Lin Qingye indeed cradled Frost Descent, leaping down from a rooftop from who knows where, landing steadily on her feet with a faint, light smile curving the corners of her eyes and brows.
“You are far more perceptive than your master.”
In this world, the suppression of martial power was absolute; there was virtually no scenario where one could gain proficiency through mere practice and instantly surpass someone far stronger than themselves.
Ji Mian was clearly much, much stronger than Yunghuai, yet bearing the name of Sword Saint, she now required a subordinate to maintain vigilance for her.
“What are you following my master for?”
Yunghuai knew deep down that she was no match for Lin Qingye, but she still instinctively tensed her body, her hand remaining firmly clasped around the hilt of her sword.
“Just taking a look around, nothing that will harm her. After all, my life is in her hands.”
Though it was a matter of life and death, Lin Qingye’s expression remained entirely leisurely.
“However, if those three major sects were to discover her current state, I am afraid…”
Lin Qingye glanced toward the far end of the alley, and Yunghuai turned her head to follow her gaze. Sure enough, she saw that Ji Mian had already walked away from the spring roll stall, searched around the vicinity for a bit, and then leisurely strolled off toward the next spot to amuse herself.
“Her strength has greatly diminished, and her temperament has drastically changed. She must not be having an easy time of it.”
Yunghuai’s gaze was locked onto the direction Ji Mian was walking, yet her focus grew somewhat dazed because of Lin Qingye’s words.
This was a blatant threat.
Thus, under this long string of provocations from Lin Qingye, she managed to force out a reply.
“What is it that you want to do?”
“You have followed her for so many years. I want to know all about her past.”
Yunghuai’s breathing stalled; perhaps she was genuinely considering the feasibility of this matter. The two women were still deadlocked when a sudden gust of wind stirred over Yunghuai’s shoulder. A small bird landed on her shoulder, a strip of paper tied to its claw. Yunghuai skillfully removed it, her brow furrowing the moment she cleared the contents.
Lin Qingye guessed roughly what it was about.
“The grand ceremony brooks no mistakes. Please go attend to your duties, Lord Ling Shi. I will follow her.”
Although Yunghuai held the position of Ling Shi, she also served as a commander. The ceremony was of paramount importance, and everyone above and below was pressing down on her with expectations.
When Ji Mian turned back wanting to find Yunghuai, she unexpectedly ran into someone who rarely ever appeared here within the Demonic Cult.
Lin Qingye hadn’t changed a single piece of her clothing; she wore that blindingly pure white outfit right out in the street, looking exceptionally conspicuous.
She stood just a few paces away from Ji Mian, hugging Frost Descent and watching her with great interest.
Fortunately, the management in this region wasn’t overly strict, and coupled with the bustling atmosphere of the festival, there were no patrolling soldiers conducting checks. Otherwise, had Lin Qingye been found out, she would have had to sustain at least some injuries to extricate herself from the place.
“Why are you here? If you get caught, I certainly don’t have the capability to bail you out.”
Lin Qingye seemed entirely unconcerned, casually spinning together an excuse.
“Yunshen Valley is terribly dull during the New Year, so my master told me to come down the mountain and look around. Since it wasn’t much of a distance anyway, I just happened to drop by along the way.”
Ji Mian scrutinized her expression, though she didn’t pay too much mind to the other’s far-fetched chatter.
“Then how about strolling around with me?”
“The Demonic Cult’s festival is actually quite lively.”
The two of them walked at a distance neither too close nor too far, separated by a mere few paces at most. Yet amidst this bustling, crowded street, Lin Qingye managed to doggedly cling to this exact distance and follow her.
Ji Mian wore a veil to avoid being recognized, while Lin Qingye went completely uncovered and unmasked. Her striking appearance drew the gazes of numerous onlookers, and Ji Mian felt somewhat uncomfortable being pricked by these unfriendly stares.
Perhaps sensing that Lin Qingye possessed an extraordinary disposition and that the sword she carried looked formidable, people dared not approach her, but those gazes followed them like a shadow.
Unable to bear it any longer, Ji Mian caught sight of a small stall selling masks set up ahead. She walked over and picked out a fox-shaped one, painted with bright scarlet patterns on top and two upright ears at the crown, which looked rather nice.
Mostly, it was just very comical; she wondered what effect it would have if worn on Lin Qingye’s face.
Ji Mian wasn’t short on money. With a wave of her hand, she bought it, picked it up, and brought it close to the other girl’s face.
“Put it on. Your face is too eye-catching; it won’t do if someone recognizes you.”
Lin Qingye simply smiled at the mask, looking as though she were quite pleased, and murmured a soft agreement. To her surprise, she offered no objections and obediently put it on.
Once the mask was on, it left only a pair of eyes exposed. The eyeholes weren’t very large, still slightly obstructing her vision, aligning right with Lin Qingye’s pupils.
An icy blue, resembling the azure sky she had looked up at on a certain day, that sky transforming into a gushing spring of clear water, transparent, beautiful, and mesmerizing.
Ji Mian stared at her for a long time, until Lin Qingye broke the silence.
“Shall we go?”
She seemed to still curve the corners of her mouth in a slight smile. Stripped of that aloof expression, those eyes looked exceptionally gentle instead.
Ji Mian said nothing, instead pulling Lin Qingye along toward the direction of the lantern festival. Citizens purchased all sorts of paper lanterns and released them to drift along the course of the river. A long table stood by the riverbank, stocked with writing brushes and ink for travelers to write wishes upon their paper lanterns.
Lifting her gaze, countless glittering stars across the sky transformed into an artificial Milky Way, dazzling and varied to the point of making Ji Mian momentarily dazed.
Counting the days, she had spent quite some time in this place by now, and had gradually grown accustomed to the rules of this world, including martial strength, the laws, and the differences in status and position.
Armed with the original script, her days passed comfortably enough, and she had already learned to deftly handle the trivial affairs within the Demonic Cult.
With adaptation came forgetting; sometimes, when she had leisure to recall her original appearance, she would notice changes.
Her long, straight black hair had turned to waist-length white hair, and the color of her eyes had changed too. At times, looking into the mirror, she felt that the person inside was not truly herself. Yet when she reached out to touch herself or moved her body, she would snap awake with a start.
Holding a floral lantern, Ji Mian stood inside a small pavilion nearby, her thoughts drifting somewhat as she murmured softly.
“It’s so lively here. I rarely had the chance in the past to witness a scene like this.”
For some reason, Ji Mian felt a trace of melancholy. She could no longer recall her past life, yet felt certain that she had rarely been this leisurely before.
Sensing a different meaning hidden within those words, Lin Qingye gazed at Ji Mian with a deepening intensity in her eyes. Wearing a mask, all her facial expressions were concealed, allowing Ji Mian to remain entirely unaware of this burning gaze.
“Why are you looking for the Lisheng Sequence?”
“Tell me the truth, I won’t believe that you’re doing this just for some high-sounding justification.”
Ji Mian looked out toward the distant, flickering lights.
Her tone was earnest.
“For the world.”
For you.
Seeming to feel that this explanation lacked credibility, she added another line at the end.
“You will understand in the future; it is still too early now.”
Perhaps when the future arrived, the mystery surrounding Lin Qingye’s birth would be solved, the Lisheng Sequence fully gathered, and Ji Mian would meet her death under her hands. Righteousness and evil opposed each other, and with the final volume in her possession, a battle between the two of them was inevitable.
By that time, Lin Qingye wouldn’t wish to understand anymore.
Unable to help herself, Lin Qingye turned her head. Ji Mian’s profile was illuminated by the scattered fireworks blooming nearby, the scarlet depths of her eyes devoid of murderous intent, carrying instead a faint touch of wistfulness.
Watching until she lost herself in a daze, Lin Qingye always felt as though she had witnessed this very scenery countless times, countless times…
“Then do you trust me?”
Ji Mian suddenly asked.
“I can trust you.”
In rumor, Ji Mian was bloodthirsty, tyrannical, and muddle-headed, yet the main city under her governance was thriving and prosperous with peace reigning everywhere.
With even a little more understanding, one would realize that Ji Mian bore little resemblance to those rumors.
Lin Qingye only trusted what she saw with her own eyes.
She never cared much about so-called righteousness and evil, nor was she any sort of righteous paragon herself. Right or wrong, correct or mistaken, such concepts possessed no universal definition in this world.
As long as Lin Qingye wished it, Ji Mian could be a good person.
Lin Qingye stayed at an inn for the night, while Ji Mian returned to the Thirteen Palaces of the Demonic Cult alongside the belated Yunghuai.
Around the second watch of the Yin hour, Ji Mian was forcibly roused from her sleep. Having slept poorly the night through with matters weighing heavy on her mind, tossing and turning restlessly, she had barely logged a few hours of sleep. Being yanked awake now, she hadn’t even opened her eyes, still carrying a lingering bit of morning temper. As she sat before the viewing platform, her face cold and unapproachable, she looked thoroughly unapproachable.
The sacrificial ritual still required waiting for an auspicious hour, and aside from sitting, there was nothing specific for Ji Mian to do, so she dozed off right in her seat.
Jian Xiyan sat beside her, having changed out of her armor into casual attire, which made her look somewhat less sharp. The lower half of her face behind the iron mask looked much more delicate paired with this ordinary outfit.
Yet ever since sitting down, her brow had remained tightly knit, her eyes sweeping vigilantly back and forth across the crowds below. Someone accustomed to military campaigns always possessed a sharp intuition for danger, and she had a gut feeling that today’s atmosphere was wrong, as there was a strong likelihood that assassins were lying in wait among the crowds below, likely meaning to harm Ji Mian.
Sighing lightly, she made to stand up, only to be checked by a stern glare from Chen Que.
Realizing how unseemly it looked, Jian Xiyan sat back down.
Never mind, let’s finish watching the ceremony first.
Ji Mian drifted in her dreams; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to wake up, but rather that she couldn’t. The longer she stayed in this place, the more inexplicably bizarre memories cropped up in her dreams, lasting longer and longer with each occurrence.
Like sleep paralysis, she struggled in vain to wake up.
This time was no exception, though it differed from usual.
The scene this time was extremely hazy. She instinctively felt that the original host definitely knew of some crucial secret, but time had been too short to explain it, so she had to figure out where this vision originated.
Yet her field of vision felt as though it were veiled in a thin mist; the figures before her seemed to float right in front of her eyes, yet all were pixelated out of focus, impossible to see clearly. They appeared to be conversing, their lips moving, but every single word and phrase remained entirely inaudible to her.
And she didn’t know the first thing about lip-reading.
A rich floral fragrance drifted into her nasal passages, somewhat pungent, yet seemingly laced with a soul-enticing concoction that made it increasingly difficult for her to wake up.
Just as the ceremonial rites were completed, a hidden projectile suddenly flew out from the dark. A silver needle was fired through a blowpipe, stealthily piercing into Ji Mian’s body. Still fast asleep and entirely unaware, Ji Mian remained motionless while Lin Qingye watched her from down below. The surroundings were peaceful and serene, giving no indication that anything was amiss.
Only, someone beside her bolted forward in a flash with frantic movements, slamming into the chair beneath Ji Mian and knocking it askew. Ji Mian’s head tilted along with the motion, limp as if boneless, slumping sideways against Yunghuai, the corners of her lips bruised dark and her brows knitted tightly.
Protecting Ji Mian’s body, Yunghuai frowned as she caught the scent lingering in the air.
The heavy, concentrated fragrance of narcissus flowers, as to Ji Mian, this substance was practically absolute poison.
Steadying her breath, Yunghuai gazed anxiously at Ji Mian’s pale complexion, clenching her teeth as she spat out the words.
“Seal the city gates.”
“Immediately!”