He saw the falling petals upon the blade.

Had he not been bound by a spiritual oath to Ning Guihai—the old fogey—forbidding him from mentioning the Xie family in front of Sheng Ningyu, Yuan Daojun would have certainly been manipulated into revealing the truth by her just moments ago.

Of course, having reached Yuan Daojun’s level of cultivation, he ought to have distanced himself from such entanglements long ago. There were some things ordinary people could say, but he could not. Half a step into the mortal world, and every thought creates a karmic chain. Today, he had already said too much.

Yuan Daojun stood alone in the corridor, the setting sun casting long, flickering shadows. He remained motionless for a long time.

How could he not have seen through Sheng Ningyu’s feigned weakness today? Yet, when he thought of that young girl who once hid lawlessly in his wife’s arms, pulling faces at him, only to now have her right hand crippled and her cultivation destroyed, forced to learn the very tactics of probing and feigned weakness she once disdained—his heart, already half-tethered to the realm of true immortals, wavered.

"Ning Guihai, you old curmudgeon."

Yuan Daojun sighed and muttered to himself, "Is this current state of affairs also within your calculations?"

***

Auntie was gone.

Sheng Ningyu walked alone through the long corridor, her eyes filled with a sense of disorientation. She had been glancing toward the gallery moments ago, searching for her aunt—Wang Yunniang, the wife of the Saint of Medicine, Yuan Daojun.

Wang Yunniang was not the daughter of some century-old clan, nor was she a powerful fairy of the righteous path; she was merely an ordinary person with no aptitude for cultivation. Love, however, is an unreasonable thing. Yuan Daojun had fallen for this farm girl and was willing to craft all manner of elixirs to extend her life; the farm girl had also loved him, willing to cast everything aside to follow him.

Wang Yunniang never cared for the title of "Lady of the Immortal Lord"; she preferred people to call her "Auntie." Though she married Yuan Daojun, she never felt inferior for being a mortal, and she had always been the most kind and generous toward the younger generation.

Back then, whenever Sheng Ningyu got into trouble, she would channel her spiritual energy and dash across the seemingly endless corridors of the Cloudview Palace, curling up in Auntie’s arms to hide, whimpering, "Auntie, they’re bullying me."

Yunniang would immediately slam the table. "Why are you all bullying little Jiu-Chong again!"

Yuan Daojun would retort, "Hey! You old woman, be reasonable! It was this girl who threw the first blow!"

Yunniang would snap back, "You old geezer, why don't you think about your age? How can you be so petty with a young girl?"

Sheng Ningyu would peek out and pull a face. Yuan Daojun would be so angry he’d jump with rage. No matter how foul his temper or how venomous his tongue, no matter how he dominated the cultivation world, making others tremble, he could never do anything about her.

Walking through the corridor, Sheng Ningyu thought that if Auntie were still here, she wouldn't have needed to say so much today. Auntie would have pushed the door open, rushed in, and hugged her tight.

What would she have asked? Nothing more than what she wanted to eat or do, followed by a fierce cursing of those who hurt her: "A bunch of heartless beasts! To lay such a heavy hand on our darling Jiu-Chong! Yuan Daojun, why can’t you just poison those animals and be done with it!"

As the setting sun touched her face, Sheng Ningyu slowly began to smile, but as she laughed, her voice faded away.

The corridor, which had always felt endless when she fled after causing trouble in her youth, had reached its end in just a few steps. The gallery remained as it was, but the sunset glow had changed.

Sheng Ningyu hesitated to take the final step. She sat under the eaves, the usual bustle and noise replaced by a profound silence. Facing the dying sun, she curled her body up and buried her head in her arms, as if holding herself.

After a long while, she whispered to herself.

"Auntie, they are bullying me."

"I can't out-curse them on my own. What should I do?"

"What should I do?"

"Auntie..."

"...I miss you."

**

The East Sea shines; the bright moon hangs over the ocean.

Chu Jiye felt a persistent emptiness in his heart. He set aside his chores, removed the ring from his index finger, and listened to the churning tides, lost in thought.

This ring was crafted from the fragments of the letter his retainer had recovered that day. Every word, every moment—it was as if his sister Ningyu was still by his side.

"Clan Master." Chu Qing entered and saw Chu Jiye staring blankly. Sighing inwardly, he stepped forward to pour a fresh pot of wine. "These past few days, Young Master Chu Le has been diligent in his cultivation, never slacking. May I ask, Clan Master, shall we let him out?"

Chu Jiye snapped out of his trance, clutching the ring, and resumed the cold indifference of the Chu Clan Master. "Diligent? If others told such lies, it would be one thing, but Chu Qing, do you intend to deceive me as well?"

A smile appeared on Chu Qing’s aged face as he presented a record of the past few days. "Young Master Le is still young; a bit of mischief and playfulness is not a bad thing. Didn't you act the same way at his age, Clan Master? Now that the Qingyi Academy is reopening, Young Master Le..."

Before Chu Qing could finish, he saw Chu Jiye gripping the scroll he had just handed over, his knuckles turning white. He remained motionless for a long time.

Chu Qing’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately changed his demeanor, bowed carefully, and whispered, "Clan Master? Clan Master?"

Chu Jiye suddenly looked up, dropped the scroll, and stumbled toward the door, his deep blue robes fluttering like the surge of the sea. For the first few steps, he even forgot to use his spiritual power.

"Clan Master!"

Chu Qing watched Chu Jiye’s figure disappear, anxious, but he slowed his pace. For the Clan Master to lose his composure like this, it must be related to *her*. Yet, he had personally checked the scrolls submitted today; there was no mention of her.

A flicker of confusion crossed Chu Qing’s aged face. He picked up the scroll from the floor and carefully scrutinized the page that had been crumpled.

*【...Young Master Le commanded the sword cultivators to dance in the flower sea; after every sword strike, they must catch a falling flower...】*

This was something Chu Qing knew. He had thought it was just the childish whims of Young Master Chu Le, but now, there seemed to be a hidden meaning.

Sword. Falling flowers. Every time the Clan Master ordered sword cultivators to be brought before him, he also made them dance in the flower forest.

Chu Qing’s eyes widened abruptly.

***

Chu Le was lounging on a chair beneath a flower tree, head propped on one hand, watching the group of sword cultivators with utter boredom.

"I said, don't be so deliberate when you swing the sword!"

"The flower must be caught intact—third column on the right, fifth one! What are you doing?"

"And the one to his left, have you truly ever studied the sword? It’s hideous."

Chu Le pointed out their flaws with disdain. A steward who knew how to read the room immediately stepped forward, shouting, "Take them away! Don’t offend our young master’s eyes!"

Chu Le sneered, leaning back on the couch, though a hint of regret lingered in his heart. It was so easy, so graceful, when he saw that ugly woman perform that move that day. How could he find so many cultivators and yet none could imitate it?

Just as Chu Le was distracted, a deep blue figure descended from the sky like a thunderbolt stirring up the vast ocean. The cultivators immediately dropped their swords and bowed, shouting, "Greetings, Clan Master!"

Chu Le jumped off his chair and took a few steps forward. "Uncle, what brings you here today..."

Before he could finish, a surge of spiritual power struck him. Chu Le was startled and leaped up to dodge, but the energy seemed to have eyes of its own. In less than a breath, it caught up, and Chu Le fell from the air with a dull thud.

The onlookers were horrified. This technique, 'Chasing the Moon,' was the signature move of the Chu Clan Master, used to track down fugitives; it had never missed.

Chu Le’s hands were bound by the spiritual energy. Struggling to no avail, he was forced to his knees. The young master, usually so haughty, was now humiliated. Angry and aggrieved, he looked at Chu Jiye, about to protest, but was too terrified to speak.

Chu Jiye’s face was deathly pale, yet an unnatural flush bloomed on his cheeks. His eyes burned with intense fear, intertwined with a flame of excitement.

"Demonstrate it for me."

Chu Le stammered, "What... what do you want to see?"

"That day. The falling flowers. Her sword technique." Chu Jiye spoke word by word, almost through gritted teeth. "Demonstrate it for me."

Chu Le was forced to stand and stumbled as he drew his sword. The spiritual energy of 'Chasing the Moon' bound his limbs tightly; he was like a puppet on a stage, jerkily demonstrating the brilliant sword strike he had witnessed that day.

She held a branch, first leaping, then raising the sword, twisting—

What came after that?

Chu Le couldn't recall, but the energy binding him seemed to have a consciousness of its own, guiding his movements.

"—It seems it was like this!"

Chu Le looked at the flower at the tip of his sword in surprise. "It's worse than that day, but that’s how the flower fell!"

Those nearby felt their hearts tighten. *Oh, Young Master Chu Le, why did you have to say that the sword technique controlled by the Clan Master was "worse than hers"? That’s asking for death!*

Who didn't know the Chu family’s pride? They had to be the best at everything, to take the top spot. Besides, this Chu Clan Master was a master swordsman himself—wasn't that a slap in the face?

Everyone shrank back, holding their breath, ready to be caught in the crossfire. But to their surprise, Chu Jiye didn't get angry. He started to chuckle, then laughed louder and louder, until tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

He asked, "And the flower?"

The flower? Chu Le knelt on the ground, aggrieved. "She didn't give it to me—she gave it to that girl from the Cloudview Palace."

A falling flower drifted down, carrying a faint fragrance, silent and still.

After a moment, Chu Le heard a soft laugh from above.

"...That sounds like something she would do."

Though it was a laugh, it was inexplicably chilling.

Chu Qing, who had rushed over, felt a bitter pang in his heart. He dared not speak, merely standing with his head bowed behind Chu Jiye.

Chu Jiye didn't care that anyone was nearby. He crouched down, disregarding his robes falling into the dust swept up by the sword wind, and glanced at the fallen flower in Chu Le’s palm. The soft petals shattered instantly.

Chu Jiye laughed again—a laugh so innocent and radiant, as if he were still that young master protected by everyone.

"Do you know where she went?"

Chu Le had never seen his uncle like this. Feeling like prey watched by an eagle, he stammered, "She... that day, she left with the Cloudview Palace."

Cloudview Palace, the Yuan family of Linghuan Dock.

*Right. It is said that the previous head of the Sword Pavilion, Ning Guihai, had a very close relationship with the Cloudview Palace.*

A thousand thoughts swirled in Chu Jiye’s mind. He walked forward a few steps, and a surge of blood rose in his throat.

The blood on the ground stunned the crowd. It took several moments for someone to wake from their trance and shout, "The Clan Master is vomiting blood! Get a physician!"

"How could the Clan Master be vomiting blood?!"

"Where is the physician? Why aren't they here yet?"

*So annoying.*

*So many voices.*

"Quiet."

With a single word, everyone was struck mute and frozen in their tracks, forced to watch as the Clan Master walked forward alone. He still carried his usual noble and arrogant posture, yet, walking alone, he appeared utterly desolate.

Chu Jiye didn't care what others thought. He was just... sad.

*To catch a falling flower with a sword, to speak of joy with a blade.*

This was the move Sister Ningyu had used to coax him back then, yet this time, she hadn't given the flower to him.

Chu Jiye covered his lips, coughing heavily. When he pulled his hand away, his handkerchief was stained with blood.

In a daze, Chu Jiye actually laughed out loud.

"Chu Qing."

Chu Jiye wiped the blood from his lips, not caring in the least. When he turned back, his face still held a lingering smile, but his voice was raspy, as if torn.

"Send a formal invitation to Linghuan Dock."

He had to see if that person was truly Sister Ningyu.

He had to ask her how she could bear to treat him this way.

...He would never let her leave again.