After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 16

Wu Ruo sat on a wooden chair, idly stirring a mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal dust in a large bamboo tube, her mind far from the firework materials in her hands, it had already wandered elsewhere.

Not long after she returned to the tribe, the former Witch Envoy also arrived at her door. They spent a long time examining the desiccated corpse of the woman before finally reaching a conclusion, it was Jin Hua, who had left Miaojiang and been taken away by a sect of the cultivation world.

Most likely, she had returned home to visit her family but was tragically captured by a demonic cultivator. A victim of misfortune.

Tears dripped onto the ground, only to dry quickly in the wind. Jin Hua hadn’t been particularly well-liked in life, with only her mother, a tribal elder, as her kin. But when someone has been away from home for too long, the memories people hold onto are only the good ones, along with silent, sorrowful mourning.

The Witch Envoy brought the body to the sacred altar. The girl’s withered form lay on the cold stone surface as the soul-guiding, transcendent melody of the insect flute drifted through the air.

This was the Miao people’s unique way of paying tribute. Legend had it that the Witch God would protect every child born in the tribe, and with the insect flute to guide the way, the departed could be reborn into a life of health and peace.

The mournful notes of the flute stretched through the air, plaintive and sorrowful, as if pulling at the lingering pain of the soul’s three ethereal spirits, bringing endless grief and heartache. The anguished cries of Jin Hua’s mother echoed in the air, harmonizing with the flute, deepening the sorrow.

As the final notes faded, the elderly woman slowly lowered the flute. Beneath her dark purple robes, her rough fingers trembled slightly.

“Xiao Ruo… is your immortal friend leaving soon?”

It was the question Wu Ruo least wanted to face.

She tucked the flute into its pouch and gave a bitter smile. “Yes.”

“But…” The former Witch Envoy seemed to age another decade in an instant, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Just now, I discovered that the token on the demonic cultivator belonged to one of the top three sects in the demonic realm, the Blood Drenched Gate. Their disciples are cruel, bloodthirsty, and act without restraint, yet they are fiercely protective of their own. Any minor sect they target meets a gruesome end.”

The old woman’s voice trembled with suppressed sobs, as if shuddering in the face of impending disaster. Beneath her purple robes, her posture was no longer upright, her back had begun to hunch forward slightly.

Wu Ruo’s gaze lingered on the woman’s graying hair before shifting to the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

This was the former Witch Envoy, her teacher. She was no longer young, having spent her entire life running about for the sake of the younger generation. Yet even in what should have been her peaceful twilight years, she still lived in fear for the tribe’s future.

Wu Ruo pressed her lips together, her eyes softening with emotion. She knew what the woman wanted to say, but she herself was only holding onto a timid heart.

She wanted to ask that immortal, as pure as the wind and bright as the moon, to stay but how could that ever be possible?

“Look at Jin Hua, she couldn’t escape this fate. With our strength, we have no way to resist. Will she help us?” The elderly teacher’s voice was almost pleading.

But Wu Ruo could only remain silent.

Setting aside her own karmic ties with Luo Qingyi, just considering their respective statuses, what reason, what position did Luo Qingyi have to help them?

Moreover, during their first meeting, the immortal had seemed to hold some prejudice against Miaojiang’s gu techniques. Now that Luo Qingyi had regained her memories, had all of Wu Ruo’s efforts these past days been for nothing?

In silence, she looked at the former Witch Envoy before her and said nothing.

The air was filled only with the rustling of the surrounding gu insects as they crawled through the grass, gnawing on the tender juices of the stems, and the sound of the wind swaying the foliage.

Time passed slowly, and the autumn breeze grew colder. Suddenly, a warmth enveloped her hand, the scorching palm of the other person tightly gripping her slender wrist.

“…Xiao Ruo, please, I’m begging you as your teacher… You’ve already refined that thing, couldn’t you just.”

Couldn’t you just…

As if burned, she broke decorum and shook off the Witch Envoy’s hand. Yet her wrist still burned, as if boiling water had seared a vivid flower into her delicate skin, the heat flowing through her veins and into her heart.

She had kept the fact that she had refined a love gu a secret from all her peers. But unable to suppress her vanity, she had confided in her most trusted mentor.

Now, the boomerang had struck her heart, splitting open that small piece of flesh. The girlish fantasies hidden within had transformed into a brutal choice between personal desire and duty to her people, laid bare before her in all its gory reality.

If she used the love gu… Luo Qingyi would fall in love with her and never leave…

Then, if the demonic cultivators came again, perhaps their tribe would be saved…

Her breath hitched imperceptibly. The burning sensation on her wrist flared anew, igniting the embers in her heart until they roared into an inferno.

This way, Luo Qingyi would love her too, would stay by her side forever. She would still have the chance to be with her…

A deafening thunderclap suddenly split the sky. Though it was midday, the distant heavens inexplicably darkened, as if rain were imminent.

Her body shivered involuntarily, and her suspended hand dropped, striking something hard,

Clatter.

A deep brown wishing plaque fell to the ground with a loud clang. The side with the intricate carvings faced downward, but on the previously blank front…

A faint, ghostly character had appeared.

“Love.”

It seemed… she knew the answer she had to choose now.

“Alright.”

She heard her own voice, undeniably hers, yet the tone and timbre felt so foreign, as if she had never understood her past self, or as if she didn’t recognize who she had become.

“Thank you, Xiao Ruo. If not for you saving that immortal lord, our Miaojiang truly wouldn’t have survived this calamity…”

The elderly woman’s face broke into a relieved smile, the kind a mother might wear watching her daughter come of age. It was so familiar, just like when she had displayed her extraordinary talents as a child, and the woman would pat her head with this same proud expression.

How she longed to return to the pure simplicity of her childhood.

“Do you need help?”

The woman’s voice snapped Wu Ruo out of her thoughts. She turned to see Luo Qingyi standing not far away, eyeing the bamboo tube in her hands with curiosity and a hint of intrigue.

“No need, I’m almost done.” She showed off the nearly full bamboo tube, then added, “Later, I’ll add a fuse to it. Once lit, it’ll release a beautiful xuhua, a special kind of firework we use here for blessings. Today, I’ll show you one of our local traditions!”

She wasn’t wrong, this was the unique Miao tribal tradition of “Xu Hua.” However, they only celebrated it during the Yuan Festival each year, with fireworks swirling in the sky to seek the heavens’ protection for all living beings.

“Yeah, sure.” Luo Qingyi moved a small stool to sit beside her, showing none of the aloof demeanor expected of an immortal master. Instead, she seemed genuinely curious about their customs.

“How high do the fireworks go? Are they like signal talismans for warnings?” the other asked.

“Not very high,” Wu Ruo gestured with her hands, then chuckled sheepishly. “This is a very old tradition of ours. It was originally a festive practice left behind by our mortal ancestors meant for blessings, just for beauty, not for battle.”

“Hmm, like the colorful ribbons during the sect competitions?”

Wu Ruo nodded, watching as Luo Qingyi’s dark eyes lingered on the bamboo tube in her hands. The other’s gaze remained calm, but suddenly, she felt that the distance between them… wasn’t so vast anymore.

Unlike the frosty Sword Master she had first met, Luo Qingyi, during her time in Miao territory, seemed to have grown somewhat familiar with her perhaps even understanding.

She could even sense what the other was about to say.

“Let me do it.”

Sure enough. Luo Qingyi had likely decided to leave the next day, and today, her attitude carried a rare warmth. Seeing Wu Ruo labor over stuffing gunpowder for so long, despite her lofty status as a Sword Master, she was willing to engage in these mundane, cultivation-irrelevant tasks, just to spare her the effort.

It wasn’t without reason that she had grown fond of her. Those occasional glimpses of tenderness, fleeting as they were, left her sleepless with longing.

But tonight, she had to…

“Wait a moment… would you like to try some pastries I made?”

Wu Ruo knew most cultivators practiced inedia. Someone like Luo Qingyi, a powerhouse of her level, no longer needed food to sustain her body. Eating was nothing but a waste of time for them.

But she also knew that today, any request she made so long as it wasn’t a choiceLuo Qingyi would likely agree.

“Alright.”

She watched as Luo Qingyi worked diligently beside her, focused on threading the fuse, her breaths soft, a stray lock of hair accidentally brushing against Wu Ruo’s shoulder.

Yet she was so despicable, exploiting the other’s final act of tenderness to satisfy her own rotten, selfish desires.

Their hands occasionally touched, and each contact sent a surge of restless thoughts through her heart.

Until Chunchao arrived with Lanting, carrying several large bamboo tubes. “Teacher, we’ve finished preparing all the Xu Hua over here!”

“You’ve done wonderfully!” she replied with a smile. Beside her, Luo Qingyi dusted the lime from her hands, and as a breeze swept by, they became pristine again, white as jade, untouched by a speck of dust.

Night soon fell. The Miao girls gathered in circles, holding colorful Xu Hua tubes, dancing across the open ground.

Beams of multicolored light burst from the tubes, scattering into dazzling patterns. The girls raised them high, the bamboo emitting a hissing sound. The entire altar blazed as bright as day, magnificent as the dawn of a new year.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Wu Ruo stood beside Luo Qingyi, mustering the courage to loop her arm through the other’s, she wasn’t shaken off. Instead, Luo Qingyi glanced at her, her expression bathed in the soft glow of the lights, appearing exceptionally gentle.

“Yes, very beautiful,” Luo Qingyi said.

Luo Qingyi, who had always kept her sword in hand and her heart devoted to cultivation, had indulged herself for far too long. She should have left Miaojiang at dawn and returned to Zhiyuan Immortal Sect, yet because of Wu Ruo’s words, she had inexplicably stayed.

Just one day, only this one day. She repeated it silently in her heart.

When the crimson sun rose tomorrow, it would be time for her to leave.

The protective barrier she had cast over Miaojiang was already in place. Unless the demonic sect leader himself came to break it, there was no chance the formation would fail. Wu Ruo and Miaojiang would be fine; she had no reason to worry.

And yet… She glanced at the bright-eyed girl beside her, who, as in the past few days, held her wrist lightly.

She wanted to say something to Wu Ruo, but then she realized that without her, the girl’s life would go on as usual. Her brief passage through the Miao tribes was nothing more than an insignificant interlude in both their lives.

In the vast, endless journey of cultivation, this was merely a harmless encounter before they drifted apart.

This was what she had wanted.

She parted her lips softly. “If you ever face hardship in the future, you can come to Zhi—”

In the distance, fireworks burst once more, their cheers drowning out the quiet words. Wu Ruo didn’t catch them and tilted her head in confusion. “Huh? I didn’t hear you. Qingyi, say it again…”

A cool night breeze swept through, stirring Luo Qingyi’s long hair and scattering the thoughts she shouldn’t have entertained.

“It’s nothing,” Luo Qingyi said.

The sword cultivator’s voice was lost in the clamor of the crowd, while the Miao saintess’s unspoken feelings, like the gunpowder ignited on the altar, vanished into the brilliance of the fireworks, fleeting and gone.

Wu Ruo still held Luo Qingyi’s wrist, but the smile on her face wavered slightly.

A small, opaque vial lay quietly in her sleeve. The bottle was empty, and the flesh-pink gu worm had already disappeared.

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