The stairs leading down to the third level had already revealed themselves to the two of them. The entrance was low, requiring one to stoop slightly just to enter. The crevices of the stone steps were overgrown with moss, extending diagonally downward into the darkness.
Song Wenqing did not rush to move. The attacks from the previous two levels had nearly exhausted all of her physical strength.
After probing the surroundings with her divine sense and confirming that there were no potential dangers present, she sat cross-legged in an open space and began to refine the healing pill she had just swallowed.
Her physical condition was terrible; apart from the abdominal meridians that could not be temporarily repaired, there were also various internal injuries that had yet to heal.
Song Wenqing carefully guided her spiritual energy to complete a major circulation cycle. The burning sensation brought on by the medicine gradually rose, repairing the injured areas bit by bit.
A fishy sweetness surged up into her throat, and a few dark, deep-red flowers bloomed upon the ground.
Yan Zhu, who had been teasing the cat nearby, gasped aloud at this sight, but fortunately, her reason asserted itself in time, causing her to press her lips tightly together as the words were forcefully suppressed back into her throat.
Practicing martial arts should be an extremely perilous endeavor, and it would not do to make a strange sound that caused the other person’s circulating internal energy to go off course.
Growing up nurtured by numerous Xianxia dramas in her past life, Yan Zhu possessed this understanding. Presently, although she harbored worry for Song Qing in her heart, she only dared to quietly watch from the side, guarding her with her gaze.
The blood was still flowing, winding down from the corner of her lips as if it were unstoppable, sketching harsh and ugly rough lines across her snow-white skin.
Song Wenqing removed her suffocating mask, generously and openly displaying her pretty face to the surroundings.
Yan Zhu’s gaze slowly climbed upward from the thin lips stained crimson with blood, earnestly tracing every single one of her facial features, before finally resting upon her slightly thick and somewhat heroic eyebrows.
The immaturity that had yet to fade still lingered between the young girl’s eyebrows; this trace of innocence only manifested when she was relaxed with her eyes closed.
Watching this, Yan Zhu unconsciously fell into a daze.
She recalled finding her collapsed in a pool of blood beneath a tree half a month ago.
Her memories had become blurred in shape, leaving behind only glaring red upon looking back, along with the fishy scent that seemed to still linger at the tip of her nose, and those amber eyes that reflected the bright moonlight…
The young girl had arrived shrouded in mist; she was deeply enveloped by mysteries, and as the dense fog rose and pervaded, it ultimately submerged her entire figure.
Yan Zhu did not know the reason for her severe injuries, nor did she know her identity or background. Sometimes, Yan Zhu would even wonder if even the name she had told her was fake.
Song Qing…
Yan Zhu chewed on this “word” in her heart; it frequently made her think of the female protagonist of her own writing, Song Wenqing.
However, the person before her could not possibly be Song Wenqing.
Yan Zhu thought that she had given her precious “daughter” everything that was best.
The darling of the heavens, a genius of the sword path, the supreme leader of the righteous path, the last hope of the Lingyun Dao Sect…
Countless dazzling titles were piled upon her.
Song Wenqing was an existence destined to be looked up to by others from birth, and she would never collapse, covered in blood, in the corner of a dark night.
At present, she ought to be cultivating with single-minded devotion within her sect, preparing to challenge seniors who had entered the sect many years before her across cultivation ranks in the upcoming grand competition for the new generation of disciples in the Lingyun Dao Sect, cementing the title of “genius” even more firmly.
Yan Zhu spread open her palm, where her palm lines were deeply engraved, extending all the way to her wrist before finally fading away. Beneath her fair skin, pale cyan blood vessels were clearly visible.
She recalled Jun Lin’s phrasing of “good news” and “bad news,” lowered her gaze, and smiled with a hint of self-mockery.
“Born with a Dao physique… yet lacking spiritual roots…”
“It seems I can only remain a mortal after all.”
Her heart felt stuffy, as if a sense of melancholy was blocked right against her chest.
Yan Zhu raised her head to stare blankly at the stone ceiling.
“Why… am I suddenly feeling a little unwilling to accept this?”
Coming to this world was wonderful; the only bad thing was that she had no way to witness Song Wenqing ascend to immortality.
Humans were like mayflies, born in the morning and dying by nightfall.
A mortal’s life was truly far too brief. A hundred years was merely the passing thought of a secluded retreat to a cultivator, but to a mortal, it was a lifetime lived through arduous struggle.
Yan Zhu imagined what it would look like if she were white-haired and elderly, leaning on a cane as she waited at the gates of the Lingyun Dao Sect, running into Song Wenqing who was leading a team down the mountain for practical training…
At that time, she would still be young, perhaps still wearing the appearance of a young girl, with cascading black hair and cheeks tinged with a healthy pink. She would look over with a pair of smiling eyes, warmly greeting this old friend she had known for the greater part of her life.
Yet… it was also rather interesting.
Yan Zhu suddenly burst into a smile.
Yet as she smiled and smiled, the expression in her eyes was gradually replaced by desolation, and the curve of her lips grew smaller and smaller.
She still wanted so much to watch her ascend to divinity.
“Then you still want to take me as your disciple?!”
“That is naturally because… I have a way to resolve your problem.”
“Having a disciple with a Dao physique is something even those arrogant fellows up in the heavens would envy me for.”
Raising her hand slightly, a somewhat heavy short flute gently weighed down against her sleeve. Yan Zhu pressed her lips together, reaching out to rub and twist the body of the flute through the fabric.
Cultivating… becoming a companion who walks alongside her…
The thought planted its roots deeply within the bottom of her heart, waiting only for an opportunity to break through the soil and then grow wildly.
Song Wenqing let out a muffled groan, blood gushing from the corner of her lips to cover the bloodstain beside it that had not yet dried.
Interrupting her train of thought by this sound, Yan Zhu immediately turned her head to look over with concern.
The young girl still showed no sign of opening her eyes, but the space between her eyebrows slowly smoothed out, and the painful expression on her face lessened somewhat.
Yan Zhu remained worried, staring at the bright red blood flowing from her lips, fearing it would flow uncontrollably once more.
In truth, she was afraid of blood; she was afraid of large swathes of blood, afraid of garments dyed crimson by blood… Even upon seeing a palm-sized bloodstain, Yan Zhu’s hands would tremble incessantly, giving rise to a timidity within her heart that could submerge her entire being.
Therefore, she still had not figured out how she had mustered the courage to go save people that night when she saw Song Qing lying in a pool of blood.
However… it seemed she would find it very difficult not to save her.
Her gaze brushed against the young girl’s slightly trembling eyelashes, and Yan Zhu’s expression softened unknowingly.
After all, she was just a young girl…
“Mm?”
The pretty amber pupils reflected her appearance, and the syllables stripped of their coldness drifted into her ear.
Yan Zhu was stunned.
“Are you looking at me?”
Though phrased as a question, the tone was certain.
Yan Zhu’s mind went completely blank, only snapping back to her senses when she saw the other person’s face drawing closer. Instantly feeling a surge of heat climb up her face, she instinctively leaned backward.
“Don’t move.”
The warmth of a palm imprinted itself against her waist through her clothing, and breathing sprayed against the side of her neck. It was an extremely ambiguous posture, with only a tiny gap remaining between their bodies.
Yan Zhu could see the other’s slightly upturned long eyelashes. She blinked and obediently stopped moving.
With a force pulling her around the waist, she tumbled into an embrace filled with cold fragrance.
“Otherwise you will fall.”
The belated second half of the sentence rang out leisurely, and the hold around Yan Zhu’s waist loosened.
“…Thank you.”
She glanced back at the drop-off that was half a person high, taking a deep breath as she struggled to calm her excessively fast heartbeat.
Having sat on the high ground for too long, she had almost forgotten about the surrounding environment.
“Meow~”
The black cat darted out and raised a paw, indicating that its little plum-blossom print had also helped out just a bit.
Yan Zhu could not help but laugh, gently rubbing its little head.
“Thank you too, little cat.”
Song Wenqing watched the interaction between the person and the cat before her without making a sound, her fingertips resting at her side unconsciously rubbing together.
In truth, Yan Zhu would not have fallen just then.
Yan Zhu was not sitting at the edge of the high platform; on the contrary, her position was still some distance away from the edge.
Falling down wouldn’t have been a big deal either.
A voice in Song Wenqing’s heart suddenly spoke thus.
After all, she was so strong, someone surrounded by the laws of the Great Dao; at the very least, her cultivation had already reached the Nascent Soul stage.
Song Wenqing agreed all the same, yet for some reason she had reached out her hand at that moment.
Not only was extending a hand to block not enough, she had actually pulled the person into her embrace.
Her body had acted before her consciousness, and by the time she realized it, she had already embraced a soft body carrying warm fragrance, like holding a piece of fragrant cloud that would shatter if squeezed.
Song Wenqing did not dare to use force, only daring to hold her loosely, afraid of injuring her.
This thought came without much logic.
Yan Zhu was very strong.
Song Wenqing corrected herself once more in her heart.
She always felt that she was fragile. That person was too gentle; her temperament was gentle, her speech was gentle, and her body was gentle as well…
Her thoughts drifted off to who knows where, and upon realizing it, Song Wenqing immediately cut off the train of thought. Yet her cheeks flushed with red as if she had a guilty conscience.
She quickly glanced at Yan Zhu, immediately perceiving that her face had grown hotter by several degrees. Although she hadn’t figured out the reason, she immediately dared not look anymore.
“Let’s go.”
She stood up, stepping into the stone steps first as if fleeing.