Landing

As the flying boat passed through the final layer of clouds, Xueji Peak came into view.

Bai Qingxue stood by the porthole. The morning light poured through the gaps in the clouds, dyeing her long, silver-white hair with a faint golden halo.

Those fine strands of hair appeared almost transparent in the light, as if woven from ice silk.

The ice-blue pendant around her neck swayed gently with the slight rocking of the boat, casting a cold glint on the glass of the porthole.

The flying boat descended slowly.

A thin layer of morning dew covered the stone steps outside the mountain gate, shimmering with a moist light under the rising sun.

The peak-guarding disciples were already waiting by the berth. Seeing the peak pattern on the hull, they straightened their robes and stood at attention.

The gangway was lowered. Bai Qingxue walked down.

Following behind her were exceptionally light footsteps.

It was Ning Qinghan.

At this moment, Ning Qinghan stood barefoot on the bottom step of the gangway; as for those ill-fitting boots, she had left them forever in the corner of the cabin.

Ning Qinghan looked up.

The morning mist flowed slowly before her eyes, shrouding the distant mountains in a hazy blur.

Dewdrops hung from the withered branches on both sides of the stone steps, dangling one by one, suspended and ready to fall.

The distant halls revealed a corner of their upturned eaves through the mist. Bronze bells hung from the corners, but there was no wind at the moment, so there was no sound.

Silence.

Faced with this silence, Ning Qinghan suddenly felt a bit at a loss.

She had stayed in the ice cave for too long.

Standing here now, barefoot and wearing a faded old Daoist robe, she felt like an old object haphazardly placed in a grand hall—jarringly out of place to the point of being an eyesore.

The peak-guarding disciples came forward to meet them. Seeing Bai Qingxue, they quickly bowed with hands clasped. “Martial Aunt Bai.”

However, their gazes inevitably fell upon the barefoot woman behind Bai Qingxue.

One disciple hesitated for a moment, his lips twitching before he finally asked, “This is...”

“A guest of the sect,” Bai Qingxue said.

Hearing this, the peak-guarding disciples did not dare ask further and stepped aside to let them pass.

Bai Qingxue stepped through the mountain gate.

Ning Qinghan continued to follow behind her.

Her gaze swept over the withered branches beside the stone steps, over the halo of the spirit light lanterns in the distance, and over the trees and flowers whose names she did not know.

She took everything in, yet it seemed as if she truly saw nothing at all.

As for Lu Xueqing, she walked at the very back, watching the figures of the two in front of her.

Bai Qingxue did not return to her own courtyard.

She continued walking upward along the stone steps.

At the summit, the main hall.

The doors of the main hall seemed to always be open for Bai Qingxue.

At this time, cold air surged out from within the hall, mingling with the morning mist until one could not be distinguished from the other.

Sandalwood incense was burning inside. The blue smoke was pressed low by the cold air, swirling around the floor without dissipating.

Bai Qingxue paused for a step at the entrance.

She lowered her eyes, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on her robe before stepping over the threshold.

Ning Qinghan did not follow her inside.

She stood outside the hall, her bare feet resting on the cold stone bricks; she knew she should not go any further.

Inside the hall.

True Lord Shuanghua sat on a meditation cushion.

Dressed in a frost-white Daoist robe, her silver-white hair cascaded down like a waterfall, spreading out at her sides with the ends nearly touching the floor. At a glance, she bore a striking resemblance to Bai Qingxue.

Bai Qingxue walked to the center of the hall and stopped.

She first bowed to True Lord Shuanghua.

Then, she took out the jade slip and the jade flute from her storage bag and placed them on the table before her.

The jade slip was a pale greenish-white, its surface covered in fine patterns that emitted a faint fluorescence in the dim hall.

The jade flute was pure white, lying quietly beside the jade slip. A very faint halo surrounded the flute, as if it had been soaked in moonlight for a long time, its very texture stained with the chill of moonlight essence.

“Master.”

“I have retrieved the jade slip. This flute is named Frost Moon Chant; it also seems to be related to the jade slip.”

During this, Bai Qingxue did not mention Ning Qinghan.

Whether it was a deliberate concealment or simply because she hadn't decided how to phrase it, no one knew.

However, True Lord Shuanghua did not immediately look at the two items.

Her gaze first landed on Bai Qingxue as she asked calmly, “How are your injuries?”

Bai Qingxue glanced down at her left arm and replied, “In response to Master, they are superficial wounds. It is no matter.”

Hearing this, True Lord Shuanghua nodded slightly.

Then, True Lord Shuanghua picked up the jade slip. She sent her spiritual sense into it; the fluorescence on the surface of the jade slip brightened for a moment before dimming again.

True Lord Shuanghua’s gaze lingered deep within the jade slip for a moment before she withdrew her spiritual sense and placed the slip back on the table.

Next, she picked up the jade flute.

Frost Moon Chant lay in her palm, its translucent white body reflecting her frost-white robe, appearing as if they shared the same origin.

True Lord Shuanghua’s fingertips brushed over the flute from one end to the other, as if caressing an old object from which she had been parted for many years.

However, unlike the jade slip, after True Lord Shuanghua set the flute down, she pushed it back toward Bai Qingxue.

“I shall bestow this item upon you.”

Seeing this, Bai Qingxue did not decline, simply replying, “Thank you, Master.”

She then placed the jade flute into her storage bag.

But Bai Qingxue did not withdraw.

She knelt there with her eyes lowered, seemingly lost in thought.

The hall was very quiet, with only the soft sound of sandalwood ash falling into the burner and the muffled thud of snow sliding off branches in the distance.

As if having made a decision, Bai Qingxue raised her hand and gently pulled up the sleeve of her left arm.

Dark red patterns extended upward from her wrist, winding like a snake, exceptionally striking against her white, almost transparent skin.

The patterns were quiet, like a sleeping serpent coiled upon her arm.

Bai Qingxue did not look at the marks.

Her gaze fell on True Lord Shuanghua’s face as she waited calmly and quietly.

The cold air in the hall seemed to grow heavier. Ice crystals condensed on the floor, making fine, crackling sounds.

True Lord Shuanghua looked at the patterns for a moment, then raised her eyes to meet Bai Qingxue’s.

“The restriction has transferred to you now?” True Lord Shuanghua asked.

After nodding slightly, Bai Qingxue asked softly, “Does Master have a solution?”

True Lord Shuanghua did not answer immediately.

She simply looked at the patterns once more before saying flatly, “No.”

The hall fell silent for a moment.

“At least not for now,” she added, withdrawing her gaze and letting it rest on Bai Qingxue’s face again.

“This restriction involves things that are too deep, and the source does not lie with you. If I were to break it by force, your body would be the first thing to fail.”

Bai Qingxue lowered her eyes, looking at the patterns on her wrist, then slowly pulled her sleeve down to cover them.

“I understand,” she said.

True Lord Shuanghua watched her.

Silence lingered in the hall for a while. The blue smoke of the sandalwood rose slowly between them before dispersing.

Bai Qingxue knelt there, her back very straight, her silver-white hair draped over her shoulders with a few strands scattered across her face.

True Lord Shuanghua reached out.

She tucked those few stray strands of hair behind Bai Qingxue’s ear, the movement very natural, as if she were tidying the hair of a child.

Bai Qingxue’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but soon she quietly lowered her eyes again, letting her master’s hand withdraw from her ear.

“Go now,” True Lord Shuanghua said, pulling her hand back and resting it on her knee.

“Your disciple takes her leave.”

Bai Qingxue bowed and exited the main hall.