Chapter 8

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Xie Zhefeng seemed not to hear Qi Xun’s words at all. The snow lotus sword mark on the man’s brow flickered faintly within the swirling black mist, sometimes pale blue-white like snow, sometimes dark as deep ink dissolving into the sea, spreading into a patch of blackness.

He did not deny it.

Qi Xun furrowed his brows tightly. “There is much strangeness surrounding the turbid energy—those who have infiltrated the Falling Moon Peak as soul stealers remain uninvestigated, and...” He paused, “...there’s also the lingering soul of An Wuxue... At a moment like this... Immortal Lord, do you realize the consequences if the matter of the heart demon were to be exposed?”

Xie Zhefeng closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them again, the sword mark on his brow, once veiled in black mist, no longer appeared, but his voice remained deep and somber: “I will not leave the Frost Burial Sea. If necessary, I will arrange for my avatars to roam outside.”

Qi Xun wanted to mock him, but the words faltered at his lips and were swallowed back.

If Xie Zhefeng could not suppress the heart demon, there was no hope of uncovering the truth behind An Wuxue’s past, and peace between the two realms would be impossible.

Better not to add fuel to the fire.

His demeanor lost the previous playful or casual expression, instead he spoke absentmindedly, “Take care of yourself. I’m going to check on the Thorn River...”

With that, he turned and quickly left the Frost Burial Sea, rushing off toward the Thorn River in a daze.

Xie Zhefeng remained standing in place.

A wave of spiritual power swept over the pine forest, instantly restoring the once ravaged center to its original state.

His face was expressionless, seemingly nothing unusual.

As if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, a white figure darted through the pine trees with a whoosh, heading straight for Xie Zhefeng.

His expression flickered slightly. Seeing it was Kunkun, he reached out and caught the creature into his arms.

The miasma beast was naturally adept in soul arts. Kunkun had been nurtured beneath the Soul Nourishing Tree for centuries, blessed with exceptional spiritual nurturing.

It sensed the revival of the heart demon within Xie Zhefeng’s sea of consciousness and hurried over.

Its spiritual power slowly enveloped Xie Zhefeng’s soul. He gently stroked its fur, frowning.

Kunkun carried the scent of another.

“Did you go looking for him again?” Xie Zhefeng asked.

“Woo...” Kunkun whimpered guiltily.

Xie Zhefeng patted its head.

“No need to feel guilty. You think he’s like him... am I not the same?”

Kunkun’s guilt deepened: “Woo woo...” It called softly twice, then quickly lowered its head, silent for fear of Xie Zhefeng noticing more.

Having just emerged from a night disturbed by the heart demon, Xie Zhefeng’s insight was not as sharp as usual.

He simply held Kunkun, spreading his divine sense—

He hadn’t done this in a long time.

No strangers ever came to the Frost Burial Sea. His disciples were stationed in all directions on command. For a millennium, a mere sweep of divine sense would reveal only Kunkun as the sole living being on the floating island.

But now...

Xie Zhefeng glanced toward where An Wuxue was.

He knew that figure was someone similar to his senior brother. His senior brother could not possibly be a furnace core of barely twenty years.

But he wanted to look again.

Could it really be otherwise? Was there even a one in ten thousand chance...?

The next moment, he vanished from where he stood, still holding Kunkun.

—

An Wuxue was not asleep.

Calling it sleep was a joke played by the Cloud Boat.

He had been drowsy before because his soul was fatigued; nightmares from his past life clung to him like shadows. Waking meant returning to Falling Moon Peak, dreaming meant those same rises and falls, day and night without rest or difference.

But last night, with Kunkun’s help, was the best sleep he’d had in days.

He took advantage of his alertness today to see how to cultivate this body of Su Xue.

Just as he concentrated, sounds came from outside.

Cloud Boat and Yun Yao seemed to have been talking in the courtyard continuously.

Cloud Boat chattered nonstop, complaining about how strict their master was, then about An Wuxue’s fragility. His words flowed like the starry river on the ancient path—endless and unceasing.

Yun Yao remained as silent as ever, sometimes uttering a brief “hm,” sometimes no sound at all.

An Wuxue found it curious.

Is this how ordinary disciples get along?

It made him quite envious.

Yun Yao must have a good temper, not even practicing swordsmanship, just quietly enduring Cloud Boat’s chatter.

He listened for a while longer, then smiled, shook his head to clear his thoughts, disregarded the noise, and sat in meditation on the bed.

The faint spiritual power in this body slowly circulated through his meridians, but it was particularly sluggish.

Su Xue had never truly cultivated; all his power was built up by ingesting elixirs. Such a small sect like the Cloud Sword Gate had impure spiritual medicines filled with many impurities. The more Su Xue took, the more accumulated in his meridians, hindering the growth of spiritual power.

It didn’t seem beyond repair.

He just needed to drain the mottled spiritual power; the impurities in the meridians would naturally be expelled afterward, and he could start cultivating anew.

A cultivator begins their path by ‘fasting’ to enter the Dao. Upon finding their own path, they may reach minor success; then the period of forging their destined artifact, followed by tribulation crossing. When their Dao heart is fully illuminated, they ascend to immortality.

Su Xue had just begun fasting; whether or not this spiritual power was present made no great difference.

But this was no good place.

He only knew the arts of Falling Moon Peak; cultivating here in the Frost Burial Sea was too risky.

He needed to leave quickly—

“Immortal Lord!” Cloud Boat’s voice suddenly rose several times louder.

Yun Yao said, “...Master Su said he’s asleep.”

An Wuxue was startled.

He was still meditating on the bed.

He quickly turned and got up, walking to the door to open it himself.

The man wore the cloud-patterned snow robe An Wuxue had gifted him before, his expression heavy, holding Kunkun close, the creature almost blending with his clothing.

Cloud Boat and Yun Yao stood nearby, heads lowered, intimidated by Xie Zhefeng’s commanding presence, not daring to breathe.

Kunkun whimpered softly.

Why had Xie Zhefeng brought Kunkun here?

This morning Kunkun had just secretly come looking for him...

Had Xie Zhefeng already discovered something amiss?

If exposed, Kunkun would surely have warned him.

At that moment, Xie Zhefeng stepped forward.

His soul had drifted for millennia; in his nightmares, Xie Zhefeng’s back and the cold sword aura haunted him.

As the man’s aura approached, An Wuxue suddenly focused, stepping back twice.

Xie Zhefeng paused, frowning slightly: “Are you afraid of me?”

Afraid.

How could he not be?

But it wasn’t Xie Zhefeng he feared—it was the nightmares stirred by those three characters: “Xie Zhefeng.”

He vehemently denied, “No...”

Xie Zhefeng slowly entered.

He waved his hand gently; the door closed, shutting Cloud Boat and Yun Yao outside.

An Wuxue stepped back slightly, seeking distance.

“But you should be afraid of me,” Xie Zhefeng’s voice was somewhat hoarse, “Last night you nearly lost your soul.”

This was harder to respond to.

He said, “Last night I went unauthorized to a forbidden place and meddled with things I shouldn’t have. Immortal Lord’s anger is justified...”

Xie Zhefeng stared at him.

He was silent.

“No need to pretend obedience; you’re not that kind of person.”

That was quite accurate.

But An Wuxue found Xie Zhefeng strange.

He couldn’t figure it out. The man had already set Kunkun down and waved his spiritual power.

Suddenly, a chessboard appeared in the bedroom.

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“Play chess with me. You take black.”

Chess?

An Wuxue was momentarily stunned.

Back at Falling Moon Peak, whenever either of them was unsettled or confused during cultivation, they would play chess to calm their hearts.

Xie Zhefeng always took white, so back then An Wuxue took black.

He didn’t actually like chess.

Since childhood, he disliked stillness. The Floating Life Path he cultivated required an extensive understanding of all beings, not tranquility. Sitting for hours playing chess was more tedious than meditation.

But Xie Zhefeng liked it.

Xie Zhefeng followed the Path of Detachment and Desirelessness. Sometimes when distracted by杂念—idle thoughts—he needed to calm his mind. If his opponent’s skill was too poor, it wouldn’t help dispel distractions.

So An Wuxue had deliberately studied chess.

Whenever Xie Zhefeng seemed troubled, he would ask, “Junior Brother, would you like a match?”

Xie Zhefeng would silently set up the board.

Later, as Xie Zhefeng neared ascension and his Path of Detachment reached perfection, they stopped playing.

Now.

In this small room, Kunkun lay on one side, Xie Zhefeng dressed in the robe he had personally forged, sitting before him as in the previous life. Millennia had left no trace on his face. The hand that once held a sword’s hilt now held a pure white chess piece.

As if it were yesterday.

Was this a test?

He could not be sure.

Since last night, Xie Zhefeng had seemed unsettled; perhaps he was just following old habits, seeking a game to calm his mind.

“I’m not good at chess,” An Wuxue said.

Xie Zhefeng should find a more skilled opponent.

He stood by the chessboard, waiting for Xie Zhefeng to make a move.

But Xie Zhefeng just sat there, watching the empty board silently.

“...”

He hesitated but finally sat opposite Xie Zhefeng.

With the Immortal Lord here, Cloud Boat dared not make a sound; outside was utterly quiet.

Only the sound of their alternating moves filled the room.

He didn’t want to feel this familiar sensation, nor let Xie Zhefeng detect any clue. He played recklessly, moves without plan.

The game was nearly over.

Suddenly, Xie Zhefeng grabbed his wrist just as he was about to place a piece.

An Wuxue instinctively struggled.

The man’s voice was deep: “If you place this piece, you will lose.”

Absurd.

He wanted to lose, to make this man leave quickly.

He said confusedly, “I already said I’m not skilled at chess, so naturally—”

Xie Zhefeng suddenly seized his wrist and pulled him up entirely.

In an instant, the chessboard vanished; Kunkun whimpered in fright.

The power of an immortal surpasses all worldly beings. Even without using spiritual energy, Xie Zhefeng’s oppressive aura shifted with his mood, filling the surroundings.

An Wuxue had to avoid his gaze, turning his head aside, his body tense.

Kunkun rushed to Xie Zhefeng’s feet, trying to hold him back.

But Xie Zhefeng only lowered his eyes and stared deeply at An Wuxue.

“Immortal Lord!” His voice tightened.

After these past two days, even a fool could see Xie Zhefeng was not well.

What madness was this man showing?

He had to say hastily, “I only lost a game of chess. Is that really worth the Immortal Lord’s anger?”

“You are very afraid of me.” The tone was resolute.

“Yes, I admit it—Immortal Lord commands the two realms and four seas; none can match your sword light. Who wouldn’t be afraid?”