After Infusing Love Poison to the Cold Sword Sovereign - Chapter 8

It was a hazy dawn, the sky still faintly aglow, the hour when Wu Ruo would rise.

Since being appointed as the tribe’s Holy Maiden, Wu Ruo had been swamped with duties. Her time was now severely limited, leaving her only the break of day to climb to the cliff’s edge and gaze into the distance, savoring the fleeting moments that belonged solely to her.

She had noticed, quite clearly, that the chasm between the Miaojiang tribe and the neighboring Zhiyuan Immortal Sect was widening day by day.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the terrain of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect was gradually rising, nurtured by the spiritual energy of its cultivators, slowly shedding its original appearance.

After being neighbors for so long soon, they would no longer be neighbors. The thought made her sigh.

She held a rather favorable impression of the sect next door.

After all, the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect was one of the most prestigious sects in the cultivation world. For years, the two had coexisted peacefully, never harboring any intention to annex or pressure their small Miaojiang tribe.

Unlike that demonic sect from some time ago, which had immediately demanded their submission and even insisted they hand over their most outstanding young women as hostages!

The people of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect must all be good people. She had even refined her love gu thanks to the influence of that great master of the Emotionless Path from their sect. It was impossible for her not to feel gratitude.

“Today, the mountain’s surface has risen by approximately fifty ren.”

Sitting at the edge of the cliff, Wu Ruo examined the marks she had carved into a stone tablet, roughly calculating the height of the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect’s ascent under the sunlight.

In a few more days, the towering peaks on the other side of the chasm would disappear from view entirely.

Picking up a small branch, she drew a few circles on the ground, then cupped her chin in thought for a long while before quickly shading in a few gaps. If the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect was undergoing changes, the Miaojiang village also needed to prepare countermeasures to prevent unwanted intruders.

If they were to reinforce the barrier arrays, she would need to make a trip to the very bottom of the cliff.

There was still time. Squinting against the sunlight, she returned to her hut to change into more practical attire, gathered the artifacts needed to strengthen the arrays, and began her descent along the cliff face.

The cliff was steep, but for a Holy Maiden of her cultivation level, it was child’s play. With light taps of her toes, she nimbly descended the sheer rock face, dancing down the mountain as if in flight.

Thanks to the master of the Emotionless Path, the spiritual energy here was rich and vibrant. Along the way, she gathered many high-quality herbs for refining gu, as well as some rare soil, perfect for feeding her little treasures.

“Southward blessings lie east, eighty-eight chi.”

Spinning a compass in one hand, Wu Ruo swiftly reinforced several sections of the tribe’s barrier arrays. Just as she was about to pack up and return, however, she caught a faint, peculiar scent.

It was subtle so much so that without her innate talent for discerning scents, she might not have noticed it at all.

It resembled ordinary spiritual energy, yet carried a faint trace of blood, suppressed and sealed within its owner’s body as if struggling to break free from the shackles of their veins, yet finding no release.

Had someone been injured during cultivation?

Strictly speaking, the base of this cliff lay at the border between the two sects. If something had happened here, it wouldn’t fall under the Miaojiang tribe’s responsibility. Even if retribution were sought, it wouldn’t land on their heads.

Wu Ruo had no intention of meddling in such trivial matters, but with the Zhiyuan Immortal Sect on the verge of ascension, if new neighbors were to take their place, who knew what might happen?

A life was at stake, she had to go and see.

She bit her fingertip, letting a drop of blood fall onto the compass. The needle spun wildly before settling steadily, pointing toward a swiftly flowing stream.

At the end of the stream, a figure in white lay motionless, a slender female sword cultivator, her body wedged between a few large rocks, preventing her from being swept away. Tall and graceful, her long black hair cascaded down, drifting in the water like a slumbering immortal.

Just the sight of that silhouette stole Wu Ruo’s breath away.

So beautiful. It was as if she were the very person who had haunted Wu Ruo’s dreams these past days.

Her heart pounded violently as she tiptoed forward, unsure why she was moving so quietly, only that she feared disturbing even a moment of the other’s ethereal tranquility.

Two steps, one step.

The moment she saw the woman’s face, the bamboo basket in Wu Ruo’s hands clattered to the ground.

Thick, delicate lashes rested peacefully against her cheeks, her hair soaked and clinging in strands to her exquisite features. The woman’s nose was high and straight, her lips still elegantly thin, though now pale and bloodless.

It was her.

The moon that had appeared in her dreams, in her day and night fantasies.

Her heart raced, burning fiercely as if reality and illusion had shattered their barriers in an instant. Wu Ruo could no longer tell whether this was real or another dream.

To think they could meet again.

She pinched herself. It hurt.

The woman, already chilled from the water, grew even colder as Wu Ruo pulled her out. The warmth of Wu Ruo’s fingers brushed against her icy wrist, only to freeze in alarm.

Something was wrong.

She was sick.

Slowly, Wu Ruo carried her to the shore, checking first that her mouth and nose were clear of debris before inspecting her for visible wounds.

Her examination was hasty, almost nervous. Perhaps it was because of some unspoken secret in her heart merely confirming there were no major wounds or bleeding was already the limit of what she could bear.

This was the person she loved. Even touching her felt like sacrilege. How could she possibly.

And yet, this was her only chance.

The composed and dignified Holy Maiden of Miaojiang now fidgeted like a child, wringing her hands as she struggled with her thoughts.

The Miao people’s methods of healing were unlike those of the world. First, a guiding insect from a medical gu was fed to the patient, allowing the gu master to sense their ailment. Then, the healing gu insect would be ingested to complete the cure.

But most people recoiled at the mention of gu insects, let alone the idea of consuming them for treatment, dismissing it as sinister sorcery.

Wu Ruo could never forget the fleeting expression of distaste when she had once taken out a communication gu in front of this woman. She, too, must have despised the gu arts of Miaojiang.

If she used a medical gu to save her, would she be disgusted?

She wanted to save her. She wanted her to open her eyes and see her.

But she feared she would be rejected seen as nothing more than a practitioner of dark arts, an outcast.

Her fingers hovered in the air before gently settling on the woman’s shoulder. The body in her arms had begun to grow feverish, trembling faintly.

Fine. At worst, she’d get slapped. She gambled that the woman wouldn’t.

Steeling herself, Wu Ruo laid her down on a patch of clean grass. Just as she opened her pouch to retrieve the guiding insect, a faint, barely audible whimper reached her ears.

“Mmm…”

Her hand trembled involuntarily, and the guiding insect fell to the ground, quickly burrowing into the soil.

“You! you, you’re awake! How are you feeling? I wanted to save you, I’m not a bad!”

The more she tried to explain, the more her tongue tangled, unsure of what to say. She wished she could bite it off to stop herself from speaking further.

Then, those long, delicate eyelashes fluttered slightly as the other person slowly opened their eyes. The depths of their gaze were crystal clear, like delicate wildflowers by a stream simple, elegant, and unadorned.

It was a calm gaze, untainted by any distracting thoughts. There was no icy detachment, no sharp edge like a cold, silent blade.

It was as if this wasn’t the same person she had encountered at the foot of the mountain.

Wu Ruo stood dumbfounded, rooted to the spot. “You!”

The other person seemed about to speak but suddenly clutched their chest, erupting into a violent coughing fit. “Cough, cough, cough!”

When the coughing finally subsided, they quietly looked at her and said, “Hello.”

It was a voice etched in her memory only now, it lacked its former coldness, carrying instead a trace of human warmth.

“Hello!” Wu Ruo studied them, an incredible thought slowly forming in her mind. “Do you remember who you are?”

The woman shook her head. She seemed about to say more but suddenly covered her mouth, her exquisitely beautiful face contorting in pain.

Between her jade-white fingers, traces of vivid crimson blood could be seen, even tinged with faint streaks of black.

So, they remembered nothing, and worse, were grievously injured, teetering on the brink of death.

Without another thought, Wu Ruo immediately handed over a cloth, gently wiping away the blood before softly covering the other’s eyelids. She let the guiding insect from her sleeve crawl slowly up her wrist. “Close your eyes. Don’t be afraid.”

It felt like a lifetime ago when she, fresh to the martial world, had stood before the edge of a blade, hearing the other’s comforting words.

In the blink of an eye, their roles had reversed. The girl of the past had now become the confident and nurturing Holy Maiden, her every gesture exuding assurance and care.

A current of energy slowly gathered around them before finally settling back into the swirling aura at their sides. The sword cultivator’s breathing steadied at last, and she took a slow, deep breath before opening her eyes again, gazing quietly at Wu Ruo.

“What’s your na, ah.”

Wu Ruo stopped herself mid-sentence, realizing the folly of her question. The other had forgotten all past affairs, how could they possibly recall their own name or identity?

The woman said nothing, merely sitting quietly before her, blinking. Then, as if remembering something, she reached into the inner pocket of her robe and pulled out a jade-green nameplate. “This might be mine.”

The plaque was unusually heavy, even heavier than the sturdiest iron sword and Wu Ruo nearly fumbled it, almost making a fool of herself. Its surface was smooth and lustrous, bearing three bold, flowing characters engraved with striking elegance: “Luo Qingyi.”

“Luo Qingyi?” Wu Ruo called out the name. The other nodded slightly, as if sensing a faint familiarity, accepting it as her own.

“Do you remember where you’re from, or—”

She cut herself off.

The woman had appeared at the base of the cliff most likely a cultivator from the neighboring Zhiyuan Immortal Sect. But the lands of Zhiyuan were ascending, breaking away from this realm. If she were to leave just like that.

Wu Ruo couldn’t bear the thought.

Luo Qingyi shook her head upon hearing this, her brows and eyes twitching momentarily as if recalling the question while enduring excruciating pain.

“I don’t know.” The woman forced down the surge of blood in her chest, speaking through gritted teeth.

Wu Ruo could see her suffering and quickly pressed her palm against the Danzhong acupoint on the other’s chest, gently massaging to ease the pain. “Then, come back with me,” she said.

The words sounded like an offhand suggestion, yet they concealed boundless excitement. She had thought she would never cross paths with her goddess again, yet here she was finding her at the foot of a cliff, lost and without memories. Such fortune had actually fallen into her lap!

“Mm, thank you,” Luo Qingyi replied.

Wu Ruo’s lips nearly curled into the sky, though she tried to suppress it and act nonchalant. But her emotions were too overwhelming, making her look like a cat that had stolen a fish.

A rosy flush bloomed across the girl’s delicate cheeks, blending with the soft glow of the morning light. She eagerly hoisted the ailing Luo Qingyi onto her back, one arm cradling a basket of herbs. “Let’s go!”

In truth, Luo Qingyi wasn’t nearly as weak as she appeared.

After taking the medicinal gu Wu Ruo had fed her, she had already begun to recover. Spiritual energy was gradually gathering in her dantian again, and using qinggong to travel would have been effortless.

But seeing the girl’s bright, radiant eyes her single-minded intensity and warmth, she simply let her be, allowing herself to be carried on the girl’s back.

She’s quite adorable, Luo Qingyi thought to herself.

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