Then what would he do when this year’s mating season arrived?
Sang Dai sighed quietly in her heart. When that time came, she would guard him as he worked through it. But would this lifelong rival of hers even allow her to stay nearby?
“Su Xuan,” Sang Dai murmured, “why don’t you let go for now?”
The little fox grumbled in refusal. “No.”
“But I’m really hot. Your body temperature is too high.”
The Nine-Tailed Fox Clan truly were born alongside karmic flames—his entire body felt warm, and once his fire stirred, he was like a furnace burning for hours.
The little fox muttered, “I’m uncomfortable.”
Sang Dai patted the back of his head. “But holding on like this will make it worse.”
Su Xuan whispered, “Just one more incense stick’s time.”
Sang Dai had no choice but to let him be.
Su Xuan inhaled her scent deeply, closing his eyes as he pressed his face to her cheek.
An embrace could convey so many emotions—like how much Su Xuan adored Sang Dai.
He liked her too much, far too much. Even a single strand of Sang Dai’s hair was incredibly precious to him.
After a while, Sang Dai nudged him. “The incense stick’s time is up. Maybe you should go suppress it a little?”
Su Xuan bit her neck fiercely, making Sang Dai flinch.
“Su Xuan, that hurts.”
It didn’t really hurt—he had deliberately held back his strength, leaving only a faint bite mark.
Su Xuan released his teeth and gently licked the mark.
A moment later, he finally let go of her.
Sang Dai climbed off his lap, but as soon as she left, her legs weakened, and she nearly fell to the ground.
Su Xuan hurried forward to catch her.
Sang Dai avoided his gaze, turning her head away and muttering, “I… I’m going out for a while.”
She pulled her arm free from Su Xuan’s grip and walked out quickly. Her hurried steps and retreating figure seemed as though she was running from something.
Su Xuan closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
Sang Dai made her way outside. There were quite a few people in the Chunqiu Tower. Not many people knew that the second Heaven-grade Spiritual Root had emerged here, so most of these people had come to celebrate Qiu Chengxi.
His popularity was indeed well-deserved. After all, his temperament was kind, and he excelled in mechanical arts and formation techniques.
At the end of each floor, there was a terrace without windows or barriers, offering a clear view of the entire area surrounding Chunqiu Tower.
Sang Dai leaned her arms against the railing. By now, it was already dusk. The surroundings of the pavilion were all barren desert, devoid of any vegetation. The temperature difference between day and night was significant; as night fell, a faint chill could be felt on the wind, just enough to cool the heat rising in Sang Dai’s body.
The evening glow burned like molten gold across the horizon, while the strong winds swept up grains of desert sand.
Sang Dai exhaled a long breath and unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest.
Her heartbeat was erratic.
She didn’t know when Changmang and Qingwu had appeared at her side. Seeing the two little artifacts made her want to laugh. She patted Qingwu on the head.
“You’re Su Xuan’s life-bound sword. Why are you always sticking to me?”
Qingwu nodded cheerfully. “Because I like Dai Dai!”
After all, she was someone who could summon the Nine Heavens Profound Thunder!
No—now that Sang Dai had entered the Grand Ascension Stage, she could summon forty-nine layers of heavenly lightning, which was even more impressive!
Though Sang Dai hadn’t officially recognized Qingwu as her own, and thus couldn’t understand its words, Changmang could. Heaven-grade artifacts possessed awakened spiritual consciousness, and their spirits could communicate with one another. This was why Changmang’s spirit had always lingered in Sang Dai’s consciousness, trying to awaken Zhiyu and constantly talking to it.
Listening to Changmang’s translation, a deep smile emerged in Sang Dai’s eyes.
“So you like me, huh? Wouldn’t Su Xuan get jealous?”
Qingwu snorted coldly. “Master would love nothing more than to hand over the entire Spirit Beast Hall to you. To him, this sword only serves as something worthy of use when fighting you. He learned swordsmanship because of you.”
Su Xuan’s swordsmanship wasn’t particularly refined, as his primary focus was not the sword but the Karmic Fire Array.
But in their past battles, Su Xuan often wielded a sword, which was why Sang Dai repeatedly left him half-dead.
Changmang nodded, joining in on reprimanding Su Xuan. “And me! And me! I’m a Heaven-grade artifact, yet my master always stuffed me into a box! Until you came along, master!”
Su Xuan had wrapped Changmang around Sang Dai’s wrist. During that month when she was unconscious, Su Xuan stayed by her side day and night, guarding her in silence. Changmang had also nervously protected her meridians, fearing even one more might snap.
Back then, Sang Dai had only a dozen intact meridians left in her entire body. If they all broke, her path to immortality would have been completely severed.
Sang Dai patted Changmang, while Qingwu jealously extended its sword hilt, signaling her to pat it as well.
The two Heaven-grade artifacts surrounded her, both clearly fond of her beyond measure.
To this day, Sang Dai still sometimes thought: if things had truly gone as written in the original story, and Su Xuan hadn’t exited seclusion early—if she had truly died—what would have happened to that fox?
The book’s depiction of him had been so limited. It felt like Su Xuan’s first appearance had been leading demon soldiers into war. He was written as a tyrant, a villain, a character loathed and despised.
Those sparse words amounted to less than a tenth of the book. Yet through those cold, detached descriptions, Sang Dai saw an image: a little fox curled up, biting its own tail and howling in grief.
He missed her desperately. He blamed himself, hating that he had chosen to enter seclusion.
From there, he transformed from a wise ruler into a warmongering tyrant. The once-reclusive monarch initiated battles on his own, seizing much of the Immortal Realm’s spiritual veins, cutting off countless sects’ paths to cultivation.
He also killed Sang Wenzhou and Madam Shi, shattering the Sword Sect until it fell apart. The Sword Sect abandoned Tianque Mountain and retreated to the rear, leaving the once-mighty sect—a member of the “Three Great Sects”—as nothing but an empty shell.
Now, Sang Dai could only feel relief. Fortunately—thankfully—she hadn’t died.
Su Xuan had exited seclusion early and saved her. He would no longer follow the ending written in the original book. The Beast Realm would not descend into war, and the people would continue to live peaceful and tranquil lives.
He would not die beneath heavenly lightning, falling alone before her bamboo house.
Sang Dai stroked Qing Wu’s blade, murmuring softly, “Qingwu, I won’t let him die.”
She would never, ever allow Su Xuan to lose his life because of her.
Qingwu didn’t understand, nor did Changmang. They didn’t understand why Sang Dai’s eyes reddened, why she was saying such words.
The two artifacts only knew how much they wanted to stay close to Sang Dai. The aura surrounding her was far too gentle and pure. Among all the awakened Heaven-grade Spiritual Root cultivators, hers was the purest.
Sang Dai lowered her gaze, running her hand along Qingwu and Changmang.
In the distant desert, under the setting sun, a lone figure stood tall. The swirling wind and dust swept through the vast, silent landscape.
The falcon on his shoulder remained silent, its sharp and fierce beak betraying its nature as a predator of the desert. Yet here it was, quietly perched on his shoulder.
The man gazed at the Chunqiu Tower in the vast desert, squinting slightly. He asked the falcon beside him, “Tell me, does she deserve to die?”
The falcon opened its mouth and spoke with a human voice: “She deserves to die.”
The man shook his head and sighed. “No, she doesn’t. A Heaven-grade Spiritual Root awakener as strong as her, kind-hearted and resilient—the one those few souls sacrificed themselves to save—how could she deserve to die?”
The falcon replied, “The world does not lack another Heaven-grade Spiritual Root awakener.”
He shook his head again. “But there is only one Sang Dai.”
The swordswoman in blue on the pavilion’s terrace appeared slender. From this distance, her face was indistinct, but her figure alone exuded an unmistakable purity.
“She is the only Heaven-grade Spiritual Root awakener untouched by the Four Sufferings, and the only one capable of destroying the Guixu. She is so unique, so precious. How could the other Heaven-grade awakeners even compare to her?”
The falcon’s voice turned cold. “Which is precisely why she deserves to die, don’t you think?”
After a moment of silence, the man suddenly laughed. His lips were pale, almost bloodless.
“You’re right. I was being foolish.”
The falcon warned, “Remember your task. Do not entertain other thoughts. It is watching.”
The man let out a long sigh and turned to leave, his steps carrying him into the vast distance.
“It is so irritating.”
—
Immortal Realm.
Today, heavy rain poured down relentlessly, accompanied by the crashing sounds of thunder and lightning. The darkness of night and the freezing downpour amplified the chilling cold.
Figures fled frantically through the rain-drenched forest, their faces—once proud and lofty—now twisted with fear and panic.
Up ahead, a mustard seed boat was anchored. One of the escapees’ eyes brightened as he shouted, “That’s the evacuation mustard seed boat! If we can get out of the Immortal Realm, then—”
Before he could finish, the rest of his words were swallowed back into his throat.
That mustard seed boat—one he had spent a fortune to have delivered—was their only chance to escape the Immortal Realm. Yet now…
It had been destroyed.
The walls of the mustard seed boat were shattered into pieces, all by sword light. The rain grew heavier, as though the downpour itself bore weight. Unable to withstand it any longer, the damaged vessel finally collapsed, disintegrating completely.
From behind the ruins of the mustard seed boat, a figure stepped forward.
Dressed in white, his clothes were soaked through, rainwater streaming down his temples. His features were sharp and handsome, yet his face was deathly pale, his expression cold and devoid of emotion—completely unlike the man he had once been.
“…Shen Ciyu?”
“You… Did you destroy the mustard seed boat?”
“You ungrateful wretch! Sword Sect raised you for over a hundred years, carefully teaching and nurturing you, and this is how you repay us?”
“If you still have a shred of filial piety, get out of the way and let us leave!”
Shen Ciyu looked at these people—elders who had once treated him with such kindness.
He had believed they were righteous, devoted solely to the Sword Sect’s well-being.
But the Immortal Alliance’s investigation had revealed the truth: even Sword Sect disciples had been sacrificed to the Guixu.
The kindness shown to him was the same as the kindness shown to Sang Dai—because they were Heaven-grade Spiritual Root awakeners, swords to be wielded by the Sword Sect.
Yet Shen Ciyu had one advantage over Sang Dai. He had the Shen family as his trump card, so Sword Sect did not dare to lay a hand on him.
Sang Dai, however, was alone, which was why they used and discarded her without hesitation.
Closing his eyes, Shen Ciyu let the elders’ curses rain down on him. The icy rain soaked through his body, the cold sensation keeping his thoughts painfully clear.
His breath trembled. After a long, drawn-out sigh, he reopened his eyes, as though reaching a final decision. His gaze was utterly emotionless.
He raised his sword and said coldly, “Shen Ciyu of Sword Sect, here to execute the sinners.”
“…What did you say?”
“Sword Sect’s eleven elders, along with Sect Master Sang Wenzhou, sacrificed Immortal Realm disciples’ spiritual roots to the Guixu, slaughtering the innocent and committing countless sins. The Immortal Alliance has issued a kill-on-sight order. All who see you are to—”
Sword light tore through the rain, its speed like a roaring storm. The blade carried a sharp, chilling intent, freezing everything in its path with unrelenting ice.
“Execute!”
Killing intent erupted like a tidal wave.