The man’s entire body went rigid as he stared at Wen Chiyue in terror. The fan was clearly made of paper, yet it felt impossibly sharp.
His legs went weak, but he reasoned that she wouldn’t dare kill him in broad daylight, besides, Wen Chiyue was only in the Qi Refining stage. No matter how capable she seemed, she couldn’t truly harm him.
The cut on his skin, he told himself, was simply because he had been caught off guard.
Circulating spiritual energy to cover his body and ensuring his defenses were set, the man spoke up again provocatively, though his voice lacked confidence due to the lingering shock: “Speak… I’ve said all there is to say. What else do you want to hear?”
Wen Chiyue’s eyes curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in them. She pushed the fan forward lightly, lifting the man’s chin like a traveling dandy, forcing him to look her in the eye.
Meeting her gaze was like being sucked into a bottomless abyss of hell. The air seemed to fill with the crackling sound of burning fire, and the man felt as if he were being tossed into the flames.
To be reduced to a pile of ash.
Wen Chiyue grabbed the man’s collar and pulled him closer. Her pupils constricted, revealing what looked like an array hidden within. At the scent of blood, an itch stirred in her heart, she licked the tip of her teeth, suppressing the rising desire.
“Hmm… I want to hear you be a bit more stubborn,” Wen Chiyue laughed. “Weren’t you acting quite fierce earlier?”
The man’s heart darkened. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the surrounding Taoists casting fleeting glances toward the commotion.
He couldn’t afford to lose face here.
The man closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he spat through gritted teeth, “Am I wrong? It’s great to be a woman, isn’t it? Step onto the immortal path, find a man to marry, and your whole life is…”
These words went too far. Many female cultivators in the tea shop frowned, looking at the man with blatant displeasure.
The man continued, “You live in glory without having to suffer. I truly envy you; if I were you…”
“If I were you,” Wen Chiyue interrupted, “I would have found a place to kill myself long ago. But it’s not too late now.”
Her eyes narrowed, and with a flick of her fan, a sharp needle suddenly protruded from its edge.
“Wen Chiyue.” Jiang Xiechen’s fingers curved, tapping the tabletop. “The tea is getting cold.”
Only then did Wen Chiyue realize she wasn’t alone. Jiang Xiechen was right behind her.
Not wanting her Master to think of her as someone who slaughtered the innocent, she arched an eyebrow and pushed the man away impatiently. “Live properly from now on.”
The man stumbled back, colliding with the person behind him and even overturning a table. Scalding tea drenched his clothes and soaked his hair. He lay miserably on the floor, his skin burnt, staring blankly at Wen Chiyue’s retreating back in a daze.
He felt as though he had truly walked through the gates of hell.
If not for… if not for Jiang Xiechen’s call, Wen Chiyue would have absolutely killed him.
In that moment, the man realized with terrifying clarity. Wen Chiyue had definitely killed before.
In the world of cultivation, it wasn’t strange for a cultivator to have blood on their hands, but the sheer ruthlessness radiating from her was far beyond that of a casual killer.
Wen Chiyue sat back down and took a sip of tea, squinting comfortably. Her red eyes were veiled by long lashes as she swung her legs restlessly, looking perfectly at ease.
She took gulp after gulp, swallowing more than tasting. “Mmm, thank you for the reminder, Master! Hehe, I almost didn’t notice. Wow, this tea is just as fragrant as it smells. It was a great choice not to add Tranquility Grass. Hehe, Master, do you think it’s good? Tea in the mortal world is so different from the cultivation world, so pure. Swor…. cough…. people, after all, must have some worldly desires.”
A woman sitting nearby had been curious ever since the two entered, quietly observing them.
Just as the man had said, looking purely at their cultivation levels, these two didn’t seem to have the ability to brave this secret realm. However, her sixth sense told her they were different from other low-level cultivators.
To put it simply, low-level cultivators entering this trial were usually seeking death.
But these two, whether in aura or presence, didn’t give off that vibe. Instead, they felt… as steady as Mount Tai.
The way Wen Chiyue handled that man earlier only confirmed this.
Now, hearing Wen Chiyue’s words, the woman felt slightly uncertain again. She chuckled softly and asked, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“I mind.” “No matter.”
Wen Chiyue looked at Jiang Xiechen huffily. Even with the woman right there, she didn’t bother lowering her voice, calling out in a half-spoiled manner, “Master~”
“Hmm?” Jiang Xiechen tilted his head, his expression cold and aloof.
Wen Chiyue was already immune to this expression. Her Master simply wasn’t used to showing emotion; it didn’t mean he hated her.
Who was she? She was the sword spirit of the Autumn Frost Sword. How could she be hated?
Wen Chiyue said, “I don’t want an outsider joining our table. I only want to be with Master, just the two of us. Isn’t that better?”
The woman froze at these words, her eyes darting between the two.
Cultivators lived for a very long time, and they often lost their attachment to worldly conventions. They rarely cared if their Daoist partner was male, female, or even human.
She had even heard of a disciple from a certain Sword Sect who fell for a transformed fox demon and eloped, leaving the sect behind.
But…
She truly hadn’t expected these two to be in that kind of relationship.
The woman apologized, “I’m sorry for disturbing you… I wish you two a long and happy life together.”
Embarrassed to be interrupting a young couple’s intimacy, the woman flushed bright red, wanting nothing more than to flee.
However, catching Wen Chiyue’s dissatisfied gaze, she added that last blessing.
Wen Chiyue’s eyes lit up instantly.
For someone so “perceptive,” Wen Chiyue didn’t mind showing a bit of patience. She waved her hand and smiled, “It’s fine, no disturbance at all! Come sit. I’m Wen Chiyue, and this is my Master.”
Startled by the sudden change in attitude, the woman sat down and said, “Greetings, Fellow Daoist Wen. I am Jiang Qiao, a sword cultivator. I assume this gentleman…”
She looked at Jiang Xiechen. She didn’t quite understand the “Master” roleplay between couples, but she was tactful enough not to ask. Instead, she smiled, “Is also a sword cultivator?”
“Jiang Xiechen.”
“Greetings, Fellow Daoist Jiang,” Jiang Qiao said with a smile.
Since the area was crowded and noisy, Jiang Qiao traced a sound-isolating array in the air before continuing, “May I ask, is Fellow Daoist Jiang injured?”
Fearing they might misunderstand, she quickly added, “Please don’t think much of it. It’s only because I’ve studied medicine that I felt something was off. Of course, I could be mistaken.”
Jiang Xiechen did not answer.
They were strangers; he had no obligation to provide her with answers.
Wen Chiyue looked curiously at the sword at Jiang Qiao’s waist and asked, “Is this your life-bound sword?”
A life-bound sword was tied to a cultivator’s very life, but Jiang Qiao felt a strange sense of kinship with the two. She actually nodded and admitted, “Yes, it is.”
Seeing Wen Chiyue’s curiosity, she generously unfastened the sword and placed it on the table, nodding toward her.
Wen Chiyue had never seen another sword. Excitedly, she reached out, touching the hilt and the scabbard. Finally, she drew the blade, marvelling at the patterns on the steel with a “Wow!”
Even if one isn’t a sword cultivator, they shouldn’t be this excited over a sword, Jiang Qiao thought, puzzled. She asked, “Is Fellow Daoist Wen not a sword cultivator?”
A sword cultivator’s weapon didn’t strictly have to be a sword, any sharp object could be used by them at will. At a certain level of cultivation, one could even achieve the state of “having a sword in the heart even if the hand is empty.”
Sword cultivators were easy to spot, they carried a specific aura, as if they themselves were an invincible blade capable of splitting the heavens. Despite Wen Chiyue using a fan, Jiang Qiao had assumed she was a sword cultivator.
Wen Chiyue hesitated.
If she said no… well, she was a sword spirit herself, so her “sword scent” was definitely strong. But if she said yes, she couldn’t explain her strange behavior.
Wen Chiyue scratched the back of her head and said, “I suppose so.”
I suppose so? How could there be an “I suppose so” for something like that?
Jiang Qiao was confused but assumed Wen Chiyue was simply being private, so she didn’t press further.
Wen Chiyue carefully touched the blade and asked, “Does it have a sword spirit?”
Now Jiang Qiao was certain Wen Chiyue wasn’t a sword cultivator, otherwise, why would she even ask? Jiang Qiao laughed and explained, “How could a sword spirit be so easy to manifest? Among tens of millions of life-bound swords, not a single one might produce a spirit. Even now, sword cultivators don’t understand the conditions for a spirit to appear. It might be the materials, the cultivator’s bond, or something else entirely.”
Wen Chiyue shot Jiang Xiechen a proud look.
Unfortunately, Jiang Xiechen was blind and couldn’t see a thing.
“That’s a pity,” Wen Chiyue nodded thoughtfully, tapping her finger idly on the blade. “Being a dead object, it can’t enjoy delicious food and drink.”
Jiang Qiao shook her head and advised, “Since you have stepped onto the path of immortality, you should let go of worldly desires. It’s best if you get used to it sooner, Fellow Daoist Wen.”
Wen Chiyue wanted none of that.
She was just a little sword spirit, not a cultivator. Of course she wanted to indulge! She had her own logic: “No way. The more you forbid something, the easier it becomes a heart demon. Look at you, you don’t even dare to accept these things. How can you claim to be free of desire?”
“This…” Jiang Qiao was stunned; she had never heard such a perspective. After a long silence, she covered her mouth and laughed. “But isn’t that how one cultivates? To indulge in pleasure… that is the cultivation method of demons.”
Wen Chiyue curled her lip. “That’s so boring. You can’t do this, you can’t do that, it’s not even as free as being a mortal. What’s the point of living hundreds or thousands of years like that?”
The words were becoming increasingly unorthodox. Jiang Xiechen picked up his tea bowl, took a shallow sip, and finally spoke: “Wen Chiyue, stop talking nonsense.”
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Jiang Qiao mediated. “The idea is quite novel. What Fellow Daoist Wen says actually makes some sense.”
It was just too absurd, luckily, she had set up the sound-isolating array.
Wen Chiyue leaned in and whispered into Jiang Xiechen’s ear, “Does Master disagree?”
Her breath brushed against Jiang Xiechen’s ear, feeling slightly itchy.
Jiang Xiechen raised a finger to Wen Chiyue’s lips in a silencing gesture. Only after Wen Chiyue’s face turned bright red did he say slowly, “Think about it yourself.”
Wen Chiyue rubbed her burning ear and said in annoyance, “Hmph! Master! You’re teasing me on purpose again!”