An Old Tale

Lin Zhiyue was walking south along a stream.

The water was crystal clear, its bed lined with tiny, colorful pebbles. Occasionally, a few silvery-white fish would dart through the crevices of the rocks, scattering the dappled sunlight playing on the surface.

Cen Xi'er walked by her side. As they traveled, both of them kept a sharp eye on the banks for any signs of spiritual herbs or ores.

As they rounded a bend, a woman dressed in white approached them from the opposite direction.

She had a poised, upright posture, and her face was as cold and still as frozen snow. A slender, pale blue sword hung from her waist.

Lin Zhiyue recognized her. It was Senior Sister Lin of the Biluo Immortal Sect—Lin Tangxi. She was a genius who had created her own sword style and had risen to fame during her Foundation Establishment Stage.

Lin Zhiyue had seen her from afar a few times at various joint sect gatherings afterward. They weren't close, but she was a familiar face.

Cen Xi'er was the first to call out a greeting. “Senior Sister Lin, it's been a long time.”

Lin Tangxi stopped in front of them, the corners of her lips curving up slightly.

She and Cen Xi'er indeed seemed to have some history. The two exchanged pleasantries, talking about how rich the spiritual energy in the Northern Realm was and how Tiance Palace had sent quite a few disciples this time.

Lin Zhiyue stood quietly to the side, listening without interjecting.

After chatting for a bit, Lin Tangxi's tone suddenly grew somewhat heavy. She looked down at the hilt of her sword, wrapping her fingers gently around the grip's cord. Then, she looked up at Cen Xi'er, her voice dropping a fraction. “Xi'er, let me tell you something. I might... be forming a cultivation partnership soon.”

Cen Xi'er paused in her tracks.

She looked at Lin Tangxi with a rather complicated expression—part surprise, part expectation, as if she had always known this day would come. Her lips twitched, but she didn't reply immediately.

Lin Zhiyue's ears perked up. Having stood quietly on the sidelines for so long, she had finally caught the scent of gossip.

“With whom?” Cen Xi'er asked.

“The Qingling Sect,” Lin Tangxi said, lowering her gaze. “Song Mu.”

Lin Zhiyue couldn't help but marvel at the coincidence.

She had just obtained a Shattered Snow Congealing Lingzhi from Song Mu. Having witnessed his temperament and sense of responsibility firsthand, she knew he was indeed a decent man.

However, she also noticed that when Lin Tangxi spoke the name “Song Mu,” there was none of the anticipation or joy one would expect. Instead, it sounded as if she were reciting the name of a stranger, carrying a flat, resigned quality.

Lin Zhiyue's intuition told her that Lin Tangxi did not like Song Mu.

Cen Xi'er stared at her, hesitating for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the soft sigh of someone who had seen it all. “Song Mu is a good man; you and I both know that. But when it comes to marriage, you shouldn't tie yourself to a single tree. Besides—”

She paused, her gaze drifting toward Lin Zhiyue for a fleeting fraction of a second. “You know what my master is like. It is absolutely impossible for him to ever harbor such romantic feelings.”

Lin Zhiyue, who had been content to quietly spectate, suddenly widened her eyes. It was as if a light bulb had snapped on in her mind.

She turned her head to look at Cen Xi'er, then at Lin Tangxi, piecing the conversation together. Cen Xi'er had said Song Mu was a good man and that Lin Tangxi didn't have to tie yourself to a single tree, and then she had immediately brought up Qi Yan.

So Lin Tangxi had someone else in her heart? And that person was Qi Yan?

Lin Tangxi instinctively glanced toward Lin Zhiyue before quickly looking away, a bitter curve forming on her lips.

“I was young and foolish back then,” Lin Tangxi said softly. “I ran off to Tiance Palace, hoping to become his disciple. But he didn't even spare me a second glance.

“Later, I joined the Biluo Immortal Sect. After cultivating for several years and looking back, I finally realized that my drive back then was probably nothing more than a young girl's infatuation.”

She paused there, looking down as she slowly tightened and then loosened the cord on her sword's hilt. “You're right. A man like him only has room for blades and swords in his heart. There is no room for anything else.”

Standing to the side, Lin Zhiyue opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, realizing that anything she said would probably sound out of place.

Lin Tangxi liked Qi Yan.

This revelation stirred a complex feeling in her chest that was difficult to describe. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable; it just suddenly reminded her of a saying from her past life: the person right beside you might be the unreachable moon to someone else.

Cen Xi'er reached out and gently patted Lin Tangxi's shoulder, offering no further words of empty comfort.

Lin Tangxi looked up and smiled, quickly reining in her emotions. She regained her cool, indifferent composure, as if the words she had just spoken were merely a casual mention of the past, not worth another word.

She nodded to Cen Xi'er and Lin Zhiyue, saying, “I shall take my leave first,” before turning to walk downstream along the bank.

Her white-clad figure gradually receded against the lush green of the stream's banks, resembling a frosted leaf drifting away on the current.

Lin Zhiyue stood in place and watched for a long while, only withdrawing her gaze once the figure had completely vanished from sight.

Cen Xi'er stood quietly beside her for a moment before saying, “Let's go,” her tone no different from usual.

The two continued walking along the stream. Lin Zhiyue remained silent for a while before she finally couldn't resist asking, “Second Senior Sister, did Senior Sister Lin Tangxi... like our master?”

“Yes,” Cen Xi'er replied, glancing at her with a faint, inscrutable smile. “She was probably fifteen or sixteen at the time. She is the legitimate eldest daughter of the Lin family, a prominent cultivation clan, so she had a high status and excellent talent.

“Back then, she went to Tiance Palace on her own initiative, declaring she wanted to disciple under Venerable Yanchen. In the end, Master didn't even let her through the gates. He just had an administrative disciple pass on a message and sent her away.

“Lin Tangxi was proud by nature. Stung by the rejection, she channeled her frustration into determination and turned to join the Biluo Immortal Sect instead.

“The Biluo Immortal Sect nurtured her as their chief disciple. Looking back now, if she had actually followed Master, she might not have achieved what she has today.”

Lin Zhiyue gave a quiet murmur of assent and asked no further questions.

She looked down at the stream flowing past her feet. The dappled light danced and flickered across the water's surface, reflecting a shifting play of light and shadow in her eyes.

Lin Zhiyue withdrew her gaze and quickened her pace, tossing those stray thoughts to the back of her mind.

After a few steps, Cen Xi'er suddenly spoke again, her voice carrying a trace of playful amusement. “Junior Sister, your expression when you heard that was truly a sight to behold.”

“...Stop talking about it,” Lin Zhiyue muttered, walking even faster.

The path along the stream grew narrower and narrower. The shrubs on both sides were gradually replaced by greyish-white permafrost, and the chill in the air deepened.

Just as Lin Zhiyue and Cen Xi'er bent down to inspect some spiritual ore fragments exposed on the ground, a low whimper suddenly echoed from behind a low ice hill ahead.

Both of them looked up at the same time.

A massive, snow-white wolf—comparable in size to a fully grown bull—slowly paced out from behind the ice hill. Its paws made almost no sound on the frozen ground, and its amber, slit-pupil eyes locked onto them with a chilling gaze.

The wolf's body was covered in a dense coat of ice-crystal fur that shimmered coldly in the sunlight. Its breath condensed into fine ice mist in the air. This was a late-stage Golden Core Snow Nightmare Ice Wolf, one of the top predators of the Northern Realm's snowy plains.

Lin Zhiyue had no time to hesitate. Her Azure Scale Sword was already unsheathed, and frost rapidly condensed on the blade into a thin layer of ice.

Cen Xi'er also drew her sword, her golden spiritual energy condensing into a sharp arc of light on the blade. The two split to the left and right, trapping the ice wolf between them.