After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 25.3

Even though what she held was not a sword but an unremarkable brown-black branch.

“…” Wu Ruo watched, initially intending to study earnestly, but found herself utterly captivated by the woman’s fluid, effortless swordplay.

There was no other reason, it was simply too beautiful.

The moment the woman held a sword, her entire demeanor transformed. No longer the lovestruck fool who had gazed at her with infatuation days before, she became an otherworldly master, towering and unshakable.

Ethereal beauty, untethered from the mundane.

It dawned on Wu Ruo belatedly that Luo Qingyi was no ordinary sword cultivator she was the master of the foremost of the Four Great Peaks, the undisputed number one of Zhiyuan Immortal Sect.

And now, this very person had just demonstrated the first move of the “First Snow” form, casually planting the branch in the snow before walking slowly toward her. “This is the first stance of the sword form. Did you understand?”

Wu Ruo, who had been too busy staring in awe, hurriedly scrambled to recover. “Wait, the later movements were a bit too fast, I couldn’t keep up.”

Luo Qingyi said nothing, merely picking up the fallen branch from the ground and stepping back into her teaching role. Noticing Wu Ruo simply watching, she gently reminded, “Follow along with me.”

Every word was a pearl of wisdom, yet each movement was broken down to the finest detail, becoming a series of meticulously small actions.

Each syllable carried boundless patience and tenderness.

A strong wind swept through, darkening the sky as if another cold spell was imminent. A chilly snowflake landed on her arm, followed by a flurry of snowflakes filling the air, thick as goose feathers.

The woman before her still stood tall and graceful as a crane, her jade-white hair fluttering like falling snow, the wooden sword in her hand exuding an ethereal aura as pristine as ever.

So beautiful.

It seemed in her memories, she had once seen a woman like this, silhouetted against an unknown sunlight, her jet-black hair dancing in the wind like a woven net unfurling in the air.

Who was it perhaps in a dream, she had never met her.

She gathered her thoughts, the tip of her sword touching the ground as she rose gracefully with the other amidst the swirling snow.

Rising, retracting, sweeping left, lowering the elbow.

She had to admit, there was an unusual charm about Luo Qingyi at this moment. Not the oppressive demeanor that had suffocated her days before, but a transcendent, almost immortal grace.

Watching the other woman execute a simple movement, her sleeves fluttering like snow butterflies, Wu Ruo felt her heart skip a beat.

“I don’t quite understand this part. Could you demonstrate it again?” Wu Ruo thought for a moment, then added, “Turn around, so I can see more clearly.”

Luo Qingyi turned, the branch in her hand rotating slightly as spiritual energy condensed into a glowing light, blooming softly at its tip.

She didn’t come too close, maintaining a distance as she spoke slowly, “This stance is indeed a bit complex. Suspend the arm, turn the body, release the spirit, focus on the right meridian, then—”

“Strike.”

The word “strike” merged with the sword’s edge, bursting forth with an overwhelming momentum, untamed as dust.

No or rather, the aura around her wasn’t overwhelming. Instead, Wu Ruo’s vision blurred abruptly, as if Luo Qingyi had suddenly drawn very close, the sword’s edge now hovering right before her, scorching and pressing in.

“No!”

The illusion vanished. Wu Ruo knelt on the ground, her small face scrunched up in pain, her body curled into a tiny ball.

No, no, her chest hurt so much, why did it hurt this badly.

Her sword clattered to the ground, sinking into the thick snow, leaving only the outline of its shape in the white expanse.

Gritting her teeth and clutching her chest, Wu Ruo’s stubborn nature surged to the forefront. She was in the middle of training, how could she let a little physical discomfort stop her?

One hand clenched into a fist pressed against her chest, the other groped for her sword in the snow. Unintentionally brushing against the blade, the sudden sting in her palm jolted her awake.

Looking up, the figure standing before her was gone. Luo Qingyi was half-kneeling on the ground, one hand braced on the branch to keep herself upright, her face as pale as paper.

Was it shared sensation? Her pain had caused Luo Qingyi to suffer as well, to the point where she couldn’t even complete the sword stance before collapsing under the strain?

Wu Ruo’s thoughts came in fragments. She remembered promising not to affect the other, and a pang of awkwardness shot through her.

Thud.

A sharp crack echoed in the air as the tree branch in Luo Qingyi’s hand which had served as a makeshift sword finally snapped under pressure, breaking in half. She staggered forward slightly but quickly regained her balance and stood upright once more.

“Ah Nuo!”

The woman walked back to Wu Nuo, bending slightly to extend a hand toward her. “Can you get up?”

“I can.” Wu Nuo grabbed her hand firmly and pulled herself up without hesitation. The sudden pain from earlier now seemed like nothing more than a fleeting illusion just a stumble born of distraction, leaving her grimacing in discomfort.

“Again. Let’s continue.”

She reached for the “sword,” only to feel a stinging sensation in her palm. Looking down, she realized she had accidentally gripped the blade, leaving shallow cuts on her fingers, from which a few drops of blood welled up.

Luo Qingyi stepped forward, took her hand, and without a word, produced a small vial of medicinal ointment from her sleeve, applying it evenly over the wounds.

The cool touch of the other woman’s fingers soothed the pain, leaving only a faint itch in its wake. Blood rushed to the injured area, and the broken skin visibly began to mend.

But the itchiness didn’t seem confined to just her fingers, it spread along the nearby meridians and deeper, into her heart.

Suddenly, she realized this was the first time in days she had been this close to Luo Qingyi without feeling any trace of resentment.

The coolness at her fingertips vanished as Luo Qingyi released her hand, gazing up at the swirling snowflakes. “Let’s head back. The snow’s too heavy for sword practice now.”

“Yeah, alright.”

She couldn’t be sure if it was her imagination, but as the other woman turned away, she thought she heard a whisper,

“Sorry”?

The next day, another figure appeared atop Snowfall Peak.

Yue Qinglan emerged like a shadow, silent and unannounced, in the side chamber of Moonview Hall, clutching several thick books in her arms.

When Luo Qingyi emerged with Wu Nuo, Yue Qinglan bowed to the former and explained her presence to the latter.

She was preparing to take on disciples but was worried about her teaching skills, so she had come to “intern” by instructing Wu Nuo in swordsmanship.

Had Luo Qingyi not been standing nearby, watching silently the entire time, the explanation might have been more convincing.

Yue Qinglan was indeed a decent teacher just extremely meticulous. She demanded precision in every movement and insisted on endless repetitions, only nodding reluctantly after hundreds, if not thousands, of drills.

By the end of the day, Wu Nuo was utterly exhausted, sprawled in the snow with no desire to move. Just as she was groaning in protest, a petulant voice called from a distance: “Senior Sister! And Junior Sister, oh and Sister-in-law, ugh, I mean, Wu Nuo.”

Wu Nuo jolted upright to see Jiang Qingbei trudging up the slope, lugging a large bundle with a disgruntled expression.

“Ugh, this is killing me! My mother made me bring this up here, no idea what it is!”

Yue Qinglan hurried over, about to take the bundle from Jiang Qingbei, when Luo Qingyi stopped her. “Qinglan, don’t touch it.”

“Senior Sister!” Jiang Qingbei pouted. “I cut ties with my mother ages ago, but today she insisted I visit and made me bring this for you. Said you’d understand once you saw it.”

Jiang Qingbei’s mother was none other than the current sect leader of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect, who had presided over the sect for nearly a century.

Luo Qingyi and the others’ master was the grand elder of the sect and also the senior sister of Jiang Qingbei’s mother. In other words, the current sect leader, Jiang, was Luo Qingyi’s martial aunt. Both emotionally and logically, she should treat her with respect and uphold the principles of honoring teachers and valuing their teachings.

However, an incident eight years ago severed her ties with Sect Leader Jiang, turning them into strangers who went their separate ways from then on.

“Mm,” Luo Qingyi responded as she took it. “I’ll take a look.”

“In my opinion, she just wants to apologize to you! She knows she was wrong and shouldn’t have treated you like.”

Jiang Qingbei suddenly realized something, glanced at Wu Ruo, and fell silent.

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