Chapter Three Returning to the Mountain

Shen Du's consciousness floated in a warm darkness.

He didn't know how to describe the feeling at that moment—if he had to, it was like snuggling into a warm, cozy silk quilt in winter, surrounded by a soft, warm, and familiar embrace. Only this "quilt" was alive, with a heartbeat, breath, and temperature, and a soft tongue was resting on his, like a delicate flower petal gently touching it, pulsating slightly with the rhythm of his breath.

It took him a long time to fully regain his senses, and then he realized that he had been completely swallowed by his master. From head to toe, from fingertips to toes, every inch of skin, every bone, every muscle was completely encased in his master's skin. His legs—the two legs that had just been exposed to the night wind—were now completely embedded in the leg sheaths of his master's skin, his toes pressing against the tips of the skin's toes, his knees fitting snugly against the skin's knee joints, and even the curve of his calves was perfectly filled and shaped by the mucus inside the skin.

He could feel his master stand up.

The feeling was incredibly strange. He could sense his body moving, feel the undulations of the ground beneath his feet and the changes in the direction of gravity, but his own consciousness didn't issue any command to "stand up." It was his master controlling his body, and his body was wrapped in his master's skin, like an inner lining worn on the body, passively following his master's every movement.

Then, the light appeared.

The master was probably looking down at his own body—at this body that had become full and complete again. Shen Du could see a blurry vision through the master's eyelids and the skin covering his face. Under the moonlight, a perfect female figure stood before the gate of Qingya Peak. Although her white clothes were tattered, they could not conceal the smooth and graceful lines of her body. Her waist was slender, her legs were long, and the curves of her chest were faintly visible through the tattered clothes. Her fair skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, like the finest mutton-fat jade that had been bathed in moonlight.

Shen Du could sense the joy his master felt as he examined his body. It was a feeling of relief after surviving a calamity, a joy of regaining his body and perceiving the world anew. He could sense his master's emotional fluctuations through the fine tendrils inside his skin—like peering into a part of his master's soul through an invisible window.

"We are alive." Lu Qinghan's voice echoed in his mind, carrying something he had never heard before, something almost fragile. "Shen Du, we are all alive."

“…Mmm,” Shen Du replied, his voice muffled. His mouth was sealed by his master’s lips, and his tongue was pressed down by his master’s tongue. Although he could communicate with his master on a soul level, the feeling of his mouth being blocked was unusually real. He tried to move his tongue, then immediately stopped—he could feel the tip of his tongue gently sliding under his master’s tongue, the sensation so ambiguous that it made his scalp tingle.

"Don't move." Lu Qinghan's voice suddenly regained some of its cool tone, but Shen Du felt that something was pressing down beneath that cool exterior. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, only that his master's tone was different from usual. More...restrained? Or more nervous?

He couldn't explain it.

"Master," Shen Du began, trying to ease the awkwardness in his heart with words, "have you fully recovered?"

"He's recovered." Lu Qinghan paused for a moment, then changed his words, "At least, his body has recovered. His cultivation level was somewhat damaged, but his golden core was not shattered. He should be able to recover about 70-80% after a few days of recuperation."

"Where is that man in the red robe?"

"He's gone." Lu Qinghan's voice turned colder. "He probably thought I was dead. The demon sword didn't have the effect he wanted, so naturally he won't waste any more time here."

Shen Du breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was safe for the time being.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"Let's return to the sect first." Lu Qinghan's voice became steady again, and the composure of a sword immortal from Qingya Peak returned to about 70-80% in this answer. "Our situation is unprecedented. We need to go back and consult the sect's records; perhaps we can find a way to separate us. Furthermore, this matter also needs to be reported to the sect's patriarch. The origin of that demonic sword is mysterious, and the demonic forces behind it are probably not simple."

When Lu Qinghan mentioned the word "separation," there seemed to be a very slight pause in his voice. The pause was so brief that Shen Du barely noticed it. But he noticed something else—as the word "separation" was uttered, he felt his master's body tighten slightly inside, like an extremely light and gentle embrace, pulling him even closer into the body.

"It's probably just my imagination," Shen Du thought.

Lu Qinghan picked up the fallen sword from the ground, casually twirled it to wipe away the bloodstains, then tore off a relatively intact piece of her clothing to use as a scabbard, wrapped it around her waist, and hung it there. Her movements were fluid and graceful, every detail swift and precise, as always. Only after hanging the sword did her fingers linger on the hilt for a moment longer.

Shen Du did not notice.

Lu Qinghan took off on his sword, his white robes fluttering in the night wind, and flew towards the main peak of Cangshan Mountain.

Flying on a sword should have been a piece of cake for Lu Qinghan. Golden Core cultivators could fly on swords at speeds more than ten times faster than Foundation Establishment cultivators, their movements composed and elegant—a sight that lower-level cultivators always looked up to in awe. But tonight was different. The moment she stepped onto the sword, she didn't feel the usual ease and comfort, but rather a strange, subtle sensation emanating from within her body.

Shen Du was inside her body.

The situation itself was absurd enough. But what was even more absurd was that she was currently using this body to fly on a sword, and inside this body was a living person. She could feel Shen Du's presence—not the vague "knowing," but an extremely clear perception that permeated every inch of her skin. His chest was pressed against her chest (through a layer of gel filler), his abdomen against her abdomen, his legs embedded in her legs, and his arms pierced through her arms. He was completely stuffed into her body, like a sculpture perfectly set in a mold, every inch of him belonging to her.

Lu Qinghan took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on controlling her sword and the flight path. It had been a long time since she had exerted such effort to control her expression and breathing—since achieving the Golden Core, her mental cultivation had been sufficient to allow her to remain calm and composed in any situation. But at this moment, she felt a subtle crack appear in her Ice Heart Jade Technique.

It wasn't broken, it was cracked. It was as if something warm had been placed on the surface of a piece of ancient ice, and extremely fine cracks began to appear on the ice. These cracks were not enough to shatter the entire piece of ice, but they were enough to allow something frozen for too long beneath the ice to find a crack to seep through.

She likes Shen Du.

She had always known about this, but had never admitted it. Twelve years ago, when she picked up that disheveled orphan from the snow, she told herself it was just a simple act, unable to bear seeing a child freeze to death in the wilderness. Ten years ago, when she taught him to wield a sword, she told herself it was simply fulfilling her duty as a master; the Qingya Peak lineage needed a successor. Five years ago, on the night he successfully completed his foundation-building, she protected him, burned incense for him all night, and tucked him in while he slept, telling herself it was simply a master's care for her disciple, natural and expected.

She found plausible reasons for every bit of her soft-heartedness, layering those vague feelings into the Ice Heart Jade Technique, freezing the hottest magma with the deepest cold. She thought she could continue like this forever. Watching him grow up, watching him cultivate, watching him break through to the Foundation Establishment stage, advance to the Golden Core stage, and reach the Enlightenment stage, and then one day, succeeding him as the leader of Qingya Peak. At that time…

But that damned demonic sword destroyed everything.

The demonic blade ripped through flesh and blood, piercing the defensive line. Bingxin's cultivation technique suffered an unprecedented shock at that moment. Lu Qinghan discovered something terrifying under the influence of her technique—when the body becomes an empty shell, what one craves most is no longer something that can be suppressed. The physical form needs to be filled, and what she desires most is not spiritual energy, not elixirs, not rare treasures, but…

It was the person she had been watching for twelve years.

She knew it wasn't just a physical desire. The demon sword's power went far beyond that; it amplified the deepest obsessions of the soul, digging out the cultivator's most primal desires from beneath layers of seals and laying them naked under the light of day.

Lu Qinghan closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, her eyes were clear. She couldn't let Shen Du see. He was still a child—no, he was twenty, but in her eyes he was still a child. He understood nothing, knew nothing about love between men and women, and in the past twelve years, she was the only woman he had ever been in contact with. Even the stories he read were those low-brow tales of martial arts novels he had secretly kept. He must be very scared, confused, and at a loss right now.

She had to maintain the image of a master in his presence. A cool, composed, and all-encompassing master. As for what was surging beneath the cracked ice, she could deal with that slowly.

No rush.

Anyway, he can't go anywhere now.

The moment the thought flashed through her mind, Lu Qinghan's fingers unconsciously tightened their grip on the sword hilt. Deep inside, a voice whispered, so softly that she could barely hear it herself—a secret, unacknowledged sense of relief seeping from the very marrow of her bones.

She forced herself not to listen.

"Master." Shen Du's voice suddenly rang out, interrupting her turbulent thoughts.

"Um?"

"You seem to be flying more erratically than usual." Shen Du's tone carried a hint of cautious concern. "Is your spiritual energy circulation not working smoothly? If you're tired, come down and rest for a bit. There's no rush."

Lu Qinghan was taken aback for a moment, then realized he was telling the truth—her sword flight was indeed a bit more bumpy than usual. The sword beneath her feet trembled almost imperceptibly three times, something that had never happened before. This wasn't a problem with her spiritual energy; it was a lack of mental focus. All her willpower was being used to control her expression and breathing, so naturally, less focus was available for sword flight.

“It’s alright.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but then a thought suddenly popped into her head. It came quickly and subtly, like a fish emerging from a crack in the ice, slippery and elusive, instantly burrowing into the depths of her consciousness—she didn’t have to be so steady. She could make the sword jerk slightly. That way, he would be jerked even deeper.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

What is she thinking?

Lu Qinghan took a deep breath, and the sword became as steady as a rock again, its trajectory across the night sky straight and smooth. She completed the rest of the flight with the most perfect posture: landing, sheathing the sword, and walking. Every movement was almost perfect, without any unnecessary tremors or pauses.

She did it. At least on the surface, she did.

Shen Du sensed from inside the skin that his master's sword-riding had suddenly become as steady as flat ground. His heart finally settled; it seemed his master's spiritual energy was indeed slightly depleted, and a little adjustment would do the trick. He shifted his position inside the skin, trying to make himself more comfortable.

But the moment he moved, he froze. He could clearly feel his lower body being tightly enveloped in a moist, warm, and soft place. He had been forcing himself to ignore this fact, but that movement amplified the sensation tenfold. That place seemed to have a life of its own, contracting slightly with the minor turbulence of his master's flight, each contraction bringing a sensation he had never experienced before. He desperately squeezed his legs together, trying to expel this tormenting feeling. But this action only made him sink deeper. He discovered in despair that the more he struggled, the stronger the feeling of being enveloped and sucked in became.

His face flushed red, and he dared not move an inch.

The main hall on the main peak of Cangshan Mountain was brightly lit.

Although what happened tonight only occurred in a corner of Qingya Peak, the commotion of demonic cultivators infiltrating the mountain-protecting array and injuring the head of Qingya Peak could not have escaped the sect's monitoring system. Before Lu Qinghan even landed, she had already received a telepathic message from the sect's patriarch, Mu Qianshan—his tone was extremely solemn, instructing her to immediately go to the main hall to explain what had happened in detail.

When Lu Qinghan entered the main hall, several core figures of the sect had already gathered inside. Seated in the central seat was an elderly man with white hair and beard, yet a youthful, ruddy complexion—none other than Mu Qianshan, the Supreme Elder of the Cangshan Sword Sect, a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator and the pillar of the entire sect. Several peak masters and elders sat on either side of him, each with a solemn expression.

When Lu Qinghan stepped into the main hall, all eyes fell on her.

"Qinghan, how are your injuries?" Mu Qianshan asked, his voice not loud, but it echoed throughout the hall, each word heavy with the unique pressure of a Nascent Soul stage cultivator.

"The flesh wounds have healed, and the golden core experienced a slight tremor, but it's nothing serious," Lu Qinghan replied truthfully, his tone calm and composed.

"That's good." Mu Qianshan nodded slightly. "What's their background?"

"A late-stage Nascent Soul demonic cultivator, dressed in red, wielding a strange weapon that was entirely black with a curved blade. That blade could cut through flesh without damaging bones, and the blade was imbued with an extremely eerie and malevolent aura." Lu Qinghan described in detail the characteristics of the demonic blade and the red-robed man's fighting style, explaining everything from the way the man stepped into the mountain-protecting formation to the strangeness of the blade's momentum.

The hall was silent for a moment. Mu Qianshan slowly stood up, paced a few steps on the ground, then turned to face Lu Qinghan, his gaze deep and unfathomable.

"The knife you mentioned... if I remember correctly, it should be the 'Skinning' technique, which has been lost for over a thousand years and is one of the most precious treasures of the demonic path. This knife can separate a person's flesh from their skin, imprisoning the soul of the person being cut inside the skin to create an evil object called a 'skin puppet.' The skin puppet can retain some of the original owner's cultivation and magic, and its appearance is no different from that of an ordinary person, but its interior is completely controlled by the will of the knife user, making it equivalent to a perfect humanoid puppet."

Everyone present gasped in shock. Using living people to create puppets was an outrageous act, even in the blood-soaked world of cultivation.

Mu Qianshan continued, "But it's quite strange that you weren't turned into a leather puppet. Qinghan, think carefully, what did you do the moment the demonic sword entered your body?"

Lu Qinghan remained silent for a moment, recalling every detail of that time.

“I activated the Ice Heart Jade Technique with all my might,” she said. “The instant I felt the evil energy from the blade invading my body, I instinctively pushed all my techniques to their limits, trying to use the power of the Ice Heart to seal off the spread of the evil energy.”

A flicker of understanding flashed in Mu Qianshan's aged eyes, and he nodded slightly: "I see. The Ice Heart Jade Technique cultivates the purest and most pristine power of ice. The extremely yin and cold nature of this technique can indeed, to some extent, counteract the evil magic of the demonic blade. The power of the Ice Heart condensed into a barrier, preventing your soul from being completely stripped away by the demonic blade, but the price was that your skin was completely separated from your flesh and blood, turning into an empty shell that could contain everything."

He paused, then asked, "Where are your disciples? I remember that Qingya Peak only has one disciple, Shen Du."

Lu Qinghan's heart skipped a beat, but her expression remained unchanged: "He..."

Mu Qianshan sensed something: "Tell me, what exactly happened?"

Lu Qinghan took a deep breath and described in the most concise and precise language how Shen Du was swallowed by the human skin. Of course, she omitted the details of the second swallowing—she omitted how the skin actively wrapped around Shen Du's arms, how the fleshy tentacles pulled his legs into her body, and even more so, the fact that he was now embedded in her body. She only said that the two of them were currently sharing the same body, his flesh wrapped in her skin, their souls intertwined.

After hearing this, Mu Qianshan remained silent for a long time. The other elders in the hall also looked at each other in bewilderment; they had never heard of such a thing in their hundreds of years of cultivation.

"It's not all bad news," Mu Qianshan finally spoke, his tone somewhat lighter than before. "The demonic sword's characteristic is to extract souls and create skin puppets. Now that your soul is safe and sound, and your skin hasn't been controlled by the demonic path, it means that the Ice Heart Jade Technique has indeed successfully resisted the demonic sword's core evil magic. As for your disciple being absorbed into your body... that's probably a natural reaction of an empty shell. After your skin was emptied, it instinctively sought something to fill it, and the person closest to you at that time, the one with the deepest bond to you, was your disciple."

The words "deepest bond" caused a very subtle change in Lu Qinghan's expression, but no one noticed.

Mu Qianshan continued, "Fortunately, this is a master-disciple relationship. The two of you spend every day together and have a deep bond. This situation actually helps stabilize your physical appearance. If it were a stranger, the rejection reaction would probably make you suffer terribly."

"Is there a way to separate them?" Lu Qinghan asked, his tone calm, as if he were asking about something perfectly normal.

Mu Qianshan pondered for a moment: "It's hard to say right now. There's almost no precedent for this in the cultivation world. I need to consult some ancient texts. Take him back to rest first, and I'll let you know when I have some information. Be careful during this time. There might be some inconvenience in circulating your cultivation technique, so don't force it."

"Disciple understands."

Lu Qinghan bowed and took her leave, turning to walk out of the main hall. Her figure remained straight and upright in the moonlight, her white robes as pure as snow, a long sword at her waist, her gait composed, just as always. No one noticed anything amiss.

After walking about a hundred feet out of the main hall and confirming that no divine senses were spying on her, Lu Qinghan lowered her eyes slightly in the moonlight. She felt the warmth within her body—a warmth emanating from within, completely different from the cold physique she had developed over hundreds of years of cultivating the Ice Heart Jade Technique. That warmth came from within her, from the person she had completely enveloped.

She raised her hand, her fingertips tracing her lips. Through the thin skin, she knew that beneath were Shen Du's lips. Her tongue moved, licking her own lips, while simultaneously, on the inside of her skin, her tongue also licked his lips.

This action made all the blood in her body rush to her head in an instant.

She abruptly lowered her hand, forcing herself to calm down. Then she continued walking forward.

A cableway spans the two peaks from the main peak to Qingya Peak. Constructed of black iron chains and green bamboo planks, the cableway hangs precariously above a bottomless abyss. When the mountain wind blows, it sways slightly, and the bamboo planks beneath one's feet creak. Ordinary disciples would proceed cautiously, holding onto the iron chains on either side, but Lu Qinghan had walked on this cableway for hundreds of years, making it no different from walking on flat ground.

But tonight, she felt the cable car beneath her feet was unusually unstable.

It wasn't the cable car's fault; it was her own. With each step, she could feel Shen Du swaying slightly inside her, rising and falling with her movements. The swaying was so subtle, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but to Lu Qinghan, who was one with her body, every minute movement was as clear as a pattern etched into his bones. His chest rose and fell slightly against her chest with her steps, his legs slid slightly between hers with each step, and with every movement, that spot—where his genitals were locked in her groin—sent a friction sensation that almost made her legs go weak.

Lu Qinghan clenched her teeth, forcing herself not to think about it.

But some things don't simply disappear just because you don't want them to.

She walked on the cable car, the night breeze ruffling her long hair and skirt. Moonlight shone on her face, revealing no expression on her exquisitely beautiful features. But if someone looked closely up close, they would notice something flowing deep within her pupils. That flowing luster was extremely deep and mysterious, like an undercurrent beneath a glacier, calm on the surface but surging with waves deep within.

She suddenly felt thirsty.

It wasn't ordinary thirst, but a deeper, more internal dryness. The inside of her skin seemed dry; the once moist mucus had become viscous after being tense for so long. Her tongue involuntarily circled in her mouth, licking her teeth, her palate, her lower lip—and also licking the tongue that covered hers, the tongue that belonged to Shen Du.

She could feel the tongue stiffen slightly.

"Master...Master?" Shen Du's voice rang in her mind, carrying a hint of panic she had never heard in the past twelve years.

"What's wrong?" Lu Qinghan kept her tone calm.

Did you...swallow just now?

"Hmm," Lu Qinghan replied casually, "I'm a little thirsty."

The answer was perfectly reasonable and normal—it was only natural for an injured cultivator to feel thirsty after a great battle. However, as Lu Qinghan uttered those words, the corners of her mouth curled up slightly, a barely perceptible arc, so subtle that she herself could barely notice it. She was lying, or rather, telling only half the truth. She was indeed thirsty, but not the kind of thirst where her body needed water; it was a different kind of thirst that she herself didn't want to admit. But she couldn't let him see it.

"Then hurry up and walk a few steps so you can get some water when you get back." Shen Du's voice was full of concern; the fleeting panic from before had been replaced by worry. "You lost so much blood, you must be dehydrated. By the way, Master, besides being thirsty, are you feeling unwell in any other way? Are you dizzy? Does your wound still hurt?"

Lu Qinghan paused for a moment.

He cared about her. Even though he was locked inside her body, his breathing was suffocated by her tongue, and his body was burning up from her locking his genitals, his first thought was whether she was thirsty, in pain, or dizzy.

All she wants now is to completely seal this simple concern away beneath the surface of her already turbulent heart.

"It doesn't hurt," Lu Qinghan replied, her voice softening unconsciously. "Let's go, we'll be back in a few more steps."

After the cable car ride ended, the familiar outline of Qingya Peak appeared under the moonlight. Bamboo groves, bluestone paths, three simple but clean wooden houses, and the old, crooked pine tree in front of the houses that Shen Du had climbed countless times as a child. Everything was the same as before, as if nothing had happened tonight.

Lu Qinghan pushed open the door of the wooden house. The furnishings inside were as simple as ever—a wooden table, two chairs, and neatly stacked sword manuals and cultivation notes on the shelf against the wall, with a futon in the corner.

She went inside, sat down at the table, and poured herself a cup of chilled tea—the teapot had been on the table for several hours; it had been brewed by Shen Du that afternoon. As she picked up the cup, the water rippled slightly, reflecting her own face, which appeared both familiar and strange in the candlelight.

She brought the cup to her lips. The cool tea entered her mouth, flowing over the tip, surface, and back of her tongue before being swallowed. This process happens countless times every minute, a perfectly ordinary thing for anyone.

But for Lu Qinghan at this moment, it was completely different.

The moment the tea entered her mouth, she felt it. She felt the tea flow over the surface of her own tongue, and also over Shen Du's tongue, which was wrapped beneath hers. The tea filled her mouth, and also moistened the backs of their tongues that were pressed together. When she swallowed, the back of her tongue would naturally rise, pushing the tea backward. And the instant her tongue rose, the tongue that was pressed under hers was also forced to rise slightly as well. The movement was very subtle, but the sensation it brought made her entire mouth go numb.

When she took her first sip, Shen Du managed to remain calm—at least he didn't say anything, just stayed quietly. But when she took her third sip, and her swallowing became unhurried, her leisurely manner seemed to deliberately amplify every subtle change in her mouth.

She felt Shen Du's tongue tremble slightly. The tremor was incredibly subtle, but through the seamless contact between their tongues, it was amplified tenfold, a hundredfold, and transmitted to her. Her lips pressed down slightly, flattening his lips a little through the thin layer of skin. Every time the teacup touched her lower lip, every time her lips parted slightly, every time she swallowed, it created a direct friction between their tightly pressed lips. The feeling was too real, too intimate. She could even feel that the temperature of his lips was slightly higher than her own.

"Shen Du." Lu Qinghan put down his teacup and suddenly called his name.

"...Yes." Shen Du's voice sounded muffled.

Are you feeling bored?

“It’s alright, it’s just…” Shen Du paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “It’s just that your tongue has been… been pressing down on me, making it a little inconvenient for me to speak.”

"Please bear with me." Lu Qinghan's tone was calm and breezy. "That's how the body is structured, I can't control it. Just talk less."

She knew perfectly well that he was spouting nonsense. She could easily control her tongue, keeping it quietly in her mouth, without adding any unnecessary movement to the part of her mouth that covered Shen Du's tongue. But she chose to let her tongue curl naturally as she spoke, with each syllable her tongue tip touching his, her tongue surface rubbing against his. Palate, teeth, lips—every sound became a kind of envelopment and touch. It wasn't necessary, but given the perfect excuse she had for her behavior, it all seemed "reasonable."

"Oh," Shen Du obediently replied, without saying anything more.

Lu Qinghan continued to drink water and eat a few pieces of dry food, then sat down to meditate and regulate his breathing.

During her meal, she was exceptionally attentive. She chewed the dry food slowly and deliberately—first chewing it thoroughly, allowing the food to fully contact her tongue in her mouth, and then swallowing it slowly. Occasionally, she would "accidentally" bite her lower lip lightly with her teeth, simultaneously biting his lower lip. Each swallow, the rise and fall of her throat caused the entire mouth to contract and expand, and that force was faithfully transmitted to Shen Du. She could feel the part of him inserted into her body; each time her tongue stirred violently or she sucked on the tea forcefully, it would noticeably twitch due to the increased blood flow.

He might attribute it to a normal bodily reaction, or perhaps he simply dared not think about what it was, only tensing his body more each time, trying not to make the same mistake again. But this effort only made her feel his presence more clearly. He was shy. And she liked his shyness.

In theory, one should be completely focused during meditation, but she found herself unable to do so. The flow of her inner energy was indeed more sluggish than usual—this wasn't an act; the icy power of the Ice Heart Jade Technique genuinely needed time to recover after the impact of the demonic blade. But the greater interference came from within. Her divine sense habitually swept across her entire body, checking the flow of her inner energy, but when she reached below her dantian, her divine sense seemed to be sucked in by something, frozen in place, unable to move.

Shen Du was inside. His body filled hers, his lower body embedded deep within her, the inner walls of her skin tightly enveloping him. Every flow of true energy passed through that spot, each passage bringing a warm current—that warm current caused the inner walls of that area to involuntarily contract, encircling that object buried deep within her, which did not belong to her yet made her feel incredibly fulfilled.

She could feel the warm sensation spreading from that point throughout her body, like a red-hot pebble thrown into a pool of icy water. The pebble wasn't large, but its temperature was high enough that each time it was thrown in, ripples carrying warmth would spread across the cold water. She tried to suppress these ripples with her Ice Heart Power, but her Ice Heart Power was no longer what it used to be, while the source of the warmth was inexhaustible, growing stronger with each suppression.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but the remaining power of the Ice Heart Jade Technique quickly suppressed the heat, restoring her complexion to normal. Everything was under her control, at least for now. As for those things she hadn't told the Ancestor—the specific details hidden beneath the concise and accurate description of "skin absorption"—that was between her and Shen Du. It was a matter between Qingya Peak and didn't need to be reported to anyone.

The night grew deeper.

Lu Qinghan finished her meditation, got up, walked to the window, and pushed open the wooden window, letting the moonlight and night breeze rush in. Outside the window was the bamboo forest of Qingya Peak, the bamboo leaves rustling in the wind, and the distant mountains had soft and deep outlines under the moonlight. This was the scenery she knew best, a view she had seen for hundreds of years, but tonight it seemed to have a different meaning.

"Shen Du," she said softly.

"Hmm?" Shen Du responded almost immediately, indicating that he had been awake the whole time.

Are you scared about tonight's events?

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm afraid," Shen Du said honestly, "but I'm even more afraid of something happening to my master."

Lu Qinghan's eyelashes trembled slightly. He truly thought so—she had known him for so long, long enough to discern the sincerity and pretense hidden behind every tone of his voice. He was genuinely afraid of something happening to him, and he genuinely placed her life before his own fears.

"Silly child." Her voice was very soft, like a sigh, or as if she was trying to hide something else.

"Master," Shen Du suddenly spoke up, "do you think... we can separate?"

Lu Qinghan's fingers tightened slightly on the window frame. After a moment, she released her grip, her tone calm and resolute: "Yes, it's possible. We just haven't found a way yet. Be patient, don't rush."

She spoke so confidently that even she believed it.