Chapter 38

Xie Changan blinked.

Whether it was rainwater or blood upon her lashes, with every slight tremble, it felt as heavy as a thousand weights. She wore a look of bewilderment. Was the Great He Wandering Immortal ritual not yet over? Was she still trapped within the City of Departing Dreams?

A frigid cold began to spread from her heart, followed by an agonizing pain that could not be feigned. A sword imbued with the spiritual power of a Sword Immortal could instantly destroy any cultivator beneath that realm. She felt her strength rapidly vanishing from her limbs, and her body, once light as air, began to feel impossibly heavy.

She was someone who could endure great pain. Back in the city of Chang'an, as a lone orphan facing an army and two cultivators whose powers transcended the mortal, she had stood her ground without yielding an inch, even when the agony in her body had reached its limit. But the pain now far exceeded that.

The sword her opponent held was no ordinary artifact; it was a divine weapon of immortal grade. While its significance might not match that of the Emperor Zhao Sword, its spiritual malice was no less intense. It scraped against her bones and sliced through her flesh, weakening her rapidly without granting her the mercy of a swift death. She had never known that being run through by a cultivator’s blade could be so excruciating.

The hand holding the sword remained steady, and the expression on the man's face did not shift, as if this act were natural—something rehearsed countless times before.

"Master..."

The word brewed and rolled in her throat, but it never escaped. Instead, she asked for three others.

"Why?"

"Your guess is correct. Crossing the Heavenly Tribulation indeed requires a price that satisfies the Heavenly Dao. Canmiao is unwilling to abandon the disciples of the Fuguang sect, and I do not wish to trade the lives of my entire sect for my own ascension."

Zhu Xuanguang spoke, his expression as calm and patient as when he would teach her the methods of cultivation. Hearing this, Xie Changan shuddered, the slight tremor causing her spiritual energy to unravel in a violent, chaotic mess. All the things he had avoided discussing now had their answers. So, the price was—

Without waiting for her to ask, he gave the answer readily:

"The price is the Emperor Zhao Sword, which concentrates the fortune of the Red Frost Mountain, as well as you, Xie Changan—my only disciple—and the extinction of the Chongming Peak lineage."

Golden light shimmered before Xie Changan’s eyes, brilliant and vast. She could no longer distinguish whether it was the afterglow of lightning and fire reflected in her mind, or an illusion born of her spirit scattering and her life force rapidly ebbing away. Her heart was torn between searing pain and icy numbness, a feeling of extreme fragmentation eroding her very being.

She furrowed her brows. Many thoughts flickered, and many questions rose to her lips, but in the end, only a vast, blurred shadow emerged. Within that shadow, there seemed to have been hidden threads of fate all along, like a towering tree whose veins reached from leaf to root, deep and spanning thousands of miles, yet traceable.

"Long ago, I warned you."

She did not know if she had voiced her confusion as her consciousness blurred; Zhu Xuanguang’s voice drifted toward her, distant and indistinct.

"When you asked to be my disciple, I was unwilling to take you in. I told you to go to the other two peaks, but you said—"

Xie Changan stared blankly at the dancing spots of light in her vision. The past shed its colorful lacquer, revealing the truth beneath.

She had said: "To have the honor of glimpsing the immortal gate today is entirely due to the Master's grace. I cannot squander it lightly. I have heard that the path of cultivation is long and arduous, but the thing Xie Changan fears least is hardship."

So that was what Zhu Xuanguang had been warning her against back then. It was his last shred of pity, a final hint. But she had not understood; she had thought it was merely a great master testing her resolve and determination. Had she not insisted on joining Chongming Peak, could she have escaped this fate?

As her body suffered, her mind suddenly cleared. Recalling her past, many traces she had never deeply considered surfaced from beneath the depths of her memory. No, it must go back even further!

That year, she had just finished her training in "The Endless Night." Zhu Xuanguang had returned from dealing with the aftermath of the Green Flood Dragon's inner core. She had felt guilty for absorbing that energy, but how had Zhu Xuanguang reacted? He had said something profound: "This is my karma, not yours."

At that time, Xie Changan was still innocent, unexposed to the secrets behind the Heavenly Dao. She had found his words strange and kept them in her heart, never thinking that once the yellowed pages of the past were opened, she would glimpse the deep-seated causes behind it all.

"That Green Flood Dragon's inner core..."

A line of blood seeped from her tightly pressed lips. She could not open her mouth, or the blood would gush out uncontrollably. Her bodice was already soaked, appearing as if it were dyed by the golden light, fluttering in the strong wind that obscured the sun.

"Indeed, that inner core was the catalyst for everything. But the story is long. I believe, with your intelligence, you can deduce it yourself."

Zhu Xuanguang calmly pushed the sword deeper. The blade, infused with spiritual power, continued to churn her flesh, destroying what little life she had left. Her limbs were as if frozen by millennia of ice, unable to move a fraction.

The Green Flood Dragon's core falling into the Daming Palace—that was the beginning. It just happened that A-Xia swallowed it, and it just happened that A-Xia brought it to her. She had once thought it was one of the few strokes of fortune in her bleak life, but looking back now, how could someone like her, meant to roll in the mud, ever have such luck? Why had Zhu Xuanguang never taken a disciple, why did Chongming Peak have no successor, only for him to take in a little palace maid?

Everyone said it was Xie Changan’s change of fortune, a girl rising to the top of the world, destined by fate to have an immortal connection. They said that was why she could become the disciple of the number one person in the world, starting later than Wang Ting, yet achieving more than most disciples of prestigious families.

Every gift that seemed to fall from the heavens inevitably carried a price that had to be repaid.

That night, she had walked from the City of Departing Dreams to the river, carrying a lantern, and told him, "Master, you should make a wish." She had told Zhu Xuanguang that she had discovered from the tribulations of Master Canmiao and the Great He Wandering Immortal that the Heavenly Dao was partial; if one wanted to succeed in ascension, one had to exchange it for a heavy price.

Zhu Xuanguang had been noncommittal, telling her to focus on her cultivation. But he had known the answer all along. Come to think of it, with his cultivation and ability, why would he wait for Xie Changan to tell him? All his meticulous cultivation was merely to increase the weight of this disciple, so that she could be used as part of the price, lying on the scales to bargain with the Heavenly Dao.

The details of the past flickered like a revolving lantern. She felt as though much time had passed, but in reality, a thousand thoughts had occurred in an instant; only a few breaths had passed since the sword pierced her body.

Another bolt of heavenly lightning struck Xie Changan, carving a wound into her back that reached the bone! Her internal organs were scorched almost to charcoal, adding a heavy shackle to her doomed life. The loss of blood made it impossible for her to speak; even for a cultivator, such injuries were beyond survival.

She tried to open her eyes, but could only see the bizarre, kaleidoscopic lights before her. Countless rays of starlight seemed to form familiar scenes, then vanished like a dream.

When Zhu Xuanguang had blocked that lightning strike for her, shortening his own tribulation date from ten years to ten days, had he already planned to make her feel guilty, to make her stay willingly?

In truth, he need not have gone to such lengths, calculating every minute detail of a human heart. Regardless of his original intent, his kindness was as heavy as a mountain. Without him, she would never have known the vast and brilliant world of the immortal sects, nor could she have embarked on this soul-stirring path of cultivation.

She had come here today prepared for the worst. If Zhu Xuanguang wanted her life, he could have just asked; why force her into such a situation, adding endless, unexpected turmoil?

She wanted to say that although her time at Red Frost Mountain was shorter than her time in the Tang Palace, she remembered every face and every name, from the common disciples to the servants on each peak. Unlike the Tang Palace, where she had spent over a decade, most faces remained blurred to her.

Had she known she would die today, she should have poured more spiritual energy into the lychee tree yesterday. With Pei San’s forgetful nature, he certainly wouldn't take good care of it...

Crimson blood flowed from every part of her body; her pristine robes were now completely soaked. Her hair, usually as smooth as flowing water, was now sticky and damp, clinging to her shoulders, making it hard to distinguish black from red.

Zhu Xuanguang watched her eyes glaze over, as if she were trying to see through her heartless master, or perhaps seeing nothing at all. Her pupils gradually dilated. Her hand still clutched the 'Rugu' (Like-Old) sword tightly, preventing it from falling, yet from start to finish, she had never raised it against her master.

"This life, I..."

...give it back to you.

She seemed to want to speak, but only endless blood poured out. Zhu Xuanguang could not make out her lip movements.

He sighed softly and withdrew the sword from her body, clean and decisive, as if his resolution were a form of mercy. Long-term pain is worse than a short one; since they were master and disciple, he would give Xie Changan a quick end.

The moment the sword left her body, her frame lost its final support and fell backward, dropping like a kite with a broken string into the abyss beneath Chenhua Peak.

The world rapidly receded. The roaring wind in her ears faded into total silence.

Xie Changan’s mind was clear and calm, unstained by dust. She suddenly remembered the sword Zhu Xuanguang had used to kill her. It did not have the fame of the Emperor Zhao Sword, but to be carried by the number one person in the world, it was surely no common object.

The 'Rugu' sword.

The lonely white rabbit, looking east, then west; clothes are better new, people are better old.

What a fitting 'Like-Old' sword. If people could truly remain as they were of old, where would such waves arise on peaceful ground?

The final sight she beheld in this life was the clouds dispersing, the sky clearing, the phoenix crying out, and the rosy light descending. It seemed to pave a heavenly path, respectfully seeing off the enlightened one as they ascended the celestial gates to join the ranks of the immortals.

Strange and marvelous, brilliant and resplendent.

Xie Changan thought that this scene, to a bystander, must look like a fairyland, living up to the world's imagination of the upper realm.

He ascended to the upper realm, his path to enlightenment complete, holding high status and power, eternal and ageless.

And she, falling toward the netherworld, her body shattered and soul extinguished, from this moment separated by life and death, never to meet again.

Her breath ceased, her body broken.

She still had her eyes slightly open, with only a trail of blood winding from the corner of her eye into her temples.

Master, congratulations on achieving your heart's desire.