Chapter 95: Sunset

Zora woke up. Vane seemed to have fallen asleep nearby; the youth lay on his side, facing her. Despite the injuries still present on his body, he slept exceptionally peacefully.

Zora stared at him, then curiously reached out to pinch his cheek and touch the bloodstains on his face. With a girl’s characteristic raw innocence, she tapped his face like a dragonfly skimming water; every part of him was soft.

Once she finished playing, Zora nudged him. The moment she touched his arm, Vane opened his eyes, his gaze instantly clear.

Zora: "The fighting is done. Let's go back."

Vane blinked: "Okay."

They brushed off the bits of green grass and headed straight back to the sect. Standing in the Falling Rock Forest, Zora said to Vane, "Goodbye."

Vane had not yet changed out of his bloodied robes. He could have used a spell to cleanse himself, but he didn't, or perhaps he had forgotten that detail. Zora accepted the scent of blood well, not even wrinkling her nose. If he were stained with the scent of flowers, she would wrinkle her nose, lean in to sniff, and bluntly state it was too cloying.

Zora did not linger, entering the Falling Rock Forest without hesitation. Vane stood in place for a long while before lowering his head and slightly opening his palm. Blood flowed from his somewhat loosened sleeve; logically it should have clotted, but because there was a steady, continuous stream of fresh blood dripping, the blood in his palm remained fluid.

Vane briefly stanched the bleeding. Zora’s spiritual power was purer now; the wounds were deep. Or rather, he hadn't intended to put much effort into repairing the scars.

Jintao Hall.

Outside the hall, Jin Chuyang stepped out only to see the back of his disciple, Vane. He appeared injured, yet his mood seemed exceptionally good. Jin Chuyang was about to call out to him, but after a moment, his lips moved only to form a silent breath. The youth’s silhouette vanished around the corner.

Jin Chuyang withdrew his gaze. During those decades, he had naturally tried to teach Vane. He taught him not to be consumed by love and to know how to let go, but looking into the youth’s eyes—which seemed to see through everything—Jin Chuyang ultimately failed.

He couldn't let go himself, so how could he tell someone else to let go?

In the end, Vane had wandered alone, treating the sect as a brief stopping point. Being away for long periods was the norm. As a result, even though the youth’s cultivation was at the upper tiers of the sect, he still hadn't squeezed into the upper tiers of the sect's power structure. Or rather, Vane didn't seem to have ever considered intervening in any of the sect’s affairs.

One day, Jin Chuyang truly couldn't ignore it and asked: "Did you join the sect just for cultivation? You could actually achieve so much more."

If the Oracle were present, it might have been able to provide an answer. In the original work, the villain rose through the ranks, and his sect reputation was even higher than it was now. On the surface, he was always kind to others—a spirited young man who was hard not to like. Yet everything stopped abruptly at the "demonic seed" plot point, and all was suddenly lost, cast into hell.

Zora, however, wasn't clear on this. She only looked at the specific plot framework; she would forget the trivial, flowing plot points like reputation as soon as she read them, leaving not a shred of an impression.

At that time, Vane had merely looked at him quietly, appearing like an obedient disciple, and said: "Disciple understands." It was a powerless feeling, like a fist hitting cotton. Jin Chuyang sighed softly and spoke no more.

He did not know his disciple had joined the cultivation sect for the simplest reason: "to survive." Even less did he know that in the original work, Vane climbed upward desperately for the sake of "living." The stronger one’s power, the greater the possibility of surviving in this world.

He was small, and his wishes were equally small. On one hand, he had the darkest and most violent nature in the world, hidden beneath a shell and decorated as a normal cultivation disciple. On the other hand, his ambition was merely to live longer, guarding against every potential danger and cultivating to kill every possible future enemy.

At that time, Vane suddenly felt this wish was hollow and ethereal. Survive, and then what? Stay in a cultivation sect, doing boring things, with vast years waiting for him to waste away. If he had never met Zora, perhaps he would never have tasted what loneliness was, nor would he have tasted what it truly meant to live "meaningfully."

He didn't know. Zora was naive, but she was never lost regarding her future. She would have doubts, but she would never stop to struggle with herself for long. Like encountering an unknown herb on a mountain path, the girl would stop to admire it for a moment, generating some questions. But grass is not a thorn, not an obstacle blocking the path; her gaze looking forward would never be obscured.

A glass heart, a rock heart—unmoving, unbreakable. It would not turn murky; it would not change its essence. Vane knew this clearly, and he was profoundly shaken. The state of mind he had when fleeing the Demon Realm had undergone a heaven-flipping change. His wishes and his thoughts of the future were already deeply entangled with her.

The rock does not move; the wind naturally entwines it.

Vane returned to his room. The heavy scent of blood on him had reached an unignorable level. It was easy for a cultivator to resolve such issues; a single spell could make one look brand new. Vane, however, did not clear it immediately. He first closed his eyes, meditating for a moment on the platform in his room to digest the gains of the past few days. His spiritual power expanded and grew, and his spiritual platform became increasingly clear.

After a brief meditation, he unfastened his black top, revealing a chest marked with sword wounds that rose and fell slightly with his breathing. The scars were precisely distributed around his heart; if he hadn't dodged in time, they would have pierced through, though he might not have died.

His clothes fell in layers to the side. There were also slashes on his back. Zora knew exactly where she had cut; she particularly liked to kick or step on his wounds during the fight to stop his movements. However, while that tactic might work on others, it had no effect on Vane, who ignored pain.

He glanced at the wounds. Spiritual power could sense the depth and location, but only by seeing them with his own eyes could he see the external shape. Her sword wind was exceptionally clean, never dragging; even the wounds were neatly and beautifully made—straight bloodlines of identical depth.

Vane watched for a moment, simulating her moves in his mind once again. The force used, the angle the blade fell, the distribution of spiritual power on the edge—each reappeared in his mind. He calmly recalled all the fighting details. He had already been dismantling her moves during the spar; Zora was also gradually patching her flaws. Once the fight ended, the youth kept the wounds while he pondered the details one more time.

Only when his thoughts returned did his spiritual power slowly begin to repair the scars. The room was exceptionally quiet. The youth lowered his gaze, staring absently at a point on the floor. He watched for a moment, then took out a piece of osmanthus cake and bit off a small piece.

It was a sweet, cloying fragrance.

Zora entered her room and changed her clothes first.

The Oracle popped up at the right time: [Oh? Out of the secret realm? Good job! I knew you could do it, Host!] It was jubilant, as if the System that was deathly miserable and full of philosophical gloom in the Wave Husk Secret Realm wasn't it.

System: [Capture! Capture! Stop the world's destruction! Stop the world's destruction!]

Zora was annoyed by the noise: "Don't speak."

The System immediately shut up, then spoke weakly a moment later: [...I'm just afraid you'll forget.]

Zora: "I haven't forgotten."

She was just waiting for Vane to be exposed and then go to the Demon Realm. However, this plot point in the original work didn't have a clear timeframe. The biggest time node was the emotional entanglement between the male and female leads; they were arguing at that time.

But while drinking, Zora had asked Turi Qi if she was arguing with Wanghua-jun. Zora didn't pay attention to Yiling Ke’s strange, twitching behavior, nor did she notice Vane glancing at her with a light curve of his lips—it had no special meaning. The youth was not only brilliant but had a high EQ; he naturally guessed the currently strained relationship between Turi Qi and her teacher. But it was as if no matter what Zora did, he would smile in agreement, never interrupting anything she did.

Turi Qi pursed her lips and smiled, quite frankly: "No, Master and I haven't spoken for a long time."

Zora nodded and said seriously: "Then when you do argue, you must tell me."

Turi Qi was stunned. She wasn't angry, but instead set down her wine cup in concern: "Did something happen between Junior Sister Zora and Master?" She was worried for Zora.

"No," Zora shook her head honestly. She couldn't give the real reason, and she didn't even think to lie, so she simply repeated: "I want you to tell me."

Turi Qi was still a bit worried. After all, Wanghua-jun’s mood in recent years no longer seemed as heartless and indifferent as before; he had become somewhat mercurial. Turi Qi frowned: "Why?"

"..." Zora was silent for a moment, telling a half-truth: "Because I want to know."

Yiling Ke drank to hide her speechless expression: "..."

Song Zhihuai was immersed in the happiness of drinking deeply with friends, gulping down cup after cup. He was completely missing the point and didn't notice his friends' dynamics at all. Vane kept his eyes on Zora.

Turi Qi couldn't help but guess at Zora’s lack of social grace. She probed: "Is it because you're curious about arguments?"

Zora said very honestly again: "It’s okay. I'm not very curious."

Fortunately, Turi Qi smiled and agreed. She could never say no to Zora.

...

Zora gained a lot of confidence: "As long as Senior Sister Turi tells me they’ve argued, I’ll know the plot point is coming. I’ll prepare some delicious food and fun things before entering the Demon Realm."

The Oracle, who thought the Host would exert all her effort to stop the plot: [.........]

Are these preparations for a spring outing?!

But the Host truly wasn't an intellectual-type character. In the original, it was a random event; the Host couldn't waste energy staring at the villain all day for it—her gaze never stayed on others for long. Moreover, there were always people in the Demon Realm wanting to seize the demonic seed. It was a hidden danger. The Host couldn't think of a way to find the enemies, so she planned to follow the villain to the Demon Realm and wipe the enemies out in one go to end the trouble forever.

Rather than convoluted schemes, she preferred chasing the enemies down and killing them all. The more the Oracle thought, the more it felt the Host was a different kind of brilliant... A brilliance of following her nature and solving problems directly...

The System stopped worrying, saying "that's good" several times. Wait... what if the leads' emotional line developed differently from the original because of the Host? ...Whatever, it only affects the Host's "spring trip packing."

The System blissfully went to sleep.

Zora pushed open her door, feeling refreshed. Zhou Shijin was swaying in her chair, soaking up the sun. Zora walked to her side and said: "You didn't die."

Zhou Shijin laughed: "There's still a distance to go, but it's close."

Zora said: "I thought about you in the secret realm. I thought that maybe by the time I came out, you might have lost your life. Fortunately, you didn't die." She paused, then added: "I was afraid you’d be killed by someone, not that you’d die of old age."

"True, dying of old age is much better," Zhou Shijin said with flamboyant emotion. She looked at the tall trees in the distance and said indifferently, "Everyone dies eventually, today, tomorrow, or yesterday. I never sought longevity. The world isn't that interesting; it’s not even as interesting as I am. In these hundred years, I haven't moved from my spot."

She had already tasted the flavor of freedom from the moment she joined the December Sect. Since then, where, when, and how she died—she didn't care at all.

"Come, I'll take you to see the sunset." Without waiting for Zora’s reply, Zhou Shijin grabbed her wrist. In the blink of an eye, they were atop a mountain peak.

The brilliant sun was just setting, a red sun sinking into the sea of clouds. A faint purple outline embraced the burning golden light, a staggering sight. It was a magnificent natural scene of massive power, the rules of the Heavenly Dao. Zhou Shijin’s robes billowed in the wind. She tilted her head: "How is it?"

Zora watched for a long while, her voice devoid of any ripples: "It’s average." She couldn't appreciate it, so she said so.

Zhou Shijin nodded: "I think so too. Some natural scenes are indeed beautiful and staggering, but when you’ve watched them for hundreds or thousands of years, they become very ordinary."

Zora turned her head. The sunset light reflected off the girl’s face, covering it with a light veil. She assumed she understood her meaning and said: "Are you trying to make me not so sad after you die?"

Zhou Shijin patted the back of her head and laughed: "At least be heartbroken for me! How could sadness be suppressed? I just—" The woman’s features softened slightly: "I just want you to continue doing what you want to do after the sadness, without changing your nature."

"Changing my nature?"

"Even though you seem to have learned some things after coming out of the secret realm, your nature is still the same. You just know a bit more." Zhou Shijin laughed: "Cultivation is long. Look at Ling Zhihuan; he used to be so free-spirited, now he’s like a bird in a cage, quite dull. Don't believe that bullshit about needing to change your nature to grow. That's because their original temperaments were subpar."

"What you were at the beginning is what you should be in the end. Being consistent can still lead to becoming an immortal."

Zora gave an "mhm" and said sincerely: "I know."

Zhou Shijin pinched her face and said lightly, as if joking: "Don't change yourself for anyone. I mean

anyone

."

Zora: "I know."

Zhou Shijin looked into her clear eyes and pondered for a moment: "I feel like I've spoken nonsense. You wouldn't do that anyway. Or rather, you don't have that kind of clever thought to think about changing; you wouldn't adapt to others."

Zora looked at her. Before her dull heartstrings could be minutely touched, her body acted first. Following her heart, she reached out and hugged the person speaking, like a sloth. Zora’s hug was directed toward her Master's upper arms. Zhou Shijin’s hand that was pinching her face was forced down, and she stood like a post, embraced and unable to move.

Zhou Shijin: "........."

Zhou Shijin: "Let go."

Zora let go.

Zhou Shijin let out a breath and tried to tell her: "Also, I have no fear of death. It’s as steady as a hundred-year-old person passing away peacefully. Do not think of any stupid ways to try and save me; that would disturb my peace. It’s meaningless."

As she spoke, she was suddenly hugged again by Zora, sloth-like.

Zhou Shijin: "............"

She looked down. Zora’s face held no expression of grief or emotion. She was still wooden, dazed, and expressionless. Her eyes only stared at her, no different from looking at a dead person.

Zhou Shijin: "...What is it? Are you reluctant to part or not?"

Zora thought for a moment and said: "I am reluctant."

Zhou Shijin was choked for a moment. It was a long while before she said: "...Then what’s with this look of yours?"

Zora: "Didn't you say you're dying soon?"

Zhou Shijin: "I'm dying

soon

, not dead

yet

. Let go."

Zora let go again. She continued to look up at Zhou Shijin, as if looking at an imaginary corpse. Zora thought of a point: "Then should I bury you?"

Zhou Shijin stood a bit further from her disciple, crossing her arms leisurely: "If you don't bury me, who will?"

Zora said hesitantly: "I've never buried a person."

Zhou Shijin: "I haven't either."

Zora: "How should it be done?"

Zhou Shijin said casually: "Find a place with good feng shui, put the corpse in a coffin, bury it, and set up a headstone. That's about it."

Zora said cautiously: "I heard you have to wail at the funeral here."

Zhou Shijin laughed: "My requirements aren't high. Crying for three days and nights will do."

"..." Zora reminded her carefully, "I don't know how to cry. Even if I do, I won't keep crying."

Zhou Shijin suggested sincerely: "You can use other means to induce tears."

"Are there any?"

"Plenty."

"Okay."

She agreed unexpectedly briskly. Zhou Shijin paused, lowered her gaze, and tilted her head to look elsewhere. The sunset sank away and night fell. The night breeze made the girl’s hair ribbon flutter slightly. Zhou Shijin didn't speak; she hadn't reached her dying moment yet. Zora didn't speak either; she was spacing out.

After a long while, Zora heard her say: "The best thing about the second half of my life was taking you as a disciple. I thought disciples were just a source of trouble, but a girl like you is rare in this world. Otherwise, I wouldn't have entertained the thought."

Is this an introduction to the mental journey of taking a disciple?

Zora looked at her for a moment. Zhou Shijin was still gazing at the dark horizon as if there were beautiful scenery there, completely forgetting her words about being tired of the scenery.

"Thank you," Zora thanked her first, then took up the conversation solemnly, sharing her own mental journey. "I became your disciple because you took me in. So I became one."

"..." Zhou Shijin: "Of course."

Zhou Shijin turned her head and looked into Zora’s eyes for a few heartbeats. She suddenly understood that her disciple was having a serious dialogue based on her own understanding. Logically, given her nature, she should have just said "thank you" and been done with it, yet she insisted on thinking a bit more to perform what she considered "mutual sharing."

Zora was treating the people around her seriously in her own way. Zhou Shijin suddenly laughed out loud several times, like a leaping flame, her features containing unbridled wildness and freedom.

"I just like this nature of yours!"

Zora cared for her, but not in the way ordinary people did. The girl had no fear of life and death, would not drown in grief, and would not fall into any pointless sentimentality. Yet Zora did have feelings; she had her own way of treating people.

Zhou Shijin just liked this disciple’s wind-like nature. Even with affection, it came and went as it pleased, letting the human heart and worldly affairs sway as they would.