The flying boat was anchored outside Frostfall Town, just as it had been when they left.
Its hull was pitch black, and the formation patterns on the gunwales glowed with a dull light in the twilight.
The deacon was counting supplies when he saw Bai Qingxue and the other two approaching from the town entrance, and his footsteps faltered slightly.
His gaze lingered on Ning Qinghan for a moment, clearly harboring some doubt about this third person who had suddenly appeared.
However, he did not ask any questions.
“True Disciple Bai,” the deacon said, bowing with hands clasped. “Shall we depart immediately?”
“Yes.”
Bai Qingxue boarded the gangway, her boots making a dull thudding sound against the wooden steps.
Lu Xueqing followed behind her, while Ning Qinghan walked at the very back.
As the flying boat ascended, Frostfall Town grew smaller and smaller beneath them. The grayish-white stone buildings shrank into tiny dots, the streets became thin lines, and eventually, everything merged into a blurry expanse of gray.
The ice field contracted in their field of vision, transforming from an endless expanse into a grayish-white line horizontal across the horizon between heaven and earth.
Then the clouds surged up, swallowing that line whole.
Bai Qingxue stood by the porthole, watching that patch of white vanish.
At this moment, Bai Qingxue’s arm was still wrapped in bandages. The fingertips of her left hand rested on the window sill, and the Shuanghua sword hung at her waist, lightly tapping against her leg with the slight swaying of the flying boat.
Her silver-white hair hung loose, with a few strands draping over the side of her face, fluttering slightly in the wind leaking through the window gap.
Lu Xueqing sat on the low bed on the other side of the cabin, eyes closed as she regulated her breathing.
Spiritual power circulated slowly through her meridians, cycle after cycle, like a stream flowing around stones, gradually carrying away the residual chill within her body.
Although the wound on her left shoulder still ached, the blood seeping from beneath the bandages had already dried, forming a layer of dark red scab.
Ning Qinghan sat in the corner.
She hugged her knees, her chin resting on her arms, as she stared at the clouds outside the porthole.
Her old, grayish-blue Daoist robe was already wrinkled, looking like an old garment that had been crumpled for a long time and then unsuccessfully smoothed out. The cuffs were frayed, with several loose threads hanging out, swaying gently with the movement of the flying boat.
At this moment, Ning Qinghan had taken off those ill-fitting boots. Her bare feet were curled at her side, her toes slightly retracted, as if she were not yet used to stepping on a clean floor.
The chill from ten years in the ice cave had seeped into her bones, making ordinary things feel both desirable and alien to her.
The flying boat passed through a layer of clouds, leaving the view outside the porthole a blank white where nothing could be seen.
Ning Qinghan suddenly spoke.
“Bai Qingxue.”
Although her voice was not loud, it was exceptionally clear in the quiet cabin.
Bai Qingxue turned around and looked at her.
Ning Qinghan did not look back.
Her gaze remained on the vast white clouds outside the porthole, as if she were searching for something, yet also as if she were looking for nothing at all.
“Do you think that True Lord master of yours... will help me?”
Bai Qingxue fell silent for a moment before answering boldly.
“I don't know.”
Ning Qinghan lowered her head, burying her face in her knees, her voice sounding muffled.
“What if she is unwilling?”
Bai Qingxue looked at Ning Qinghan.
The grayish-blue figure in the corner had shrunk into a small bundle, like a snail curled inside its shell, hiding all its softness away.
“Then we will find another way.”
Ning Qinghan raised her head and pressed further:
“What way?”
Bai Qingxue looked at her and said:
“Since the restriction is related to Ice Spirit power,” Bai Qingxue paused, her gaze falling on those dark red patterns. “Perhaps I will have a solution in the future.”
Ning Qinghan was stunned.
She stared at Bai Qingxue.
“Are you sure?”
Ning Qinghan’s voice was even softer than before.
Bai Qingxue looked at Ning Qinghan and simply said:
“Do you no longer want your freedom?”
Ning Qinghan did not answer.
But Bai Qingxue knew the answer.
No one who is bound does not crave freedom.
Even she was no exception.
Ning Qinghan lowered her head, burying her face back into her knees.
Her shoulders were slightly hunched, her entire being curled into an even smaller ball. The old grayish-blue Daoist robe in the corner looked like a piece of forgotten old cloth, quiet and making no sound.
But her fingers slid down from her knees and rested on the floor.
Now they were slightly curled, as if grasping for something, or perhaps restraining themselves from grasping anything.
Lu Xueqing opened her eyes.
She looked at Ning Qinghan in the corner.
Ning Qinghan’s face was buried in her knees, her expression hidden, leaving only her scattered black hair draped over her shoulders like a bolt of rain-soaked silk that had lost all its luster.
Then Lu Xueqing’s gaze shifted to Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue had already turned back to face the porthole.
Her silver-white hair hung down her back, and her frost-white robe was illuminated by the light leaking from outside, making her look like an ice sculpture edged in moonlight.
Lu Xueqing could not see her face.
Lu Xueqing withdrew her gaze and let it fall back on Ning Qinghan.
Ning Qinghan remained in that position, her face buried in her knees and her fingers on the floor, motionless.
Her breathing was very light, so light it was almost inaudible, as if she were deliberately suppressing something.
Lu Xueqing couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong.
It was just that the tone Ning Qinghan used when asking “Are you sure?” kept echoing in her ears.
That voice had been too light—so light it didn't sound like a question, but more like a confirmation of something she didn't dare believe yet desperately wanted to be true.
That was not the tone a person should have when asking “Will you help me?”
It felt more like a drowning person catching hold of a hand in the darkness.
To be more specific, it was the feeling that even if she couldn't be saved, she would pull the person who reached out down into the water with her.
At that thought.
Lu Xueqing’s fingers curled slightly on her knee.
Lu Xueqing didn't know where this thought had come from, nor did she know what it meant.
She only felt as though a very thin thread in her heart had suddenly been plucked.
Lu Xueqing felt that something was quietly changing in a place she could not see.
And while she felt she should pluck that thread back to its original position, she did not know where to start.
The humming of the flying boat echoed low in the cabin like a wordless lullaby, wrapping everything in a thin, chaotic layer of tranquility.
Bai Qingxue still stood by the porthole, motionless.
Ning Qinghan remained curled in the corner, making no more sound.
Everything was very quiet.
Quiet as if nothing had happened.
But Lu Xueqing couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
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