Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Title

Inside the main hall, Ye Qingshang accepted the jade pot from Qiu Huayi, took a sip, and returned it. Before she could speak again, deliberate footsteps echoed through the space.

Ye Qingshang masked her emotions, adopting a neutral expression as she called out, "Senior Brother."

Mu Rongyan approached. Qiu Huayi shrank back, sighing mournfully before stepping aside.

With feigned nonchalance, Ye Qingshang smiled. "Senior Brother, this is a sanctuary for meditation. Ten days of seclusion hardly warrants your personal visit."

Concealed within her sleeve, her fingertip twitched. A hair-thin ripple of spiritual power answered from behind her, stirring imperceptible currents beside her—undetected by all.

Mu Rongyan shook his head, frowning. "It’s not that…" He shut his eyes briefly, reopening them with profound guilt. Before Ye Qingshang could react, crushing spiritual power enveloped her. A dragon’s roar pierced the air as his sword thrust through her abdomen.

Her eyes flew wide. Blood trailed from her lips as she stared at him, devastated. "Senior Brother… why?"

Her expression pained him. He averted his gaze, knuckles whitening on the trembling sword hilt. "Forgive me, Qingshang. Blame your prodigious talent. May your next life… grant you kinder fortunes."

"Senior Brother…" She collapsed to her knees, weakly gripping the Dragon’s Roar blade. Her voice bled anguish. "Such hatred? Enough to threaten Huayi… to poison me? Ten years of camaraderie… and you clung to your resentment?"

Mu Rongyan’s sorrow twisted into shock. "How… how did you know about Huayi’s poison?"

Her mastery-level defenses made assassination near impossible—hence his scheme at the Qiu family to weaken her spiritual power. This cornerstone of his plan… how could she know? And if she knew, why succumb? Realization struck. He wrenched Dragon’s Roar free—too late.

A voice, frigid as extinguished embers, spoke from the entrance. "Ah Yan."

Mu Rongyan froze. Breath ragged, fingers locked.

The speaker was Ning Jiwei—a paragon of virtue in the cultivation world, his legacy untainted.

Simultaneously, the dying Ye Qingshang laughed. Blood painted her vision like a hell-borne, blood-stained red lotus. All grace vanished from her sneer. "How does it feel, Senior Brother, to be outmaneuvered after years of scheming? I gave you chances! You shattered my trust! Did you truly believe only you could wield the Illusionary Net Formation?"

Each word flayed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling uncontrollably.

*Ye Qingshang… you chose this path. Error upon error… beyond redemption.*

The hall scene dissolved. The fading illusion of Ye Qingshang vanished, leaving emptiness.

The real Ye Qingshang now stood distantly before Mu Rongyan. Beside her stood Mu Huaiyun—impossibly present.

Their counter-scheme was simple: Qiu Huayi feigned poisoning the wine, substituting an untouched flask. Mu Huaiyun had entered first, concealed by treasure. Unseen, he’d channeled spiritual power to Ye Qingshang, weaving the undetectable Illusionary Net Formation.

From the moment Mu Rongyan stepped inside, the trap was sprung. His murderous intent activated the formation, ensnaring him in its flawless deception.

The illusion of being slain by the dragon’s roar and suffering grave injuries was merely a ruse. To expose Mu Rongyan’s crimes, Ye Qingshang had a young disciple summon the sect leader and elders to the main hall. When the performance commenced, the leader and elders of Frostbite Sect witnessed Mu Rongyan’s brutality firsthand—he could not escape his fate.

Yet… Though she’d invited the leader and all elders, why had only Ning Jiwei come alone? Ye Qingshang frowned in puzzlement before realizing the token alone might not have convinced them.

If her master came alone, so be it. A man of such righteousness who upheld justice strictly—even witnessing his own disciple’s unforgivable act single-handedly—would ensure Mu Rongyan faced consequences. After all, Ning Jiwei was renowned throughout the cultivation world for disciplining his disciples harshly.

As expected, she heard him speak slowly, his voice icy: "You’ve disappointed me profoundly." Then overwhelming spiritual power surged forth, coalescing into silver ropes that shot toward Mu Rongyan. Unable to resist, he was bound and forced roughly to his knees.

Ning Jiwei stepped forward, his expression as aloof as when Ye Qingshang first met him, though his eyes held their usual warmth—unchanged since she joined Frostbite Sect years ago. Her master had always treated her differently. Sometimes she wondered: Did he envision her as a powerful master bathed in glory, or the well-mannered disciple who once delighted him?

These paths needn’t conflict. As she pondered, Ning Jiwei’s lips curved into an uncharacteristic, faint smile. "Qingshang, come here."

_Come here…_ The phrase felt hauntingly familiar, though she couldn’t recall why. Trusting him instinctively, she moved before conscious thought, stepping toward him.

With each step, his smile deepened—yet it felt misplaced, like a snow lotus blooming out of season. "I gift you this Gold Spirit. Do you like it?"

Before Ye Qingshang could grasp his meaning, searing agony tore through her chest. Stunned, she stared blankly, disbelief widening her eyes.