At the entrance of the hall, Ning Qinghan remained standing there.
She had not stepped inside, not even once.
From the moment Bai Qingxue entered, she had stood outside the threshold, her bare feet resting on the cold stone bricks, her fingers gripping the hem of her robe tightly.
She did not know how long she had been standing there. Perhaps the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, or perhaps longer.
The morning mist flowed past her, cool and damp, clinging to her exposed ankles.
She simply watched everything in the main hall in silence.
She watched Bai Qingxue walk into the hall, watched her kneel before True Lord Shuanghua, watched her pull up her sleeve to reveal that mark, and watched True Lord Shuanghua tuck a strand of hair behind Bai Qingxue’s ear.
The scene was quiet, almost tender.
But Ning Qinghan’s spine felt a chill, for she saw True Lord Shuanghua.
The True Lord sat there in her frost-white Daoist robe, her silver-white hair cascading down, cold air swirling around her.
Even though she was not deliberately releasing any pressure, the composure of a powerhouse that radiated from her very bones made Ning Qinghan feel more oppressed than any spiritual pressure ever could.
True Lord.
Ning Qinghan repeated the two words silently in her heart.
She had grown up in the Holy Sect.
In the world she came from, she knew better than anyone what the title “True Lord” signified.
A True Lord held the power of life and death.
It meant that if the person before her wanted to do anything to her, she would have no room to resist.
Ning Qinghan lowered her head, looking at her toes, as a thought suddenly occurred to her.
Why did she follow Bai Qingxue here?
This question was not surfacing for the first time. It had been there since the moment Bai Qingxue said “Let’s go,” since the moment she stepped out of the ice cave and saw the light of day, and since the moment she boarded the flying boat.
The question had always been there, like a thorn stuck in her throat—impossible to swallow, yet impossible to spit out.
Yet she had indeed followed, wearing a faded old Daoist robe, like a homeless stray cat following someone she had only known for a few days, intruding into a sect that was completely foreign to her.
She didn't even know why Bai Qingxue was helping her.
She didn't know.
She only knew that at this moment, she had placed her life in Bai Qingxue’s hands.
As this thought surfaced, Ning Qinghan’s fingers tightened further inside her sleeves.
Was it right or wrong?
Ning Qinghan did not know.
But standing here now, outside the main hall of Xueji Peak, under the weight of a True Lord’s presence, Ning Qinghan suddenly felt a delayed sense of clarity.
And that was...
She had no idea who Bai Qingxue really was.
Bai Qingxue was a True Disciple of the Xuantian Sect.
The Xuantian Sect was a major sect of the Eastern Region and a mortal enemy of the Holy Sect.
She, Ning Qinghan, was from the Holy Sect. She had grown up there, the blood of the Holy Sect flowed in her veins, and the brand of the Holy Sect was etched into her very bones.
Between her and Bai Qingxue, what lay there was not just a threshold, but thousands, even tens of thousands of years of blood feuds.
Did Bai Qingxue know? Did she know who Ning Qinghan was?
The answer was naturally yes.
Bai Qingxue knew she was the “Saintess” of a demonic sect, knew she had a restriction on her, and knew her appearance in the ice cave was no accident.
Was it because Bai Qingxue didn't care, or because she simply didn't understand what the title “Saintess” implied?
Ning Qinghan didn't know. She only knew that if Bai Qingxue knew—truly knew what she represented—perhaps everything would be different.
Perhaps Bai Qingxue would hand her over.
Perhaps the True Lord before her would make her stay in this snowy mountain forever.
Perhaps she would go from one ice cave to being imprisoned in another.
If so, what was the point of her ten years of waiting?
Ning Qinghan closed her eyes.
Perhaps she shouldn't have come.
As this thought emerged, Ning Qinghan’s throat tightened.
She withdrew her gaze from the hall and let it fall back on her toes.
But if she hadn't come, where else could she have gone?
She seemed to have nowhere else to go.
And Bai Qingxue was the only one who had reached out to her.
Ning Qinghan opened her eyes and looked back into the hall.
Bai Qingxue was still kneeling before True Lord Shuanghua, her back perfectly straight.
Her long silver-white hair hung over her shoulders. From Ning Qinghan’s angle, she could only see a small portion of her cold, elegant profile.
Was it right to put her life in this person's hands?
Ning Qinghan didn't know.
She only knew that if Bai Qingxue wanted to harm her, she could have done so in the ice cave.
If Bai Qingxue wanted to hand her over, she could have done so on the flying boat.
If Bai Qingxue wanted her dead, she would already be dead.
But Bai Qingxue didn't.
Bai Qingxue brought her back.
Bai Qingxue let her stand here.
Could this be considered an answer?
Ning Qinghan didn't know.
So she could only suppress the question, like burying a seed in the soil, unable to see its form and only able to let it grow on its own.
Bai Qingxue walked out of the hall.
She walked up to Ning Qinghan.
“Let’s go.”
Two short words, as indifferent as they had been over the past few days.
Ning Qinghan looked at the person before her.
Is she not afraid that I might harm her?
The thought suddenly surfaced from the depths of Ning Qinghan’s heart, sharp as a needle.
Who was she? She was the Saintess of the Holy Sect.
She had grown up amidst deception and intrigue. She had seen the ugliest parts of the human heart, and she herself was not clean. She could smile, she could cry, she could kneel, she could beg, and she could push someone who trusted her into an abyss without blinking if it would buy her freedom.
She could use anyone. For the sake of freedom, she was clearly capable of anything.
In that case...
Why did Bai Qingxue trust her?
Why did Bai Qingxue think she wouldn't steal that jade slip in the middle of the night while she was cultivating and vanish without a trace?
Why did Bai Qingxue think she wouldn't turn her trust into a blade to stab her in the back?
Perhaps Bai Qingxue simply hadn't thought that much about it.
Perhaps in Bai Qingxue’s eyes, she was just a stone on the side of the road—picked up simply because she felt like picking it up. No reason needed, no trust needed, no “why” needed.
Ning Qinghan opened her mouth. At this moment, her throat seemed flooded with many doubts, eager to pour out.
But quickly, those doubts were swallowed back down. She would not ask them.
The reason was simple.
Because she was the beneficiary.
At this moment, she still had a place to stay and a promise regarding her future freedom.
Since that was the case, why was there any need to ask such ill-timed questions?
If she actually asked, it would be like reminding Bai Qingxue: You shouldn't trust me.
If it really came to that, it would be too ridiculous.
Ning Qinghan would never do something so foolish.
So she said nothing.
She simply nodded and then obediently followed behind.
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