Betrayed - Chapter 3

Though it wasn’t a small matter to me, after practicing swordsmanship for a few days, I finally let it go.

The wind, once tangled by sword intent, had gentled at last; bamboo leaves rustled down. Shen Jihan stood beneath the tree, saw me finish, and handed over a plain handkerchief.

“Master.” His tone was respectful, but his gaze fell to the side of my neck, his divine sense sweeping past-there was a red mark there.

Seeing me frown, he politely averted his eyes.

That night… did it leave a mark? It had been too chaotic for me to notice. I pressed the handkerchief over it, brushed it with a touch of spiritual energy, and erased the kiss mark.

With that done, the opportunity I sought still required a journey of ten thousand miles to find; I had to continue cultivating.

“I’ll go down the mountain today. You guard the gate.”

A slight furrow appeared between his brows; he hesitated.

“Speak plainly.”

“I want to go with Master. Aside from when I was a child, you’ve never taken me out again. And… I worry about you.”

“Master’s sword intent is unrivaled, but you still lack defenses against the human heart. Take this disciple with you.”

My face wouldn’t hold; I sighed deeply. Capsized in a gutter… best not to mention it…

In the end, I took him along.

Shen Jihan handled matters properly. I’m not good at dealing with people; lodging and such were all negotiated by him.

Gentle as a spring breeze to all he met. Two hundred years of time-he’d truly forged himself through experience.

At night, the moon hung like a hook. My mind felt unsettled. Passing by his room on my way out, I realized he had set up formations to screen divine sense.

Truly grown up-he’d started to care about privacy.

I smiled, left the inn, and rose with the wind; my sleeves billowed, soaring for countless leagues.

The towns below shrank to the size of a chessboard. Looking upward-no clouds tonight, the Milky Way more resplendent than ever. I began to deduce among the stars.

Before long, my fingers turned stiff, a surge of blood rose, and I spat a mouthful of blood.

I’m this close to Ascension… and I’m actually short by some blasted Love Tribulation?

I walk the Path of All Beings, not the Path of Ruthlessness; this shouldn’t be… Heaven’s will is truly unfathomable.

Enough. I’ve always preferred to take the initiative-if there’s a tribulation, then meet it head-on.

The last one who burned with passion toward me-I already killed him. I can’t think of anyone else who holds feelings for me.

The Love Tribulation… perhaps it lies along this journey.

Shen Jihan and I wandered on, stopping and going, occasionally guiding those with fate, occasionally slaying demons and evil spirits.

He could finally be of use; a Nascent Soul cultivation is perfect for clearing the path ahead.

Travel a thousand miles to rectify the Dao heart; I once did the same, only back then… no one protected me.

Thinking of this, I felt a greater tenderness toward him.

He’d been a bit dazed lately-something he couldn’t let go of.

Was it that mountain spirit, or that clam demon?

Killing isn’t pleasant, but if you don’t remove monsters who’ve committed sin, you only leave hidden dangers.

I gave him some space to sort himself out.

Round and round we went, and in the end came to an old friend’s sect.

The Dan Sect was still a riot of blossoms, tall flowering trees staggered with grace, fallen petals carpeting the stone steps.

Zhaolu must have sensed my aura; she was already at the mountain gate to welcome me.

A hundred years gone, still as pert and pretty as before.

“Ah Xiu-jie, long time no see.” Her limpid peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, her sweet smile softening one’s heart.

Still so fond of acting spoiled.

“Long time no see. Passing by, so I came to check on you.”

She snuggled into my arms for a while before looking past me. “This kid’s grown fast.”

Shen Jihan saluted properly. “Martial Aunt.”

Zhaolu is an alchemy cultivator, always wealthy.

Her residence was exquisitely lavish; the Cloud-Spider Silk used for dharma robes here served only as curtain lace.

The wine was excellent too-Drunken Immortal Brew that cost three hundred high-grade spirit stones a pot.

But having just suffered a loss because of wine, I pinched the cup with some hesitation.

After three cups, wine still glistened on her lips; she tilted her head with a half-smile. “Afraid?”

As if that were possible.

The liquor slid down my throat, fierce and fragrant.

That night, we drank with gusto and inevitably spoke of the past.

“You were so formidable back then. I was captured by a demonic cultivator to refine pills; you came alone and said, ‘I am Fu Yunxiu. Please, meet your death.’ I was absolutely smitten.”

She cupped her face, eyes flushed by drink as she gazed at me.

That fiend was powerful. Even with my transcendent sword intent, I was a realm below him; in the end, I fought half to death to slay him.

Seeing her now-alive and kicking, and already a ninth-tier alchemist.

How could it not be worth it?

As the drunkenness deepened, I rested on her bed, too dizzy to open my eyes.

She hiccupped, dawdled over to cling to me, not the least bit well-behaved.

Muttering something, and then suddenly my cheek went soft.

“Ah Xiu, I like you the most~”

Enough, little tormentor.

She flopped back onto the pillow, and before long, a tiny snore rose.

At daybreak, I tried to tug my robe out from under her.

Gentle didn’t work; with more force… she rolled over with a grunt, curled up on her stomach, and kept sleeping.

My head ached a bit. Pushing the door open, I saw Shen Jihan standing by it. His gaze met mine, then fixed squarely on my face.

“Master… on your face…”

I touched my cheek and wiped off a smear of lip rouge.

Zhaolu is like this when drunk-terribly clingy, kissing what she likes, grumbling to hit what she hates.

I cast the Dust-Cleansing Technique, left a note for Zhaolu, and, taking advantage of the fine spring scenery, set out again.

In the mountains, grasses and trees were just greening, wildflowers were in riotous bloom, and from time to time little spirits poked out to glance at us before retreating.

?

In the past, the little spirits loved to crowd around me to beg for spiritual energy. Why were they all so timid today?

Are the creatures here just cowardly?

I paused to sense, only to realize the chill constantly emanating from behind.

My disciple wore a taut expression, who knows what he was thinking-he looked very much like a “strangers keep away” sign.

“Jihan, is something on your mind?”

He composed himself. “Nothing. It’s just… Master has never told me about your past.”

What’s there to say? If he wants to know, the storytellers in the city teahouses spin it better than I do.

Besides… I did plenty of foolish things when I was young; I only forged this steady temperament after years of cultivation.

How could I tell such things to a junior…

I brushed it off. He lowered his head silently and didn’t press further.

Still, seeing him like this…

I snapped off a sprig of ghost orchid, flicked my hand a few times, and a gentle sword breeze gathered firefly floss, guiding it onto the blossom.

The flower bloomed brilliantly, fireflies perched upon it. I set formations to fix the scene.

I handed him the branch. “Is it pretty?”

“Master… always knows how to coax me…”

He awkwardly accepted it, his complexion finally looking a little better.

We wandered on like this, and unknowingly more than a decade had passed. When we ran into settled friends, we inevitably imposed a bit.

When the mood struck, we drew swords for a friendly match, then drank three hundred cups.

Shen Jihan’s swordplay grew ever more refined in these days, only his temperament had, without notice, grown somewhat gloomy.

I couldn’t find the root of it. I spoke with him several times; his answers were flawless.

He’d matured-he knew how to hide his thoughts.

He wouldn’t ask me for help, and I was powerless-could only watch him sink further into brooding.

Until… he went out to slay a demon and was gone over a month without word.

He’d been beguiled by a Mire Dragon, lost in an illusion-dream from which he couldn’t extricate himself.

Facing the fog bank blotting out the sky before me, I cast the hexagrams and found ill omens, yet the opportunity lay within.

If Heaven’s machine demands I enter, then so be it.