Although he released her, his gaze remained coldly fixed upon her.
The moment she was freed, Yu Sangsang once again gripped her small sword. She was just about to ask if there had been some kind of misunderstanding when a violent explosion rang out. The formation sealing off the courtyard shattered, and an enraged elder stormed in.
Rarely did his face look so ferocious; he had already changed back into the patched cloth robe he usually wore. A long sword in hand, he rushed straight inside—only to see blood splattered across the ground and Yu Sang‑sang standing there, staring back in astonishment.
“Where is Wei Li?!” Catching sight of the blood, he froze, then hurried forward to examine Yu Sangsang. Finding her uninjured, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
But when he noticed the stranger standing before her, he immediately yanked Yu Sangsang behind him.
Yu Sangsang hadn’t expected that the one fighting desperately to break in from outside would be Old Wang. Though she still harbored resentment toward him for performing the ritual that had stolen her identity in favor of Xianzhu, seeing him rush to protect her when she was in danger left her feelings complicated.
Lowering her eyes, she sighed inwardly. Somehow, she felt that at least when it came to the question of whether to kill her to eliminate Xianzhu’s threat, this old man—who had raised Yu Xian’er since childhood—was more inclined to shield her.
She pointed to the last trace of ashes on the ground and said, “There.”
Only then did Old Wang come back to himself, staring in shock at Yu Sangsang clutching the silver sword. The aura around her was unmistakably that of a cultivator, and it made his face turn fearful.
“You’ve been cultivating?” His voice dropped low.
“Mm.”
“You… you’re practicing the *Su Xin Manual*?” he asked, trembling.
“Of course not.” Did the old man forget? Though the *Su Xin Manual* was her mother’s clan’s inheritance, once it fell into that scoundrel father’s hands, he never gave it to her.
Yu Sangsang had half a mind to mock Old Wang. After all, Jing Zhonghua’s family technique hadn’t been passed to his own daughter, but instead to a substitute impostor. Yes—so that the Taisu Sect would be more convinced that Xianzhu was Jing Zhonghua’s child, Yu Xiu had long ago taught her the *Su Xin Manual*.
Xianzhu had cultivated it quite well, already reaching the Qi‑refining stage.
Thinking of all this, Yu Sangsang’s expression grew complicated, and she and Old Wang exchanged a silent look.
Hearing her answer, the elder let out an “Ah,” and suddenly seemed to relax. He, too, awkwardly met Yu Sangsang’s gaze, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and then turned a puzzled look toward the blue‑robed man whose eyes were narrowed as he watched the lively Yu Sangsang. This man clearly didn’t know what was going on either.
But when Old Wang studied the stranger—who had inexplicably appeared in the imperial tomb and seemed to have come into contact with Yu Sang‑sang—his wary scrutiny suddenly gave way to a startled “Eh?”
“Could it be… the Sword Sovereign Qingyan of Lingxiao Sect?” His eyes dropped to the man’s feet, then quickly shifted away as though to avoid offending a mighty figure. Instead, his gaze settled on the azure spirit sword at the handsome man’s waist. Hastily, he clasped his hands in respect and said, “This junior once traveled to the Central Plains decades ago and witnessed the Sword Sovereign’s awe‑inspiring presence. I have never forgotten it.”
That sword’s brilliance had burst forth in a dazzling green light, piercing heaven and earth, cleaving a colossal beast that blotted out the sky into ashes. Such majesty crowned the heavens themselves—once seen, it could never be forgotten. He was reverent, even trembling with excitement at encountering such a powerhouse. Anyone who didn’t know better might have thought he was meeting his lifelong idol.
Yu Sangsang listened to the white‑bearded elder calling himself “this junior” and then glanced at the youthful, strikingly handsome man before her. The corner of her mouth twitched.
But soon, surprise welled up in her heart. Naturally, it was because of Old Wang’s slip of the tongue: “Sword Sovereign Qingyan.” She had, of course, read about this Sword Sovereign in the story—indeed, he was one of its most vividly drawn figures.
Because the heroine, Xianzhu, the darling of all, once fell in love with him at first sight. Yet, to Yu Sang‑sang’s disappointment, when reading the tale, the Sword Sovereign never returned Xianzhu’s feelings. It was one of the rare setbacks in her otherwise smooth life.
In that “everyone‑adores‑the‑heroine” story, there was actually someone who couldn’t be bothered with her… No wonder the Sword Sovereign met such a tragic end later in the tale. Perhaps because everyone thought he was “blind to fortune.”
Recalling his life and character as depicted in the story, Yu Sangsang finally breathed easier, feeling her own life was safe for now. To be admired by the story’s darling surely meant the Sword Sovereign’s character was beyond reproach. Indeed, he had never acted with baseness.
Although he was cold and indifferent by nature, he never slaughtered the innocent or bullied the weak. As long as one was not his enemy, he had no interest in even glancing their way.
Countless people admired him—for Sword Sovereign Qingyan was the strongest sword cultivator of the immortal rank in the cultivation world and possessed astonishingly handsome looks. Yet he ignored everyone, his whole being like a block of frozen ice. He would never harm anyone without cause, nor was he Wei Li’s lifesaving master from the story. Yu Sangsang’s heart eased.
The Sword Sovereign was aloof; even if she tried to curry favor now, she would only be met with a cold face. She had no intention of wasting words.
It was Old Wang who spoke at length, while the handsome man remained as detached as ever. Old Wang faltered, then suddenly turned back to glance at Yu Sangsang. That look was complicated and vanished quickly.
Before Yu Sangsang could react, the elder dropped to his knees, bowing low to the Sword Sovereign before him and murmuring, “Sword Sovereign, please show mercy. This junior begs your compassion!”
Without daring to look up at the man’s expression, he hurried on: “The girl behind me has been wronged, lost her mother, and has no one to rely on—her life is in peril, truly pitiful! Today, Sword Sovereign, you have seen it yourself. She is despised by villains and has no place to stand. She is only seventeen, yet I see her cultivation has already stabilized at mid‑Qi Refining. She is a promising seedling. I beg you, for the sake of a helpless orphan, even if you only take her back as an outer disciple to sweep the sect gates, at least grant her a chance to live.” He kowtowed forcefully.
An old man bowing so pitifully stunned Yu Sangsang. She pressed her lips together and stepped forward to help him up. “Please don’t…” Don’t let pride make you miss such a rare opportunity.
Old Wang knew he was resorting to moral pressure. After all, there were countless pitiful souls in the world—Sword Sovereign Qingyan couldn’t be asked to help them all. Lingxiao Sect was no charity hall. But even knowing this truth, at the critical moment he still…
“There’s no need to force others.”
Perhaps clinging to the Sword Sovereign’s leg and begging for protection, to be taken back to his sect, was the best solution. Yet Yu Sang‑sang, who usually loved to take advantage, had no intention of doing so. She knew that whatever Old Wang had done to her before, at this moment, he was sincerely bending himself for her sake, pleading for a chance. Though she bore resentment toward him, she couldn’t bear to see him sacrifice his dignity, humbling himself for her.
“There is no reason for an elder to bow on my behalf,” she said calmly.
The cloth‑robed elder froze, staring at her in a daze.
Yu Sang‑sang simply waved her hand. She would not morally coerce a good man. Nor would she allow an elder to abase himself for her. As for the rest… Wei Li was dead, and perhaps her scoundrel father would send others for Xianzhu’s sake to kill her. But so what?
Now that her cultivation was stronger, she had the ability to fight for her own survival. She could leave Dayu to seek greater opportunities, to win herself a vast horizon. Perhaps the road would be more rugged, more difficult—but she felt it didn’t matter.
She bent down, brushed the dust from Old Wang’s robe, and looked into his aged, clouded eyes as she softly said, “Take care.”
He had done things that angered her, but he had also protected her and raised her.
Everything between them ended here.
The cloth‑robed elder suddenly lowered his head, choking back a sob. “…Then you take care as well.” After such a night, it was clear she could no longer remain in Dayu. This farewell was their last words.
Yu Sang‑sang nodded slightly, sighed, and cast one final look around the courtyard—the place where Yu Xian’er had lived for fourteen years—before lifting her foot to leave. All her belongings were stored in the silver bracelet. Before Dayu realized where Wei Li had died, the proper thing was to flee quickly.
She raised one foot— And her whole body froze in place, unable to move. Spiritual energy bound her once again.
This time, Yu Sang‑sang couldn’t even open her mouth; only her eyes darted helplessly.
A long, elegant hand seized the back of her collar and lifted her up. In an instant, the scenery shifted, and Yu Sang‑sang found herself suspended in midair. Dangling above the ground, she looked desperately toward the stunned cloth‑robed elder below, hoping he would say something.
“Ah…” Old Wang stared blankly upward at the girl swaying in the air, carried by the blue‑robed man. His eyes seemed to say—*Do you truly have no tenderness for beauty?*
“I’m taking her.” Sword Sovereign Qingyan spoke coldly.
Though his words were few, their meaning made the elder’s face light up with joy.
It was clearly a promise to bring the child back to Lingxiao Sect.
Lingxiao Sect was one of the most powerful sects in the realm, equal to Taisu Sect, flourishing with abundant cultivation resources. So what if he had no tenderness for beauty?
The old man turned his head aside, pretending not to see the princess’s pleading gaze.
Sword Sovereign Qingyan, unwilling to explain, simply flew onward on his sword of azure light—carrying along a girl he had decided to take back to his sect.
Yu Sang‑sang dangled from his hand by the collar, her face battered by the rushing wind.
High among the clouds, the frail girl in summer clothes shivered violently from the cold. She struggled to open her mouth, wanting to beg the mighty cultivator for a chance to put on a winter coat—but the Sword Sovereign never lowered his gaze to her.
Blown through and through by the icy wind, the princess could only try to save herself. Half‑dazed from the chill, she suddenly noticed faint strands of azure light swaying before her eyes. It looked like fur.
In her haze, Yu Sang‑sang felt a pang of grievance. A Sword Sovereign was indeed a Sword Sovereign. Even flying through the wind, he knew to wrap himself in fur, unafraid of the cold. Then she… perhaps she could borrow a little warmth. Surely he wouldn’t mind?
The lush azure fur shimmered before her. Yu Sang‑sang swayed with the wind, and at last, with its help, she lunged forward. She buried herself into the fur!
Eyes closed, she sighed in contentment.
The handsome man flying expressionlessly on his sword suddenly faltered—the sword light paused.