After a Fake Death, the Emotionless Dao Senior Sister Became Obsessed - Chapter 48.1

The sky was chaotic, dark clouds gathered, and the tranquility within the Central Prefecture was no more.

A streak of cyan sword light sliced across the sky.

Su Xue returned alone on her sword from North Prefecture to Emerald Peak.

Her face was pale, and she coughed just then, blood spilling from her lips.

Magic energy was in turmoil across the Nine Prefectures, and she had rushed to exterminate the demons, but was unfortunately injured. Along the way, she heard that Central Prefecture had already been invaded by magic energy, which exacerbated her anxiety, making her rush back in a panic.

Although Si Jing was stationed at Cloud Water Abode, there were still many young disciples; how could she be at ease?

Su Xue was about to invoke a sword incantation to make her sword fly faster, but a gentle melody played on a clay xun (ocarina) slowly drifted into her ears.

It was Jiang Cheng Zi, a tune mourning a deceased wife.

The xun‘s sound was originally ethereal and lingering, and the tune itself was deeply sorrowful, but now it was played like warm spring water, tender and entwined.

Spilling out amidst the desolate scene, it unexpectedly created a sense of unsuited oddity.

The music abruptly stopped, and she encountered a person face to face.

Luo Yu’s robes fluttered, her appearance was dignified and noble, and she looked at Su Xue, seemingly unsurprised.

She slowly tucked the xun into her sleeve, her gaze landing on Su Xue’s face, and she spoke warmly: “Senior Sister.”

“It’s been a long time since we last met, a hundred years already.”

Su Xue looked straight at the jade-boned, elegant woman before her, managing a slight smile, “Clear-Washing Immortal actually has time to visit my humble sect, no wonder I haven’t seen you at Mount Kunlun.”

Luo Yu was not bothered by Su Xue’s distance, “Senior Sister knows that I originally dislike interfering with sect affairs.”

“It is you, Senior Sister, who is usually fond of a carefree life, yet willing to rush to North Prefecture to exterminate demons. It is truly a blessing for the Xuanmen (Mystic Sect).”

Su Xue curved her lips, “The art of divining the heavenly secrets that I taught you should not have been neglected. Otherwise, how would you block me here?”

She must have calculated her whereabouts long ago.

It was a pity that she did not know what Luo Yu intended to do at this moment.

The timid little girl with poor spiritual roots in her memory had grown into the unrevealing, highly positioned figure who could turn her hand to create clouds.

She commanded the head of the Xuanmen, was revered by tens of thousands, and also made Su Xue feel estranged.

Luo Yu’s expression was a little downcast, but her voice still contained a smile, “Is Senior Sister blaming me? But Senior Sister… when have you not tried to calculate the ways of the heavens?”

“For example, breaking into that barren mountain outside the Silent Sea. For example, once condensing decades of cultivation into a ‘demon core’ and gifting it to a cute little red fish.”

Silver snakes coiled in the clouds, lightning flickered, as if the heavenly way was peering down.

“Senior Sister, the heavenly way cannot be violated,” Luo Yu leaned closer and spoke gently to the woman in the raven-black robe.

“Do you still remember? When you were trying to help the little fish avoid a death tribulation, you simultaneously returned the blood jade pendant to her.”

“The fate of those who have already entered the game cannot be easily rewritten. A hundred years ago, hasn’t Senior Sister already experienced that kind of helplessness?”

“When the little fish was still named Jiang Yun.”

Luo Yu smiled, flew north on her sword, and brushed past Su Xue.

The xun music started again, rich and gentle, like a wisp of phosphorus light wandering aimlessly in a black tide.

Su Xue lowered her eyelids, her finger bones clenching in her sleeve.

She immediately invoked a sword incantation and rushed to Emerald Peak.

The cyan sword light parted the clouds, and she landed in front of the Cloud Water Abode’s hall, which was already dilapidated and eroded by demons. She saw a peach tree with withered branches wrapped in white cloth.

The sixteen disciples of Cloud Water Abode were dead.

Just like the night Emerald Peak was blood-bathed a long time ago.

Si Jing knelt in front of the tree, the focus in his eyes lost, his body covered in wounds.

He seemed to have fought fiercely with the demons, his snow-white robe soaked with fresh blood.

Yet, his hands were clasped together, holding a small red fish that was already lifeless, his expression indifferent.

Tears were swept away by the chilling mountain wind, splattering onto the fish’s dull, round eyes.

Chu Zhao awoke from a state of chaos.

She felt weak all over, and her chest was heavy with soreness. She slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a canopy hanging high above the bed, and beneath her was a soft couch adorned with lotus petals.

Her right wrist was being softly held.

The little fish-dragon was dozing off, startled awake by her movement. It rubbed its eyes and, seeing her eyes with light gold flecks, immediately opened its eyes wide with joy.

It lightly touched her fingertips with the new horn on its forehead, seemingly an ancient gesture of respect, “… Lord Zhao Zhao!”

The tip of the light cyan dragon tail behind her lifted high and swayed from side to side, “You’re awake, are you thirsty? Do you want to drink some honey nectar? I’ll go call Lord Huai Lang, and Lord Bei Yue!”

Chu Zhao gently stroked the little girl’s head, momentarily lost in thought.

Many memory fragments appeared in her mind.

She seemed to have… suffered a serious injury outside the Shaking Light Marsh and was unconscious for a long time. It was Huai Lang, the clan elder in her territory, who brought her back and treated her.

What was the injury?

Chu Zhao lowered her eyes, unable to recall for a moment.

She just felt a dull pain in her chest. It had been a long time since she had suffered such a severe injury.

The little fish-dragon looked at her eagerly, still waiting. Chu Zhao smiled, stroked the other’s soft head, and replied, “Okay.”

The little fish-dragon blinked shyly, full of anticipation, and ran out like a gust of wind.

When Huai Lang stepped over the threshold, she saw a slender and graceful profile by the window, wearing only an undergarment.

The girl’s delicate, soft eyelashes lifted. She paused to admire a dragonfly perched on a flower-guarding bell, looking very curious, as if she was about to raise her hand to touch it.

“… Zhao Zhao.” Huai Lang tightened her grip on the nectar bottle she held, feeling her voice dry, “You’re awake?”

The person before her was no longer the charming and naive appearance she had seen in the past. Her figure was tall, her muscles were plump and moist, and her long hair flowed down her shoulders, trailing to her waist.

Her features were stunningly beautiful, her amber-colored almond eyes contained a golden light, her undergarment was slightly open, and a charming cinnabar mark adorned the spot below her collarbone.

Seeing Huai Lang, a shallow smile lifted the corners of her lips.

She walked towards her, barefoot on the jade tiles, her voice soft, “A’Lang?”

Huai Lang pursed her lips, unable to suppress the stirring in her heart.

She showed no sign of it on her face, however, speaking stubbornly, “You’re still recuperating, quickly go back to bed! The jade tiles are cold, aren’t you afraid of catching a chill?”

Chu Zhao tilted her head slightly.

She looked at her for a while, then wrapped her arms around Huai Lang’s arm and shook it, “Why is A’Lang unhappy?”

She knew her memory was poor, but this time, she had clearly remembered the woman’s name.

Huai Lang glanced at her chest, her expression poor.

The miserable sight of Chu Zhao when she was brought back to Shaking Light Marsh kept replaying in her mind.

It only took a few breaths’ distance, yet the wet crimson had filled her robe.

She closed her eyes, about to speak, when Bei Yue rushed in by the door, holding up her skirt.

“Huai Lang!” The little girl came anxiously, her light lotus-root colored dragon tail exposed behind her.

Feeling embarrassed, she hugged her tail to her chest, cast an incantation to hide it, and then ran up to Chu Zhao.

Looking at her, she was also stunned, just like the little cyan fish-dragon earlier, and softly called out, “Lord… Zhao Zhao?”

Chu Zhao opened her arms, embraced Bei Yue, and touched her slightly protruding horns, “Hmm? You don’t recognize me.”

Bei Yue felt a rush of warmth all over, and she tremblingly found a soft spot to hide herself, “Mmm, I do recognize you.”

The fish-dragon race doesn’t distinguish their kin by appearance like ordinary humans; after all, their clansmen are skilled in illusionary arts, and they can change their appearance as they please.

But the sensitive dragon horns are different. Just a touch allows one to know the age, cultivation level, and even the purity of the bloodline of their kin.

The extremely beautiful woman before her, although she had restrained the dragon aura flowing in her bloodline, still possessed a presence that made her heart palpitate.

Bei Yue quietly peeked up and saw Chu Zhao’s lips curve into a smile.

Huai Lang’s voice returned to her ears. She was rambling about something, “… You’ve been unconscious for half a month, yet you’re still walking barefoot on the cold floor!”

Chu Zhao’s eyes were infused with the spring light from the window, clear and moving, “A’Lang, don’t be angry.”

“Otherwise, should I hug A’Lang too?”

She smiled lightly at Huai Lang before her, and indeed opened her arms.

A suspicious blush flooded Huai Lang’s cheeks.

She lightly glanced at her a few times, then averted her gaze, “… What are you saying? I don’t want to.”

Bei Yue snorted softly.

This thousand-year-old fish-dragon was definitely smitten!

Chu Zhao tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, looked at Huai Lang, then at Bei Yue, tilted her head, and smiled good-naturedly.

She deftly snatched the nectar bottle Huai Lang was clutching, and by the time the two realized it, she had already pulled out the stopper and taken several large sips.

She casually used an arcane art to conjure a crimson dress dotted with dark lotus patterns, draped it over herself, and walked towards the door, her eyelashes fluttering.

“A’Lang, Bei Bei. I’m going out for a stroll first, no need to look for me.”

Huai Lang was worried and still wanted to chase after her, but Bei Yue pulled her back.

“I just checked, Lord Zhao Zhao’s body is fine now,” Bei Yue spoke softly, her face serene, “A’Lang, don’t disturb her.”

She followed the retreating crimson figure at the door with her gaze, “Besides, didn’t you completely erase those unbearable memories for her? It’s already good that she still recognizes us now.”

Bei Yue was in charge of the clan’s affairs, unlike the more leisurely Huai Lang.

After Bei Yue left, only Huai Lang remained seated at the table.

She closed her eyes, clutching a few green plums in her palm, but the chaotic, crimson scene kept replaying before her eyes.

When Clear-Washing Immortal brought Chu Zhao to their doorstep, the little red fish in her palm already had dull, unfocused eyes.

A shocking bloody hole was torn in her abdomen, and she weighed so little, barely anything at all.

Huai Lang struggled to suppress her inner panic and called out in a low voice, but received no response.

She did not know how Chu Zhao had broken through the barrier of the Shaking Light Marsh and chased all the way to the distant Central Prefecture, a place filled with magic energy, to look for the so-called “Zhi Zhi.”

She only had a retelling from Luo Yu’s mouth: the little fish had her demon core gouged out by that cold-hearted person who cultivated the path of heartlessness.

Si Jing.

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