He suddenly lifted his hand and pulled the now‑warmed Yu Sang‑sang upright.
Her dazed, bewildered eyes met his. How could she not be confused?
To be wordlessly hauled up like that—Yu Sang‑sang thought, *people have mouths for a reason: to communicate.*
Staring at each other in silence—was this supposed to be telepathy?
She tried hard to convey her confusion with her gaze, adding a hint that she was cold and numb.
Those shimmering eyes, beautiful yet veiled as though behind thin ice, regarded her for a long moment. Then, with an impatient snort, he tossed a heavy cloak at her and released his grip.
The freed princess muttered curses under her breath as she wrapped herself in the cloak. Lowering her gaze, she caught a fleeting flash of azure light below—and suddenly realized what it was. Her heart froze.
“Ah—I didn’t mean it!” she blurted, still dangling by her collar as he carried her along. But seeing that swaying tuft of fur, she understood why the Azure Sword Sovereign had reacted.
That blue fur… wasn’t it his tail? A fox’s tail—lush, sleek, gleaming with a silken sheen.
Thinking of his identity in the story, and recalling how she had just buried her face in that tail, rubbing against it as the wind carried her—Yu Sang‑sang felt compelled to explain herself. She wasn’t some shameless rogue!
Yet her explanation only made things worse. The Sword Sovereign gave her a frosty glance and said coolly, “Do not let it happen again.”
Clearly, though his tail had been trespassed upon, he was not unreasonable. He knew he had acted first—had been less than considerate.
Yu Sang‑sang breathed a sigh of relief. The story’s portrayal of him was indeed accurate: a strong man who understood reason. Of course, provided one did not touch his tail.
This supreme immortal had suffered much since childhood because of his half‑demon bloodline. He despised anyone coveting his fox tail, for he was of the Azure Fox clan.
The Azure Foxes were famed for their noble beauty, adored and admired throughout the realm. As a youth, the Sword Sovereign had been targeted and schemed against precisely because of his bloodline, enduring betrayal and hardship. Even now, unmatched in the immortal ranks, he could not let go of those scars. They were part of why he later fell prey to inner demons. Cold and aloof he might be, but he was not unkind. At the very least, he was willing to take in a helpless child who had no real connection to him, bringing her back to his sect without reproach for her accidental offense.
Yu Sang‑sang hesitated, then rubbed her chilled hands together and whispered, “Sword Sovereign… thank you.”
Curled up in the cloak, small and soft, she looked nothing like the fierce girl who had once rampaged in the courtyard. Her change of face was swift indeed.
The Sword Sovereign snorted again, only to hear her add in a tiny voice, “Sword Sovereign, don’t freeze yourself either.”
He was an immortal‑ranked powerhouse. Even without protective spiritual light, with the physique of an immortal, how could he possibly freeze? That remark was practically useless.
Yet when the Azure Sword Sovereign looked at the little girl trying hard to smile obediently at him, he still said evenly, “I won’t hide it from you—today, that black mist merged into your body…”
It sounded like the beginning of a long story.
Yu Sang‑sang sighed. “Sword Sovereign, can we talk about it after we go back?” Though they had only just met—and he was far stronger than she—people always knew how to climb the pole when offered.
Seeing that he wasn’t the type to nitpick, she grew more straightforward. She felt he had that *‘this will take a while to explain’* air about him. And dangling in midair in the gale was hardly the right way to chat.
Her casual tone left the Sword Sovereign’s cold eyes faintly puzzled. *Back? With her?* She hadn’t even entered his sect yet, and already she spoke of “going back”? But he couldn’t be bothered to argue.
Meanwhile, the girl, snug now in her cloak, thought of how he had stood above the skies earlier, watching her and Wei Li’s fight—which to him must have looked like two chickens pecking each other. Then she recalled his mention of the black mist, and a suspicion formed. So that was why a mighty figure had paused, even descended, to observe her—the black mist. She remembered Wei Li laughing wildly, as if the mist were something dreadful, a doom without end.
Unable to hold back, she asked, “Is it something dangerous? Sword Sovereign, forgive me, but that black mist…” Though she had absorbed it, Wei Li must have known something of its origin if he carried it, enough to draw the attention of an immortal. She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out the brocade pouch that had contained the mist, offering it to him.
“Too bad. If I’d known you cared about this, I wouldn’t have burned Wei Li. At least I’d have kept his head—or his soul—to search.”
In the roaring wind, the Sword Sovereign was silent.
Her words—searching souls, killing without hesitation—marked her as a budding demon.
She looked pained as she took out the precious brocade pouch that could store mist, yet she still trusted him enough to offer it.
“Does Sword Master truly not need it?” Since Qingyan showed no interest in the little fledgling’s treasure, Yu Sang‑sang’s eyes lit up and she quickly tucked the pouch back away.
Still, even though Qingyan seemed indifferent to Wei Li, she was determined to investigate his connections. In the story, his time in the imperial tomb was vague, but Wei Li himself had later spoken of those experiences to Xianzhu.
After thinking it over, she said, “He was born in Dayu. As a youth, he was chosen as a cultivation seedling and brought into the Dayu court. He has always cultivated there, accompanying the illegitimate daughter of the Dayu sovereign.”
Such a simple background—yet how could he produce something that even a celestial‑rank expert would take notice of, something clearly ominous? Yu Sang‑sang went on, “He came today to kill me, and at first didn’t take me seriously at all…”
As she spoke, she didn’t care that the wind was choking her. Suddenly she recalled that in the story, Wei Li had failed to kill the true Yu Xian’er in the tomb and was gravely injured. He had insisted he was rescued, and afterward took a master. But today, Wei Li was slain by her, and no one ever appeared to save him.
Yu Sang‑sang said, “He once knew a cultivator, and later he would even take him as his master. That cultivator is…” She carefully recounted to Qingyan the one whom Wei Li would eventually acknowledge as his teacher.
Sword Master Qingyan looked terrifying, yet he was also fair and reasonable. If Wei Li’s future teacher in the story proved blameless, Qingyan would not harm him.
It was precisely because she trusted Qingyan’s character that Yu Sang‑sang held nothing back. The man’s face was like ice, his handsome features frozen without the slightest expression, while a little girl chattered endlessly at his side.
He closed his eyes. Her voice made his ears ache.
“You’ve absorbed that mist—better think first about your own safety.”
He had lived for over a thousand years, meeting all kinds of people.
When he was weak, they looked down on him, coveted him, and insulted him. When he was strong, they feared him, guarded against him. Perhaps a few close friends or disciples had trusted and relied on him, grown close to him—but that was trust built up over years. Never before had someone, upon their very first meeting, spoken to him with such unreserved candor.
This girl was not naïvely credulous—her actions today made that clear. Yet she was willing to trust someone like him, a man burdened with many dark rumors in this world.
Thinking of this, Qingyan’s gaze did not shift, but he lifted a fingertip.
As the girl prattled on, a flash of light appeared before her eyes, and a snow‑white pill the size of a fingernail was flicked into her mouth.
The pill was sweet and fragrant, melting instantly, transforming into threads of gentle spiritual energy that made every pore of her body seem to open, her whole being suffused with nourishment.
Her eyes lit up, feeling encouraged, and she quickly said to the Sword Master who seemed to enjoy listening to her, “Then let me tell you about my own life. Ah, it has been far too tragic.”
In the imperial tomb, she had been too solemn to speak much, but now, freed to talk, the little girl once again recounted her misfortunes with her scoundrel father.
Qingyan kept his gaze straight ahead, flying toward the sect. Though still cold and aloof, he did not silence her.
Yu Sang‑sang, satisfied, grew bolder. Clinging to the Sword Master’s robes, she flattered him: “Sword Master, Sword Master, you truly are the best person in the world! … If only you would let go of the back of my neck, that would be even better!” Her neck ached from being carried. She paid no mind to the black mist—after all, Qingyan didn’t seem in any hurry either.
Yu Sang‑sang focused instead on bargaining for a more comfortable treatment. If not for Qingyan’s astonishing speed—covering a thousand miles in an instant—they might have continued chatting. But soon a vast mountain range soared into view, its peaks piercing the clouds.
“So beautiful.” Seeing the magnificent sight, Yu Sang‑sang’s eyes lit up. It was her first glimpse of a great sect’s domain.
Before she could take a closer look, Qingyan’s sword light flashed, carrying her straight inside without pause. They landed atop a lofty peak, at a training ground built upon the summit.
The mountain towered skyward, shrouded in mist like a celestial realm. Looking around, through the drifting clouds she could see the entire sect spread beneath her, the whole mountain gate laid out at her feet.
Setting the wide‑eyed girl down, still stunned by the grandeur, Qingyan strode off without a word.
“Master?”
Qingyan brushed past a young man with jade‑like features, but did not stop, did not turn his head, and vanished into the training ground.
The handsome youth, however, turned in surprise to look at the pretty girl wrapped in a cloak, staring at him in bewilderment. He glanced back toward the Sword Master’s departing figure.
His master was cold by nature, never bringing anyone into his cultivation grounds. Today was an exception. For his master to act so proactively—could this little girl be… “A new junior sister?”
Had his master decided to take on a disciple again?