Although she wasn’t angry with him, Shen Ciyu found this even more terrifying. It was as if a sharp blade had sliced open his chest, and the cold wind poured through the crack, making his heart both cold and painful.
It wasn’t that she had forgiven him—she simply didn’t care.
Though they were both Heaven-Grade Spiritual Root awakeners of the Sword Sect, Shen Ciyu had been well-protected by the Sword Sect and the Shen family. Whenever there was a battle, Sang Dai had almost always gone alone, taking on his share of the responsibility. She had never complained.
When the Immortal Alliance issued a bounty on her, he had doubted that Sang Dai could have done such a thing, yet he still accepted the mission to hunt her down. Even then, she had not blamed him.
She didn’t hold a grudge against the things that had happened in the past.
She simply didn’t care.
Because it didn’t matter to her, she had no emotions about it.
She would leave them all behind, walking forward without ever looking back.
Sang Dai was so gentle, yet so cruel.
Suddenly, Shen Ciyu began coughing violently. He turned his head in haste, covering his mouth with his hand. Blood seeped through his fingers as the tall Sword Cultivator swayed unsteadily, barely able to stand.
Sang Dai frowned and stepped forward to grasp his wrist.
Shen Ciyu tried to pull away, but Sang Dai had already let go.
It only took a moment for her to check his pulse.
Her tone was calm: “Your mental state has collapsed significantly. Have you consulted a medical cultivator?”
Shen Ciyu turned to look at her, searching her face for a trace of concern or sympathy. He found none.
Sang Dai remained as gentle as ever, even her words soft and warm, but her eyes were devoid of emotion.
It was as if she were expressing concern for a stranger.
Shen Ciyu could still recall the way she had just looked at Su Xuan, her eyes full of affection and amusement.
“Young Master Shen, if you’re truly fine, then there’s no need for us to continue this conversation. Su Xuan and I have things to attend to. Here, take this bottle of pills; they’re for nourishing your heart meridians. Take care of yourself and recover properly.”
She pushed the bottle of pills into his hand and nodded at him. “I’ll be going now. You should return soon as well—Sword Sect needs you.”
Sang Dai turned to leave, heading toward Su Xuan.
Shen Ciyu clutched the bottle of pills tightly and suddenly called out, “Sang Dai.”
She didn’t turn around but stopped in her tracks.
Shen Ciyu said, “Aside from the eight elders of the Sword Sect, everyone involved in that matter has been dealt with. If you wish to—”
“There’s no need.”
Before he could finish, the Sword Cultivator interrupted him.
Her voice was indifferent. “I won’t go back.”
Sang Dai continued, “Young Master Shen, you’ve done well. With you as the Sect Master, the disciples can cultivate in peace. I hope your path to immortality will be smooth. I’ll take my leave now.”
She walked toward the black-clad young man in the distance, the layers of her blue skirt rippling like petals. The intricate hairpins in her updo were exquisite and elaborate, completely different from the simple and unadorned Sword Cultivator Shen Ciyu remembered.
After leaving the Sword Sect, she had been living a better life.
No crushing responsibilities, no endless demons to exterminate, no monthly bloodletting, no collective deception or concealment.
Instead, she was surrounded by countless people who genuinely cared for her.
Shen Ciyu watched as she approached the young man but hadn’t yet reached him. The fox, who had been standing with his back to them, turned around, looking somewhat aggrieved as he stepped forward and grabbed Sang Dai’s hand. He said something, and Sang Dai reached out to gently stroke his hair.
Shen Ciyu had seen Su Xuan in battle before—fierce and powerful, with a chilling frost enveloping him. His gaze was cold, as if everything in the world was no more than grass and straw to him.
But this was the first time he had seen Su Xuan like this.
Like a little fox wagging its tail for attention, allowing Sang Dai to pet his hair and rub his ears. Then he straightened up, took Sang Dai’s hand, and led her away.
Shen Ciyu didn’t know where they were going, but the way they walked side by side was so intimate that no one else could come between them.
Shen Ciyu clutched his chest and suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
From the shadows, Shen Feng rushed out, catching Shen Ciyu before he could collapse.
“Child, pull yourself together. You’ve seen her, resolved your inner turmoil. This matter is over. Don’t be like this—your parents’ hearts ache for you.” Shen Feng’s tears streamed down his face as he watched Shen Ciyu coughing and spitting blood, his heart breaking at the sight.
Shen Ciyu let out a bitter laugh, covering his eyes to hide his tears.
“Father, I’m so ridiculous.”
His life had been so smooth until now. When he suddenly learned that he had indirectly caused so much harm, he couldn’t handle it. His mental state collapsed, leaving him utterly devastated.
He had thought that seeing Sang Dai and sincerely apologizing to her might ease some of his guilt. But when he saw her, saw how well she was doing now, his heart only ached more.
He wanted her to live well, and Su Xuan was indeed good to her, so why did it still hurt so much?
He didn’t understand.
Clutching the porcelain bottle in his hand, his voice choked as he said, “She’s gone. She’ll never come back. Father, I was wrong. The Sword Sect was wrong too.”
“I shouldn’t have doubted her. I shouldn’t have been blindly loyal to the Sword Sect. I shouldn’t have let her bear so much for me. I was wrong in everything.”
“But, Father, she won’t give me a chance to make it up to her… She doesn’t care anymore.”
Sang Dai didn’t just stop caring about him—she no longer cared about the Sword Sect or even the entire Immortal Realm.
She had left, and she would never look back.
—
Sang Dai tried to pull her hand away from Su Xuan’s, only to find the little fox holding on tightly.
“Su Xuan, we could just teleport there.”
So why were they walking all this way? They had already gone quite far.
Su Xuan finally stopped.
He turned to face his Sword Cultivator, and in the vast desert, it was just the two of them. Even the Chunqiu Tower was nowhere in sight.
“Dai Dai!!!”
The little fox suddenly laughed, wrapping his arms around the Sword Cultivator’s waist and lifting her off the ground in a horizontal embrace. He tossed her up a few times and caught her securely.
“Su Xuan!”
Sang Dai was utterly startled, clinging tightly to his neck as he held her.
“What are you doing!”
She smacked his shoulder hard.
The fox spirit was overjoyed, his laughter bright and his eyes shining. Holding the Sword Cultivator in his arms, his arm looped under her knees, he cradled her close. Her head rested against his neck, and her arms were tightly wrapped around him.
The little fox hummed contentedly and rubbed his face against hers, nuzzling her like a chick pecking at grain, planting light kisses on her neck.
“Dai Dai, I’m so happy!”
Sang Dai’s cheeks burned as she looked up at him.
“…What is it?”
The little fox tilted his chin up proudly. “Just happy.”
[Because Dai Dai has completely severed her ties with the Sword Sect. From now on, she’ll be entirely mine.]
He could tell that Shen Ciyu had come with the intention of winning Sang Dai back, but she had refused him.
She had walked toward him.
Without hesitation.
She had chosen him, chosen the Beast Realm, chosen their future together.
[I like Dai Dai so much. So, so, so much.]
The little fox rubbed his face against the Sword Cultivator’s cheek, nuzzling her like a kitten.
Sang Dai caught the scent of grass and wood. A strand of Su Xuan’s silver hair brushed against her cheek, cool and soft.
She stifled a laugh, burying her face in Su Xuan’s neck. With a smile, she asked, “Are you really that happy?”
“Happy.”
“Mm, being able to make the princess happy is my greatest blessing.”
Princess Su carried her forward, laughing as he replied, “The princess still needs a consort. Why don’t you make a small sacrifice and marry the princess?”
There was so much that they both understood.
No words were needed; she and Su Xuan understood each other best.
Sang Dai let him carry her. After all, she didn’t need to walk now, and this little fox loved clinging to her.
Nestled in his arms, listening to Su Xuan’s steady and rhythmic heartbeat, Sang Dai suddenly felt like there was nothing to fear about the road ahead.
She wasn’t alone.
Sang Dai suddenly murmured softly, “Su Xuan, you’re more important to me than any of them. More important than the entire Immortal Realm.”
Su Xuan didn’t stop walking, holding her securely as he moved forward.
The smile on his lips grew wider and wider, and he responded, “I know.”
He knew that Sang Dai had already opened her heart to him.
Just a little more, and he could rightfully stay by her side, until the end of both their lives.
Su Xuan gently set Sang Dai down. His human form disappeared, replaced by a magnificent nine-tailed fox.
Standing tall, he looked down at her and said, “Climb on. Let’s go for a ride.”
[Teleportation is boring. Let me show Dai Dai the desert.]
Though barren, this place was vast, majestic, and boundless.
Sang Dai leapt gracefully onto the nine-tailed fox’s back, sitting cross-legged.
His soft, flowing fur made the perfect cushion, and the surrounding hellfire, amplified for warmth, wrapped her in comfort.
The Sword Cultivator obediently took the fireball the little fox had given her, cradling it in her hands.
Su Xuan asked, “Are you cold?”
Sang Dai smiled and replied, “Not cold, especially with you here.”
The second half of her sentence thoroughly delighted the little fox. His tails swayed slightly, and he generously extended one, wrapping it around Sang Dai’s waist.
“Let’s go. Hold on tight.”
The nine-tailed fox moved gracefully, his towering form sprinting across the desert like a small mountain in motion. His silver fur rippled in the wind, flowing elegantly with his movements.
Sang Dai’s black hair was tousled by the breeze, yet she laughed with unrestrained joy.
It was freeing, as though her mood had lightened significantly.
No matter when, Su Xuan always had a way of lifting her spirits.
Sang Dai touched the tail coiled around her waist, and Su Xuan’s tail pressed closer into her palm.
She lay on her side, gazing at the rapidly retreating desert around her. Holding the Hellfire orb he had given her, she felt warm, even though they were approaching the Snow Realm, where the cold grew increasingly intense.
Suddenly, she recalled Ling Yin’s words:
—”If you look back, you’ll see the best things have always been behind you, quietly guarding you.”
In the past, she had never looked back.
Now, Su Xuan had moved from behind her to stand beside her. She no longer needed to turn around.
“Su Xuan, I’ve found my path, and I will keep moving forward. So, you must walk it with me.”
Her voice was soft and low.