Qin Zhizhi was clearly in the wrong, yet she acted entirely confident: “Yes, I was the one who hit you. So what? Do you have any proof?”
Xie Yutai fell silent once again.
Eventually, he let out a soft sigh: “Thank you for saving my life, Miss Qin.”
At least he had finally said something reasonable. Qin Zhizhi thought it over and realized that, since she currently had no real relationship or involvement with Xie Yutai, it did not matter to her whether he chose to speak or stay silent. What did it have to do with her?
Once she figured this out, her composure returned: “You are too polite, Immortal Lord Xie. But there is no need to thank me; this item belongs to the Heguang Sect.”
Xie Yutai asked: “From your fiancé?”
Qin Zhizhi was taken aback, and it took her a moment to realize that Xie Yutai was asking if this item had been given to her by her fiancé, Jun Wuya.
Of course, it was not. What an odd question to ask.
However.
“I appreciate that Immortal Lord Xie still remembers,” Qin Zhizhi said in a coy, delicate voice, instantly channeling the spirit of Qin Zhijie. “Indeed, Brother Jun gave it to me.”
“Is he good to you?” Xie Yutai asked suddenly, entirely out of the blue.
With a deadpan face but a cheerful voice, Qin Zhizhi replied: “He is wonderfully good to me.”
She was quite adept at putting on a high-pitched, cutesy voice.
Because Xie Yutai had pulled her behind the screen earlier to hide, now that they could relax, Qin Zhizhi did not want to keep staring at him. She had no choice but to shift her gaze to the screen in front of them.
She had not paid close attention before, but now she noticed that the screen was covered in dense, finely sketched lines of all shapes and sizes.
Qin Zhizhi could not help but let out a soft sound of surprise.
The lines carved into the screen recreated the progressive creation of a painting.
It began with just a few scattered brushstrokes, which gradually formed a shape, becoming increasingly detailed. Folds were added in one place, clothing in another, and a pair of eyes was drawn elsewhere. Following the screen from top to bottom and bottom to top, every stroke and addition became clearer, totaling exactly one hundred and eight strokes.
With the final stroke in place, a perfect image of a reclining Buddha was revealed.
“This painting looks almost alive,” Qin Zhizhi murmured, her attention instantly captured as she marveled at the sight.
The final image was complete, but on closer inspection, it did not depict Shakyamuni. Instead, it was a slightly plump, round-faced master wearing a monastic robe that covered both shoulders, reclining on a Zen daybed on his right side. His left hand rested casually on his round belly, while his right hand stretched directly beneath his neck and pillow. Although his eyes were closed, a faint smile lingered on his face.
Because the drawing was so remarkably lifelike, Qin Zhizhi could not resist reaching out her hand to touch it, wanting to see if it was a real person. The moment her fingertips brushed against the painting on the screen, the old monk opened both eyes.
The universe and the stars fell into absolute oblivion.
A massive force grabbed Qin Zhizhi. She only had time to let out a brief cry before she was swallowed by darkness. Her last glimpse was of the old monk’s open eyes, which held magnificent, vast, and brilliant stars.
The next moment, she plunged deep into swirling quicksand.
The shifting sands were like an ocean, collapsing downward continuously and piling up layer by layer, nearly swallowing Qin Zhizhi.
She forced herself to stay calm. While spitting out mouthfuls of yellow sand, she remembered to paddle her hands to keep herself from being completely buried. However, gusts of wind and sand whipped up from nowhere, pelted down upon her from all directions.
Qin Zhizhi raised her head helplessly. Within her line of sight, the sky was vast and the wilderness boundless. Except for the endless desert, there was no life, no water, and not a single speck of green.
She gave up struggling and simply lay flat.
As long as I lie down completely, nothing can threaten me, Qin Zhizhi thought, resigning herself to her fate. What a terrible monk, she had only touched him once, so was it really necessary to throw her into this godforsaken place?
Plummeting along with the quicksand, Qin Zhizhi closed her eyes peacefully, only to feel her body suddenly grow light. The expected suffocation never came, and the sensation of being squeezed and pulled down by the yellow sand vanished entirely.
In an instant, the scenery before her eyes shifted rapidly as countless images flashed past.
Her feet suspended in mid-air, she seemed trapped inside a glass orb. All around her, bizarre, distorted memories roared and lunged at her.
Qin Zhizhi felt a sudden surge of blinding light that made her eyes sting. The next moment, a gentle breeze swept through her hair, wrapping her in a warm embrace. The wind chimes under the eaves chimed crisply, and Qin Zhizhi slowly opened her eyes.
Her hands were stained with blood, and she was pinching a thin blade of grass between her index finger and thumb. The stem of the grass was extremely short, with long, drooping leaves that fell beside the edge of her palm, emitting a faint, dim blue glow.
Looking at this grass, a highly peculiar smile appeared on the corner of Qin Zhizhi’s mouth.
The Yin-Yang Twin-Core Stamen; a single root growing a twin-core stamen. The Yang Stamen had a straight stem that swayed alone in the wind, while the Yin Stamen had long leaves and a short stem, resembling a willow branch. It was one of the rarest, most powerful, and wondrous herbs in the cultivation world. This was the first time Qin Zhizhi had ever seen a Yin-Yang Twin-Core Stamen, and it was also her last time as Qin Zhizhi of the Tiantong Sect.
The main hall of the Guiyuan Sect was covered in an overwhelming expanse of red. Across the three hundred and sixty-five steps, a grand red carpet stretched out in elegant splendor. Wind chimes tied with red threads chimed crisply from the eaves, while beneath the roof, a hundred invited guests toasted and drank.
Suddenly, a loud, booming crash echoed from not far away. Everyone looked down the mountain in astonishment. Someone suddenly let out a loud cry, and the crowd, which had been full of joy just a moment ago, instantly fell into a panic.
“The demons have arrived! The demon race has attacked the main peak!”
“The Right Protector of the Demon Sect, Jiang Yuanzhi, is leading ten thousand troops! It’s Jiang Yuanzhi! That wicked woman!”
“This is bad… there seems to be Power-Dissolving Powder in this wine.”
Qin Zhizhi was far away from these voices. In truth, she did not feel much pain, but she felt dizzy and her legs were weak. Swaying slightly, she felt unable to stand steady. The moment she fell, a pair of hands caught her, pulling her into a warm chest.
She looked up slightly and saw that his eyes were bloodshot, and he was trembling as he held her hand.
He wore a red brocade robe with black borders and gold embroidery, looking exceptionally handsome and elegant. Stripped of his usual snow-white robes, this crimson attire did not diminish his refined air in the slightest; instead, it added a touch of romantic charm.
It turned out he looked this good in red. If not for his red-rimmed eyes and devastated expression, he would have looked even handsomer than usual.
On that day, Qin Zhizhi had been busy completing her mission. She had been nervous and terrified when stabbing him in the stomach, so she had not even had the chance to look at him properly.
Qin Zhizhi looked at Xie Yutai with a strange look in her eyes. As a book-transmigrator who diligently completed her capture missions, her first instinct upon collapsing was: Did I finish saying my matching lines?
Was she shaking because of blood loss, or was Xie Yutai the one trembling? The shaking was making her dizzy.
“You and I are even.”
Xie Yutai opened his mouth. One of his hands held her close while the other pressed against her wound, his voice terribly low and hoarse: “What nonsense are you talking about.”
Qin Zhizhi suddenly realized that it was indeed Xie Yutai who was trembling. Why was he shaking so badly?
“How could we ever be even.” Xie Yutai raised his hand, gently caressing Qin Zhizhi’s lips. Today, the bride wore bright red lipstick that matched her bridal crown and gown, looking beautiful to the absolute extreme. Qin Zhizhi had always been so bright and lovely, and red suited her best. The corners of Xie Yutai’s eyes were red, and a trace of blood trickled from his mouth. Fearing it would drop and stain her face, he raised his sleeve to wipe it away.
But Qin Zhizhi could not see this. She was terribly dizzy and closed her eyes, unable to distinguish for a moment whether she was completing a mission or dreaming. While her eyes could not see, her inner thoughts were not lacking at all. This Xie Yutai was simply too greedy; she had already given him her life, so what could possibly not be settled between them?
“I’m not marrying you, Xie Yutai.”
She felt as though she was about to die. Before dying, she had to quickly and dutifully repeat her lines one more time.
The surroundings fell into complete chaos. Amidst the clashing of swords and sabers, the demon army had already breached the main hall. A black-and-red banner was painted with a ghostly face, twisting and deforming in the howling wind, looking increasingly terrifying, like a demonic spirit crawling out of hell.
The cultivators who had not yet been poisoned drew their soul-bound weapons and fought against the demons. The scene was in utter disarray, with people screaming and shouting in panic.
“The bride is dead!”
Fu Xingyun, the Sect Master of the Tiantong Sect, had just decapitated a deputy general of the demon race. Hearing this, he was filled with immense grief. He turned back to look at the steps, roaring in fury: “Xie Yutai! Xie Yutai! What are you doing?”
Xie Yutai seemed not to hear the interrogation. He cradled Qin Zhizhi’s cooling body and laughed softly. Blood poured from his mouth and spilled onto his collar, looking even redder than his wedding garments. Yet, he seemed entirely oblivious. The famous, top-ranking sword cultivator in the world, who had always resembled a detached immortal, had never looked so disheveled and wretched.
The sound of bells jingled in tandem with the newcomer’s movements. Clad in apricot-yellow clothing, Jiang Yuanzhi emerged from the demon army. The majority of the cultivators had already been captured due to the Power-Dissolving Powder in the wine. Although the sect masters and elders of several sects still possessed the strength to fight back, too many hostages were held in the demons’ hands, so they did not dare to act rashly. They could only glare viciously at this woman.
She was not tall and was even somewhat petite, looking like a young child from afar. However, her upturned peach-blossom eyes revealed a coquettish and alluring charm that did not match her outward appearance. The cultivators hated her but dared not underestimate her; this was a terrifying woman whose cultivation had already reached the Nascent Soul stage.
Jiang Yuanzhi kept her hands behind her back, smiling with an air of complete innocence: “Oh dear, Xie Yutai. It seems I chose an unfortunate day to visit and ruined your happy event.”
Step by step, she ascended the stairs and walked over to Xie Yutai’s side. Seeing him tightly clutching the person in his arms, entirely oblivious to his surroundings, her smile widened. She spoke softly, her every word sounding like a mesmerizing spell.
“Xie Yutai, do you want to save her? If you want to save her, come with me.”