The Choice

He remembered.

He finally remembered. Not the jade plaque, but the person. It was that voice—cool, like melting snow on a high mountain in spring, with a hint of youthful innocence. It was that sentence: “Stop selling fake medicine and hurting people.” There was no mockery, no contempt, as if she were just stating a plain fact. It was the sound of that storage bag being tossed onto his stall—heavy, filled with enough spirit stones to keep him alive for months.

He had only just arrived in the Northern Border back then. The Formation Sect was gone, the old man was gone, and Lin Yuan was gone too. All he had left to his name were a few tattered clothes, a cauldron salvaged from the ruins, and a nearly empty storage ring. The meager assets he had possessed were completely squandered—some spent on elixir recipes, some on medicinal herbs, and even more lost in compensation when his cauldron exploded. The title of a Grade Two Elixir Refiner sounded impressive, but it was built on a mountain of spirit stones. And his spirit stones had run out long ago.

Earn money by setting up formations for others? Don't be ridiculous. At that time, the Central Continent Alliance's wanted posters of him were flying everywhere. His portrait was pasted on every city gate, with a bounty large enough to feed a mortal for three lifetimes. He didn't even dare to go to the market in Beizhou City, terrified that someone with sharp eyes would recognize him. Show his face in public? He might as well just end his own life.

So, he resorted to something highly unethical. He mixed toxic, failed elixirs with good ones, stuffed them into the same bottle, and ran to the entrance of a secret realm to sell them to those Central Continent cultivators. It was a wicked thing to do. If the old man were still alive, he would have skinned Lu Yan alive for this. But the old man was no longer here. Besides, he was selling them to those beastly, hypocritical bastards from the Central Continent—if they poisoned themselves to death, he would gladly set off firecrackers to celebrate.

Unfortunately, his scheme fell through before it even took off. He hadn't even sold two bottles before he was caught red-handed.

He still remembered the woman's voice. He had assumed she was a greenhorn who had just ventured out into the world, someone who likely couldn't tell quality from trash. He had hyped up his elixirs to the heavens, calling them things like “a rare treasure once in a century” or “a secret sect formula not sold to outsiders”—talking until his lips were nearly dry. In the end, she simply picked up a bottle and sniffed it.

“More than half of this medicine is ruined, isn't it? And you still dare to sell it?”

The smile plastered on his face froze. Before he could think of an excuse, her next words instantly triggered his escape plan.

“Your pupils are turning white. Are you blind?”

When he escaped from the Central Continent, he had detonated his Life Formation Plate, shattering most of his spiritual sea. Since then, his eyesight had deteriorated day by day. Two or three years later, he was almost completely blind. During the day, he could barely make out outlines, but at night, everything was pitch black. He didn't know where those bastards from the Central Continent had gotten the information—knowing he was blind, they had begun a massive manhunt for blind people. Even mortals with no cultivation were subjected to questioning. They would rather kill a thousand innocents than let one escape.

Now, his blindness had been discovered. With his current, near-crippled cultivation, if he didn't run now, he would be doomed.

His fingers had already touched his last Divine Speed Talisman. As he channeled spiritual energy into it, the talisman paper began to grow hot—

“I'll take all the medicine here.”

A storage bag was tossed over, landing on his stall with a heavy thud. He froze, not picking it up. The mouth of the storage bag wasn't tied tightly, and several spirit stones slid out, gleaming faintly under the sunlight. With a rough count, there were at least a hundred. Even if she were buying the same amount of high-quality medicine, it wouldn't cost this much, let alone his ruined elixirs.

“Stop selling fake medicine and hurting people.”

Lu Yan fell silent. This was charity. Charity from a Central Continent female cultivator. His pride screamed at him to reject it. His rationality told him that this was money to save his life.

He stood there, his hand frozen in midair, as if nailed in place by something.

In the end, he still picked up the storage bag.

He listened to her footsteps growing more distant, as if she were about to leave. He didn't know what had possessed him, but he reached into his ring, pulled out a jade plaque, and tossed it in her direction.

“What is this?” her voice came from afar.

“A freebie.”

He didn't say it was meant to save her life, nor did he mention how long he had spent carving it. He only called it a “freebie.” A buy-one-get-one-free item—worthless, nothing to take seriously.

She didn't ask further. He heard her casually tie it to her sword tassel, the jade plaque clicking softly against the scabbard. Then, the footsteps faded completely.

He stood there, listening to the sound of the rain and his own heartbeat. The giant bow slowly faded and dissolved. The arrow condensed from rainwater also lost its shape, turning back into a torrential downpour that poured down relentlessly. The Wind-Protection Formation had long since dispersed, and the rain fell cold against his skin. He did not move.

What should he do?

He asked himself. Save her? But the deeds of the Central Continent Alliance—the deaths of tens of millions of civilians, the tragedy of the three Northern Border fortresses being completely slaughtered, the back of the old man as he turned to face the Ice Sovereign—all of it was still vivid in his mind. He couldn't forget. He would never forget, even in death.

Kill her? Wouldn't that make him an ungrateful wretch? She had bought the elixirs he couldn't sell, paid extra, and even told him to stop selling fake medicine and hurting people. He wouldn't even be able to pass the barrier of his own conscience.

Leave her be. Just pretend he had never come here today.

He glanced at Jiang Ci, who was curled up in the corner. There was barely an uninjured spot on her body; her white robes were so soaked with blood and mud that their original color was unrecognizable. There was also a fresh cut on her face from the ice shard, with crimson blood trickling down her cheek. A trace of hesitation flashed through his eyes.

Then, it was replaced by resolve. Do not court karma. He could still live his own peaceful life. He chanted the Water-Repelling Spell once more, slung his basket onto his back, and stepped into the rain.

“Do not court karma, keep a clear conscience,” he muttered to himself as he walked. “Do not court karma, keep a clear conscience.”

The rain fell harder and harder, and the path beneath his feet grew increasingly slippery. He walked quickly, as if something were chasing him from behind.

Before he had even made it halfway, he couldn't bring himself to mutter “clear conscience” anymore. Taking someone's spirit stones and giving them a basket of ruined elixirs. A clear conscience?

He stopped and stood in the rain. The wind blew past, cold. He stood there like a wooden stake driven into the ground, motionless.

“Sigh...”

A long sigh.

Inside the temple, he stood before Jiang Ci. Behind him were the memorial tablets of the elders and disciples of the Formation Sect, arranged neatly row by row. The old man's tablet was in the center of the very top row.

Below it stood the three incense sticks Lu Yan had newly lit for him.

He spoke as if to himself, yet also as if to the memorial tablets behind him.

“I'm only doing this so she doesn't die here and offend the old man's eyes. Yes. I just don't want her to be an eyesore.”

Even he felt the excuse was flimsy once he said it. But he had no other excuse.

He could only resolve to burn more joss paper for the old man next time.

He looked at the curled-up Jiang Ci, wanting to pick her up. His hands hovered over her for a long time, unsure of where to start. In the end, he squatted down, scooped her up by her thighs, and leaned back slightly, letting her cling to him like a koala. It was that same feeling. Wet, soft, and warm.

Her head rested against his shoulder, her faint breath brushing against his collarbone. The residual warmth spread, brushing past his neck and jaw—he stiffened for a moment. His legs felt as if they couldn't bend properly as he awkwardly shuffled out of the temple, step by step.

Outside, the wind howled. The Wind-Protection Formation had long since dispersed. Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain in his soul, he raised a Wind-Protection Formation, followed by a Warm Light Formation. The double formations enveloped them both, blocking out the cold wind as warmth slowly enveloped them.

As if sensing the comfort, the frown on her face gradually eased. Then, she shifted—not struggling, but snuggling deeper into his embrace. At some point, her arms had wrapped around his chest, and her legs clung to his waist. She was like a cat that had found its nest, embedding herself tightly into his arms.

His body tensed even further. Yet, he did not push her away. He softened his footsteps, trying his best to walk steadily.

“Cold...”

It was still a slurred murmur. But this time, the distance was zero. Her lips were pressed against his neck, and her voice traveled directly through his skin, allowing him to hear it with absolute clarity.

“...I really must owe you.”

A helpless expression crossed his face, his voice incredibly soft, as if speaking only to himself.

The rain continued to fall. The wind continued to howl. Two bedraggled figures pressed forward against the storm.

Not far through the wind and rain lay home.