In an instant, only the sound of hearts beating remained.
They lay together on the same bed. Su Xuan’s original intention was merely to look after her, but at this moment, it seemed to have changed somewhat.
Sang Dai was a person with very good manners. Perhaps it was because she had stayed in the Sword Sect for too long that she was polite in everything she did, a straightforward thinker. Even words like these could be spoken so earnestly.
There were still tears on her face.
Su Xuan felt a sudden pang of softness in his heart. But at the same time, his heartbeat gradually sped up, each thud deafening.
She asked him if she could hold him.
For something like this, Su Xuan would only ever give her one answer.
A shadow flickered before her eyes. Before Sang Dai could hear Su Xuan’s reply, what came first was his embrace.
The Nine-Tailed Fox Clan truly had a high body temperature. It felt as if she were surrounded by a warm furnace. Su Xuan’s palm pressed against her lower back, and the warmth seeped through the thin inner garment to her skin. Sang Dai felt very warm.
She buried her face in his chest, the pleasant scent of herbs and wood on Su Xuan’s body lingering around her nose and breath.
“Sang Dai, you can trust me.”
Sang Dai didn’t respond.
Su Xuan’s chin rested on the top of her head. From this angle, he couldn’t see her tears.
Sang Dai never knew she had so many tears, as if they were an endless stream that could never dry up.
She rarely cried. So why was it that this time, she just couldn’t hold back?
Facing a thousand enemies alone, severely injured and on the brink of death, she hadn’t shed a tear. But when Su Xuan came to her side, the towering Nine-Tailed Fox stood before her, and she lay upon his true form, the tears just wouldn’t stop.
For the first time, she realized that she, too, could feel the emotion of grievance.
Sang Dai tightened her hold around his waist, her forehead lightly rubbing against his chest—a subconscious reaction of dependence.
Su Xuan felt a pang of sourness in his nose. One hand pressed against the back of Sang Dai’s head, gently stroking her hair. The sword cultivator’s smooth and soft black hair was like the finest silk, mingled with her faint, clean fragrance, which always gave him a sense of peace.
He knew the person in his arms was crying.
Her body trembled. Even though she tried to suppress the sound, faint heavy breaths still escaped. The front of his inner garment was soaked with her tears, sticking to his skin, a coldness that reached his heart.
Su Xuan didn’t stop her from crying.
Sang Dai was a little monster, but she was also a person. Emotions needed to be released, not buried deep in her heart.
Slaying her own father, severing all ties with the Sword Sect, being branded a traitor by the Immortal Realm she had fought so hard to protect—all of this happened to her in a single night.
She had done nothing wrong, yet all the blame was placed on her shoulders.
Su Xuan knew that this would be the last time Sang Dai cried for the Immortal Realm. He was the person in this world who understood Sang Dai the most—more than she understood herself.
Sang Dai might be fragile for a moment, but she would never remain fragile. Wherever she fell, she would rise again, over and over, until she stood firmly.
A long time passed. The clothes on his chest were almost soaked through, and the person in his arms finally began to calm down.
Sang Dai remained silent for a long time, not leaving his embrace. Su Xuan didn’t speak either. He simply held her quietly.
Until Sang Dai’s slightly hoarse voice broke the silence.
“Su Xuan, the vengeful ghost you encountered is named Ling Yin. She’s the one who abducted me.”
Su Xuan’s body visibly stiffened, and Sang Dai could feel the oppressive aura radiating from him.
He was angry.
Sang Dai lifted her head from his embrace. Her face had been wiped clean of tears, leaving only her reddened eyes and nose as evidence that she had been crying moments ago.
“We’re partners, so I should tell you about this. That vengeful ghost, Ling Yin, is the very same senior you know—the great master of the Xumi Sect’s Speech Incantation Technique from six thousand years ago. A cultivator in the Tribulation Crossing Realm—Ling Yin.”
The Tribulation Crossing Realm. That explained how she could silently pull a substitution trick right under Su Xuan’s nose and set up a barrier without him noticing.
Su Xuan’s face remained expressionless, but the hand resting on Sang Dai’s waist instinctively tightened its grip.
“She spoke of heavenly secrets she had glimpsed, defying fate itself, and was judged by the Four Realms as having conspired against the Heavenly Dao. Her heavenly-grade spiritual root was forcibly extracted, her body burned to ash, and her soul turned into a vengeful ghost. She abducted me, seemingly to harm me, yet she also told me how to use the Tianyu Stone, which enabled me to summon the Nine Heavens Profound Thunder.”
“And,” Sang Dai continued, “she also told me the ending she foresaw for me.”
Her tone was unnervingly calm, but Su Xuan’s heart began to race with a chaotic rhythm, gripped by a formless fear of the words she was about to utter.
Her ending?
What kind of ending?
“Sang Dai…”
“The Guixu was ultimately destroyed,” she said, her voice as flat as before. “The Four Realms claimed it was because of me, found me guilty, extracted my heavenly-grade spiritual root, and surrounded me at the Guixu to kill me.”
It felt as though his blood had frozen, shattered, and fallen in pieces. Su Xuan, though belonging to the fire element, was overcome by a chilling cold that pierced to the bone.
Sang Dai remained eerily composed. “But I don’t believe it. Even if this is fate, I will change it.”
She looked at Su Xuan and asked, “The path ahead of me is pitch black. I can’t see the end of the road. I don’t know when the Guixu will be destroyed, or when I’ll be branded a traitor. Perhaps one day, these things will happen suddenly.”
“So, Su Xuan.” Sang Dai gazed into his eyes. “Walk this path with me. You’ll be in danger. If, in the end, I am still declared guilty and face the Four Realms as my enemy, then you—”
“That won’t happen.” Su Xuan interrupted, his voice calm. “With this lord here, it won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“You won’t die.”
“…And what about you?” Sang Dai’s voice was low. “What if you end up dying?”
“This lord won’t die either.”
His words were resolute, his tone deep. If someone else had said this, Sang Dai might have doubted or disbelieved them.
But these were Su Xuan’s words, and Su Xuan had never lied to her.
Sang Dai stared into Su Xuan’s eyes, and she could hear his truest thoughts.
[“Even if I must die, I will die before you, Dai Dai. You can trust me. I will never abandon you.”]
When Sang Dai was strong, he would always follow behind her.
When Sang Dai was weak, he would stand in front of her, guarding her unwaveringly—even to death.
He always had a sharp tongue, his words a mix of truth and falsehood, but his innermost thoughts had never deceived her.
Sang Dai gazed at him for a long while. As her eyes grew sore, another thought surfaced in her mind.
“Su Xuan, when I was thirteen, the Beast Realm also chose a sacrificial candidate. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Mm. This lord didn’t die.”
“What did you go through?”
“Nothing. You don’t need to know.”
Sang Dai couldn’t hear his inner thoughts. Regarding this piece of the past, Su Xuan didn’t dwell on it.
It wouldn’t be a pleasant memory.
Sensing her low spirits, Su Xuan comforted her. “Sang Dai, it’s all in the past. Don’t think about it anymore. This lord is doing well now.”
“…Alright.”
If he wasn’t willing to speak of it, she couldn’t get an answer.
Sang Dai fell silent for a moment, and the two of them quietly shared the room.
The events of the past days flashed through her mind. Sang Dai realized that after saving her, Su Xuan had been drawn into all of it as well.
But he didn’t need to face any of this.
Sang Dai pressed her lips together several times. Eventually, she raised her head and tried to persuade him again. “Su Xuan, I have to investigate the truth about my master. I’m already too entangled to retreat unscathed. There are too many people in the shadows who want to kill me. What happened this time won’t be the last. Staying by my side will really be very dan—”
“Sang Dai.” Su Xuan interrupted her once again. “This is the last time I’ll hear you say these things. Don’t say them again.”
Sang Dai was speechless.
Su Xuan merely said, “No matter how many times you ask, this lord’s answer will always be the same. No one can kill the person this lord is determined to protect.”
Sang Dai lay on her side, facing him. The two of them shared the same bed, face-to-face. Once mortal enemies, they had somehow reached the point of entrusting their backs to each other.
What was lost was hardly regrettable; what had been gained was even more precious.
She finally understood. The questions she asked, Su Xuan’s answers were always crystal clear.
His choice would always be her.
“Su Xuan.” Sang Dai suddenly smiled, her eyes suffused with warmth as she asked, “Why are you so good to me?”
Su Xuan’s eyebrows relaxed, and a trace of helplessness flashed through his glazed eyes.
Sang Dai continued, “You’re the person who treats me the best.”
Hearing her speak such a serious statement, Su Xuan’s ears turned red, and a flush crept up his cheeks. He turned his head away, coughed lightly, and awkwardly added, “It’s just a small effort. This lord has already said, you’re this lord’s strongest opponent. No one but this lord is allowed to kill you.”
And yet, he was the least likely person to ever harm Sang Dai.
Sang Dai’s smile deepened. She nodded knowingly, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased, “Oh? Then what if one day you meet someone stronger than me? For example, Senior Ling Yin—she’s stronger than me.”
Su Xuan froze for a moment, then suddenly turned toward her with a fierce expression. “This lord’s only opponent will ever be you. Don’t you dare associate this lord with anyone else.”
Sang Dai covered her eyes and burst into laughter. Her light, bell-like laughter was completely different from the choking sobs from earlier, clear and pleasant to the ear.
Su Xuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. A thousand words rose in his heart, but he couldn’t voice any of them. In the end, all he managed was: “Sang Dai, you should laugh more often.”
Because her smile was beautiful.
Sang Dai lowered her hands, revealing crescent moon-shaped eyes that glimmered with laughter, and all that was reflected in them was him.
“Alright, Su Xuan.”
Su Xuan gripped the corner of the brocade quilt tightly, his heartbeat accelerating wildly in that moment.