Chapter 95: A Fateful Decision in the Plague-Stricken Night

Gu Chang’an.

Shen Zhaoqing leaned beside her, speaking as if guided by spirits, her voice barely a whisper audible only to herself: ‘Senior Sister, aren’t you the Qingyun Sect’s foremost Sword Immortal? Aren’t you going to get up now?’

‘If you don’t rise soon, your precious junior sister will be directly delivered as a mere cauldron.’

She rattled on, a tremor in her voice she herself hadn’t noticed. The figure on the bed remained unresponsive, only a faint breath confirming her continued existence.

Slowly, Shen Zhaoqing reached out, intending to touch the cold hand resting outside the covers. It was a hand with distinct knuckles, long and powerful.

This very hand had once wielded a sword, slaying demons and protecting countless lives. This same hand had, on more than one occasion, shielded her firmly in the face of gravest danger.

Her fingertips hovered less than an inch from that hand, so close she could feel the bone-deep chill radiating from it. Just a little further…

Then, as if burned, Shen Zhaoqing abruptly recoiled.

‘What could I possibly do?’ she thought. ‘My spiritual energy is a chaotic mess, I can barely protect myself.’

‘If not for me, if not for me, how could Senior Sister have ended up like this?’

‘Was I going to touch her to drain away what little pitiful warmth remained, hastening her demise?’

Shen Zhaoqing gave a self-deprecating laugh. She suddenly recalled a phrase the Old Shopkeeper, still alive back then, had slurred to her drunkenly during her wandering days.

‘Girl,’ he’d said, ‘remember this: there’s no hurdle in this world you can’t overcome. Nothing is too high to hold you down. Just find the stoutest leg you can, cling to it, and survive.’

She had always held that saying as her life’s creed. Gu Chang’an had been the stoutest leg she’d found.

Shen Zhaoqing’s gaze drifted downwards, settling on the now dim and lusterless sect jade token at Gu Chang’an’s waist. She remembered the faces of the elders before Calm Heart Hall, some filled with indignation, others with helplessness.

She recalled the ordinary disciples’ eyes, a mix of fear and desperate hope.

Li Wuxia’s bloodied face, etched with both madness and pleading, flashed through her mind.

‘Don’t go.’

‘It’s all a trap.’

Yes, it was all a trap. She had survived for so many years, idled for so long. Since there was no longer any escaping it, then she wouldn’t try.

Slowly, Shen Zhaoqing straightened. She cast one last, lingering look at Gu Chang’an on the bed before turning and walking towards the door.

As she reached the threshold, on the verge of stepping out, she paused but did not look back. ‘Gu Chang’an,’ she murmured, as much to herself as to the woman on the bed, ‘you must live well.’

‘Senior Sister, my life was saved by you. Now, it’s my turn to save you.’

With that, she no longer hesitated, striding out of the courtyard and vanishing into the deepening night.

Within the room, the eyelashes of the unconscious figure on the bed seemed to flutter ever so slightly. By the bedside, the Frostbright Sword, which had been humming, fell silent.

A single, scorching tear slipped from the corner of Gu Chang’an’s tightly closed eye, disappearing into her temple.

****

Having exited Tingxue Residence, Shen Zhaoqing did not return to her familiar ‘dog kennel’ in the Sword Tomb, nor did she go anywhere else. She simply stood beneath the ancient pine tree, gazing up at the sky, which had been stained a sickly grey-purple by the plague.

The evening breeze ruffled the stray hairs on her forehead, revealing eyes that usually held a hint of languor and mockery. At this moment, however, all traces of idleness and cynicism had vanished.

Only a cold, unwavering resolve remained, a light more absolute than ever before. It was the look of someone who had decided to personally put an end to everything.

The night at Qingyun Sect had never felt so oppressive. In days past, as dusk fell, cranes returned to their nests, spiritual energy swirled like thin gauze, and moonlight flowed like quicksilver, creating an ethereal, transcendent atmosphere.

Tonight, however, the bright moon in the sky was obscured by a thick, ominous layer of purplish-grey plague mist, allowing only a faint, sickly glow to penetrate. The air was thick with a cloying scent, a mixture of decay and despair that made it difficult to breathe.

Disciples hurried along, their faces devoid of their usual composure and pride, replaced only by panic and bewilderment. Patrols walked in groups of two or three, their footsteps sounding weak and listless.

The entire Qingyun Sect resembled a giant wracked by severe illness, able to emit only heavy, painful groans.

Shen Zhaoqing moved through this desolate night, her steps slow yet cutting through the stagnant, despairing air like a silent, sharp blade. Every disciple she passed instinctively averted their gaze.

Those eyes, which usually held three parts indolence and seven parts a readiness to watch chaos unfold, were now as calm as an ancient, bottomless well.

She did not return to the familiar ‘dog kennel’ of the Sword Tomb, nor did she stop anywhere else. Her destination was clear: she headed directly for the ‘Tingxue Residence,’ a place reserved by the sect specifically for honored guests.

It was the temporary abode of the Holy Maiden of Penglai, Bai Zhileng.

In stark contrast to the desolation and deathly silence elsewhere, Tingxue Residence seemed to exist in its own realm. Outside its walls, plague qi surged, yet within, a faint, glass-like罩 glow, fragrant with herbs, formed a barrier, isolating all defilement.

Inside, the lights shone brightly, and a subtle medicinal aroma wafted out, refreshing and invigorating. ‘Truly befitting a Holy Maiden from an overseas immortal palace; the grandeur is certainly different,’ Shen Zhaoqing thought, a hint of detachment in her mental commentary as she approached the door.

Two female disciples, clad in Penglai Immortal Palace attire, guarded the entrance. Seeing her approach, they immediately extended their arms to stop her. ‘Senior Sister Shen,’ one of the melon-faced disciples said coolly, her eyes holding a barely perceptible hint of disdain and superiority, ‘Halt. The Holy Maiden is in secluded cultivation and is not receiving outsiders.’

Shen Zhaoqing paused, simply raising her eyes to gaze at her. The disciple felt an inexplicable shiver under her scrutiny; her innate sense of superiority seemed choked by an invisible hand, making her instinctively want to retreat a step.

‘Let her in,’ a voice as gentle as water drifted from within the courtyard. The two guarding disciples looked as if they had received a great pardon, immediately bowing and stepping aside. Shen Zhaoqing, her face expressionless, pushed open the courtyard gate and walked inside.

The courtyard indeed revealed a hidden world. A small, exquisite alchemy cauldron floated in the center of the patio, its gentle flame emanating a soothing, calming medicinal fragrance.

Bai Zhileng sat on a stone stool nearby, cradling an ancient alchemy scripture. Seeing Shen Zhaoqing enter, she set the scripture down, her face immediately blossoming into her characteristic, spring-like gentle smile. ‘Junior Sister Zhaoqing, why have you come so late?’ she asked, rising to greet her, her tone laced with just the right amount of concern. ‘Is your internal energy feeling unwell again? Come, sit down, let me examine you once more.’

As she spoke, she naturally extended her hand, intending to take Shen Zhaoqing’s wrist to check her pulse, as she often did. However, Shen Zhaoqing merely took half a step back, precisely avoiding her hand.

Bai Zhileng’s hand stiffened slightly, remaining suspended in mid-air. The smile on her face froze for an instant, but quickly returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. She casually withdrew her hand, tucking it into her sleeve, and continued to smile, saying, ‘What’s wrong, Junior Sister? I’m fine.’

Shen Zhaoqing spoke, ‘I didn’t come for a medical consultation.’

She paused, then met Bai Zhileng’s autumn-water eyes, which always held a hint of a smile. ‘I came to inform you of something.’

‘Inform?’ Bai Zhileng’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly as she looked at her with interest. ‘Junior Sister, please speak. I am all ears.’

She was curious to see what new tricks this little beast, who usually only bristled and hid, could pull after today’s farce.

‘I have decided,’ Shen Zhaoqing stated, each word clear and distinct, ‘to go to Azure Water Cold Pool.’

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