Chapter 155

At this moment, even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

The flame hovered in suspension. The bright fire in Qing Zhouxue's eyes grew more dazzling, its glow expanding for a single instant, illuminating the boundless darkness. Her heart lurched—she feared it might draw an enemy—so she carefully cupped the wisp of smoke in her palm, dimmed the light a bit, set it on the ground, and half-covered it with damp wood.

She let out a long sigh of relief. "...Master."

Yun Shuchen, half-awake, glanced at her, then turned over. Qing Zhouxue took a wooden stick, wrapped it in cloth, lit it, and moved the flame closer.

Yun Shuchen relaxed considerably. The chill was gradually driven away, and the firelight was warm, casting a soft glow that made her cheeks seem to flush slightly. There was no wind that night, but the surrounding fog was heavy, so the fire burned quite covertly—low and dim, needing careful tending to keep from going out.

It was the best night's sleep both she and Qing Zhouxue had ever had.

That very day, the last of the fruit was stripped bare. The final source of sustenance was cut off entirely.

The eggshells from a few days earlier, tossed on the grass, had attracted two birds. At dawn, they came pecking at the pair, shrieking mournfully from midair.

Fortunately, Qing Zhouxue hadn't been sleeping deeply. She tilted her head to dodge—the sharp beak nearly pierced her eye. Without looking, she grabbed a stone and hurled it with steady aim. A gray shape dropped, thudding to the ground.

Qing Zhouxue froze, slowly rubbing her eyes, half-convinced the bird had fallen straight out of a dream.

She still thought she was dreaming.

The remaining bird, faithful to the last, circled overhead, its cries growing ever more blood-chilling.

Qing Zhouxue stared at it without blinking. She had no time to marvel at loyalty among birds, so she threw another stone and promptly reunited the couple in the afterlife.

She hurried over, trembling hands scooping up the two birds. They weren't heavy—fluffy feathers over scrawny bodies—but she didn't waste a moment on disgust. Swiftly, she plucked them clean and propped them over the fire to roast.

Yun Shuchen sat up, still bleary-eyed, not yet awake. The aroma hit her with irresistible force, and she inhaled deeply, genuinely believing she was on her deathbed and so had conjured a beautiful illusion.

Until a slender bird leg pressed against her lips.

Yun Shuchen leaned against Qing Zhouxue, letting her tear meat off and feed her piece by piece. She was so famished that she only snapped back to reality after eating one and a half birds—realizing her disciple hadn't touched a bite.

She pressed down on Qing Zhouxue's hand. "You eat some too."

Qing Zhouxue checked her wound again. It was healing slowly. "Not hungry."

In the end, she couldn't defy her master, so she hastily ate what was left.

Scattered bones and feathers littered the ground.

And the next meal was still nowhere in sight.

Once her master's injury improved a bit, she planned to slowly move toward the brighter areas.

Qing Zhouxue judged they'd need to hold out a few more days. So she busied herself every day, scouring the surroundings, even gathering grass seeds to stave off hunger—anything was better than nothing.

They were probably still at the edge of the floating rock, since light slanted in during early morning and dusk, occasionally illuminating the area. Below the floating rock, the corresponding territory was likely pitch-black day and night.

Without light, there would be no flowers, fruit, or vegetation—and few animals either.

Fortunately, being at the edge meant she could still find a thin thread of hope.

They scraped by for a few more days like this. Yun Shuchen could walk without tearing her wound now, but she was too weak to go far.

What little food she consumed each day wasn't enough to restore her strength, let alone speed the healing of that deep gash.

Qing Zhouxue checked the cloth over her waist every day, but there was little progress—only subtle changes.

The two birds had seen them through several days, but now they were heading into hardship once more.

Qing Zhouxue began to worry. She turned over every edible grass seed and suspicious burrow nearby, until she hit a dead end and couldn't find anything else.

She started staring at the fish in the water, lost in thought.

How to catch one? She'd tried hitting them with a stick—missed. She'd tried grabbing them by hand—only succeeded in drenching herself. The fish were small, no thicker than a thumb, with slippery scales, and Qing Zhouxue could only watch them helplessly.

For the first time, she felt that the daoist scriptures she usually recited were useless. When fed and warm, everything seemed fine, but at a critical moment, she couldn't even best a single fish.

She'd been feeling low these past days, and everything was going wrong. A sudden wave of self-loathing surged over her... If it weren't for her, she wouldn't have brought death to so many as a child; if not for her, her master's peak wouldn't have been split open, and she wouldn't have had to bear those thunder tribulations; nor would there be this current ordeal—stranded in the wild, living in chaos.

Qing Zhouxue tried not to think about that day, so she could only dwell on the trivialities of the past. But the more she thought...

What fortune?

Without her, her master would clearly be better off. Others... would be better off too.

Yun Shuchen mostly slept to conserve strength, but she woke groggily a few times and found Qing Zhouxue sitting by the water, unmoving, her half-turned profile as still as a sculpture.

Qing Zhouxue had rarely fallen into such a dead end of thought, and she couldn't easily pull herself out. She lowered her lashes, paused for a long moment, then asked softly, "...Master, when you took me in—do you ever regret it?"

Yun Shuchen's eyes snapped open. She turned to look at her.

Qing Zhouxue clutched her sleeve. "Since heaven and earth cannot accept me, I shouldn't exist to begin with. If I had... died under the thunder tribulation back then, you... you... would have had far more peace."

Her voice grew softer with each word, until it scattered in the wind like the evening breeze.

Yun Shuchen closed her eyes and neatly changed the subject. "Rather than sit here brooding, Qing'er, why not think of a way to catch a fish? If you're truly hungry, save your strength for speaking."

Qing Zhouxue's melancholy was interrupted for a moment. She blinked, nodded, and moved closer to the riverbank.

The sound of rushing water drifted over, but Yun Shuchen wasn't actually dozing. She opened her eyes again and watched Qing'er's retreating figure.

Only that girl was truly pure-hearted. In her heart, her master was perfect in every way—and after all these years, she still felt the same.

But where in the world was there a great philanthropist willing to raise a troublesome child for nothing?

Yun Shuchen didn't have that kind of surplus compassion—at least not at the start. She had only... done it for the possible fortune, for that old ancestor of the Liuyun Sect.

In essence, she was no different from those outside who coveted the Sword Soul. She was just gentler in her methods—first scaring the girl by threatening to abandon her, then slowly being kind to her.

This faint semblance of guilt, if it could be called that, was buried deep in her heart.

And yet, such things were naturally... not something she cared to speak of. Yun Shuchen thought again and laughed at herself bitterly. She didn't even know how many more years she could hold on, and she was still worried about leaving a good impression in the girl's heart?

Only a faint sigh remained.

In the end, her obsession ran too deep.

From the last bird they'd eaten, some feathers remained, still stained with flesh and blood, reeking of something foul—discarded far away.

Qing Zhouxue walked back and forth along the water's edge and happened to glance at the two mangled birds.

That in itself wasn't surprising, but beside them were several plum-blossom-like paw prints, scattered messily, vanishing toward the edge of the forest.

Another... living creature?

Qing Zhouxue considered this, then fetched a torch and followed the tracks into the woods.

She walked far by instinct, her ears catching faint rustling that she couldn't quite place.

Soon she heard more noise—snuffling and grunting, the growls and barks of some beast, as if fighting over food. She held her breath, hid behind a tree, and peered sideways—and saw a shocking sight.

Several creatures, wolf- or wild-dog-like, were tearing at a young deer lying on the ground. Flesh and blood flew; half of it had already been devoured.

Their tails wagged frantically, making Qing Zhouxue's own heart beat faster.

Where had this deer come from? Were there deer herds nearby?

Qing Zhouxue didn't waste a moment on joy. She tightened her grip on the torch and darted over, aiming to snatch food from under the wolves' noses. The sparks flew, nearly singeing the beasts' fur. Fearing the heat, they scattered, and in that instant, Qing Zhouxue bent low, seized a deer leg firmly in hand, and yanked it behind her. The others were fiercely protective of their meal, snarling at her constantly, yet dared not approach the fire.

She took the venison completely, then moved with light steps, weaving agilely through the wilds, so quick that the few wolves chased her a few paces before stopping.

In the end, they could only watch helplessly as she vanished into the far side of the forest.

Qing Zhouxue hurried back, hauling the deer leg, and even felt her hunger ease somewhat.

Yun Shuchen opened her eyes again to see her dragging half a dead deer to the stream, letting the running water wash it for a long while.

The scent of blood drifted along the path.

The water was slightly brackish; rinsing the meat in it would improve the flavor when roasted. In the past few days, as Qing Zhouxue rummaged through the earth, she'd accidentally discovered a kind of wildflower. When the root was snapped, nectar seeped out.

While the venison soaked in the cold water, she kept her head down searching for those little flowers.

Yun Shuchen found it amusing. Every few roots her disciple pulled, she'd glance back to check the half-deer was still there—tense, as if afraid she might lose their food supply.

And she herself... for some reason, after this ordeal, she had grown far more indifferent to life and death.

Qing Zhouxue wasn't a particularly skilled cook, but she had some standards when it came to food. She smeared the nectar over the deer leg and set it crudely over the fire to roast, cutting off each layer of meat as it cooked.

She didn't look her best at the moment. Her clothes were ragged, originally white but now a dull gray. Her long hair, sticky with strands of dried blood, was tied loosely behind her. Her cheeks were smeared with ash and grass, yet her profile remained striking and ethereal.

Qing Zhouxue lowered her eyes and swiftly sliced the meat with a stone knife, also skinning the entire deer hide that the wolves hadn't damaged.

The scene was homely, yet it carried a strangely pleasing vitality that drew Yun Shuchen to study her for a long while.

Qing Zhouxue was still elated over finding the venison, her brow and the corners of her eyes infused with lightness—a stark contrast to the way she'd cowered against her master just days before. The inexplicable gloom from earlier seemed swept clean away.

Now her joys had become this simple.

Yun Shuchen felt much more at ease seeing her like this, hoping she would think less and let those inexplicable thoughts scatter from her mind. Her disciple had always been of a detached nature, letting many worries slide past her.

She hoped this time would be the same.

That half-deer was the first full meal they'd had in all their desperate days of survival.

When they finished, there was even some left over. Qing Zhouxue naturally couldn't bear to throw it away, but she didn't know where to put it.

"Set it up and smoke it dry—it'll keep longer," Yun Shuchen said from the side.

"Is that how the cured meat we eat at New Year's is made?"

Qing Zhouxue understood at once. She used stones to break two thicker branches, set them upright on either side, split a fork at the top of each, and laid another branch across.

The leftover scraps she cut into strips and hung from them. Beneath, a low, steady fire smoldered, sending wisps of smoke upward to cure the meat.

Qing Zhouxue didn't discard the hide either; she hung it up as well. Once dried, it would ward off the odor and serve as a blanket for warmth.

Just as she was managing their days well, Yun Shuchen called out, "Qing'er."

She leaned on the tree trunk and slowly straightened herself, taking a few steady steps. The wound on her abdomen had scabbed over; occasionally it pulled and stung a little, but compared to before, it was far better.

Yun Shuchen pointed deep into the immense shadow—beneath the floating rock, where the yin was at its darkest.

"Once this jerky is smoked," she said, covering her mouth with a cough, "we'll head deeper in."

Meeting Qing Zhouxue's puzzled gaze, Yun Shuchen said firmly, "Before they arrive, we go find the Sword Tomb."