doing this would always win a slight uplift of Si Jing’s lips or a look of tender affection directed at her.

Chu Zhao just wanted Si Jing to talk to her.

Even if it wasn’t as indulgent as she imagined, even if… she didn’t call her “Zhao Zhao.”

Si Jing’s eyes, silent as a mirror, seemed to ripple.

But they only reflected the desolate and miserable scene of the mountain, her gaze cold and clear, not enveloping Chu Zhao within them.

Chu Zhao was not discouraged.

She used her demonic power to condense a small porcelain jar that had appeared in her memories and leapt into it.

Even without water, she pretended to swim upstream as she had in the past.

Just like they used to do in the quiet bedroom, where it was just the two of them.

“Zhi Zhi, look at Ah Chu, look at Ah Chu… won’t you?” she pleaded cautiously.

Her tail wound scraped against the cold jar wall, a burst of sour pain, making her curl up.

Chu Zhao then remembered that her tail was injured and had long been unsightly.

She hid clumsily in the corner. The water jar condensed by her demonic power quickly dissipated into thin steam, barely concealing the traces.

The next moment, however, she was caught in Si Jing’s palm.

Her chest was burning. Chu Zhao looked shyly at the clear-eyed woman and called softly, “Zhi Zhi?”

Zhi Zhi finally acknowledges her, finally is kind to her.

She transformed into human form and nestled entirely into Si Jing’s embrace, secretly rubbing her cheek against the other’s cold neck, filled with joy.

But then, an ice-cold chill suddenly plunged into her chest.

Chu Zhao’s shoulders trembled. She lowered her head and looked at the pale, slender hand.

The dagger, with a bright scale inlaid on its hilt, was tightly gripped by the woman. Blood was pouring out of her chest.

It hurts so much.

Her hearing was lost; she couldn’t even hear her own heart, which had been pounding just moments ago.

She watched the dark red blood gush out, soaking the ground and deepening the color of the beautiful dress she had painstakingly chosen.

“…Zhi Zhi?” Chu Zhao’s eyes widened in confusion.

The woman in front of her was silent, her long eyelashes lowered, the bottom of her eyes reflecting the bright red.

The hand that had brought her joy was even colder than the short blade.

From her chest, a damp, crimson, still-throbbing demon core was pulled out.

It was silently squeezed, pulverized into dust.

Chu Zhao felt something inside her shattering piece by piece.

It seemed to be the heart that had been burning hot with urgent expectation.

She struggled to raise her hand, still wanting to touch Si Jing, but only managed to brush against the woman’s instantly withdrawn fingertips.

And the dagger that fell into her arms, with that single scale inlaid on it.

It was the piece scooped out of the tip of her tail.

The gift she had secretly cut off in the corner of her cave, enduring the pain, wanting to give to Si Jing with hopeful longing.

But the pain back then was not like the endless ache now. Back then, the agony in her chest was mixed with sweetness.

The thought of Si Jing’s shy expression upon seeing it made even the scorching pain turn into a pleasurable itch.

Just like when she was placed in the water jar, subjected to fire and lightning strikes, though uncomfortable, she would be carefully cared for by the woman, who would compensate her with the sweetness she yearned for.

That night, the quiet bedroom was still. Si Jing held her in her lapel, speaking in a low, gentle voice, saying she would return to the desolate mountain with her.

Chu Zhao remembered that for a long, long time, fantasizing about marrying the woman.

The surroundings were bleak and desolate, exactly like the mountain destroyed by the immortal cultivators in her memory.

But the woman, having walked out of her destroyed cave, merely watched in silence from the side.

Just like now, even when carving out her demon core, her indifferent gaze did not linger on her.

Chu Zhao was cold all over. She wanted to pull at the woman’s sleeve corner, to touch the lotus leaf pattern that had first caught her eye at their initial encounter, the one she had yearned for.

But she failed to grasp it; it slipped through her palm like flowing water.

She wanted to ask: in Si Jing’s heart, were those naive and lively martial siblings more important, or was she?

Chu Zhao also liked Yunshui Chamber.

When she was surrounded and praised by the chattering young men and women, when she sneaked into the sword trial assessment at the Sword Forging Cliff, when she drew talismans and spells with everyone in the outer room.

She wanted to blend in, to win more of Si Jing’s attention, and to share Si Jing’s focus, just like those innocent boys and girls.

But she was just a fish demon incompatible with the Lush Green Peak.

Most of the time, she could only bump into the walls of the narrow water jar countless times, eagerly craning her neck for Si Jing to push open the door and come back to her.

Chu Zhao didn’t like being confined in the jar at all.

She was always waiting. Waiting in the water until she grew tired and slept, waiting until the moon hung high, before the woman would hold her in her palm.

Si Jing taught many martial siblings every day. She was always so busy, never pausing for her.

Yet, Chu Zhao only had Si Jing.

Chu Zhao collapsed and transformed into her fish form. The temperature slowly drained from her body, leaving her lost and bewildered.

The Lush Green Peak was bitter and cold. She wanted to draw a little warmth, but in the end, she discovered that the soft embrace she craved was not even as warm as the scorching temperature on her heart.

She then remembered that it was never her who lost Si Jing.

It was Si Jing who discarded her without a word, coldly severing the bond between them.

She wanted to return to being the pure, clear-minded immortal cultivator she once was.

The ice bracelet and ice ring faded and shattered, scattering on the ground with a crisp, echoing sound.

The little red fish lay beside them, a gruesome wound ripping open its milky white belly. Its round eyes were wet, its cloud fins sticky and limp. It was already silent.

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