Li Shuang returned to Wuqing Peak under the pale glow of moonlight.
She walked slowly.
Calmly.
The broken jade box still rested in her hand, but the emotion it once stirred was gone—like a storm that had passed, leaving only stillness behind.
When she reached her courtyard, Luo Mingyue was waiting.
"Junior Sister?" Mingyue stood quickly. "You're back late. Where did you go?"
Li Shuang handed her the shattered pendant box.
Mingyue looked at it, confused.
"…What happened?"
Li Shuang shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
Her tone was clear.
Final.
Mingyue didn't press further. Instead, she stepped aside, letting her pass.
Inside her room, Li Shuang sat cross-legged and began to meditate.
The Supreme Forgetting Love Technique flowed through her veins, colder and clearer than ever before.
Not suppressing her emotions—but holding them without being moved by them.
The memory of her mother's death… no longer clouded her mind.
It remained, yes.
It would always remain.
But it was no longer a chain around her throat.
It was now a sword at her side.
Far away, on Lingxu Peak, Ye Zhaozhao stared at her trembling hands.
"…It failed," she whispered.
The system's voice was flat, emotionless:
"Illusion failed. Target's mental stability has surpassed emotional disruption parameters."
"Target has achieved complete resistance to memory interference."
"Luck assimilation: permanently stalled."
Zhaozhao's heart sank.
All her careful plotting…
All her years of chipping away at Li Shuang's trust, her support, her will—
And now the girl had not only recovered but become immune to the system's core function.
"…Then what do I do now?" Zhaozhao muttered, her voice cracking.
"Host must shift strategy. Direct suppression is no longer effective. Suggest eliminating the target via external forces."
"Alternatively: Seek inheritance of opposing fate."
Zhaozhao's expression darkened.
If she couldn't pull Li Shuang down…
She would have to rise higher.
She clenched her fists.
"Fine," she whispered. "You've escaped me for now, Li Shuang. But this is far from over."
Back on Wuqing Peak, the night deepened.
The stars overhead flickered faintly, mirrored by the faint silver gleam of the Frostcut Sword resting by Li Shuang's side.
She opened her eyes.
They were clear.
Sharp.
Unshaken.
For the first time in her life, she owed no one anything.
Not her old master.
Not her sect.
Not even her past.
She belonged only to herself.
And her path—was hers alone to carve.