Wrap-up

Jiang Ci stood frozen in place, her pupils trembling violently. Her mouth hung slightly open, and a faint, airy gasp escaped her throat.

She had been crying and screaming yesterday? And she asked him for... dual cultivation?! How could she possibly have done such a thing!

In her twenty-odd years of life, she had only ever glimpsed the words “dual cultivation” in a dusty corner of the sect’s library. There was no way she would say something like that!

But as for what happened yesterday, she truly couldn’t remember a single thing. She only remembered drinking, feeling very sad, and seemingly hugging something very warm.

She had no way to judge whether she had actually done it based on her memory alone. If she really did that, what did Lu Yan do?

Did he accept? Or did he refuse? If he refused, why did she wake up in the same bed as him?

And if he accepted... She quickly glanced down at her inner robe.

It was wrapped tightly, the ties fastened perfectly. It was her own handiwork; there was no way it could have been untied and then tied back exactly like that.

So... was he lying to her? Yes, he had to be lying.

Lu Yan couldn’t hear Jiang Ci’s internal monologue, but he saw her flusteredly check her clothes. Her fingers paused at the ties for a moment, and then she seemed to regain her confidence.

He twitched the corner of his mouth and took a step back. Just then, Jiang Ci looked up, her eyes still shimmering with the tears that had been forced out earlier.

Lu Yan cut her off before she could question him. “Do I look like the type of person who takes advantage of others?”

Jiang Ci, who was just about to interrogate him, was instantly thrown off by those words. Did he? Certainly not.

But he was definitely lying. The part about “dual cultivation” had to be fake; she couldn't possibly have said that.

Just as she was about to speak, Lu Yan’s words beat her to it again. “I consider myself a man of integrity. Yesterday, you clung to me all night and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t even lay a finger on you~”

His tone was light, his voice rising slightly at the end. Jiang Ci’s words were stuck in her throat once more, neither going up nor down.

He was telling the truth. She did remember hugging something very warm, and she indeed hadn't wanted to let go.

Lu Yan curled his lips. He knew all too well that a lie mixed with truth was the best kind of lie. Welcome to the psychological warfare of modern tactics!

His lie contained enough truth—she really had clung to him, he really hadn’t touched her, and she really had walked in on her own. Those parts were true.

She couldn’t refute him logically. Now that his trap was set, he just had to wait for her to step into it.

Scattered fragments of last night’s memories began to flash through Jiang Ci’s mind. Those disjointed, blurry clips started to piece themselves together.

That hazy feeling, combined with what Lu Yan had just said—crying, dual cultivation, refusing to let go—began to merge in her mind, generating a completely new memory.

It was a scene she couldn't determine was real or fake: herself stubbornly locking onto Lu Yan to prevent him from leaving, and even making that... that request that made her feel like she was about to burst into flames just thinking about it.

Her face burned as if a fire had been set upon it, making her feel almost too weak to stand.

She felt as if she were sinking, yet also as if she were floating. The words she had prepared to call Lu Yan a liar were completely intercepted halfway.

She didn’t know if she had actually done those things or if her memory had been led astray by Lu Yan’s words. She could find no reason to refute him. Moreover, her face was already so red it looked like it could drip blood.

The heat surged from her neck to the tips of her ears and then spread across her cheeks. Her entire being was dyed a deep, heavy shade of crimson.

Lu Yan took two steps back and leaned against the doorframe, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he watched the now “ripe” Jiang Ci.

Her face was flushed through, her eyelashes were trembling, her gaze was darting away, and her fingers were twisting the corner of her clothes. She just stood there in silence.

A curve he could barely suppress formed at the corner of his mouth. She had fallen for it. The trap was a grand success!

“You said you’d take responsibility, so what do you plan to do...” Lu Yan gave a lazy yawn and held out a finger, wagging it gently before her eyes. “No backing out now...”

“Why are you backing out again?”

At the same time, Fu Feng stood before Fu Xingjian, hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. “Why are you halting the expansion plan for the Molten Heart Tower?”

Fu Xingjian picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip, only for his expression to turn dark immediately—he had a mouthful of tea dregs. He spat out the crushed leaves and stems with a few disgusted sounds.

He set the cup down, wiped his mouth, and then spoke in a heavy voice. “The expansion of the Molten Heart Tower is no small matter. That heart underground...” He paused. “Until we figure out exactly what it is, we absolutely cannot use it without restraint.”

Fu Feng couldn’t help but take a step forward. “Why?” He leaned in slightly, the urgency in his tone nearly overflowing.

“With this, we’ve controlled the Northwest and half of the Northern Border.” His voice grew louder.

“If we take it a step further, we can absorb the remaining forces of the Northern Border and become a behemoth that even those people in the Central Continent would fear.”

“Do you have any idea how much research the energy from a further developed Molten Heart Tower could support? How many casualties it could prevent for the disciples on the front lines?”

“Do you know how dire the situation is for the front-line disciples right now? The density and strength of the Ice Spirits are increasing, and the frequency of spirit tides is rising. And now you want to stop the Molten Heart Tower? You!”

Several elders nearby also looked toward Fu Xingjian, their eyes filled with the same questions. They stood with Fu Feng—compared to the fear of the unknown, the daily reduction in casualties and pension expenses was a far more tangible consideration.

Fu Xingjian remained silent for a long time. He glanced at Fu Feng, then at the elders, and finally closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as if weighed down by something. “...Fine.”

“Then expand it.” He stood up and walked toward the door. “I only hope that it doesn't stir up any trouble.”

Fu Feng watched his departing back, his brow twitching slightly. An uneasy feeling surfaced in his heart.

...

Central Continent.

The Heavenly Ladder that appeared when Zixiao ascended had completely vanished. The sky had returned to its original color.

No one present spoke. Qingwei stood at the edge of the ruins, clutching the Flowing Light he had picked up from the crater, his fingertips gently stroking the remaining patterns on the blade.

The ice crystals had been cleared away by him, and the sword’s body had regained its original luster, yet there was no trace of the familiar aura belonging to Zixiao.

As a life-bound sword, it should have had the deepest and most enduring connection with him.

Even if Zixiao had truly ascended to another space and Flowing Light could no longer sense him...

What Qingwei felt was a wave of sadness he couldn't identify the source of. He gripped the sword and turned back to survey the battlefield.

This battle had been too tragic. Zixiao’s fate was unknown, and even if Bai Cen wasn't entirely dead, he wouldn't be having a good time for the next three to five years.

And the Beast Taming Sect? Su Li was badly injured, with several tails broken. Hua Xi had also lost her combat effectiveness. As for that young man leaning against the wall... Qingwei narrowed his eyes.

He felt that the man’s appearance strongly resembled an old acquaintance of his—that old acquaintance was also a Confucian cultivator who had left the Central Continent many years ago, never to be seen again.

Qingwei glanced at Su Li again; the fox was currently baring his teeth while trying to adjust his posture. His gaze shifted back and forth between Du Qi and Su Li, and then a strange smile appeared on his old face.

A Confucian scholar and a fox? Quite the classic pair, hehe.

But after scanning the wreckage and the disciples who had already surrounded them, that bit of amusement faded.

He let out a sigh.

This is going to be difficult.