Chapter 55

The moment her master's voice faded, the world around Qing Zhouxue seemed to shift and change color. Together with the flood dragon, she was pulled into the formation Yun Shuchen had unfolded.

A voice laced with spiritual energy rippled past her ear, faint and ethereal: "Let my disciple experience what it means to command the wind and rain, shall we?"

Before Qing Zhouxue could react, a current of water lifted her into the air, bringing her level with the flood dragon.

The flood dragon seemed to sense the presence of a high-level cultivator. It grew restless and uneasy, yet dared not attack recklessly. Instead, it hurled itself violently against the formation's boundary—only to find no way out.

Bleeding from its head, it twisted around to fix its gaze on Qing Zhouxue. The scent of blood tinged its narrow draconic eyes with a faint red.

Qing Zhouxue had been hoisted so abruptly that she had no time to react. A dark shadow loomed over her, as if about to swallow her whole.

At that very moment, the water current quietly withdrew. Caught off guard, the flood dragon lunged at empty air, and Qing Zhouxue plunged back down, crashing into a pool of water that cushioned her fall.

She was toyed with in this manner for several rounds, while her master's voice floated over, clearly amused: "Having fun?"

Qing Zhouxue hovered on the brink of life and death, nearly bitten time and again, yet always escaping by a hair's breadth—like a morsel of meat dangled to tease a cat or dog.

Perhaps Yun Shuchen had finally grown tired of the game. The water current turned gentle, flowing beneath Qing Zhouxue's feet, occasionally splashing up to deflect the demon flood dragon's charges.

When a wisp of water softly coiled around her wrist, pressing against her pulse and merging with her breath, a single casual flick of Qing Zhouxue's sword tip could easily condense an expanse of ice.

She suddenly understood what "commanding the wind and rain" truly meant.

Everything in heaven and earth has its strengths and weaknesses. Sword cultivators, though formidable, generally do not excel at controlling elemental forces.

That she could condense ice was partly due to the Qingshuang Sword and partly due to her own rare talent, but compared to Yun Shuchen, her power was still quite weak.

Ice is born of water. Qing Zhouxue felt, faintly, that her limbs and bones were brimming with spiritual power, flowing freely through her, indistinguishable from Yun Shuchen's own. She closed her eyes, and wherever her thoughts reached, a thick layer of frost spread.

Warmth was driven away without a trace. Above and below, only a bone-chilling cold remained—so cold that the very air seemed to freeze.

Even the flood dragon's movements slowed. Its jaws hung open as if unable to close, and frost crept over its fangs.

It seemed to realize this morsel of meat was not so easily devoured and showed signs of retreating.

Qing Zhouxue leapt up with the aid of the water current, stepping forward a few paces. She assumed a low sword stance, the Qingshuang Sword in her hand radiating intense cold, rolling out a thick ring of white mist as if about to thrust out an entire winter.

The flood dragon had no choice but to coil its body and tighten its scales. They looked soft, but when tensed, they were exceptionally tough. It narrowed its eyes with a hint of mockery, confident it could withstand a blow from at least a Nascent Soul cultivator—utterly dismissing the little Golden Core before it.

That derision in its draconic eyes was frozen forever in that instant.

A huge blade of ice mercilessly pierced through its protective heart scale, sinking into flesh and blood, shattering bone without hesitation, and finally crushing its dantian with ease.

Following close behind came the pressure of a Mahayana cultivator, wrapped in pure frost, exploding inside its body. The coiled form was instantly annihilated.

Not even a speck of ash remained.

Everything around, caught in the frost, turned a vast white.

Qing Zhouxue landed on the ground. The formation before her dispersed, and what came into view was no longer ice and snow, but the deep, dark trees and the cane chair with Yun Shuchen sitting on it, just as it had been before they entered.

Her master smiled. "How was it?"

Qing Zhouxue savored the feeling for a moment, then nodded. It truly felt good. Her dantian had never been so full, as if she had an inexhaustible supply at her disposal—a single sword stroke could cleave through mountains.

Yun Shuchen rose from her chair, tucked it away, and walked toward her with her hands behind her back. Then, with practiced ease, she let her hands fall to her sides and, as if by accident, took Qing Zhouxue's hand.

After all these years of knowing her disciple, they had developed a kind of tacit understanding. That sword strike, turning water into ice, making the softest thing cold and hard, was truly beautiful.

The interplay of the five elements within a formation, though spectacular, required one to divert attention to control every detail, and was suited for group attacks, making it difficult to concentrate power into a single point.

In an accidental experiment, Yun Shuchen had validated a conjecture she had held for many years.

She had searched far and wide for a way to mend this flaw—what was missing in the formation was precisely such a blade, and only then could it be perfected.

At this thought, a subtle hint of pleasure curved Yun Shuchen's lips again.

All things in the world are connected in one way or another, as if someone pulls invisible strings, one thread causing a thousand waves.

But she found that she had gained another connection with her little disciple, like a red thread tying them a little tighter, and inexplicably, her mood improved greatly.

*

Since they were out in the wilderness, the two of them had lived rather roughly these past few days. With no inn at night, they did not sleep; instead, they found a spot to meditate for a few cycles, and the long nights passed.

This trip felt more like a journey than a treasure hunt. With everything they had gathered, they set out on the return path the following afternoon.

By the time they returned to Heyi Peak, it was near dusk.

Qing Zhouxue looked up and once again saw a vast expanse of gentle twilight clouds, like a thin veil of soft purple. A faint emotion stirred in her heart—as if, having drifted for a few days, she had grown a bit nostalgic for her little nest.

After her bath, Yun Shuchen came out with her hair loose. She sat on the edge of her bed, leaning against half a window of slanting moonlight, and then—

Rather aimlessly, she watched her disciple catch up on the assignments she had missed these past few days.

"On the first day back, you needn't be so diligent?" Yun Shuchen's gaze lingered on Qing Zhouxue for a long while.

"It's not hard at all," Qing Zhouxue said, sitting upright at the desk, eyes fixed ahead, brush moving fluidly. "I'll be done soon."

Yun Shuchen thought: what she had imagined was wrong—this little wooden beauty was just single-minded, her head filled with nothing but the Dao and the nature of things.

So Yun Shuchen stopped waiting for her and lay down first. It was the height of summer, but Heyi Peak was high enough that the nights were quite cool and pleasant.

She didn't actually need Qing Zhouxue to sleep beside her. But Yun Shuchen deliberately kept quiet about it, and Qing Zhouxue seemed to have fallen into the habit. With tacit mutual understanding, and under the banner of some justifiable excuse, they had gone from sleeping together in early spring all the way into high summer—and perhaps they would go on sleeping like this forever.

Yun Shuchen turned her face into the covers and closed her eyes. Previously, she had thought that Qing Zhouxue merely regarded her as an elder. But this time, when she occasionally leaned closer to test her, she found that Qing Zhouxue was not entirely unmoved.

At least she would get nervous and shy, but only to a very limited degree—so subtle that one could easily miss it if not paying close attention. And it was hard to tell whether it was just the reserve of a disciple toward her master.

Yun Shuchen's thoughts twisted like the thin smoke curling from an incense burner, never once running straight.

After finishing these days of assignments, Qing Zhouxue finally set down her brush, one worry off her mind, and could now go to sleep peacefully.

Yun Shuchen, lying on her side, shifted slightly. Qing Zhouxue could tell she seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and asked, "Master? What's the matter?"

"Go look in that cabinet over there. Is there any ointment to promote blood circulation and disperse stasis?" Yun Shuchen said in a low voice. "...My ankle hurts."

Only then did Qing Zhouxue realize what had happened. In the past, her master rarely left the house, like a proper young lady, but those days in the secret realm had involved climbing up and down the mountain, every step taken in earnest. She must have tired herself out.

Taking the medicine, Qing Zhouxue lifted the blanket and saw that Yun Shuchen's ankle was slightly red, and when she touched it, it was a little swollen.

These few days she had made sure her master was neither cold nor hot, yet this accident had happened anyway. Qing Zhouxue silently blamed her own carelessness, her expression turning serious as she grew even more cautious—she had learned that her master required not only attention to warmth and coolness, but also that she couldn't walk too much, especially on uneven mountain paths.

She noted this carefully, opened the medicine bottle, scooped out a bit of the balm, applied it to her master's ankle and rubbed it evenly, then massaged the reddish area with very gentle pressure.

"Does this feel better?"

Her master closed her eyes and gave a faint "Mm."

Qing Zhouxue was massaging it quite routinely, but somehow her gaze drifted to the sliver of calf exposed from beneath the robe.

Now her master had propped herself up on the bed and sat back against the headboard, eyes lowered as if resting her mind.

Because she was sitting with her legs crossed, a gap opened between the folds of her robe, revealing a few inches of pale thigh. Yet in truth, her belt was still tied and she was dressed decorously overall; the contrast made the glimpse far more striking.

Qing Zhouxue's heart skipped a beat at the sudden sight of that whiteness extending upward. She lowered her gaze, feeling a sense of impropriety. It was no longer a question of whether Yun Shuchen would find it offensive—she herself... she herself found it improper.

A fine, lingering itch traveled up her calf, making her unconsciously tense her body and clutch the bedding beneath her hand.

Yun Shuchen struggled to conceal the disorder of her breathing, and as she glanced down, she saw Qing Zhouxue half-kneeling on the floor, her long hair falling obediently behind her back.

Her disciple's eyelashes were long, and seen from above, they would tremble from time to time like butterfly wings folding shut.

Such an obedient and well-behaved appearance stirred the heart for no particular reason.

Qing Zhouxue's face remained calm, but inside she was uneasy. The strength in her hand unconsciously loosened; what had started as a massage gradually turned into a faint, almost absent-minded stroking, as if caressing some rare treasure.

The ankle being rubbed silently slipped away, then stretched forward, the toes lightly pressing against Qing Zhouxue's shoulder with a bit of force.

"It's fine."

"No matter how long you rub, it won't heal right away. It's late—come up and go to sleep."

She pushed her back lightly, the touch very gentle, seemingly intentional or not.

That night, Qing Zhouxue rarely tasted the bitterness of insomnia. When she opened her eyes, the spring scene was gone, but when she closed them, her memory held only that curve and that tender whiteness, distinct and clear. The pressure on her shoulder from that push seemed to press straight into her heart, leaving her restless.

Her hand had also traced over smooth, fine skin like pale jade, its touch cool and even.

Her body inexplicably stirred with a restless heat, and she didn't know how to ease it.

Almost by some primal instinct, she cautiously leaned into her master. Her master's hand rested at her waist, so she nestled in a little closer, making it seem as if that hand were encircling her.

Yun Shuchen sensed it, quietly opened her eyes in the darkness, and smiled without a sound. Following her wish, she gathered the girl fully into her arms. Her hand, now resting on Qing Zhouxue's back, stroked it gently once and did not let go.