Chapter 163

The young woman outside the door refused to give up, knocking and pleading with a note of desperation in her voice.

Taishang Wangqing set down her teacup, then cast a spell over herself to conceal her true appearance.

With a flick of her fingers, she opened the door a crack and pulled the disciple inside.

Caught off guard, Gu Ruoshui stumbled and fell to her knees. She blinked, realizing she was inside, and a hint of joy crept across her face. She looked up to see her master observing her with a calm expression.

The woman's appearance had been concealed by a spell for years, so she looked different every time they met.

She had reached the pinnacle of cultivation, formless and ever-changing—now a child with hair askew, now an old woman with yellowed hair, now a young maiden... a thousand faces in one person. Even within the Liuyun Sect, no one knew what she truly looked like.

"Nothing will go wrong."

Taishang Wangqing poured another cup of tea, set it aside, and spoke in a placid tone.

Only then did Gu Ruoshui realize it was meant for her. Flattered, she accepted it, hesitated for a moment, and gave a low hum of acknowledgment.

But outside, the storm raged on. With each thunderbolt that fell, another piece of the Liuyun Sect's legacy shattered. Gu Ruoshui knew she lacked her master's composure to remain unmoved by it all.

She had no heart for tea, took a polite sip, and set it down again.

Taishang Wangqing sat upright in her original spot. She opened the window a crack with a gesture, yet the gale did not pour in.

After that one remark, she fell silent, her gaze drifting into the distance, peering through the narrow gap at the younger cultivator who pointed her sword at the heavens.

The moment lightning flashed, the young woman's white robe billowed open, like a white heron spreading its wings against the wind.

Qing Zhouxue's words to the thunderclouds were not lost on Taishang Wangqing—she caught every single one.

When she raised her teacup again, she blew gently on the emerald water's surface, the motion so soft it seemed more like a sigh.

"Master." Gu Ruoshui turned her gaze away. "Why are you staying here? Are you waiting for the Tribulation to finish before seizing the two of them?"

Taishang Wangqing shook her head. She watched the incense stick beside the table burn down slowly.

The last spark flared unusually bright, then died into ash.

At that very moment, she rose abruptly.

Taishang Wangqing pushed the door open and exposed herself to the hurricane, while Gu Ruoshui hurried to follow. But no sooner had she stepped out the door than her vision blurred, lights overlapping. When she came to again—

She looked around in confusion, only to find she was no longer within the Liuyun Sect's bounds.

Her master had cast a spell without her noticing, sending her to a place of safety.

*

Cold sweat beaded on Qing Zhouxue's temples, and in an instant, it froze against her icy skin, turning to frost.

Qing Zhouxue's hand gripping the Qingshuang Sword was steady—and it had to be steady, for she had done everything to show the Heavenly Dao that she was not joking.

If one more bolt fell and Yun Shuchen died, she would have nothing left to hold her back. She would simply shatter this wall of obstruction.

The thunderclouds continued to swirl and churn, as if roaring, as if threatening.

Qing Zhouxue remained unmoved.

She even let her spiritual power run loose, teetering on the edge of qi deviation, ready to lose her mind at any moment.

Qing Zhouxue's fingers clenched so tightly that even the Qingshuang Sword seemed to shudder under the strain. "You cannot circulate your power any longer..."

"If this continues..."

In this world, once a person has no fear of death, there is little else that can frighten them.

Qing Zhouxue suddenly stopped fearing that her master would die before her, because in the next instant, she would be gone too.

This world was still kind, after all—it wouldn't leave her alone in emptiness.

When they both turned to ash, no one would be able to tell them apart. She would be with her master forever, never having to worry about these troubles again.

Amid the muddle of thoughts, a strange sense of release and joy welled up within Qing Zhouxue.

This joy excited her, quickened her heartbeat, and sent hot blood surging through her body. She was one step away from losing her grip on reason entirely. The sword spirits by her ear did not sound like the Qingshuang Sword's solemn admonitions; they were a band of mischievous imps, egging her on, urging her to strike soon so they could roam the sky freely.

Taishang Wangqing stood in the distance, watching as the girl's divine sense was thoroughly consumed, and her once-pure white spiritual power was tinged with streaks of blood-red.

Her expression did not change; she simply observed every detail of the child.

The ground beneath her feet began to rumble first. The ruins shook and crumbled. A bolt of lightning as thick as a python slammed down, and as expected, if it struck, the entire floating rock bearing the Liuyun Sect would shatter under the tribulation.

Fire and lightning illuminated Taishang Wangqing's eyes.

In an instant, sword light met the thundercloud. Countless formless sword spirits pierced the black cloud into a sieve, riddling it with holes.

Flames surged, scorching the lands red.

Taishang Wangqing took a step back. She looked up at the sky and witnessed an even more astonishing sight—

The dark cloud was slashed clean through, split open along one line. Clear heavenly light poured down, illuminating half of Yun Shuchen's blood-streaked face.

The thundercloud curled in on itself, quickly sealing the gap. Like a beast wounded to the heart, its bristling fur wilted, and it now cowered, licking its wounds pitifully.

Qing Zhouxue did not relent. She stepped onto a gust of wind conjured by the sword spirits and flew straight at it.

Gripping the Qingshuang Sword, she chased the tail of the thundercloud relentlessly, refusing to let it flee.

"Come down!" she commanded.

That single tribulation bolt had gravely wounded Qing Zhouxue as well. She was drenched in blood from head to toe, her sword hand trembling, every thrust now wild and erratic. But with the sword spirits swarming around her, her strikes still carried terrifying power.

The floating rock had not been shattered by the tribulation lightning, but in her agony, Qing Zhouxue hacked several times at the ground. With a screech of splitting stone, the surface cracked apart and drifted into the distance.

The thundercloud dared not linger. Seemingly intimidated, it rolled up its tail and dispersed in haste, while a few scattered sword lights pursued it relentlessly.

Qing Zhouxue's arm ached as she struck mechanically. The light behind the clouds illuminated her whole body, yet she seemed unaware—she didn't know the sky had cleared, or why she was even swinging her sword.

When she landed, her eyes were still a cold, silvery frost color.

Yun Shuchen lay on the ground, barely breathing, on the verge of death.

The moment the thundercloud dispersed, she finally broke through to the Mahayana stage. Her spiritual power surged anew, bringing a swelling rush of elation, and hot blood flooded through her body.

That faint stir seemed to rouse Qing Zhouxue.

She looked around in a daze, then fixed her gaze on Yun Shuchen. Dragging her bleeding sword, she stumbled toward her.

Yun Shuchen had just opened her eyes, blurrily watching the figure approach. Drops of blood scattered along her path, like scattered red beans.

Still weak and unable to move, Yun Shuchen remained still. In a daze, a cold blade pressed against her cheek.

Qing Zhouxue raised the Qingshuang Sword and held it to her throat.

Yun Shuchen's eyes suddenly flew wide, staring fixedly at Qing Zhouxue. She faltered, her voice hoarse: "Qing'er, you..."

The familiar address made Qing Zhouxue's expression twist for a moment. She lowered her lashes, studying her for a while, as if she did not recognize her.

She had lost all sense of restraint. In the next instant, she thrust the sword point forward, straight at her neck—

A clang.

Bright red blood still ran down the blade and dripped from the edge. But Qing Zhouxue's sword was deflected by a broken tile, only slashing through Yun Shuchen's shoulder.

Liu Xunqin withdrew her hand and quickly hauled Yun Shuchen up, retreating several steps backward. Frowning, she said, "Qing Zhouxue has lost control. Your wounds haven't healed. Stay back."

Yun Shuchen coughed, then suddenly grabbed Liu Xunqin's wrist. "No... no, I can't leave her alone. What if something happens?!"

Liu Xunqin replied coolly, "I'll send you back, then gather the other elders to subdue her."

As Liu Xunqin dragged Yun Shuchen across the floating debris, another sword strike cut off their path.

Qing Zhouxue's assault was no longer as ferocious as when she had struck down the tribulation lightning, but it was still formidable. In a few brief exchanges, the fierce sword wind surged, forcing both Liu Xunqin and Yun Shuchen back to their original spot.

Liu Xunqin tried to suppress her, weaving layers of spiritual power like a spider's web and enveloping her. But Qing Zhouxue was like a butterfly battering against the net, and with brute force alone, she broke free and soared into the sky.

Though exceptionally fierce, any keen observer could see her body had reached its limit.

It was as if the butterfly had caught fire. It struggled and fluttered, trying to burn everything around it, but the flames were also consuming its last vestiges of life.

Liu Xunqin could sense this imminent collapse.

Qing Zhouxue no longer distinguished friend from foe. At the sight of any living thing, she felt a compulsion to tear it apart. She caught a glimpse of Taishang Wangqing standing in the distance and suddenly veered, hurtling toward her at incredible speed.

Neither Yun Shuchen nor Liu Xunqin could stop her in time.

Taishang Wangqing watched calmly as Qing Zhouxue shot toward her like an arrow. She merely lifted her eyes in indifference.

Yun Shuchen recognized her from her cultivation base, and the blood in her veins ran cold.

No.

Don't go over there.

If that woman acted in self-defense, Qing Zhouxue would be a moth flying into the flame.

Before Liu Xunqin could react, she was shoved aside violently. Yun Shuchen's robes fluttered as she swept past in a flash.

Yun Shuchen rushed to grab hold of her disciple or to draw her attention away.

As she reached out, a tearing pain shot through her waist. She had no time to tend to the wounds on her body or the severe internal injuries in her meridians. The white shirt before her, stained with blood and mud, loomed over her vision and was about to block this person—

But the slippery feel of the silk lasted only a moment.

Qing Zhouxue instinctively twisted aside, causing Yun Shuchen to miss her grip. Then, Qing Zhouxue brought her sword down decisively upon Taishang Wangqing's head, with the force of ten thousand tons.

A cloud of dust swirled around them, then scattered, shattering the cracked tiles beneath their feet even further.

Taishang Wangqing met those silver eyes.

At the critical moment, she did not dodge. Instead, she reached out and caught the thin edge of the Qingshuang Sword between her fingers.

Qing Zhouxue's wrist trembled from the strain. Her spiritual power had nowhere to go, and backlash wracked her with pain.

Blood dripped to the ground in a steady patter, all leaking from the corners of her mouth.

But no matter how she struggled, she could not press the sword down another inch.

"Calm your thoughts, embrace the origin."

Taishang Wangqing held her back with one hand. "Return your heart to the righteous path."