After their exchange, Song Wanníng and Feng Jiuxiao locked eyes again. The tension in the air instantly thickened.
The merfolk shrank back, eyes full of fear.
Neither of these two looked like they had a good temper. If a fight broke out again, wouldn't it be the one who suffered the most?
Song Wanníng stared at Feng Jiuxiao. Anyone who sided with Ye Chuxue, she instinctively disliked.
So naturally, she had no pleasant expression for this woman either.
She had already made up her mind—if Feng Jiuxiao changed her stance, that was fine. But if she insisted on her original choice, then they would just have to settle things with their fists.
There was no way she'd let this legacy fall into Ye Chuxue's hands.
Maybe because she made no effort to hide her thoughts, Feng Jiuxiao picked up on it immediately. Again, she laughed in disbelief.
This woman truly had guts. She had raised killing intent against her not once, not twice, but multiple times now. Where exactly did she get that kind of confidence?
Suddenly, an idea flickered in Feng Jiuxiao's mind. Her expression turned troubled, as if she were hesitating.
"Little girl, since that other girl isn't suitable for my legacy, why don't I leave it to you instead? You seem capable enough. I'm sure you could carry it forward well."
The legacy of an Immortal Lord—who could resist such a temptation?
Certainly not most people.
She curled her lips into a sly smile and settled in, waiting for the moment Song Wanníng would break down and surrender.
But Song Wanníng just leaned lazily on the stool, eyelids lowered, looking utterly unimpressed.
She wasn't stupid.
Anyone else might hesitate, unsure if this was just mockery or a real offer—but unwilling to miss the chance.
But Song Wanníng was different.
Her time was limited, and there were far more important things to do. Since her rebirth, she had barely had the chance to truly cultivate in seclusion.
So what if she obtained the legacy?
She wouldn't have the time to comprehend it.
A solid immortal artifact would be far more useful.
Her gaze flickered slightly. She had already set her sights on that immortal artifact. She just needed a way to get her hands on it.
Feng Jiuxiao, for all her faults, wasn't as repugnant as that man from the Medicine King Sect. Maybe there was a way.
"Why so quiet? Are you too happy to speak?" Feng Jiuxiao chuckled softly, clearly amused. Her attention had long been pulled away from the candidates in the water mirror—now it was fully focused on Song Wanníng.
As for poor Feng Lanxi? She was still out there earnestly studying the formation, completely forgotten by everyone.
"I'm not interested in your legacy," Song Wanníng said flatly, shooting Feng Jiuxiao a side glance before turning back toward the mirror. "If Senior have time, you'd do better focusing on those actual candidates instead of wasting it on me. I'm not the type who wants every legacy that falls in front of me."
Her voice was calm and laced with disdain, which only made Feng Jiuxiao laugh again.
This brat really was trying to piss her off.
But even knowing that, she couldn't stop herself from getting irritated.
Seriously...
"This Immortal Lord is honestly wondering—how have you lived this long with that mouth of yours? You must've offended half the cultivation world by now."
Feng Jiuxiao crossed her legs, glaring at her with real curiosity.
Song Wanníng turned back and arched a brow. "Your mouth's even worse than mine, yet you still ascended."
"You—"
Feng Jiuxiao's vision darkened from fury. It had been hundreds of thousands of years—no one had dared speak to her like that in all that time.
And yet... why did it feel oddly refreshing?
Her lips twitched. She was probably just lonely and going mad from it. It had been so long since she found anyone she could actually "talk" to.
No wonder she felt so strange.
"Hmph. Keep running your mouth. Just wait till I give the legacy to that little girl—you'll be the one crying."
She snorted. It was obvious now. Song Wanníng clearly had a grudge against that girl.
Which meant... she was even more inclined to give the legacy to Ye Chuxue.
Song Wanníng didn't get angry. But behind her, her sword let out two sharp hums.
"Senior is welcome to try."
A cold glint flashed in her eyes. Magic and spiritual energy rippled across her body, her aura suddenly oppressive.
The more Feng Jiuxiao looked, the more she was reminded of someone.
That person had followed the Ruthless Path, barely spoke, and was nothing like Song Wanníng in temperament.
But the killing intent, the aura... they were at least seventy or eighty percent alike.
For a moment, Feng Jiuxiao's vision blurred. She thought she saw that person's figure—but the image quickly faded.
"Impossible. That Immortal King couldn't possibly be connected to Song Wanníng. It had to be a coincidence."
Still, that strange association killed her mood to banter any further. She turned her eyes back to the water mirror. Her task wasn't done. Choosing an heir was no small matter.
In the mirror, Yu Cheng had reached the final stage of the formation. He was fully immersed in comprehension, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
Ye Chuxue, by contrast, looked close to collapse.
She was gasping for breath. Both her spiritual power and soul energy had nearly been drained, and she desperately needed to rest.
But the opportunity was right in front of her, and she was terrified of losing it.
Years of missed chances had left a shadow in her heart.
The scorn, the insults, Song Wanníng's cold ridicule, Bai Yang's look of disappointment... she'd had enough.
"I can't give up now. I won't give up!"
Ye Chuxue clenched her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they were filled with fierce determination. Even though her body was falling apart, she forced herself to keep going.
Feng Jiuxiao watched this and smiled, a rare trace of warmth on her face.
The girl's passion for formations—she saw it clearly.
If the legacy were handed to her, she was confident it would thrive.
Yu Cheng? Sure, he had talent, but somehow... he just didn't stand out.
It was strange. That little girl just seemed like someone who should be noticed.
Feng Jiuxiao frowned slightly, but quickly pushed that odd thought aside.
Her gaze returned to Ye Chuxue, her smile deepening, a fond light growing in her eyes.
Song Wanníng noticed all of it.
Her heart grew colder.
Even after everything she had said and done, Feng Jiuxiao's opinion hadn't changed. As long as Ye Chuxue existed, no one else's efforts would matter. Even if they outperformed her, there would always be some excuse to cast them aside.
Her fingers clenched tightly around the armrest, the gloom in her eyes deepening.
Beside her, the merfolk sensed something was wrong. It started to panic.
But its biggest worry wasn't its master—it was Xiao Jiao.
Right now, Xiao Jiao was with an injured human. Who knew what that person might do?
It wrung its hands anxiously, face flushing red.
Time ticked on.
Eventually, Ye Chuxue could hold out no longer. She collapsed onto the ground.
Sweat drenched her body. Her soul throbbed in pain, and her face had gone deathly pale, like a ghost drained of life.
Xiao Jiao panicked and rushed over to hold her up.
"Chuxue! Are you okay? Don't scare me!
What happened to you?!"
The little merfolk looked like it might cry again.