Chapter 31: A Debt of Life

“Um…” Shen Zhaoqing began, her voice hoarse with nerves. “Can we… can we save her first?”

She looked down at Li Wuxia in her arms, whose face was frighteningly pale.

“She… she’s still breathing.” Shen Zhaoqing’s trembling hand rose, pointing to Li Wuxia’s chest. “It’s faint, but it’s there. If we don’t act now, she’ll truly be gone.”

Her plea was directed at Elder Liu.

Elder Liu awoke as if from a trance, casting aside all thoughts of Demonic Venerables. Saving a life was paramount.

He shot an urgent, meaningful glance at Gu Chang’an.

Gu Chang’an understood. She withdrew her sword, yet the powerful sword intent still hummed in the air around them. Turning to Shen Zhaoqing, she spoke with an undeniable authority. “Junior Sister Shen, come here.”

This time, Shen Zhaoqing did not obey.

She lifted her head, meeting Gu Chang’an’s gaze directly. For the first time, her pale golden eyes, usually holding a hint of distant intoxication, were devoid of their customary nonchalance and evasion.

“Senior Sister Gu,” she stated slowly and clearly, “she became like this saving me. I must stay by her side.”

Gu Chang’an’s brows furrowed instantly.

Ling Shuangjue, who still held Shen Zhaoqing, let out a low chuckle. The sound tore at the wound on her back, triggering another violent fit of coughing, yet the amusement in her eyes intensified.

“Did you hear that?” she gasped, her voice ragged. “She said she’s not leaving.”

Gu Chang’an’s gaze turned cold as she stared at Ling Shuangjue.

Shen Zhaoqing, still cradling Li Wuxia, struggled to free herself from Ling Shuangjue’s embrace.

This time, Ling Shuangjue did not forcibly hold her. Perhaps her injuries had drained her strength, or perhaps she was simply pleased with Shen Zhaoqing’s choice.

Shen Zhaoqing stumbled forward a couple of steps, clutching Li Wuxia tightly.

The formidable aura that had enveloped her vanished, replaced by the chilling night wind sweeping through the valley.

As the wind caressed her, she finally realized her clothes were completely soaked with Ling Shuangjue’s blood, sticking uncomfortably to her skin. The sensation was profoundly unpleasant.

“Elder Liu!” Shen Zhaoqing cried, hurrying towards the rescue team with Li Wuxia in her arms. “Please, I beg you, save her quickly!”

Seeing them approach, Elder Liu immediately set aside all other concerns. He quickly instructed a disciple to take the dying young woman, while he himself swiftly produced several medicinal pills from his spatial pouch.

“Yinsha cold poison has attacked her heart, and she’s suffered a severe impact… her internal organs are shattered, and her meridians are mostly severed…” Elder Liu mumbled, his brows deeply furrowed as he administered aid. “This is incredibly difficult! It’s already a miracle she’s still clinging to life!”

Shen Zhaoqing’s heart sank, inch by agonizing inch.

Meanwhile, Ling Shuangjue’s face visibly paled at an alarming rate.

She lifted her eyes, casting one last, profound glance at Shen Zhaoqing, who was now surrounded by the rescue team. Then, she turned to Gu Chang’an, a pale yet still defiant smile gracing her lips.

“Gu Chang’an, I won’t be taking her today.”

“But remember this: she is mine.”

“You cannot protect her.”

With that declaration, her figure blurred, dissolving into thin air like ink spreading in water. She vanished from the spot, leaving behind only an echoing remark and a spreading pool of blood.

Gu Chang’an gripped her sword, veins bulging on the back of her hand. Yet, she ultimately did not draw it again.

For Ling Shuangjue had spoken the truth.

She could not protect her.

At least not today.

****

The journey back to Qingyun Sect was fraught with a terrible, stifling atmosphere.

Aboard the flying Magic Tool, disciples from Danxin Pavilion huddled around Li Wuxia, employing every conceivable method to barely sustain her flickering life, a flame weaker than a candle in a gale.

Ning Jihe, having consumed a medicinal pill, had already settled into a cross-legged position, eyes closed in meditation. Yet, her tightly furrowed brows betrayed that her injuries were far more severe than they appeared.

Gu Chang’an stood at the bow of the ship, the night wind stirring her hair and robes, her entire being resembling an emotionless jade sculpture.

Shen Zhaoqing, meanwhile, crouched silently beside Li Wuxia’s stretcher, a picture of quiet despair.

Her mind was a chaotic mess.

Far too many events had transpired recently, completely shattering all of Shen Zhaoqing’s previous plans and expectations.

She knew she could no longer continue as she once had, complaining and drinking, pretending nothing had happened to simply get by.

Someone had truly been willing to die for her.

If she continued to evade, it would no longer be ‘lying low’ or ‘playing safe’; it would be an act of utter heartlessness.

The Magic Tool came to a gentle halt before Danxin Pavilion’s medicinal garden.

Li Wuxia was immediately rushed into the “Warm Jade Ice Chamber,” a specialized facility for critically injured patients. A group of alchemists streamed in, one after another, creating an atmosphere as tense as a major surgery unfolding in the mortal realm.

Shen Zhaoqing stood outside the door, her gaze fixed on the tightly shut stone entrance, motionless for a long time.

“Junior Sister Shen.” Gu Chang’an’s voice echoed from behind her.

Shen Zhaoqing turned, watching Gu Chang’an approach.

Gu Chang’an’s expression remained cool and detached, as ever.

“Are you alright?” Gu Chang’an inquired.

This was likely the gentlest expression of concern she was capable of articulating.

Shen Zhaoqing merely shook her head.

“Tonight, come stay at my cave abode first.” Gu Chang’an’s tone reverted to her usual commanding, undeniable manner. “Your current situation is very dangerous; you cannot be alone.”

‘Close personal protection.’

This was the most direct and effective method of safeguarding Shen Zhaoqing that Gu Chang’an could conceive.

However, Shen Zhaoqing shook her head once more.

“No, Senior Sister Gu.”

Gu Chang’an’s brows furrowed again. “Why? What are you worried about? With me here, no one can harm you.”

“I know,” Shen Zhaoqing replied, looking up at her, at the Chief Sword Immortal whom all Qingyun Sect disciples held in awe. For the first time, she did not avert her gaze.

“Senior Sister Gu, thank you. Truly.”

“But…” Shen Zhaoqing gestured towards the tightly shut stone door, “Junior Sister Li is in there because of me. Her fate is uncertain right now, and I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

She had found a perfect, irrefutable reason.

“I need to wait for her here.”

“I need to care for her.”

Gu Chang’an watched her, observing the eyes that were filled with both exhaustion and stubborn resolve, remaining silent for a long while.

After a long moment, Gu Chang’an sighed softly. “Very well.”

She retrieved a jade talisman from her spatial pouch and extended it to Shen Zhaoqing.

“This is my communication talisman, and also a protective sword talisman. If you encounter danger, crush it immediately.” She paused, then added, “I will be nearby.”

With that, she did not linger, turning and departing on her sword, soaring into the night.

Under the cold, clear moonlight, Gu Chang’an’s retreating figure appeared strikingly desolate.

Clutching the jade talisman, which still held a faint trace of Gu Chang’an’s warmth, Shen Zhaoqing slowly slid down to sit against the cold wall.

She hugged her knees tightly, burying her head in her arms.

Finally, a profound silence descended around her.

There was no longer the tense standoff, no longer the thrilling rush of life-or-death, and none of those heavy, scrutinizing gazes that had made her yearn to flee.

Only the faint, calming scent of herbs from the medicinal garden and the weak light seeping through the door crack remained.

At last, she could be truly alone, in quiet solitude, to ponder her utterly messed-up life.

****

Outside Danxin Pavilion’s medicinal garden, the night was as cool and still as water.

Shen Zhaoqing hugged her knees, curling into a tight ball against the cold wall, her mind a chaotic jumble of thoughts.

One moment, she recalled Li Wuxia collapsing into her arms; the next, Ling Shuangjue fiercely shielding her; then, Gu Chang’an standing stoically at the ship’s bow.

“So annoying,” Shen Zhaoqing mumbled, rubbing her throbbing head.

She used to believe she was nothing more than an ordinary bystander, a hapless soul accidentally splattered with blood during a clash of formidable cultivators. She thought that if she lay low enough, played dead enough, these powerful figures would eventually grow bored and simply leave her, this “humble country dish,” alone.

But today, this ‘dish’ had been cooked with a life.

How could she ever repay such a debt?