20 Half-Spirit Bones

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The room was silent, dust motionless and soundless. Only a faint fragrance lingered, like flowing light and myriad illusions. Yuan Daojun stared coldly at his once most proud disciple and sneered, “What? Speechless now? No words?” With a heavy thud, he slammed a thick journal onto the table. His tone turned sharp and sarcastic, laced with irony, “Yes, had I not seen Shu He’s letters today, I’d never have known in all these years that ‘killing her’ and ‘accompanying her closely with deep affection’ actually mean the same thing in this world.” If not for the detailed description of the younger son in the letters, he might have truly believed the lies of that boy from the Xie family!

Xie Qianjing said, “She doesn’t remember me.”

Yuan Daojun replied, “And what does that have to do with your desire to kill her?”

Silence filled the room.

After a long pause, a soft laugh broke the stillness.

That laugh no longer held the clear, gentle warmth of the once revered Bodhi Lord of the Xie family. Instead, it carried a ghostly, captivating charm.

“Don’t you think that’s unfair, Elder Yuan?” Xie Qianjing said. “I remember her, but she has completely forgotten me—her thoughts are all about... someone new.”

He alone was trapped in the old storms of the past.

It was unfair, Xie Qianjing thought.

So he would make her recognize him again, remember him, even like him.

Then, when she trusted him most, he would kill her.

Just as he had once suffered.

“That’s fairness,” Xie Qianjing declared.

He stood in the shadow of the folding screen, his black hair cascading like a waterfall, lips curved like blood — the very image of the “Master” spoken of by demons. Not a trace remained of the once praised Xie family youth.

Those passionate youthful days seemed truly swept away by the wind.

Yuan Daojun thought to himself, perhaps he really had grown old.

This disciple, once respectful and composed, was now utterly inscrutable to him.

With a complex look, Yuan Daojun waved his hand, “Enough. I will honor our agreement. Until you fully recover, you may claim to be my relative from the Yuan family. But just one thing—”

He drew out the last word, narrowing his eyes at Xie Qianjing.

Xie Qianjing said, “I won’t make a move at Qingyi Academy.”

“No.” Yuan Daojun shook his head, sneering coldly, “That’s not what I mean.”

The old man stood, reaching for a letter, shaking it open like a wet cloth. It tumbled from his chest all the way to the floor, still rolling.

Yuan Daojun said coldly, “I don’t care about others, but one thing is certain: you are forbidden from dragging my son into this.”

“...”

Xie Qianjing was silent for a moment before answering, “Fine.”

Seeing Xie Qianjing’s calm, unreadable expression, Yuan Daojun suddenly remembered something and added, “The younger one is off-limits, but the elder one is allowed.”

The younger was too innocent, could not compete at all.

The elder one...

Yuan Daojun sat back down, resuming his immortal demeanor.

No worries.

After all these years, the elder son had likely grown used to being tormented.

Lost in thought, Yuan Daojun did not notice when Xie Qianjing disappeared and the person he had ordered to bring had already appeared before him.

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“There’s no one else here; why still pretend to be so profound?” Suddenly looking up, Yuan Daojun saw Sheng Ningyu’s familiar, carefree smile.

A pang like heart failure struck again; his blood surged.

“How dare you say that!”

Sheng Ningyu deftly dodged the medicine pouch Yuan Daojun threw at her and exclaimed, “Wow! Earlier, you looked so pale I thought you were about to die. But now, just seeing me, your complexion is rosy and your blood strong—looks like besides swordsmanship, I have a knack for healing and alchemy?”

As she spoke, Sheng Ningyu glanced toward the corridor outside the window, seeming to seriously consider the feasibility of that path.

The familiar suffocating feeling.

The familiar unjust confidence.

In this world, such a twisted logic truly existed!

Yuan Daojun held his chest, too angry to utter a word.

Compared to the previous visitor, Sheng Ningyu was far more at ease.

She bent down to pick up the fallen medicine pouch, sniffed it, then casually tossed it in her hands, accidentally hitting the window frame and bouncing toward the folding screen.

She cast a sidelong glance at Yuan Daojun. “Can I pick it up?”

“Things you tossed yourself, who else but you to pick them up?” Yuan Daojun grumbled.

“I’m just asking,” Sheng Ningyu chuckled, hands behind her back as she walked toward the screen, muttering, “Who knows if there’s someone hidden behind this screen? If I discover your secret golden chamber, then—”

“Bang!”

Before she finished, a medicine pouch landed squarely on her head.

“Ouch!” Sheng Ningyu crouched, clutching her head, turning around pitifully, “Why do you keep hitting me?”

Yuan Daojun hadn’t expected to hit her so accurately. Seeing her eyes redden, he felt both pity and amusement.

He couldn’t bring himself to apologize, so he looked away, focusing on the book in his hands, and said firmly, “Don’t try to cheat me. Don’t think I don’t know that with your skills as the Moonlight Sword Sovereign, you can’t dodge this…”

“I can’t dodge it now,” Sheng Ningyu replied, holding two medicine pouches, pulling a chair to the window and lying down comfortably.

“—Elder Yuan, I’ve been lying in a coffin for sixty years.”

“That coffin wasn’t as comfortable as here—hard and without a cushion. Sixty years, unable to move or see, without a spiritual bone, like a fool. That I could dodge your blow then was already a sign of my extraordinary talent.”

As she spoke, Sheng Ningyu repeatedly stroked the armrest of the chair.

Soft and smooth, like water frozen in place; sitting on it felt like sinking in.

Only Elder Yuan knew how to enjoy such comfort.

She leaned back happily but waited long for a response.

Sheng Ningyu: “?”

Slowly turning back, she saw Elder Yuan still seated at the desk, eyes lowered, the book unopened.

She peeked over the chair back. “Are you crying?”

Yuan Daojun, once touched, forced the feeling down.

He waved his hand and brought another soft chair to the window. Rising, he stroked his beard and looked at Sheng Ningyu from the corner of his eye, adopting the tone of an enlightened immortal: “What made you think to seek me out?”

Sheng Ningyu sighed deeply, “What else? After all, when I calculated, only you were closest to my coffin.”

Yuan Daojun: “...”

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Yuan Daojun plucked three broken beard hairs. “Keep talking nonsense and get out!”

Sheng Ningyu cleared her throat, straightened up, and said seriously, “Because I bet that you weren’t involved in what happened back then.”

Sitting beside her, Yuan Daojun squinted at her. “Still so fond of gambling? What if luck runs out and you lose?”

Sheng Ningyu laughed heartily, then turned back to the sunlight outside, one hand behind her head, narrowing her eyes with a casual tone, “What else can happen? At worst, I get locked up for another hundred or eighty years, until my soul dissipates.”

Though she spoke lightly, each word was filled with pain, as if flesh was being painfully torn away.

Light flickered; Yuan Daojun watched this once most favored disciple of his old friend in the shimmering glow.

He thought back a hundred years.

At that time, Ning Guihai hadn’t turned into a villain yet; the Sword Pavilion had him as the Sword Sovereign guarding it. The disciples only needed to practice swordsmanship well, with no other worries.

Back then, Sheng Ningyu wasn’t yet the famed Moonlight Sword Sovereign. She was Ning Guihai’s youngest disciple, spirited and fearless, pampered by many. She went out without a care or plan.

Even after Ning Guihai accepted new disciples and became more attentive, Sheng Ningyu remained the most outstanding and gifted among that generation of Sword Pavilion disciples.

Her daily mischief was always accompanied by companions and indulgence—never would she have said words like “soul dissipates.”

Yuan Daojun said, “Show me your hand.”

Sheng Ningyu complied, “Yuan Xiao’er examined it and gave me some medicine.” She paused, unusually shy for once, “My injuries are serious. Xiao’er seems to have noticed and hasn’t been seen around these days.”

Yuan Daojun said, “That child is loyal. Since he promised to heal you, he won’t give up easily.”

While speaking, Yuan Daojun used spiritual power to scan her body.

Tattered and broken, no different from a blasted herb field.

He found it hard to imagine how this once unruly, mischievous person—who needed sweet cakes and preserved fruits to accompany even a bowl of spirit herb soup—had crawled out of a coffin and stood before him.

Back then, he thought she was frivolous and irresponsible; now she had become restrained and steady, yet somehow less vibrant.

Yuan Daojun withdrew his hand, no longer harboring any anger: “I’ll say no more. Shu He, that kid, has a higher talent than I. The pills he gave you were his own fine creations. Take them like your old sweet cakes and preserved fruits.”

Sheng Ningyu raised an eyebrow and smiled, “You remember?”

Yuan Daojun snorted, annoyed, “Who could forget your bad habits? —But no matter how good the pills, they’re useless for your sieve-like body.”

“A cultivator without a spiritual bone is like a house without beams, a living person without a spine. It’s fundamental. Moonlight girl, do you remember who took your spiritual bone?”

No spiritual bone?

But didn’t she still have half of one on her spine?

Sheng Ningyu blinked, searching her memories but found no trace of ever having two spiritual bones.

Strange.

By her usually unreserved nature, having two unique spiritual bones would have made her boast loudly for the world to hear.

Her gaze dropped, casually considering three possibilities.

Either her memories were incorrect, or the bone on her spine wasn’t her spiritual bone.

Or...

Both.