"Silence!"
The Sect Master's shout rang out across the mountain square, instantly suppressing the growing uproar. His expression was unreadable, but the way he looked at Li Ruo was anything but kind.
Truth be told, he didn't need the disciples to sway him. Even he believed it was Li Ruo who had tampered with the pill. After all, everyone knew Ye Chuxue distributed her pills to fellow disciples. That alone gave motive. And Song Wanníng's reputation for holding grudges made the whole thing seem all too plausible.
But the problem was how to get Li Ruo to confess. They couldn't beat a confession out of her, could they?
If it really was her, Song Wanníng would demand blood when she returned. And she always got what she came for. After a moment's thought, the Sect Master decided to hand the matter off.
"Junior Brother Gu, how do you propose we handle this?"
Before Gu Qingyuan could speak, Ye Chuxue quickly stepped forward and tugged at his sleeve.
"Sect Master, let me take the blame."
She looked pitiful, her eyes filled with humility, her voice soft. Over the past few months, Gu Qingyuan's attitude toward Song Wanníng had shifted slightly. She couldn't risk letting him waver now. If Song Wanníng dared act against her, she had to pay the price.
"No."
As expected, Gu Qingyuan refused without hesitation.
"You did nothing wrong. Why should you bear this?"
His brows drew together. His heart, already dulled toward Song Wanníng, turned colder still.
The woman he once called Junior Sister was long gone.
He turned and strode toward Li Ruo, his presence descending like an avalanche.
Li Ruo's breath caught in her throat. Her limbs froze, locked under invisible weight, her body trembling as if she were standing in a storm.
"Speak the truth, every word," Gu Qingyuan said coldly. "If you dare lie, don't blame me for being merciless."
"I didn't… it wasn't me…" Li Ruo shook her head weakly. She had done nothing wrong. Even if she died, she would never admit to something she hadn't done.
"Still refusing to confess?" Gu Qingyuan narrowed his eyes. "Then don't blame me for using soul-searching."
His hand lifted toward her forehead.
The Soul-Searching Art was brutal. Most who endured it were left insane or crippled, their path to immortality shattered.
He wasn't planning to use it—just scare her into talking.
But before his palm could fall…
The sky darkened.
Clouds gathered in an instant, heavy and full of killing intent, like an unseen blade ready to strike. A massive sword, thousands of feet long, descended from the heavens and split the air.
Boom.
The impact locked everyone in place. Not even a Nascent Soul cultivator dared move. It felt as though a blade hovered at every throat, cold and sharp, promising death the moment they flinched.
A blinding flash of gold light tore across their vision. When the disciples dared open their eyes again, several figures were already lying on the ground.
Ye Chuxue, Bai Yang, An Ze—every one of them bloodied and unconscious, long gashes carved into their necks.
Even Gu Qingyuan had been struck.
His robes were torn clean in half, barely hanging off his frame. His jade hairpin was shattered, letting his long hair whip about in the wind. A deep wound split across his shoulder, nearly cleaving him open to the bone. Just a little higher, and his head would have been severed.
A hush fell. No one moved. No one spoke.
The Sect Master and elders turned ashen, stunned by how narrowly they'd escaped. If they hadn't stepped back in time, they would have been cleaved apart by that sword.
A voice, clear and cold, laced with killing intent, echoed through the air.
"While I was in seclusion, this is how you treat my disciple? Is this the way of Wentiān Sect?"
All eyes turned.
A woman in a crimson robe drifted into view, her hair and ribbons fluttering behind her, her eyes filled with ice and fire. Every step she took rang like a bell inside their chests.
She was beautiful, but terrifying.
It was Song Wanníng. She had returned.
"Master!" Li Ruo stood frozen for a beat, then tears welled in her eyes and she rushed forward. With her master gone, they had tried to destroy her. Even soul-search her.
Only now could she finally breathe again.
Song Wanníng took in her disciple's disheveled state, the terror still on her face. Her gaze darkened. "Don't be afraid. With your master here, no one will lay a hand on you."
She gently patted Li Ruo's head, then stepped in front of her, her expression calm as she faced the crowd.
Pfft.
Gu Qingyuan dropped to one knee, coughing up blood.
The Sect Master hurried over with a new robe. Elder Lan fed healing pills to the fallen disciples with trembling hands, heart pounding with fear. One more sword like that, and he would be next.
"Junior Sister Song," the Sect Master said, voice shaking, "how could you go so far? Gu Qingyuan is your fellow disciple!"
Song Wanníng didn't even flinch. She dusted her sleeve and smiled faintly.
"If I had truly struck with full force, Gu Qingyuan's head would be rolling on the floor right now. When he tried to soul-search my disciple, you said nothing. But when I retaliate, you speak of fairness?" Her voice was quiet, but sharp as a knife. "Such favoritism, Sect Master. How disappointing."
Her eyes swept across the group, still smiling, but somehow colder than any winter wind.
"Cough… If not for your sneak attack, how could my master have lost?"
Ye Chuxue managed to sit upright, blood covering her pale face. She looked even more pitiful now, her voice full of trembling indignation.
"You're despicable."
The time for masks had passed. If Song Wanníng wanted war, she would have it.
"Sneak attack?"
Song Wanníng raised an eyebrow. "If you think that was a sneak attack, it only means you're too weak. I struck in the open. It's not my fault he couldn't react. If you don't believe me, ask him."
Ye Chuxue turned toward Gu Qingyuan for support, but he only stared blankly at Song Wanníng, his mind far away.
She felt a chill in her chest.
"Master?" she called softly.
Gu Qingyuan didn't answer.
He kept his eyes fixed on Song Wanníng. After a long moment, he finally asked, "You… you advanced to late-stage Nascent Soul?"
The higher one's cultivation, the harder each step became.
From Divine Transformation onward, each advancement could take centuries.
Song Wanníng had reached mid-stage Nascent Soul just over twenty years ago. Now she had advanced again?
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Jealousy gnawed at him.
He was supposed to be the most brilliant one. How could she surpass him?
"That's right," Song Wanníng said, arms crossed. "Thanks to you. After our engagement ended, I saw things clearly. And wouldn't you know, I advanced without even trying."
She smiled sweetly.
No one in the world knew how to stab Gu Qingyuan where it hurt better than Song Wanníng.