Chapter 48: Are You Better Now?

Inside the Immortal-Seeking Hall.

The outward age of Sect Leader Ling Zhihuan was between sixty and seventy. Her face was covered in fine wrinkles, and she usually appeared as amiable as a mortal grandmother. However, when her attitude shifted, those wrinkles added a touch of majesty.

"Island Master Wang, apologies for the lack of a proper welcome."

"Not at all, not at all." Wang Ling cupped her hands quite casually, then began looking around just as casually. Her eyes landed on the white-clad youth standing behind the Sect Leader, and she offered a greeting: "Long time no see, Lord Wanghua."

The sword cultivator looked even more like a heartless person than Song Zhihuai. His brows didn't move, and his glazed eyes contained a hidden sword intent. Upon hearing her, he gave a light nod.

In the original work, he had already crossed the line with his disciple. Because of the aphrodisiac, they had shared an intimacy, and his state of mind was vastly different. Though he claimed it was painful and agonizing, his heart was strangely settled.

—It was a subtle, hidden emotion only possessed by someone who is loved, allowing him to fret over details without ever considering whether she would leave him.

Recently, however, Turi Qi's attitude had regressed. She was no longer close, becoming as respectful as she had been long ago. Like a tortoise retreating into its shell, she slowly moved back into her position as a disciple, seemingly standing at a crossroads of hesitation and retreat.

Lord Wanghua had never encountered matters of the heart. From the moment he obtained the Frostless Sword, he believed he would never be mired in love. The previous owner of the Frostless Sword was a famous sword cultivator from thousands of years ago. At the moment he fell during his lightning tribulation, he had no parents, no wife, no children, and no friends—truly free of all attachments.

His path was a different kind of heartless path; his personality and soul had saturated the sword, giving birth to a sword spirit. The sword spirit was effectively a replica of its original master—same logic, same thoughts, same personality. Thus, the Frostless Sword was currently very dissatisfied with Lord Wanghua's state, frequently vibrating in warning.

Facing his "fiancée" now, he couldn't help but think of his disciple. The divine sword trembled in the void space. Lord Wanghua's cold, emotionless eyes suddenly flickered with a trace of irritation.

Wang Ling took her time looking him up and down.

Last time we met, he was worth a hundred thousand spirit stones; this time, he’s barely eighty thousand.

The cultivation world had indeed suffered a heavy blow during the war against the Demon Realm. These great figures had all regressed over the past few years.

Wang Ling didn't let it show on her face, exchanging pleasantries with the Sect Leader for a long time. However, the content of her small talk was entirely related to Liu-Li Island's business. Finally, she spoke to Lord Wanghua with a beaming smile: "I came today also to remind you that our marriage contract is approaching. We need to pick an auspicious day to hold the Dao Companion ceremony."

You’d better still be the number one Sword Sovereign by then. Don't drop in rank, and don't do anything to damage your reputation.

Wang Ling grumbled internally.

Lord Wanghua's lips tightened. Just as he was about to speak, a voice came from outside: "Sect Leader, disciple Turi Qi."

Ling Zhihuan: "Come in."

Turi Qi pushed the door open and walked into the hall without looking left or right. Wang Ling captured the momentary furrow of Lord Wanghua's brow and the hint of worry, and a flash of surprise crossed her mind.

—Oh?

...

Zora arrived outside the Immortal-Seeking Hall. He Songning was standing on the grass nearby, holding grains to feed several white cranes that were lightly pecking at his palm.

Two of the cranes flapped their wings the moment they saw Zora, lifting their heads and straightening their long, slender necks.

—It was like a greeting ceremony for a former master.

Zora had long ago discarded the memory of those white cranes. She looked at the cranes calling out to her with confusion.

Were they not full and looking for food from her?

Vane, however, scanned them. He was as meticulous as could be and could distinguish the characteristics of every crane. He naturally saw that these two cranes were the mounts he and Zora had used when they first entered the sect. Although these two seemed to recognize her as their master.

Vane, who wasn't liked by the cranes, looked on with a flat expression. He needed to discard the complex, deluded thoughts he had just had.

—The delusion that perhaps he could do better. The delusion that no matter who her future Dao companion was, he could do better than them.

But all of this melted away under the gaze of the girl's clear eyes, which held no sticky emotions. She wasn't heartless or devoid of love; she was more like a translucent pearl, a spirit just entering the world, making one feel she was as pure as water.

Vane steadied his mind, his long lashes trembling slightly. His spiritual power had nowhere to vent and was skillfully guided into his meridians, washing through them over and over during cultivation. If he had spoken just now, he would have only received a confused look from her and a "What are you saying?"

He knew this with absolute clarity, so once again he suppressed the surging illusions. The youth, who could be considered socially adept, was naturally not an emotional idiot; he just didn't want to admit it.

He didn't want to admit that as a servant, he would develop feelings for her.

Why? What had she done?

She seemed to have done nothing, yet seemed to have done everything.

Love is hard to produce; many chase it their whole lives without obtaining it. Yet love is also very simple; even before its source can be accurately traced, it has already spread uncontrollably.

Vane composed himself, discarded his stray thoughts, and followed Zora’s gaze toward He Songning again, as if he had thought nothing and nothing had happened. Neither person present noticed the youth’s inner state; he disguised it well. Even if there were stormy waves beneath his skin, the surface remained calm.

He Songning suddenly spilled all the food in his hand onto the dirt, his expression cold. He turned to leave, likely making room for these two juniors. The white cranes were exceptionally realistic, lowering their heads to peck at the food, completely ignoring the conversation-averse He Songning.

But Zora moved faster. "Senior Brother He."

He Songning was forced to stop: "Junior Sister Zora."

Vane stood behind her like a decorative piece, not saying a word.

Zora asked: "Has Senior Sister Turi come out?"

He Songning: "No."

Zora: "What were you doing just now?"

He Songning: "Feeding the white cranes."

Zora asked him with novelty: "Can they not go without eating like we do?"

Vane habitually wanted to explain, but he glanced at He Songning’s tense face and swallowed his words. Since she appeared capable of making friends with He Songning, he didn't need to—and shouldn't—interfere and act clever.

Ignoring a faint bitterness, Vane acted entirely as a dutiful servant, thinking no more. Completely unaware that her servant was monitoring her social status, Zora asked casually: "Can they not cultivate?"

He Songning: "..."

He fell into a bizarre silence for a moment, causing Zora to grow even more puzzled, her brow furrowing. He Songning’s hand inside his sleeve gripped the inner fabric tightly, creating wrinkles. The corners of his mouth twitched as if wanting to curl upward; he immediately controlled himself, smoothing them out.

"Junior Sister Zora, it is already difficult for the white cranes to develop spiritual wisdom. They cannot cultivate like humans. In this place filled with spiritual energy, it is enough for them to extend their lifespans."

"Oh."

Zora looked down. Two white cranes were biting the hem of her skirt, tugging it back and forth. Vane reached out and touched the hem they were pulling; the white cranes remembered him and immediately let go in fright, flapping their wings and flying away. The cool fabric slid from his palm, and the youth withdrew his hand with a normal expression.

He Songning flattened his lips: "........."

Zora stared at him with wide eyes: "........."

Vane: "........."

The atmosphere fell into silence. Zora and He Songning looked at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Vane waited for a while, and seeing the two were still silent, he calmly mentioned: "Senior Brother He feeding the white cranes here is quite a coincidence. You have the word 'Crane' in your name, and I have the word 'Swallow' in mine, though I rarely touch swallows."

Zora: "..."

What is he saying?

In the next instant, He Songning almost immediately lost his composure. His frost-cold face was broken, and he covered his face with his sleeve. A string of strange, light laughter emerged.

"Swallow... swallow..." he repeated.

Zora: "..."

What is he laughing at now?

Although He Songning quickly composed himself, he was still very apprehensive. He hadn't been able to stop himself from laughing; he hadn't offended Junior Brother Vane or Junior Sister Zora, had he? ...Had he? Was it an offense? Was it not?

Previously, he was a person who laughed when he wanted to, but after being scolded by the Drunken Man’s Bay formation master Fang Lijia, his confidence had shattered, and he had cried for half a night... thinking about it was a bit embarrassing.

Zora continued to ask: "How much longer until Senior Sister Turi comes out?"

Eh? We're just turning the page?

He Songning was surprised. He had heard all kinds of words, good and bad, but only Junior Sister Zora seemed to truly not care at all.

Vane shifted his gaze calmly, with no intention of explaining. She simply didn't understand what the other was laughing at and was too lazy to try.

He Songning answered her, and his mood relaxed considerably.

As expected, if Junior Sister Zora can be friends with someone as cold on the outside as Junior Brother Song, her personality must be excellent.

He Songning unilaterally increased their friendship points, while Zora, unaware, departed first. Vane took everything in and composed his expression.

Two days passed. Although the Island Master had arrived at the December Sect, things remained calm on the surface. Zora belatedly discovered that her servant seemed to have developed a slight problem.

He seemed to always keep his head and eyes lowered, refusing to look at her. When combing her hair, he was exceptionally restrained, trying his best not to touch her. He didn't take the initiative to speak either, like a mute, standing to the side after silently finishing all his tasks.

Sometimes Zora felt he was about to speak, but in the end, he didn't. She would stare at him, and he would keep his head down. It was truly strange. He used to talk quite a bit, rambling on, and with that suddenly gone, Zora felt her ears were empty. She asked him if he wanted to say something, but he just smiled and said no.

It was annoying. Every tiny change in a conquest target should be met with vigilance. Zora wasn't good at reading people, so she was very slow, but Vane had lost his composure for a time, and the change was large enough for her to notice.

Zhou Shijin laughed: "You've likely just grown used to hearing it. Like me—if I don't drink for a day, I feel uneasy."

Used to it?

Zora thought about it.

If this was a habit, then she would just do what she wanted. She didn't care too much; in her eyes, doing things based on instinct and "whether she wanted to" was enough—there was no need to think too much.

Wang Ling was still in the sect, doing who knows what. Zora finished her sword practice and sat by the stone table reading. The deep night was quiet. The stone table was on an empty patch of grass by a small stream. Only the bright moonlight poured down; the characters weren't very clear, and Zora’s posture was closer to the book than before.

Vane sat on the stone stool on her other side. The youth's slender fingers rested on a white porcelain teacup, looking like cold jade, very beautiful. His fingertip lifted slightly then dropped, lightly tapping the surface of the cup.

Vane looked down at the grass, turned to glance at Zora, then stared at the teacup before lifting his eyes to look at her again. He went to get a lamp and placed it on the table, yet she remained at the same distance, seemingly too lazy to change.

Vane said: "It is better to look from a bit further away, to avoid missing other words in the book."

He even found an excuse.

Zora gave an "oh," moved the book a bit further away, and continued reading. After a while, having finished the last page, she seemed to react, finally remembering something, and looked up.

The cold of the deep night was heavy; the ends of his hair and his lashes were touched by a bit of frost. Yet the youth himself radiated warmth; his body temperature was high, and his light breaths turned into white mist that vanished at his lips.

Zora looked at him and said bluntly: "Are you sick?"

Vane was taken aback, then laughed: "Cultivators basically don't get sick."

"Then why haven't you been talking these past two days?"

Vane paused. "...Have I? I am the same as before."

"Not the same," Zora said seriously. "You need to correctly recognize yourself and adjust."

"........."

Vane smiled: "I understand."

Silence fell. The youth's gaze fell on the distant woods for a while, then on the teacup. He was always deliberately avoiding Zora, not looking at her, yet she was always in his peripheral vision. He realized his bizarre reactions lately and was constantly trying to suppress that involuntary impulse, to the point that his entire mind was focused on her.

Only by having the thought of getting closer can one eliminate that idea; instead, he became someone who was constantly paying attention to the girl and constantly monitoring himself. She thought he was changing and distancing himself, but in truth, his consciousness was approaching her with absolute clarity.

Zora propped her face in both hands, her elbows on the table. She suddenly spoke: "Are you better now?"

Vane's thoughts were interrupted. He froze for a second: "...What?"

"I'm asking if you've finished adjusting," Zora said sincerely.

"..."

It had been less than fifteen minutes in total. While Vane was silent, Zora urged again: "Be faster."

She faced him, her fingertips sinking slightly into her soft cheek, making her look like a ball of cloud as she watched him with great anticipation.

The hand the youth used to hold the teacup tightened for an instant. He looked at the reflection in the cup, and after a long while, he gave a light hum of acknowledgment. His spiritual power was tightening around his heart, which was beating erratically; his body tensed as a result, issuing a warning of life.

"Is there something I haven't done well lately?" he suddenly asked, shifting the topic.

Though his words were fewer and his attitude seemed to Zora to be pulled back slightly, everything he did as a servant was perfect, missing nothing.

Zora hummed and thought carefully, then shook her head honestly: "No, but I don't like you changing too much or too fast. It makes me feel like I can't maintain control."

"And," Zora said, "my ears are a bit lonely."

Vane abruptly lifted his eyes.

Her expression was as it always was, her eyes as clear as water. She was merely stating her truest feelings. She was just saying it that bluntly. She didn't like her servant losing control, and she didn't like her ears becoming lonely. That was all.

Even if his thoughts were in chaos, he had to be her servant properly, just as usual.

The moonlight was hazy, and the candle on the table flickered. Zora had already focused her attention on the sweet water in her cup, drinking it sip by sip. Vane heard his own voice slowly say, "I understand."

He offered a nonchalant smile and smoothly poured another cup of water for her. Inside, that familiar, sharp pain of his heart being suddenly constricted spread through his chest.

Pain should make one sober.

He was indeed very sober.