A faint smile lingered on Song Wanníng's lips as her gaze swept past Ye Chuxue's motionless body. The girl lay crumpled in the wreckage, wrists shattered, blood pooling beneath her like spilled ink. Powerless. Silenced.
She turned away without a second glance.
The flying carpet lifted smoothly into the sky, slicing through the wind with soundless grace.
Onboard, two figures lay side by side, their bodies limp and broken—Mo Yuan, and Bai Yang. Both unconscious. Both bearing wounds that would take months, if not years, to mend.
Song Wanníng glanced at them, her smile slowly fading. She said nothing. But her thoughts pressed down like a tide.
In their past lives, they had both driven themselves into ruin for Ye Chuxue's sake.
This time around, things would be different.
This time, they would pay it all back.
Every debt. Every ounce of pain she had swallowed alone in that other life. Every time their blades had been pointed at her back instead of Ye Chuxue's throat.
Her eyes fixed on the sky ahead. The horizon glowed faintly with the approach of dawn.
A new life. A new game.
And this time, she held the strings.
＊
The breeze brushed gently across the sky, carrying with it the scent of sun-warmed pine. The golden light of morning draped over the landscape like a quiet blessing.
Bai Yang stirred.
His lashes fluttered, and his eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light.
The first thing he saw was a curtain of hair—dark, smooth, and drifting like silk in the wind. It shimmered faintly under the sunlight, swaying just beyond reach. That familiar silhouette stood tall and poised at the edge of the flying carpet, her robes catching the wind as if she belonged to the heavens themselves.
For a moment, he could only stare.
It had been so long since he last looked at her like this. Not with suspicion, not with resentment, but with quiet reverence. There had been a time when she was his whole sky. A figure he chased from afar, the kind of person he dreamed of becoming. His master. His compass.
Somewhere along the way, that admiration had soured into something bitter. It was slow, creeping, like rot under fine silk. Pride turned to envy, envy into resentment. The power and status she handed to him became shackles in his eyes. He convinced himself she was holding him back.
But now, he understood. It wasn't her who had changed. It was him.
He remembered how she had shielded him from the blast with her own body. No hesitation. No words. Just instinct. Just her.
The memory softened his expression.
A master for a day, a father for life.
His master had always been his anchor. The one person he should have respected most.
"Master…"
He pushed himself upright and called out softly.
Song Wanníng turned her head at the sound. She caught the emotion in his eyes but gave no sign of warmth.
Her eyelids drooped slightly. With a cool, impassive voice, she replied, "Mn," and turned away.
If she was going to torment both body and heart, then she would take it step by step.
After all, this life was long, and she had time.
Her aloofness made something twist in Bai Yang's chest. He pressed a hand to it, eyes darkening.
She must still be angry with him.
But… she hadn't abandoned him. That was enough.
He lay back on the flying carpet. The wounds on his body throbbed with pain, and finally, he thought of Ye Chuxue.
How was she now?
Had she managed to find help?
Bai Yang shut his eyes, heart heavy with worry. But he dared not send a message—not in front of Song Wanníng.
Everyone in the sect knew how much his master disliked Ye Chuxue. He knew it better than anyone. Still, he would find a way to mend the rift between them.
They were both important to him.
Silence blanketed the flying carpet as it soared onward. Before long, the gates of Wentian Sect came into view.
"Get off."
Song Wanníng's voice was cold.
The next second, Bai Yang was dropped from the carpet.
"Ugh…"
A groan escaped him. Pain shot through his limbs, curling his brow into a tight knot.
Before he could say a word, a small jade bottle fell into his lap.
He froze.
Lifting his head quickly, he caught only a fleeting shadow as the flying carpet vanished into the distance.
She was gone.
But she had left the medicine behind.
He reached out, cradling the bottle in both hands.
His face was covered in blood and dust, but a smile broke across it.
His master still cared.
She hadn't changed.
—
The flying carpet soared past Wentian Sect's borders without pause, cutting through the clouds like a silent blade.
Far below, the world blurred into ridgelines and valleys. Song Wanníng steered past a jagged mountain range, descending into a deep forest nestled ten miles beyond the ruined valley. The canopy thickened around her like a shroud of green, muffling all sound but the rustle of leaves and the occasional cry of a distant bird.
She came to a stop before a secluded cave hidden beneath a slanted cliff. Moss clung to the stone, and old vines hung like curtains over the entrance.
Still holding the black cloth sack, she stepped inside.
The shadows swallowed her figure whole.
Without ceremony, she flung the sack against the wall.
It hit with a dull thud, then slumped to the ground. No movement. No sound.
Her boots clicked softly as she walked forward. With a flick of her wrist, the sack loosened. Mo Yuan's body rolled out and crumpled on the cold stone floor.
His robes were torn and soaked in blood. She reached down and pulled the mask from his face.
Tsk
A soft, amused sound escaped her lips.
"Even a side character gets a face like this?" she muttered. "What a pity."
Song Wanníng pulled out a pill and shoved it into his mouth. It looked like a healing pill, but it wasn't. It was a hidden poison—one that would kill him instantly at her command.
It was laced with her own blood.
No matter what tricks he used, he wouldn't be able to sever her spiritual link. Even if he escaped to the ends of the earth, she would always know where he was.
She lowered her eyes. A glint of cold light flickered in them.
In her past life, her master had forbidden her from working with poison, afraid she'd be consumed by darkness and enslaved by her own desires.
She had followed that rule faithfully.
And yet, her ending was tragic.
This time, she dove straight into poison arts—studied them with even more passion than pill refining. She discovered she liked killing far more than healing.
Especially when the enemy dropped to their knees, begged for their life, despaired…
That was the kind of fear that reached the soul.
Suppressing the malice in her heart, Song Wanníng pulled a dagger from her storage ring. She pressed the cold blade against Mo Yuan's ruined face, letting it trail slowly downward.
Down, and down…
The blade reached between his legs.
Her lips curled—not with joy, but with something sharper. Something almost childlike in its mischief, cruel and unrepentant.
A predator playing with its food.
Then the blade moved.
Mo Yuan's body convulsed violently. Even unconscious, the pain seized him, ripping through his limbs like lightning.
A wet sound echoed faintly in the cave. Followed by silence.
With a flick of her qi, the severed piece was flung from the mouth of the cave.
Outside, a waiting beast lunged.
With one loud bite, it crunched down, chewed, and swallowed.
Then it wagged its head in satisfaction and left.
Unaware that it had just consumed the last shred of a man's pride.
Inside the cave, Song Wanníng's face remained cold. She shattered the bloodied dagger with a flick and scattered the shards.
Mo Yuan, drained of blood, passed out again—unaware of what had happened.
She stood, taking a moment to admire her work.
Twisted from childhood, Mo Yuan had only ever cared for Ye Chuxue, who had once helped him.
He had even rallied the entire demon clan to support her.
Now, that possibility was cut away by her own hands.
She had sent them both down the road of "no reconciliation."
Hopefully, he wouldn't disappoint her.
She let out a breath, as if exhaling something foul.
Then, calm and unhurried, she turned away and began her cleanup. She scrubbed away the blood, erased her presence, made sure no trace would be left behind.
When she stepped out of the cave, the forest greeted her with a soft breeze.
Sunlight poured through the canopy in golden rays. The leaves glowed.
She tilted her head, gazing up through the branches.
"…Beautiful," she murmured.
As if nothing had happened at all.
—
"What did you say? Junior Niece Ye disappeared with the pill?" The Sect Master of Wentian Sect turned pale after hearing Bai Yang's report.
That was the Heavenly Origin Heart-Nourishing Pill—bought for tens of thousands of mid-grade spirit stones!
And now both the pill and Ye Chuxue were gone?
"Yes. The situation was dangerous at the time. I told her to leave first, but now I can't reach her."
"Did she try to contact the sect afterward?"
Bai Yang's face darkened. Worry gnawed at his chest.
What if something had happened to her?
The Sect Master shook his head. "No distress signal has reached us."
Both of them fell silent, unease weighing heavily.
"I'll send someone to search. You need to rest and recover." The Sect Master quickly dispatched a search team. Whether it was the pill or Ye Chuxue—they had to be found safely.
Disciples of Wentian Sect rushed out in all directions. Bai Yang, too injured to join, had no choice but to return and recover.
An Ze was startled when he saw Bai Yang's wounds.
When Bai Yang asked about the burning talisman, An Ze suddenly remembered the ashes left behind.
After piecing together the events, the two of them fell into silence.
They had missed their chance.
"I'm going to find Senior Sister Ye. I can't sit around while she's in danger!"
An Ze was deeply anxious. He couldn't just wait.
"Senior Brother, please rest and help watch over Uncle Gu."
With that, he bolted from the hall.
Bai Yang glanced toward Gu Qingyuan, still unconscious on the bed, and frowned.
Lately, one disaster had followed another.
It was as if all his luck had run dry.