But even so, she would still hold him tightly.
She would still respond to his affections.
— Dai Dai, do you like it?
— I like it.
— Do you like me?
— I like you, I like Su Xuan.
— I also like Sang Dai, Sang Dai is my wife, I really like her.
— Su Xuan is also my husband, I like him too.
Her consciousness was shattered, and she could only stammer in response to his affections. At the final moment, it seemed like she heard his voice.
“Dai Dai…”
A hoarse murmur spread out, carrying his endless love.
“I will always stay with you.”
No matter what happens, he would always be by her side.
The twin marriage contract had been signed, their lives bound together, through the Yellow Springs or the Blue Skies, they would be together, never apart. The road ahead would be walked together.
They were soulmates, and more importantly, each other’s most steadfast support.
—
When Ying Heng woke up, it was already the fifth afternoon. He opened his eyes, and the room was empty. Chunying’s sword spirit called out to him in his sea of consciousness, bringing him the only sound.
“Master.”
Ying Heng was stunned for a moment, then, after becoming fully awake, responded in confusion, “Chunying, what time is it?”
“You’ve been unconscious for a day. Young Master Liu came yesterday.”
“…Young Master Liu came?” Ying Heng fumbled to sit up, his voice hoarse. “How many more days until Dai Dai and the Beast King arrive?”
“Fifteen days.”
Ying Heng nodded, pulled off the blanket, and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling for his shoes. His gaze had no focus, as though he were in a void, drifting between emptiness and nothingness.
He couldn’t circulate his spiritual power, but the pain in his body had reduced significantly. He had risked his life to forcefully connect his meridians and had won the gamble.
The room was silent. The Divine Healer Valley was already secluded, and with Nangong Zhu not here, there was only Ying Heng left, with his five senses lost, and a sword.
Ying Heng sat for a long time. The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted to the west, the glow of dusk sweeping across his body, the evening deepening. The window was still open, and the sunset was beautiful.
But he couldn’t see it. He hadn’t seen the sunset in a long time.
At this moment, the door was pushed open. Ying Heng, unaware and oblivious, didn’t notice the arrival.
Until a voice echoed in his sea of consciousness: “You’re awake?”
It was Nangong Zhu’s voice.
Ying Heng didn’t know where he was, but his body didn’t move. His eyes curved slightly as he responded politely, “Young Master Nangong.”
Nangong Zhu was silent for a while, then moved a chair to sit not far from Ying Heng.
“Immortal Lord Ying Heng, have you remembered?”
His tone was calm and unruffled, but it was low and heavy. Ying Heng knew that Nangong Zhu wasn’t asking casually—he was seriously inquiring about this matter.
Had he seen it?
Ying Heng’s hand, resting on his knee, unconsciously clenched into a fist. He felt no pain, not even noticing his nails sinking into his palm.
He recalled the images in his memory.
“I saw… I saw someone crying…”
Nangong Zhu asked, “Who was crying?”
Who was crying?
Suddenly, Ying Heng remembered a fragment of a memory from a rainy night.
He saw someone crying. She was kneeling on the ground, her young face delicate and beautiful, but filled with despair. Her whole body was soaked in the rain, and she was almost wailing in sorrow.
Her gaze was blank, her voice hoarse.
“Why… why… why do you want to kill me…”
“Master, did I do something wrong… why… why…”
Her sword hummed, and her heart seemed to be breaking.
That was ten-year-old Sang Dai.
The fact that Ying Heng had this memory meant it occurred before his betrayal.
He didn’t remember seeing Sang Dai in that state. Even though his memories were jumbled, he could be certain of one thing: Sang Dai, as the young lady of the Sword Sect, and as a Heaven-grade spiritual root awakener, had always had a firm will since childhood. At seven, she had fought evil alone and was beaten nearly to death without ever shedding a tear, let alone breaking her resolve.
When did this happen?
And what did the Ying Heng in the memory do?
The Ying Heng in the memory couldn’t see his own face, but he heard his trembling voice.
“Dai Dai… Master will always protect you…”
He had promised to protect her, then betrayed the Sword Sect the moment after.
Ying Heng looked up in confusion, unable to see where Nangong Zhu was, but he knew he was still in the room.
His voice trembled slightly: “I also heard another sentence…”
Nangong Zhu’s voice was hoarse: “What did it say?”
Ying Heng said: “That sentence told me…”
— “Even if you take the blame, the person you want to protect may not necessarily survive. Ying Heng, would you still want to continue as a Heaven-grade spiritual root awakener?”
What was he supposed to do, and who was the person he wanted to protect?
The answer was actually clear.
The Guixu spiritual vein wasn’t destroyed by Ying Heng, nor was the Cangwu Dao Temple slaughtered by him. He took the blame to protect one person.
And Ying Heng would rather abandon the disciple he had raised with his own hands than stay loyal to the four realms. Even though the four realms hunted him down, he did not hesitate. The person he wanted to protect—
Only Sang Dai.
Nangong Zhu took a deep breath, turned around to calm himself.
After his emotions had stabilized, he looked back at Ying Heng, who appeared soul-less, his face as pale as snow.
“So… the destruction of the Guixu spiritual vein and the Cangwu Dao Temple has something to do with Sang Dai?”
“Perhaps.”
“Who said that sentence?”
Ying Heng didn’t know how to respond. He opened his lips, but the only words that came out were:
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, Nangong Zhu grew angry. He stood up and shouted at Ying Heng, “You can’t remember anything! You can’t even remember the things you did! You brush everything off with ‘I don’t know, I forgot, maybe.’ What about my parents! Ying Heng, my parents’ death is tied to you, do you think I want to save you? If it weren’t to investigate what happened back then, do you think I’d care about you?”
“If you really have the ability, then remember what happened back then immediately. If you can’t remember, then you might as well die.”
“Ying Heng, you might as well die. You’re useless alive, so just die.”
He always had a sharp tongue and was reckless, not a good person. He practiced medicine to save people, but he preferred refining poisons to kill.
He strode out quickly, but when he reached the small courtyard gate, he stopped.
Nangong Zhu closed his eyes. The disciples waiting outside watched carefully, but all they saw was a tear falling.
Their proud Valley Master choked with a sob:
“You’re all innocent… You don’t remember… So, who was at fault? What about my parents, what about me?”
The disciples didn’t know what had happened. Their Valley Master had only been inside for a short while, and when he came out, he was in tears. But they knew that when the previous Valley Master and his wife died, Nangong Zhu was only eleven. He had to support the entire Divine Healer Valley by himself.
While his father was still alive, Nangong Zhu had only been interested in refining poisons. The previous Valley Master had beaten him many times, and Nangong Zhu would cheekily respond with:
“The Divine Healer Valley’s medical skills are probably wasted on me, so you two old folks should try harder and have me a little brother or sister to carry it on.”
This would infuriate the Valley Master and his wife, who would beat him together.
But after they died, Nangong Zhu locked himself in his parents’ room for an entire month. When he came out, he had completely changed. Though he still liked refining poisons, he spent every day studying the medical books passed down through generations of the Divine Healer Valley.
The Divine Healer Valley’s main duty was to heal people, and as a poison-refining cultivator, after his parents’ death, Nangong Zhu had no choice but to take on the responsibility of being the only heir to the Valley. He forced himself to finish the medical skills he once hated and avoided.
The disciples kept silent and quietly stayed behind Nangong Zhu.
A gust of wind swept through, and the window panes of the room made a crisp sound. Ying Heng couldn’t hear it, nor could he feel the cold.
Chunying told him that Nangong Zhu had left.
Ying Heng heard Nangong Zhu’s curses directed at him. Actually, he didn’t care about those words. He had a good temper and wouldn’t get angry even if Nangong Zhu cursed him in front of him.
But Nangong Zhu’s words still felt like a knife stabbing into his heart.
He remembered nothing—he didn’t remember the Heroes’ Conference, didn’t remember the destruction of the Guixu spiritual vein and Cangwu Dao Temple, didn’t remember anything about the Divine Healer Valley.
Behind the words “I don’t remember” were the 122 years his disciple had spent looking for him, the truth behind the deaths of his five friends, and the reason the previous Valley Master of the Divine Healer Valley had died.
Ying Heng suddenly asked Chunying: “Chunying, you are a Heaven-grade artifact. Have I wronged you by making you follow me?”
He was a useless person, a sinner of the four realms.
Chunying was silent for a long time.
Ying Heng spoke softly: “Chunying, I won’t be angry.”
“I’m not wronged.”
The moment his words fell, Chunying answered.
Ying Heng didn’t speak.
“You’re very strong and a very good sword cultivator. My sea of consciousness is connected with yours. Your sea of consciousness is severely injured, and your memories are damaged. I’ve also been deeply hurt, so I don’t remember what happened back then either. I can’t help you, but Master, you actually didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But Chunying… who exactly is at fault?”
“You’re not wrong, so you don’t need to worry about who’s at fault.”
Many years ago, Ying Heng had firmly told Sang Dai: “We are not wrong, it’s others who are wrong.”
But now, he found himself doubting his own words. The missing memories made him unaware of what had happened. It was as if, the moment he opened his eyes, the world had changed.
Ying Heng sat for a long time.
Without his spiritual power, an ordinary person would feel numb after sitting still for one or two hours, but Ying Heng had no senses and didn’t react to it at all.
He sat still like a statue.
As the day wore on, rain began to fall outside, and cold wind blew in through the window. Ying Heng’s robes were lifted by the cold wind, and Chunying could no longer watch it.
It unsheathed itself and closed the window with its sword body.
At that moment, Ying Heng spoke.
“Chunying, perhaps I really made a mistake.”
The white-clad sword cultivator’s eyes were hollow.
“If I took the blame to protect Dai Dai, I clearly wanted to protect her, but she still suffered so much. She almost died; I forgot what happened back then, leaving Brother Wu to guard our promise alone, and no one knows the real reason behind the deaths of my five closest friends; I forgot about the Divine Healer Valley, and perhaps I indirectly harmed Young Master Nangong’s parents. But I’ve forgotten all of it.”
“Chunying, did I really make a mistake?”
“Chunying, I need to remember. I must remember.”
What exactly happened? What had he forgotten?
Why had his disciple cried like that in his memories, with her resolve nearly shattered? When had this happened? Did Sang Dai remember?
What had really happened at the Heroes’ Conference? Why, though they were clearly friends, did they dare not meet each other? Why had Weishengxuan and Bai Yu, Shao Xi and Tan Muqing all died in the same year?
Why had Wu Hanxu said:
“This is fate.”
He stumbled as he got up and opened the door, running into the rain.
Chunying knew where he was going. It used its sword intent to form a spiritual shield to block the rain and guide him in the right direction.