She kept slandering Master, over and over again.
Bai Yang no longer recognized her.
Still, deep down, he clung to the affection they once shared. He didn't want things between them to end this way. Everyone goes astray at times—perhaps, with time, he could mend the rift. Perhaps one day, they would find common ground again.
But that heartfelt hope meant nothing to Ye Chuxue.
Her heart, bit by bit, sank into darkness. Her gaze lost its light, becoming silent and distant.
The feelings she once had for Bai Yang evaporated in an instant. All that remained was regret, and anger at herself for ever thinking he was worthy of her.
He had been completely brainwashed by Song Wanníng.
This fool didn't deserve her affection.
"I understand," she said, eyes shut, voice cold.
Her heart felt hollow.
No one believed her. No one.
She was still alone, just as she had always been.
Ye Chuxue pressed her lips together tightly, bitterness welling in her chest.
At this moment, how she wished her master were by her side...
"Senior Sister Ye, I believe you. I know you're telling the truth, please don't be sad!"
An Ze noticed the grief behind her silence. He held her more tightly in his arms.
"I believe you. Really!" That schemer Song Wanníng—what evil thing was she incapable of?
Senior Sister Ye would never lie.
Even as Bai Yang cast him a disapproving glance, An Ze remained steadfast.
Ye Chuxue's body trembled. A tear slid silently down the corner of her eye.
Who would have thought? In the end, only An Ze stood by her.
She slowly clenched her fist. The hatred inside her toward Song Wanníng deepened like a bottomless pit.
One day, she would surpass Song Wanníng.
One day, Song Wanníng would kneel before her and beg for mercy.
One day, everyone who doubted her would live to regret it.
Back at the Song family courtyard, Song Wanníng had just returned home and immediately spotted the pearl leaping around the room, full of energy and delight.
The flame from the pill furnace hadn't harmed it at all. If anything, it seemed more radiant than ever.
Song Wanníng paused, her expression growing thoughtful. She had originally planned to destroy the pearl if she couldn't claim it, but now she saw that it truly was a treasure. To destroy it would be a waste. She needed to find a way to subdue it completely, to tame it and make it serve her. And if it truly couldn't be tamed... well, then she could destroy it later.
With that in mind, she stepped into the room. The pearl sensed her presence and darted up to the ceiling beam. It had no facial expressions, no sentience to speak of, but Song Wanníng could practically feel it mocking her.
As if it were saying, smugly: "See? You couldn't even scratch me. Useless."
A gentle smile curled at the edge of her lips, soft and serene. The pearl shuddered.
Danger.
It sensed it immediately.
It tried to flee. This human was terrifying.
"Trying to run?" she murmured. "Too late."
With a swift leap, Song Wanníng closed the distance and caught the pearl in her palm.
No matter how it struggled, it couldn't escape. Eventually it went limp in her hand, as if giving up on life.
Staring at the pearl, her mind raced through every method she knew to tame magical items or spiritual beasts.
And indeed, she found that treating it like a beast would likely work best.
This pearl had its own chosen master. No matter how much she tried to coax or flatter it, it would resist her. That was a waste of time.
Far better to crush it into submission.
If it wouldn't yield, she would break it.
With that, she strode to the Song family's confinement chamber with the pearl in hand.
It had once been used to punish disciples who broke the rules, completely sealed off from the outside world. Without a special token, no one could enter.
Currently unoccupied, it made the perfect place to work—no interruptions, no prying eyes.
The heavy doors rumbled shut behind her. The chamber was pitch-black, with only faint, shifting drafts of air slipping through the cracks.
She took out the pearl, and in an instant, it burst into brilliant light, illuminating the entire space.
Song Wanníng loosened her grip slightly. The pearl broke free and shot into the air. But the moment it sensed something was wrong, it panicked, darting wildly through the room like a headless fly. No matter where it turned, it could not find a way out.
Her gaze sharpened. The air around her shifted as her presence surged—no longer restrained, no longer gentle. It was the oppressive aura of someone born to rule.
Without a word, a sword appeared in her hand, cold and gleaming with lethal intent.
She raised her arm.
Swung the blade.
Her sword intent unfurled like a mountain range collapsing upon the world.
The pearl had nowhere to run. It was caught in her domain of killing intent, dozens upon dozens of sword lights slicing through the air, crashing down on it without mercy.
Song Wanníng stood still, seemingly motionless, but her spirit was entirely immersed in the sword realm. She summoned the demonic aura within her, letting it rise unchecked. Malice surged up from her soul like a flood, threatening to consume her entirely.
All she could see now was blood.
As if transported back to the day the Song clan was massacred—when she had been broken, burned to ash, while villagers were butchered at will.
Waves of demonic energy swirled around her like a storm. Her silhouette was wreathed in shadow, like a god of death from the underworld.
She swung her sword again.
And again.
And again.
Like a mindless machine, she poured all her hatred, all her rage, into the relentless barrage of strikes. Within her spiritual sea, the golden miniature sword pulsed with fervor, echoing her every attack with roaring battle intent.
The sheer force of it began to shake the pearl's resolve. It twisted and tumbled through the sword domain, trying to dodge the blinding strikes, but there was nowhere left to run.
Dozens of sword lights rained down, one after another. The pearl shuddered, its form flickering, nearly dropping out of the sky.
It steadied itself just in time—only for a new wave of attacks to slam into it.
The pressure grew heavier, more overwhelming by the second.
Still, the pearl refused to surrender. This sword intent might be stronger than the flame, but so what? If it didn't yield, this mere human would never control it.
It kept darting about, refusing to retreat, even lashing back in provocation—trying to anger Song Wanníng, trying to push her over the edge and into madness.
But it underestimated her.
In her eyes, the pearl had already disappeared. She had forgotten it entirely.
Within her spiritual sea, the image of Immortal King Moyang appeared once again.
That sword—it could split the heavens. It made the soul tremble.
The next slash? It could destroy the world.
His towering figure stood motionless, sword in hand, his back cold and distant. Just looking at him made one want to kneel and surrender.
This was the power of a true master of the sword.
Song Wanníng stared blankly, soul shaken to its core.
For the first time in her life, she had the urge to kneel.
Even in her past life, even when she had been forced to beg for her family's survival, she had never felt this way.
That sword... was terrifying beyond words.