Chapter 26: The Sound of a Heartbeat

The Oracle told its host excitedly: [Host! The villain is blushing! Progress is promising! At this rate, the conquest mission is just around the corner!]

Zora: "?"

She looked toward Vane in confusion.

The youth sensed her gaze but didn't turn around as usual. He waited for a while, and seeing that Zora was still watching, he finally tilted his head slightly.

Their voices were drowned out by the clamor of the crowd. Zora stared at him: "Are you blushing?"

Vane retorted almost instantly: "No."

But she didn't listen to him at all and asked, "Why are you blushing?"

The youth crossed his arms and looked away, his lips pulled thin and his brow slightly furrowed. He seemed a bit unnatural, yet he maintained: "I'm not."

"Why?"

She was still asking "why are you blushing," but having shortened the sentence, Vane took the liberty of misinterpreting it. Thinking she was asking "why don't you look shy even though you've seen it," he gave himself away.

"I wouldn't be shy just because I saw..."

He lacked the sense of shame common between men and women; having seen mountains of corpses in the Demon Realm, he was naturally numb.

After Vane spoke, as if to prove his words weren't false, he forced himself to turn back and look Zora in the eye.

Zora didn't know what he was talking about or what he had omitted. She looked puzzled, her almond eyes clear and bright like glass—truly beautiful.

The youth’s expression was indifferent, but as they locked eyes, his brow furrowed along with hers, and then, as if losing control, he averted his gaze. Vane looked elsewhere, pursing his lips in silence.

Seeing she couldn't get an answer, Zora’s low curiosity flickered out, and she ignored him.

When it was their turn, the disciple recording names with a brush didn't even look up: "Names, leader, and team code."

Turi Qi reported all the names by herself. When it came to the leader and the team name, she instinctively turned to look at Zora. Since nothing had been decided yet, they had to step out of the line to discuss it.

The five of them looked at each other for a long time.

Yiling Ke couldn't take it anymore: "I think the leader should be Zora, since she and Vane organized this. Raise your hand if you agree!"

She raised her hand with a flourish.

Well, regardless of whether Zora or Vane was the primary organizer, they were still in a master-servant relationship; they certainly couldn't let the servant stand above the master.

Vane didn't raise his hand. He glanced airily at the name information recorded by the disciple and said, "Agreed."

In fact, this was for the best; in case Zora had a sudden whim, he would definitely listen to her first, even if it meant disobeying a leader's command.

Turi Qi was busy herself, so she naturally agreed and raised her hand properly.

Song Zhihuai had never experienced such a moment. He looked at Turi Qi’s posture and then at Yiling Ke’s flamboyant wave. Then, with extreme seriousness, he raised his forearm, his elbow forming a perfect right angle.

Yiling Ke, who had thought him a "Cold Peak Flower," was deeply shaken. Who would have thought Vane would be the only rebel!

Zora looked left and right, imitated Song Zhihuai’s gesture to raise her hand, and asked, "What does a leader do?"

Yiling Ke: "Lead the team! Even though your cultivation isn't the highest, I believe you’ll catch up soon, and we all listen to you."

Yiling Ke’s last sentence was a flat-out lie. After saying it, she thought it through: she listened, Senior Sister Turi certainly listened, Vane went without saying, and there was only Song Zhihuai left—but since the majority followed Zora, she was the best choice.

Zora nodded. From her consistent deadpan face, it was impossible to tell if she actually understood.

Zora: "What is the team name?"

Yiling Ke: "I don't care."

Turi Qi: "Me neither."

Song Zhihuai gave a slight nod.

Vane remained silent.

In the end, Zora decided on the name. She nodded and went straight to the registration disciple, returning quickly after finishing.

As they left, Yiling Ke peered over curiously. What would their five-person group be called...?

—Why is it just called "The Five-Person Group"!?

...

After the five finished registering, they agreed on a training schedule. After training for a period, they could go out together for real combat missions. Most of the time was spent in the Fallen Stone Forest, as it was more convenient with only Zora and Zhou Shijin residing there.

Day after day of training, Zora came to understand why people said Turi Qi lacked talent in the Way of the Sword.

A sword is for killing, for wounding enemies, for protecting masters—it is anything but a "soft" sword. Turi Qi’s sword lacked edge and her attacks lacked power; even at the same level, her strikes didn't carry as much killing intent as Zora's.

However, when Turi Qi drew her sword, although the offensive power was lacking, her teammates would feel a spring breeze across their faces. Their minds would be cleared of fatigue as if they had taken a Rejuvenation Pill, and their spiritual power would slowly increase.

If the Oracle were there, it would surely scream "Support Mage!" on the spot.

In the original novel, although the leads both had dual spiritual roots, the female lead lacked talent in swordplay. Fortunately, she had no ambition for ascension; Turi Qi preferred the sect that raised and loved her. Standing at the top always meant meeting strange scum, but there were also good and kind people.

Yiling Ke’s twenty-four hours a day were not wasted; she was proficient in basic formations and could even stack and innovate. Song Zhihuai’s swordplay was righteous and stern; he was cold yet extremely obedient, doing whatever his teammates asked—a master of cooperation.

Zora, naturally, was the main force. She grew incredibly fast; to put it hyperbolically, a genius’s day of cultivation is worth a year for others.

While giving pointers, Zhou Shijin laughed: "No one is more single-minded than you. I don't just mean your focus on the sword, but also your lack of daily worries and idle thoughts."

"People of great evil or great good have many fluctuations in their state of mind. But you don't care about the life or death of others at all, regardless of closeness, nor are you obsessed with things that waste time. It’s quite good."

Vane continued to go down the mountain for missions during training gaps. The difference was that he began taking assassination missions—killing those from small, wicked sects and those on the path of evil who plagued the common people.

In the later stages of training, they would simulate various scenarios, almost like a game.

Suddenly, Yiling Ke lost her strength and was about to tumble from the cliff at the peak. Zora, who was beside her, instinctively grabbed her hand. A cultivator's body wouldn't easily die from a fall.

Yiling Ke, feeling theatrical, said tragically: "Let go, remember to lead our tea—"

Before she finished, Zora heard her tell her to let go, gave an "oh," and actually released her. Yiling Ke’s eyes widened in shock as she immediately plummeted like a heavy stone.

"Why did you actually let go? I wasn't finished yet—aaaaahhh!!"

She gradually turned into a small black dot in the deep valley, her voice echoing.

Vane retracted his spear: "..."

Turi Qi couldn't help taking a step forward, then stopped.

A formation flared at the bottom of the valley, and the next instant, Yiling Ke appeared on a pre-arranged teleportation array at the peak. She was breathing heavily, her heart still pounding: "I... I almost forgot I can't tell lies to Zora."

Turi Qi smiled, then looked at the sky: "I should leave."

"Then I'm off too!"

Song Zhihuai, who had been quite a mute, nodded.

Soon, only two people remained on the peak. Zora walked toward her residence. Vane followed behind her and asked, "Tomorrow's mission might be dangerous; it's the people of Black Serenity Valley."

Aside from the four major sects, small sects were scattered across the world, and Black Serenity Valley was one of them. Their sect especially enjoyed posing as deities in the mortal world, relishing the process of being worshipped—a place full of filthy desires. Generally, talented people wouldn't go there because the valley was filled with those of mediocre aptitude and no ambition. They occupied the bottom of the cultivation world, refused to practice properly, gave in to debauchery, and since they couldn't be leaders in the cultivation world, they ran to mortal gatherings to act as gods.

However, as more and more villages and counties were protected by formations set by disciples of major sects to resist demons, they would look for those overlooked places untouched by demons to crown themselves kings.

Zora entered the room and sat down. Vane stepped inside and naturally poured a cup of water for her. She took it: "Is Black Serenity Valley very powerful?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just many crooked tricks that are hard to guard against."

After Zora finished drinking, she opened a book on the table to read slowly. Vane took the new clothes he had fetched from the sect's laundry that morning, folded them neatly, and put them in her wardrobe.

Initially, the person at the laundry almost suspected him of lying when they heard he was fetching clothes for another female disciple, but now they were familiar. As soon as Vane walked in, before he said anything, the disciple recorded: "Female style new clothes, two hundred spirit stones."

Closing the wardrobe, Vane caught sight of the messy papers on her wall-side desk. They were all traces of the girl’s calligraphy practice. The used brushes hadn't been cleaned with magic and were left haphazardly on the desk, the ink at the tips soaking the white paper.

Her handwriting had improved but not by much. He had discovered a few days ago that the copybook she used belonged to Immortal Zhou Shijin. Zhou Shijin's handwriting was incredibly wild and scribbled; asking Zora to learn from it was essentially the difficulty of a mortal attempting to ascend directly.

...

Zora finished reading and closed her book. Looking up, she saw Vane had long since left silently.

The sky grew dark. A cool breeze blew through the window into the room. The nearby desk was neat and tidy; a corner of the weighted paper was blown up, making a rustling sound.

Time to practice calligraphy.

Zora walked to the desk with a frown. The surface had been organized perfectly; her written papers were weighted on the left, blank ones on the right. The brushes were hung where they belonged, dry and clean.

She reached for Zhou Shijin's copybook but found a new one lying underneath. Zora flipped through it; the handwriting was extremely neat, each stroke perfectly controlled—pleasing to the eye and not scribbled at all, perfectly square. It didn't show off any technique; a character was just a character, clear and concise.

It wasn't until she reached the end that she saw Vane’s signature. He hadn't said anything, nor had he written a single extra word. He simply wrote the copybook and his name, as if it were a small matter; whether she used it or not was entirely up to her.

At least I can recognize all of these; some of the characters Master writes are so messy I can't even tell what they are,

Zora thought expressionlessly.

The next day, the two rushed to the mission location—a hidden village. The person from Black Serenity Valley was posing as a Mountain God, demanding the villagers offer various foods and servants, turning a deep mountain forest into a luxurious nest.

Neither Zora nor Vane were people who liked to talk. Immortal disciples usually entered villages to ask questions and comfort the villagers, but these two went straight for the nest.

The Black Serenity Valley disciple was cornered and said urgently, "If you dare kill me, these villagers won't let you off! They’ll blame every disaster on you!"

A man who had been colluding with the disciple to deceive the villagers felt a stir in his heart. He was a local, a mortal who hadn't lived well and had lost his money gambling. So, he had turned to dark thoughts and joined the disciple posing as a god; the two were in cahoots, living a life of luxury.

The two who had fought their way in were clearly extraordinary in dress and aura—disciples of a major sect for sure! Such people at least wouldn't bully mortals, and some were even extremely kind to them. Thus, he could use his status as a mortal to "explain" before the Black Serenity Valley disciple could name him as an accomplice, clearing himself.

The man gritted his teeth and rushed between them, shouting: "Wait, Immortals! I am a villager here, please hear me out! There's a hidden story here...!"

Before he could finish, he attempted to block the girl’s sword strike toward the disciple. He thought she would stop mercifully like those other Immortals.

Squelch.

A hand fell into the grass, blood spraying.

"..." The man looked at his bloody wrist in a daze. A moment later, he clutched his handless wrist and screamed, "AAAAAHH! My hand!!"

Zora frowned at the noise.

Vane kicked away the screaming man, his dark eyes cold to the bone. He glanced at Zora but added a sentence: "This man is likely an accomplice, probably thinking of tricking us to escape." The youth saw through the man’s trick instantly and gave a contemptuous snort.

Zora ignored the complications and tilted her head: "Is it related to the mission?"

"...No."

She paid it no more mind and continued fighting the Black Serenity Valley disciple.

The disciple’s cultivation was neither high nor low; he had likely practiced for many years yet remained weak. However, he had an endless supply of petty tricks. Seeing that begging for mercy didn't work, he tried to speak—to say how difficult his life was, that it was his first time doing such a thing and he’d never do it again—but these two turned a deaf ear.

The disciple grew frantic. Unlike the meddling, righteous immortal disciples, these two... they only saw the mission; they didn't care about "hidden stories," "insider info," or "hardships"!

A sword pierced the disciple’s abdomen. His eyes bulged, and he spat blood. Just as Zora was about to withdraw her sword, the disciple gripped the blade tightly before dying, skillfully using a formation to attack. Along with Bone-Softening Powder, two flashes of blades swung down. Zora’s sword wasn't back yet; she instinctively reached for the puppet strings to make him block with his spear.

To her surprise, Vane moved faster. One blade was blocked by the spear, while the other drew blood from his arm. He felt a late loss of bodily control, but the youth was already standing in the direction the puppet strings were pulling; the gold threads churned vaguely for a moment, then quickly stilled.

The disciple died with his eyes open, slumping down.

Zora withdrew her sword and looked at Vane without speaking. The youth’s arm was soaked in blood, but he showed no pain, looking back at Zora.

Vane: "..."

He gave a dry explanation: "If those two strikes hit you, you might have died. Then I would have died too. By taking them myself, it's just a flesh wound."

Zora asked in confusion: "I know, I was going to have you block anyway. I just wanted to ask what that pink powder that lunged at us was?"

"..."

She didn't press further, completely uncaring whether the reason he gave could have been thought of in a split second during an emergency. Vane breathed a sigh of relief almost imperceptibly and stopped thinking about what had just happened.

"It probably wasn't poison, but Bone-Softening Powder." Vane tore a piece of black cloth from his hem and tied the wound tight. "We must find a safe place."

Zora: "Mhm."

The two knocked the handless man unconscious and walked to the other side of the mountain forest. Their bodies grew softer; their strength was draining. Eventually, Zora supported Vane and found a small cave. They set up a hidden formation outside and entered.

Vane’s lips were pale. Even with a cultivator’s strong physique, taking a hit from a spiritual tool required recovery time. He swallowed a Rejuvenation Pill, drenched in cold sweat. Upon entering the cave, he slumped against the stone wall.

Zora’s body felt soft. As he fell, she sat down too. Thinking she should at least cut away the necrotic flesh from the wound, Zora forced herself to sit up, preparing to untie the black cloth on his arm.

Vane sat up straight and raised his arm slightly to facilitate her movements. Beads of cold sweat were on his brow, his lashes trembled, and his breathing grew heavy, his exhaled breath damp. He had been looking at the wound, but after a while, he looked up along his arm and watched her. The Bone-Softening Powder had made her lip color fade. There were a few drops of blood on her face. He had looked at Zora when the man lost his hand, and her face had been pale then, so the blood on her face now must be his.

He panted constantly, the heat misting. The youth’s knitted brow was a reaction to the injury, but his eyes were fixed almost unblinkingly on the blood on her face. His dark pupils moved slightly, then he looked at her eyes beneath her lowered lashes. He thought of nothing; he was simply watching her uncontrollably, without a trace of ferocity.

As it turned out, Zora hadn't even untied it. Just as she started, she felt her strength drain even more severely; her bones were turning soft. The hand holding the knot didn't even have the strength to undo it, and it soon fell limp. Zora slumped forward into him.

Vane was also devoid of strength. Being lunged at by her, he immediately fell backward, his head and back slamming against the stone wall. A muffled groan escaped his lips. He leaned against the wall, panting heavily and looking at the opposite stone wall, his injured arm sliding down naturally.

Zora was in his arms, having found a cushion. The soft flesh of her face was pressed against his chest at his collar, and she blinked once.

Vane struggled to lower his head but could only see the top of her head. Zora’s voice was flat: "No more strength."

Vane looked at the stone opposite the moment she spoke, leaning back against the wall again, completely exhausted: "...Bone-Softening Powder requires time to dissipate. Once we can use spiritual power, we can move it to speed up the process."

His chest vibrated slightly as he spoke, and Zora heard it clearly—it even made her ears itch a little. Moreover, the youth’s breathing was too heavy, his chest rising and falling, which caused Zora’s face to be pressed harder, bumping against a textured pattern on his collar.

Vane restrained his breathing the moment her face pressed against his chest, and it soon smoothed out. The cave was silent. The formation swirling outside lay dormant as the two waited quietly for the drug to wear off.

Gradually, Zora could hear the powerful sound of his heart beating. She was bored, so she began counting how many times his heart beat.

After counting to a hundred in her mind, Zora judged based on experience and said matter-of-factly: "Your body isn't in great trouble. It didn't wound your heart. It seems there was no lethal poison on the blade."

Vane: "...What makes you say that?"

Zora said honestly: "I was counting your heartbeats. I can tell."

No sooner had she spoken than the steady, powerful heartbeat by her ear suddenly quickened, turning into a chaotic mess.