Chapter 123

“Could it be that, in your view, all that was just temporary?”

“Yes, and yet no. Listen to me—” Yun Shen tightened his grip on the bed edge, took a deep breath, and said, “Zhanglin Village surely was; I woke abruptly, needed to descend the mountain to pay respects to past acquaintances, and hadn’t intended to recognize you as my master— thus, leaving without saying goodbye was temporary.

But when I saw you, and then you came seeking me, I couldn’t cut ties immediately. Seeing how persistent you were, I thought gentle persuasion was better than blunt truth. This delay lasted until the great flood at Diancang Pass. Over so many days sharing this journey, facing countless dangers together, it was never mere pity or sympathy— I became fond of these fleeting moments of camaraderie, reluctant to shatter them or let any rift grow between us…”

“If you wanted to leave, what harm would a small rift cause? In the end, you desired escape while I sought to find, so a rift always existed— was hiding from it by covering our eyes any good?” Chen Shu tilted her head, looking utterly perplexed. “But it doesn’t matter now. Since it’s all out in the open, these things are meaningless.”

“Wrong, this is exactly what I needed to say to you— exactly why I couldn’t bear parting. It was never trivial.”

“Is that so?” Chen Shu seemed to ponder seriously. “What else could matter so much?”

“… I didn’t want to deceive you, or let you detest me. That’s why I not only allowed you to search at Diancang Pass but also rushed to Mijiang Slope, painstakingly setting a trap to lure you to Valley of Villains, then making a fake sword to fake my death and escape.” Yun Shen let out another breath, saying, “But I could never truly flee— not because you sought me out, but because I refused to be honest with myself. Clinging to a ‘past life’ hundreds or thousands of years earlier, that inflexible fool, that self-deluded wretch was me. So today, standing here, begging your forgiveness— that is me too—”

“Oh…” Chen Shu suddenly seemed to recall, nodding in dawning realization. “That’s right! You said long ago that you’d fallen in love with me— that explains it.”

Yun Shen abruptly stalled, turning his head away; the words he had been urgently explaining just moments before clipped off mid-sentence, left hanging abruptly between them. Yet his breathing remained rapid, painfully frank in the sudden quiet of the room—

Much like Chen Shu’s own statement.

And Chen Shu no longer resembled the tender farewell they shared outside the door a while ago.

Those words came fast and dismissive— just one simple sentence that laid bare all he had hidden for days, that shy, intimate emotion now laid plain for both to see.

“…Yes.”

After a long moment, he finally uttered a single word, then proceeded, composing his words as he spoke. “…I was moved by your stubborn, resilient nature. I witnessed you sacrificing yourself for others—no, sacrificing yourself to save me. Touched by that, I developed feelings that never should have arisen… It’s true. Even if I never admitted it, refused to admit it, deep down I had already recognized you as my master, long ago… I had long admired you, long…”

At first, Yun Shen showed some hesitation, but as the words flowed from his lips, it didn’t seem so difficult anymore. He spoke faster and faster, more freely, until he subconsciously raised his head and met Chen Shu’s gaze.

The words that finally came smoothly trailed off into silence.

Chen Shu watched him. Her large, round eyes remained fixed, unblinking, devoid of emotion, yet scrutinizing—intensely enough to halt Yun Shen’s own breath.

“You are reasonable in what you say,” Chen Shu’s eyes gradually filled with emotion. She smiled, earnest and deliberate as she continued, “But I dare not believe you anymore.”

She was no longer that naive child who hid in the depths of the mountains, clutching unyielding stones, and wept behind her kin’s backs.

In truth, even excluding the trials of these months traveling through the mundane world, her daily, rigorous training alone atop Tianyu Mountain had long forged her into someone tenacious and unwavering.

To truly describe her: such an extraordinary temperament—it was she who remained as unshakable as the hundred-year stone through wind and rain upon the mountain.

If she was certain of something, she pursued it. But if it was never truly hers—like Yun Shen, who claimed to have slept a millenium, meticulously scheming to flee from her side—even if those machinations and plans never directly hurt anyone, even if they, beyond deceiving her, perhaps stemmed from him thinking of her well-being (that fake sword as a token of comfort, that false suicide leap by the cliff to spare her farewell pain)—still, if an ulterior motive existed from the very start, why force the matter?

Heaven births all things, Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; Chen Shu’s magnanimous righteousness arose solely because she fixed her heart with unwavering focus.

The finest sword, once harboring divided allegiance, was no longer worth clinging to.

In a desolate silence, bleak as winter, Yun Shen opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say more. But Chen Shu scratched her neck, seeking a diplomatic way to broach the subject herself. She stepped closer and spoke first:

“I know you’re always able to persuade others, always win your arguments. But the fissures between people aren’t mended by mere words. What you said was true. What I said is also indisputably true. They aren’t contradictory.

“I’ve listened carefully to your words, understood your feelings. Regardless of your reasons or your actions… We can let them pass!”

“No,” Yun Shen suddenly stood, seemingly wanting to reach for her shoulders, but abruptly stopping himself. Taking a deep breath, he replied, “I didn’t come to ‘persuade’ or to ‘win an argument.’ What I said, every word, was carefully pondered these past days, emerging from my deepest…” His words trailed off as he met Chen Shu’s gaze, his own sentence crumbling into fragments.

They had met eyes countless times: in Zhanglin Village, Chen Shu gleefully praising his goodness on Sword Discussion Platform, that fleeting glimpse beyond the mortal crowd during Diancang Pass’s crisis as he stood atop a wave, urgently calling her to save a city; at Nameless Cliff, wind tangling their hair, sharing an embrace within the small cave, drifting into warm dreams. Never before had Chen Shu’s eyes been this placid—this… concealed.

Yes. After such a heated, yet unresolved quarrel, Yun Shen—clever, calculating Yun Shen—should at last understand this gaze. She no longer considered him a companion on the path.

“Don’t look at me like that…” Yun Shen blurted out, face flushed unnaturally, his voice rising as if overcome with feeling. “Don’t you want me? I know what you sought by leaving the mountain—it was only—”

Before he finished, Chen Shu sighed, moving closer with sorrow. Short as she was, she needed to lift her chin slightly to meet his eyes. Yet she approached undaunted. She bent down, picked up his discarded robe that had fallen unnoticed, smoothed its folds, and smiled up at him.

“I also wish you wouldn’t look at me like that. Do you recall what you said to me when we first met?”

“…Which part?”

“You said… however satisfying, however cherished, it was merely the effect of the Blood Pact, not arising from my own heart.

“A swordsman uses all things as blades. Truly, one shouldn’t remain bound to a single piece of ordinary steel.”

“…This isn’t the same,” Yun Shen immediately grasped her implication, eyes hardening, voice tight. “The Blood Pact is the Pact! The heart is the heart! And a sword is unlike a person! The Pact remains binding, but the love in my heart—that’s the fruit born over our long journey together!”

Chen Shu earnestly considered his plea, tilting her head to meet his look. The quiet diffused the tension—perhaps that was the effect of her deep, dark eyes, calming as they regarded him, silhouetted against the window, serene and profound like the fragrance of ink, soothing his frayed composure.

“Then let us test it.” Chen Shu offered a reassuring smile, tilting her head curiously as she leaned closer, gazing intently at Yun Shen.

“Test what happens… if we sever the Blood Pact?”

A pact sealed with a drop of blood seemed only to wield immense power while it held. But once broken, the fervor it contained vanished in the blink of an eye. Oceans dried to dust, lifetimes passed—in a mere moment.

Yun Shen slumped by the bedside, momentarily speechless.

His hand had been clutched by Chen Shu moments earlier. Just now, the very last drop of blood within him had been guided to fall by magic, staining Chen Shu’s sleeve. Only after a long moment did Chen Shu release his utterly bloodless hand and lift her own sleeve to examine it.

“A bit strange,” Chen Shu murmured, almost to herself. “Seems nothing changed, only that I can no longer feel your… your sorrow anymore.” Then she leaned forward, peering curiously at Yun Shen.

“…And you?” she asked.

“I can’t feel it anymore either,” Yun Shen said, his gaze turning blankly towards Chen Shu. “That connection… So that’s why I was beside myself earlier. It was because I could feel your aversion—you truly don’t need me anymore.”

“I always speak the truth!” Chen Shu laughed, stepping back. As if remembering something, she patted her waist, pulled out an object, and tossed it into Yun Shen’s lap. “Anyway, I don’t need this trinket. Consider it a gift—it always was meant ‘for’ you, wasn’t it?”

Yun Shen looked down, let out a soft chuckle, without replying. He merely reached out and carefully tucked the little object she had tossed into his lap away.

“Hmm…” Chen Shu had assumed the matter was settled, that they could part as friends. But seeing Yun Shen, usually so eloquent, fall silent in visible grief, she blinked awkwardly, forced a dry laugh, and found herself at a loss. Having already said her piece, she retreated a couple of uncertain steps. Regardless of whether Yun Shen heard her clearly, she blurted out quickly, “Right then! The Blood Pact removal must have left you unsteady. You should rest here in the inn awhile. As for the investigation, there’s no need for you to come with us—after all, you’re… well, not exactly formidable… Oh! And you yourself are the ‘magic sword’ people talk about, aren’t you?”

“…Is this decided?”

“Absolutely!” Chen Shu answered hastily.

“Fine,” Yun Shen muttered, his head still bowed as he toyed with the small object in his hands. After a short pause, half a phrase, seemingly meaningless, escaped his lips, “…I brought this upon myself.”

Hearing this, Chen Shu could only offer two more strained chuckles. Seizing the moment while his head was down, she felt she had handled things conclusively, yet an inexplicable guilt nagged her. Tossing out a final “Take your rest then,” she hurried out the door.

Leaving Yun Shen alone in the room. He sat unmoving, his head seemingly unsupported, dangling precariously from his neck as if the slightest tremble would send it crashing to the floor.

Without Chen Shu. Without the Blood Pact. His heart was no longer warm. His blood no longer boiled. How could he even speak of sorrow?

He was merely an empty husk, cold as the deepest millennium-old abyss, finally returning to utter stillness.