“It was that line you said: ‘Too bad. Looks like it won’t be of any use anymore,’ remember?”

It was rare for Li Xun to repeat something word for word, and he even mimicked her tone perfectly. Shui Die Lan couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, completely delighted.

But that was exactly when her mischievous side showed. She blinked, grinning. “Did I really say that? You must’ve misheard me!”

Li Xun shot her a glare. She tilted her head and gave him a sidelong look.

“Well, if didn’t mishear me, then I guess I must be going crazy?”

Li Xun knew she was annoyed because he’d dodged the topic, but how could he bring up something that cut so deeply into his heart? That was a wound he couldn’t easily let anyone see.

Their eyes met, and Shui Die Lan instantly realized she wasn’t going to get anything out of him. Feeling dissatisfied, she lifted her eyebrows with a sharp little humph, then tapped her palm with her sword. “Fine, I’m giving you a handle to use against me. Consider it a favor. Whether you want to rush off and make use of it, that’s your business, not mine. Just remember, unless you’re on your last breath, don’t come bothering me! I’m a busy girl!”

Looking at her acting so willful and spoiled, like a young girl, Li Xun was left speechless with frustration.

Before he could say anything, she gave another sharp humph and flew off on her sword. Li Xun called after her, but she was already gone. All he could do was watch the streak of sword light fade into the distance and stomp his foot in annoyance.

But after just a couple of stomps, he couldn’t help but laugh.

He didn’t know why, but whenever he was around Shui Die Lan, he always seemed to lose his composure a little. And she was the same way with him.

It wasn’t their true nature, really. It was more like an awkward act they both put on before getting used to what they were to each other.

Besides, there was a lot more hidden in what Shui Die Lan had said than what showed on the surface.

An image flashed in Li Xun’s mind. Tianzhi’s usual cold, mocking smile.

In his heart, he simply couldn’t imagine such a proud cultivator acting sweet and gentle in Jade Wanderer’s arms.

So after learning the truth from Shui Die Lan, he actually felt a lot better. As a matter of fact, he even found himself feeling a certain kind of kinship with Tianzhi.

And really, when he thought about it carefully, their experiences weren’t all that different.

But still, remembering Tianzhi’s strange attitude sixty years ago, and then that unrestrained, almost reckless laughter from just now, could Shui Die Lan’s information really explain all that?

Li Xun decided to keep his doubts for now.

Besides, from Shui Die Lan’s earlier words... “looks like it won’t be of any use anymore” and “rush off and make use of it,” it was obvious what she meant. That leverage she’d given him was about to become worthless.

If that was the case, then it could only mean one of two things. Either Tianzhi had already found a way to undo it, or...

Just as he was thinking that, the Constellation Plate in his arms gave a sudden tremor, signaling another incoming task.

....

Over the next seven or eight days, things quieted down quite a bit. But Li Xun was busier than ever, running himself ragged as he carried out his patrols around the Nightless City.

It had to be said, Li Xun’s mastery of forbidden techniques and his quick, sharp mind had earned him high praise from cultivators of every sect. Whenever he was on duty, the front lines were managed as tightly as an iron fortress, not a drop of water could slip through. Everything ran steady and secure.

Outwardly, Li Xun accepted the praise with composure, but deep down he knew things probably weren’t that simple.

He was confident his abilities far outstripped the other roaming patrols, yet this near-impenetrable defense felt a little too perfect.

Most likely, news of his arrival had already reached “their” side...

In the sixty years since, through careful investigation, Li Xun had come to understand far more about the inner workings of the Yemo Heaven than he had back then.

He knew that under the vast structure of the Rogue Cultivators’ Alliance, the factions—Miaohua Sect, the Demon Phoenix and Qing Luan, along with the many rogue cultivators and demons who later submitted or allied with them—were far from united. In fact, divisions ran deep.

As for Gu Zhixuan, that mysterious man, no one even knew if he was dead or alive, so he could be set aside for now.

Gu Yin, though not one of the Ten Ruling Councilors, held an extraordinary position. She was close to the Demon Phoenix and Qing Luan, and within the council, she had both Daoist Jia and the Ice Witch as her backers. With Gu Zhixuan’s shadow looming over them all, she effectively controlled five of the ten seats.

Besides, ancient Kunpeng demon had always been wild and untamed. There was no way he’d ever bow to anyone.

Over the years, with a reputation and strength no less than Gu Zhixuan or the Demon Phoenix, he’d gathered some followers of his own. Even so, among the Ten Ruling Councilors, only the Three-Headed Flood Serpent and the Ox Warrior were truly on friendly terms with him.

In the Discussions Hall, he mostly mingled with a few other demons, but his influence was still far behind the others.

At this point, Li Xun had gotten himself tangled up with Gu Yin’s faction. Especially close with Gu Yin and Lin Wuyou.

Still, he could see clearly that even between Gu Yin and the Demon Phoenix, things weren’t as harmonious as they appeared. He himself was the best proof of that.

Both the Demon Phoenix and Qing Luan couldn’t stand him. Oh, and Qingyin too, probably. But for some reason, Gu Yin kept trying to win him over.

In all this, Lin Wuyou’s presence was an anomaly.

This “senior sister,” who looked innocent and playful, always seemed to side with Gu Yin in how she acted. She took great care of her “junior brother” Li Xun, constantly sending him spirit herbs and beauties, but no one ever forgot her close blood ties to the Demon Phoenix.

Because of that, Lin Wuyou was like the perfect lubricant between Gu Yin and the Demon Phoenix, smoothing over countless small frictions.

And those tiny frictions, in truth, were the seeds of great turmoil to come.

What a pity...

Li Xun let out a soft sigh, looked one last time at the hopeless board, and conceded the game.

Across from him, Ming Je’s calm, water-like face showed no hint of satisfaction. He cast Li Xun a subtle glance and said in a deep voice, “Xun’er, your mind still isn’t focused.”

Li Xun gave a wry smile. He knew he deserved the scolding. After all, who told him to start brooding again during the little break he finally had?

After eight straight days of intense work, Li Xun and his fellow disciples from the Mingxin Sword Sect had finally gotten a shared day off. A dozen or so of them had gathered in the courtyard to play chess, sip tea, and pass the time.

Li Xun had never been one to let his mind sit still. After forcing himself to focus through two rounds with his elders, his thoughts finally started drifting again during the match with Ming Je. One idle moment of reflection, and all those worries came flooding back.

He really was asking for trouble.

Li Xun knew that thanks to Ling Ji, this old Daoist who was ranked second among the sect’s immortal masters, was actually quite fond of him. Ming Je was just the blunt, straightforward type, never one to mince words. It wasn’t real displeasure.

So Li Xun gave an apologetic smile and casually changed the subject. “I wonder how much longer these stifling days will drag on… Martial Uncle Ming Je, do you know why Fourth Aunt suddenly changed her travel plans?”

That last part had only just come to him. A few days earlier, word had come from the sect that Ming Je’s junior, Ming Ji, had urgent business and wouldn’t be joining them at the polar frontier as planned.

At the time, Li Xun had been so busy he hadn’t thought to ask for details, but now that the chance presented itself, he took it.

Ming Je swept the chessboard aside without a change in expression. “Family matters,” he said calmly.

“Family matters?”

Li Xun could only give a helpless smile. For a cultivator, what “family” could there possibly be?

Mingde, who had been chatting idly with Li Minghe nearby, turned his head when he overheard them. Stroking his scruffy beard, he frowned. “That matter’s a real headache,” he said. “Everyone in the Xingji Sword Sect is wild and unruly, and to make matters worse, they’re all tough fighters with a slippery set of forbidden techniques up their sleeves.

“Fourth Sister may be sharp, but if she lets her grudges cloud her judgment, things could get messy… If you ask me, she should’ve taken Xun along. His mastery of forbidden techniques would’ve given her some backup.”

Li Xun was completely lost, though he did catch that this had something to do with another major sword sect in the Tongxuan Realm—the Xingji Sword Sect.

That sect was located in the northeast of the realm, atop the “Star River,” one of the Six Forbidden Lands. It didn’t belong to either the righteous or demonic paths. The sect’s way of the sword was founded on the principles of the celestial stars, earning it the saying: “Man and sword as one with the stars; the sword becomes the heavens themselves.”

Beyond swordsmanship, they also possessed deep knowledge in star divination and the crafting of restrictive techniques. Together with the Mystic Cycle Sect and the Unspoken Sect, they were known as the Three Great Forbidden Schools of Tongxuan. An undeniably powerful force.

But how had Ming Ji ended up at odds with such a sect?

Unlike the quiet and reserved Ming Je, Mingde was anything but tight-lipped. Seeing Li Xun’s curiosity, he went on to spill the whole story in detail, from beginning to end.

The whole thing started because of one of Ming Ji’s younger clansmen during her time in the mortal world.

Back then, when Ming Ji first entered the mountains to cultivate the Dao, that same clansman was chosen around the same time by an immortal master from the Xingji Sword Sect, who took him in to teach a supreme sword technique.

Such things were extremely rare in the Tongxuan Realm, and for a while, people spoke of it as a wonderful tale.

Though the siblings belonged to different sects and their levels of cultivation were not the same, they kept in close contact and shared a deep bond.

But just a month ago, that clansman got into a dispute with a fellow cultivator from his sect over some matter, and ended up being completely destroyed. Body and soul.

An incident that serious should’ve brought severe punishment. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, the killer only received ten years of confinement, a punishment so light it hardly counted. What’s more, the Xingji Sword Sect never showed any intention of giving anyone, Ming Ji included, a proper explanation.

Furious, Ming Ji reported the matter to her own sect and set out for the Xinghe region, determined to demand justice for her clansman.

But since the whole thing was an internal affair of the Xingji Sword Sect, the Mingxin Sword Sect had no grounds to intervene. Only Ming Ji herself could act, by virtue of her family ties.

“So Fourth Sister had no choice but to go alone... The old fellow Tian Yuan of the Xingji Sword Sect is decent enough, but his disciples are a mixed bunch. Some good, some rotten. What a mess!”

Li Minghe shot Mingde a sharp look before turning to Li Xun. “You don’t need to worry,” he said gently. “Old Tian Yuan may be a bit protective of his own, but he’s a reasonable man. He won’t start a fight without cause. And even if something does happen, given your Fourth Aunt’s level of cultivation, if she wants to leave, no one there could stop her.

“If there really is trouble, then it won’t just be her problem alone.”

On the last line, Li Minghe’s words grew softer, yet carried a chilling, desolate edge. Truly living up to his title, “Sorrowwind Sword.”

Li Xun frowned, about to ask more, when Ming Song, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them and cut in, “Enough. These are turbulent times, and this isn’t the place to discuss such things. It’s rare for us to have a free moment today. We elders have something to say to you disciples.”

The disciples who had already been listening intently straightened up.

Ming Song exchanged a glance with his fellow senior brothers, then sighed. “In a few days, we’ll be stepping down.”

“Retreat?”

The third-generation disciples all murmured among themselves. Ming Song paid them no mind, his gaze stayed fixed on Li Xun. “Xun’er, you’re one of the most clear-sighted disciples in the sect. Let me ask you. Do you think we can still hold our position in the polar region? Should we stay and fight, or not?”

There was a reason Ming Song asked only Li Xun.

Among the third-generation disciples present, everyone else was a direct disciple of one of the immortal masters here, making it awkward to question them. Only Li Xun’s standing allowed him to speak impartially.

Li Xun understood this well. He glanced at the elders, saw they'd reached the same conclusion, and decided to call it like it is.

“The situation is hopeless,” he said. “We can’t hold out much longer.”