After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 28.2

Luo Qingyi’s voice vanished. The paper crane, like the paperweight on the ground, split into two. The tear was clean, the edges frayed, bits of stuffing scattering as it fell.

A talisman slipped out from the crane’s belly, now also torn in half. The faded vermillion ink on the yellow paper had long since lost its color.

And if this cinnabar had faded, it must have been nearly a decade old.

She stepped on the talisman, unaware that the script on it was a Sound Manifestation Spell.

The Sound Manifestation Spell was one of the advanced techniques of talisman cultivators, allowing the user to hear the responses they most desired from the depths of their mind.

In other words, this incantation did not possess the power to transmit sound or messages. It was merely used by many bereaved souls on the brink of despair, who would inscribe the Sound-Revealing Spell onto relics left behind by their departed loved ones, using it to converse with them.

The content of these conversations stemmed entirely from the subconscious of the one speaking. Whatever she believed the other would say, she would hear.

A footprint landed on the faded yellow talisman paper, finally dirtying the faded cinnabar.

The inner door was tightly shut, but it wasn’t sealed with an absolute barrier. Wu Ruo pushed against it with force, but it didn’t budge. Closing her eyes, she slowly channeled the spiritual energy within her body.

Her body grew light and buoyant, spiritual energy swirling outward her consciousness detached, condensing into a tangible force,

Boom!

A violent gust of wind erupted in the cramped chamber, and the small inner door was blasted open with tremendous force, the lock snapping instantly.

Inside, it was pitch black no lamps, no windows.

Yet in Wu Ruo’s eyes, she could perceive a flickering spiritual flame guiding her forward.

Her night vision was sharp, and she quickly adjusted to the darkness. The small room was lined with shelves, stacked from floor to ceiling, clearly a storage space. A locked wall cabinet stood at the center.

And the spiritual flame in her vision emanated from within that locked cabinet.

Wu Ruo reached out gently, her fingers barely grazing the large lock when a signal flashed through her mind: This belongs to me.

A sudden itch prickled her arm as a small snake slithered out from her personal spatial storage. The serpent had never paid her any mind before, likely because her blood had lost its efficacy as a gu cultivator. But now, the little snake coiled affectionately around her hand, its tongue flickering with soft hisses.

Using the same method as before, she unlocked it and slowly opened the cabinet.

A massive, pitch-black scorpion crawled onto her hand and, with a sharp thrust, pierced the bluish vein at her wrist.

Spiritual energy surged within her body, as though blood had begun flowing anew through her veins. The small snake coiled around her wrist, and the gu techniques she had once practiced reignited within her.

An inexplicable voice suddenly echoed in her mind.

“This is what you requested, the corpse of that Miaojiang gu cultivator.”

It was an aged voice, vaguely familiar, as though she had heard it long ago in a haze.

Then came a younger woman’s voice: “Dig out her Dao bone for me. I’ll take it. You can bury the rest yourselves.”

So familiar.

Not Luo Qingyi, nor anyone she knew from the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect yet so familiar that it felt as though she would recall it in the next instant, as though it were carved into her bones.

Time seemed to slip away again before she heard the old woman’s voice once more: “Is this still not enough?”

“Hahahahaha.” The young woman’s voice rose, laced with an imperceptible malevolence. “Of course it’s not enough! This is what you owe me. A single Holy Maiden could never suffice, what I want is hahahaha.”

“You! How can you go back on your word like this?! The entire Miaojiang has been wiped out, what more do you want?!”

Miaojiang destroyed?

Before she could even process who these two speakers were, or what they meant by “the corpse of that Miaojiang gu cultivator,” Wu Ruo’s brows furrowed in an instant, a wave of overwhelming dread crashing over her.

Her homeland was gone?

The place she had relied on for survival since childhood, the large disc at the tribe’s entrance, the blooming flowers along the paths, the altar grounds where Gu arts were tested, the rows upon rows of small houses built with red bricks and tiles.

Wiped out?

The Witch Envoy, her best friend Ah Xiang, the detestable Jin Hua, the little brat Chuncao who always clung to her, her friends, her respected mentors, everything she had ever known.

She hadn’t even had the chance to return for a look, to come back in glory, to show her teacher the sword techniques she had learned at Zhiyuan Immortal Sect and the immortal stag that had acknowledged her as its master. Her homeland was just gone?

Her eyes widened in dazed confusion. The voices in her mind had already faded, leaving only the words “Miaojiang has been destroyed” drifting through the hollow expanse of her thoughts.

Miaojiang was gone.

She was homeless.

This had to be a lie, right? How could her homeland just vanish? They had passed down their traditions for so many generations, always living peacefully and self-sufficiently, never interacting with the outside world. How could her home just disappear like this?

How was this possible?

How could she have fallen so far, adrift in the world with nowhere to belong?

Wu Ruo numbly lowered her arm. The little snake was still coiled around her hand, its skin already beginning to molt as its body rapidly grew in size.

Her fingertip stung again it was that pitch-black scorpion from earlier. The scorpion was unusually large, about the size of a wine jar. At the end of its hard, dark shell, a sharp stinger glinted ominously, its surface shimmering with intricate, chaotic hues.

Such a massive Gu insect. Whether in terms of toxicity or size, it was already a one-in-a-million Gu King.

Somehow, she felt an inexplicable connection between herself and this creature. It was as if their lives were intertwined, or as if their bloodlines were linked. This strange, venomous scorpion seemed to have been nurtured by her very flesh and blood, its life force originating from her.

She gently touched its dark pincers. Surprisingly, the scorpion showed no fear of her and immediately acknowledged her as its master. Its stinger pricked lightly at her spatial storage, and just like that, it crawled inside.

The room fell silent once more. Wu Ruo turned her gaze back to the cabinet, where only an empty jar remained, exuding the scent of insect eggs but devoid of any living creatures.

So, this was what Sect Leader Jiang had given to Luo Qingyi.

If it was from Sect Leader Jiang then could one of those two voices earlier have been his?

And the other, who could it have been?

A cold sweat broke out on her back as the delayed realization of fear set in. The conversation between those two had been unnaturally terrifying. She didn’t dare dwell on it, yet she had no choice but to.

Zhiyuan Immortal Sect was no longer a place she could continue to stay.

Wu Ruo rose to her feet, stepped outside to splash some water on her face, then returned to her small room to gather her belongings before striding out the door.

Jianyue Hall remained as serene as when she had first awakened, bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight. The entrance hall was neat and orderly, with a row of paper cranes for message transmission hanging from the window frames, lending an air of quiet charm.

But this place no longer belonged to her. From the very beginning to the end, it had always been the domain of that unfamiliar Daoist companion sister, belonging solely to Peak Master Luo Qingyi.

The moonlight was truly beautiful.

Wu Ruo raised her head and gazed at the moon once more. The moon atop the peak always seemed fuller and larger than when viewed from the foot of the mountain, as if she could reach out and touch it with her hand.

Hmm… this was also Luo Qingyi’s moon. Not hers anymore.

Nor did it belong to the Witch Envoy, nor to Ah Xiang, nor to Spring Grass nor to any of her clansmen.

The greenhouse remained empty. The celestial deer Luoluo and Xiao Wu had wandered off somewhere to play, and the heavy snow began to fall slowly, blanketing the boundless, silent night.

She smiled self-deprecatingly, but when she closed her eyes, she felt them sting. Something hot welled up inside, yet it didn’t spill over she forced it back down.

If only she hadn’t gone to look inside that room today. No, that wasn’t right.

If she hadn’t looked, she would have remained a fool, deceived and ignorant, her homeland razed to the ground while she mindlessly indulged in fleeting affections elsewhere.

How shameful she had even, in this brief span of time after awakening, felt a flicker of something for that deceitful Daoist sister and her web of lies.

How laughable.

She walked on, pausing now and then, watching as the moon above cast its light over all things.

Many spirit beasts were in their hunting season, crouching low, eyes fixed hungrily on weaker prey. Some cultivators of the Falling Snow Peak were diligent like that junior disciple of Luo Qingyi’s she had met days ago, she’d forgotten his name sitting in meditation beneath a waterfall, tempering his spirit.

Wu Ruo disturbed no one, moving silently along. Perhaps it was the reforging of her spiritual roots and Dao bones, but she moved swiftly, feeling no fatigue, until she reached the foot of Falling Snow Peak.

First, she would leave Falling Snow Peak, then exit the gates of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect. The former required the status of a disciple to pass, while the latter demanded either a mission scroll or a token of permission from one’s master.

She had neither, but she was determined to force her way through.

“Ah, Peak Master Luo, heading out so late.” The disciple guarding the mountain gate today was drowsy, but spotting a figure in the distance bearing Luo Qingyi’s sword aura, he waved her through without question.

Only when the disciple rubbed his eyes and jolted awake from his stupor did he realize: “Wait, didn’t Peak Master Luo leave during the day? Who was that just now?”

The young gatekeeper panicked, but Wu Ruo had already quickened her pace, her steps light with the thrill of imminent escape. She reached the main gates of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect, and finally.

She was stopped.

Support