Chapter 140

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Chapter 140: Breaking the Proud Bone

In the dark, desolate cliff, remnants of blood-stained palaces filled with sealed, silent chambers.

Ming He found herself trapped on a black column, gazing at the surrounding crimson bloodlines, slightly wanting to laugh, mocking herself for circling back to this familiar place, as if the past months had not existed at all.

She knew this scenery well; even with the darkness blocking her sight, she understood there was a black stone wall to her left.

That stone wall had been stained with her blood and also with Mu Qian’s blood.

Yóu Lìng had surprisingly brought her back to Blood River Hall, back to the depths beneath the Blood River.

Indeed, as an envoy of the Black Wind Alliance, her thoughts and methods differed from ordinary people.

She did not know why the human cultivators and Nine Heavens Pavilion had not destroyed this palace back then, but she understood that a grand formation should have enveloped here, preventing ordinary cultivators from entering.

Even if there were cultivators nearby, the formation master from the Imperial Palace would sense it immediately.

This was the elegance of a formation master.

Yet, Yóu Lìng walked in boldly, and still, no human cultivator had appeared.

This was certainly abnormal.

Was it due to Yóu Lìng’s methods?

Ming He’s gaze darkened slightly; on Canglang Island, she had been eager to escape, but she was not completely unaware of the turmoil.

That black array flag fluttered in the wind… Was Yóu Lìng still a formation master?

She closed her eyes, recalling Yóu Lìng’s identity and the entanglements she had with Sword Demon Mu Chen, her emotions fluctuating to an extreme complexity.

“Are you pitying me?”

Yóu Lìng sneered coldly at Ming He, her right palm slightly pale, while a murderous intent quietly gathered around her, merging with the rippling sounds of the Blood River outside the dark room, giving off a harbinger of becoming a god of slaughter.

She did not want to kill Ming He; she wanted to destroy her, just like… she wanted to destroy her past self.

But she loathed such a gaze.

From the depths of her being, she despised it.

She certainly did not need anyone’s sympathy.

What good is sympathy?

Yóu Lìng suddenly let out a low laugh, “Do you think I was wrong?”

Her eyes were dark, seriously and solemnly fixed on Ming He.

Ming He fell silent, lowering her head without answering her.

Was Yóu Lìng wrong? Perhaps.

When she first met her, she was already the envoy of the Black Wind Alliance.

The black-clothed men from the Black Wind Alliance had chased her more than once, and Yóu Lìng wanted to kill her and her Senior Sister.

Clearly a member of the human race, yet she allied herself with foreign races to slaughter her own kin.

She was certainly in the wrong.

But it was indeed Sword Demon Mu Chen who had destroyed her clan.

Ming He lowered her head, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, resigned to the thought that this time, no one would come to her rescue.

The entire world stood against her, and everyone wished for her demise.

Yet, there were still those who desired her survival.

Yóu Lìng couldn’t see Ming He’s expression, but she didn’t seem to care, her tone casual, though her eyes quickly shifted to a teasing, almost playful glint. “How does it feel to be hunted by the Imperial Palace, with the whole world as your enemy?”

“Ming He, do you still wish to fight for the human race?” Yóu Lìng asked lightly.

She had posed this question once before, back on Canglang Island.

But that time, it had been a silent inquiry, spoken only in her mind.

Ming He, of course, had not answered her then.

Now, Yóu Lìng asked again, her words deliberate and sincere, each one carrying the weight of her genuine curiosity about Ming He’s choice.

To Yóu Lìng, Ming He had always been different.

Just like the young master.

She wanted to break Ming He, but not to kill her.

She wanted Ming He to fall into darkness, to abandon the human race; if Ming He could stand by her side and fight against humanity, that would be ideal.

It would bring her immense satisfaction.

Still want to fight for the human race?

Yóu Lìng’s voice was low and gravelly, laced with a chilling edge, each word striking like a heavy hammer against Ming He’s heart, reverberating like thunder through her very soul.

The Ghostly Sword in the Sea of Souls trembled faintly, its form wavering between sharp clarity and wispy dissolution.

“Ming He, do you truly understand what the human race is like?” Yóu Lìng watched Ming He’s silence with a faint smirk, her words slow and deliberate:

“The human race stands united, resilient through countless trials. They honor the strong and protect the weak. They fight side by side, entrusting their lives to one another. Their spirit remains unbroken for a thousand years, preferring to die on their feet rather than live on their knees.”

“That is the human race as you imagine it.”

“But the truth of the human race—what it truly is—you may be seeing for the first time.”

Yóu Lìng straightened, her dark yet piercing gaze locking onto Ming He’s. “Beneath the facade of humanity’s strict order lies deceit and cruelty. They rely on strength to oppress the weak.”

“The human race is no better than foreign races,” at least, that was how Yóu Lìng saw it.

“They believe only what they see, clinging stubbornly to their own convictions. No matter how fervently others argue, what good does it do?”

Yóu Lìng’s eyes burned into Ming He, her lips curling into a familiar, mocking smile. “I once told the human race that Mu Chen had fallen into darkness, and they refused to believe me.”

“Now I tell them you have not fallen, nor have you conspired with the Black Wind Alliance or foreign races, and still they do not believe.”

Behind the black wolf mask, her blood-pale lips curved into a deeper, more sinister smile. “Look at them. Is this pitiful, foolish humanity truly what you wish to defend?”

“Ming He, you are a true genius.” Despite the flaws in her spiritual ocean, she had not succumbed to darkness. Instead, she wielded her long sword to forge a new path on the Great Path, using it to carve through chaos and shape a new world.

Ming He was, without question, a peerless prodigy.

It came as no surprise that the Star Lock had chosen her as its master.

Though Yóu Lìng had felt moments of envy in the quiet of night, her fondness for Ming He remained unchanged, just as it always had.

How could anyone dislike someone who truly harbors a heart full of light?

“But the human race does not deserve to have geniuses,” he said, smiling at Ming He, his eyes brimming with anticipation. “So, if you join the Black Wind Alliance, I can inform the young master and grant you a status equal to mine.”

That was the so-called glory he had earned after enduring hundreds of years of life-and-death struggles in the blood sea.

He was the Envoy of the Black Wind Alliance, loyal only to the young master, and held the highest position within the Tianwu Continent.

No one could strip him of his status, for it was his very foundation.

But if that person were Ming He, then it could be done.

He had long dreamed of finding a kindred spirit.

His gaze was brighter than ever, more radiant than the stars above.

Ming He remained silent for a long time before finally speaking. “Have you met Xin Ming Zhu?”

She was the former Left Envoy of the demon race, who had taken over a human body to hide among the human race, stirring up storms in an attempt to overthrow the Tianwu Continent.

By chance, she had crossed paths with Mu Chen, leading to a series of bitter consequences and becoming the root cause of Mu Chen’s fall into darkness.

“Because of love,” Zhan Qing Yi’s cool voice carried softly on the breeze.

It was then that she first learned of Mu Chen’s past.

Though he was undeniably gifted and steadfast in his sword heart, he had chosen a path of no return because of a woman, turning the sharp tip of his sword against his former fellow cultivators and giving the demon race and foreign races the opportunity they sought.

“…No,” Yóu Lìng also remained silent for a long time before answering Ming He, her eyes flickering with a mix of desolation and defiance.

She was the former Left Envoy of the demon race, Mu Xuan Ye.

Had it not been for her calculated and malicious approach, Mu Chen would not have fallen into darkness.

Yet it was also Mu Chen who had personally ended her life.

Once a choice is made, there is no room for regret.

Ming He nodded, her gaze lifting as she let out a soft laugh. “Beneath the East Sea lies a palace named Star. Have you seen it?”

She watched as Yóu Lìng’s body trembled slightly, her right hand clutching the familiar circular soul ring. Ming He’s smile deepened. “Given your reaction, you must have seen it.”

“But you dare not enter, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t I dare?”

Because she dared not enter, she and her Senior Sister had survived until now. And it was because of the ancient Star palace and the Soul Mastery Baptism that Yóu Lìng no longer carried that overwhelming murderous intent when she saw her later.

Her gaze toward Ming He was complex, a blend of nostalgia and hope veiled in darkness.

Ming He still could not fully understand Yóu Lìng.

Even though she now knew Yóu Lìng was of the direct lineage of the Soul Clan and understood much of her past, she still could not fathom what Yóu Lìng was thinking.

Direct lineage of the Soul Clan.

Yóu Lìng was indeed of the direct lineage of the Soul Clan, and the Soul Mastery Baptism in the Star palace had originally been her destiny.

Senior Brother Qing Feng was also part of this.

He and Yóu Lìng were of the same clan; the remnants of the Soul Clan had been destroyed because of Sword Demon Mu Chen. Senior Brother Qing Feng had been rescued by their Master and lived quietly in the Liu Yun Sect, never dwelling on the past.

As for Yóu Lìng, she had chosen to align herself with foreign races.

"Are you afraid that the presence in the unseen realm knows everything you have done?" Ming He said with a merciless smirk, her words cutting like a knife, each one a deep torment for him.

He was indeed afraid.

The ancestors of the Soul Clan fought valiantly on the battlefield of the heavens, making unparalleled contributions, spending their lives shedding blood to slaughter the foreign races. How could they have imagined that their descendants would side with the foreign races and turn their blades against the human race?

Yóu Lìng was a traitor of the human race, and a sinner of the human race.

She always knew this.

But she never had a choice; she had no options.

She wanted to live.

From the moment she crawled up from the Mass Grave, her life belonged only to the young master.

The Soul Clan once protected the human race, but the Soul Clan was destroyed by the human race, and the Soul Clan… also wanted to destroy the human race.

"You don’t understand," Yóu Lìng’s eyes shifted, and she finally managed to squeeze out those three words.

They all didn’t understand.

She was no longer of the Soul Clan.

She was Yóu Lìng, the Yóu Lìng bestowed by the young master.

"I brought you here not to discuss right and wrong," she continued. She was different from that fool Mu Chen.

She made a choice and never regretted it.

"I want you to join the Black Wind Alliance."

Yóu Lìng stood as still as a stone statue, extending her right hand to adjust her black wolf mask slightly, finding a more comfortable angle to continue:

"Ming He, the human race sees you as a traitor, and in the World of Martial Arts, you have enemies everywhere. Join us." It was just falling into darkness.

"You will be the deputy leader of the Black Wind Alliance; you just need to follow the young master’s orders. He will also find a way to help with your damaged spiritual ocean."

"When the foreign races take over the Tianwu Continent, and the restraints are broken, the Great Emperor realm will not be distant and elusive. You can pursue your heart’s path of Swordsmanship fully."

"Is this deep-seated intention because of the Star Lock?" Ming He said, her lips pulling into a deep smile.

"Yes," Yóu Lìng did not deny it, nor did she feel the need to deny it. "The Star Lock can break the heavenly and earthly forbidden formation of the Tianwu Continent, allowing foreign races to pass freely."

"Though you currently do not have the ability, there’s no rush." She had waited hundreds of years; she had plenty of patience.

"Then why not kill me?" If she were dead, the Star Lock would be an unowned object.

"Because it is useless; the Star Lock belongs only to you," Yóu Lìng replied.

Killing Ming He would not make the Star Lock acknowledge her as its master.

"Ming He, tell me your choice," Yóu Lìng asked again, her gaze flashing with hope, and in that moment, she heard her own heartbeat like a drum.

Her heartbeat.

She could still feel her heartbeat!

Yóu Lìng was surprised by this, yet she felt she no longer had a heart.

"Everyone is my enemy!" Ming He murmured softly, her brows furrowing in bitterness. "This feeling is certainly not pleasant."

Being hunted by the entire human race felt like her faith had been overturned, even her heart’s path was suspended high in the air, swaying and about to fall.

Ming He had indeed doubted her choices before.

She had also felt the tremors of uncertainty.

When hunted to the brink of exhaustion and despair, she had considered succumbing to the accusations that branded her as a member of the demon race and a conspirator with the Black Wind Alliance.

The path to cultivation and strength was arduous, but the descent into darkness was treacherously simple.

It was merely a fleeting thought, a momentary lapse.

Yet, she had clung to the clarity of her spirit.

Ming He’s gaze fell softly upon the Crescent Moon jade pendant resting against her chest, its gentle rise and fall mirroring her breath. For a moment, her eyes softened, but when she looked up, her expression was serene and unyielding. “If the world stands against me, does that not also bear the mark of the envoy’s hand?”

The other young cultivators imprisoned with her bore the venom of the Heavenly Horn Scorpion, yet she remained untouched. She had been paraded through shadowed chambers, her heart nearly pierced by a blood-colored long sword, its blade a hair’s breadth from its mark.

From the very beginning, Yóu Lìng had schemed against her. She had spoken of wanting Ming He to fall into darkness, and her actions had followed suit.

Even Liu Yu’s maneuvers bore the unmistakable influence of the Black Wind Alliance.

Ming He recalled the covert glances exchanged on Canglang Island, a faint smile gracing her lips. She held her head high, unbroken and unashamed, her smile radiant. “Even if I no longer fight for the human race, I will not align myself with the Black Wind Alliance or with you. The path I, Ming He, choose to walk is mine alone to decide.”

“I regret to disappoint the envoy, but I will not fall into darkness, nor will I join the Black Wind Alliance.”

“Our paths have never been the same.”

Her words were deliberate, each one resonating with unshakable resolve. Her smile, bright as the stars, seemed to fill the room with light, dispelling its oppressive gloom.

Though bound by bloodlines, her posture was unwavering, her form as steadfast as a sword—a blade honed to perfection.

Once drawn, it could cut through the darkest heavens.

This was a sword destined for the battlefield of the heavens.

Sharp, unyielding, and unbroken by external forces.

In the stillness of the dark chamber, Yóu Lìng’s heartbeat echoed, a mix of anticipation and simmering frustration.

Unbroken by external forces?

Yet she was determined to shatter it.

The figure clad in black clothes, her face obscured by a black wolf mask, etched this resolve into her very being, vowing to act upon it.

“You must know the consequences of refusing my invitation.”

“I do not,” Ming He replied, her gaze steady, betraying no hint of the storm within.

She truly did not know, but she doubted it would be anything favorable.

She refused to fall into darkness, refused to align herself with foreign races or the Black Wind Alliance.

She could have feigned compliance to survive the moment, but she would not.

For she was a sword cultivator.

Ming He’s eyes opened, and in that moment, she understood her Master’s choice from years past.

Though her circumstances differed vastly from her Master’s, the essence of the choice—the test of one’s heart—remained the same.

A sword cultivator was born of pride, sharp and unyielding, direct and unflinching, believing in the power of a single blade to cut through the myriad laws, yearning for the brilliance of the sun.

She would not hide in darkness.

Thus, it is not difficult to comprehend why, when Mu Chen imparted the Nine Styles of Swordsmanship to her on Sword Demon Mountain, he was so fixated on a mere branch and leaf.

It had nothing to do with the soul body; his swordsmanship had been utterly ruined.

A sword cultivator who has fallen into darkness remains a sword cultivator, but one who cannot wield a sword is no longer a true sword cultivator.

“You will understand.”

Yóu Lìng gazed at her intently, faintly recalling the image of the Sword Master described by the elders in her childhood—a figure of extraordinary grace and unmatched pride, the epitome of a sword cultivator’s brilliance.

The Sword Master who once fought side by side with the clan ancestor of the Soul Clan.

The Soul Sword was unparalleled, and the deep bond between the Sword Master and the Soul Ancestor was celebrated by the human race as the pinnacle of friendship and strength.

When Yóu Lìng first heard of this as a child, she was filled with boundless hope, dreaming that one day, on the long journey of the Great Path, she too would find a kindred spirit to walk alongside her.

To direct their blades against the foreign races, to uphold the legacy of their ancestors, and to cleanse the world with clarity and purpose.

Ming He had once embodied the ideal image of a sword cultivator in Yóu Lìng’s childhood imagination.

Sword cultivator.

Yóu Lìng silently mouthed these two words, then abruptly seized the long sword resting nearby and, without hesitation, severed the tendons in Ming He’s left wrist. Her expression was icy, the cold light of the blade reflecting off the dark, unyielding stone wall behind her. Blood splattered, staining her mask crimson.

Ming He bit her lip, her face pale and slick with sweat, yet she uttered not a sound. Her body trembled with pain, but as she lifted her gaze to meet Yóu Lìng’s, there was still a flicker of mockery in her eyes. “You do not understand the sword.”

So how could the Nine Styles of Swordsmanship ever belong to you?

“I’m sorry.” Yóu Lìng’s voice was low and rough as she bowed her head. “I truly do not understand the sword.” That is why I only severed the tendons in your left hand.

She knew Ming He favored her right hand for wielding the sword; most sword cultivators followed the path of right-handed swordsmanship.

“But I will shatter your pride.” I will make you like me.

A sword cultivator pours their heart into the sword; if the heart of the sword is broken, the cultivator is as good as ruined.

“Someone who understands will take care of this.” Yóu Lìng said, releasing the sword and turning to leave the dark chamber.

“Clang!”

The long sword fell into the pool of blood, its tip gleaming coldly, a reminder of the weapon’s inherent sharpness.

This was the same sword that had pierced Ming He’s heart months ago, missing its mark by a mere inch.

Ming He kept her head down, sweat dripping from her face and mingling with the blood from her left hand, each droplet falling into the pool with a clear, almost musical sound. The soft plinks blended with the distant roar of the Blood River outside the chamber.

She heard Yóu Lìng’s footsteps fade away, only to be replaced by the approach of another.

“Junior Sister Ming He.” A warm, gentle voice reached her ears, followed by the sound of footsteps drawing nearer until a figure clad in black stood before her, taking the place Yóu Lìng had occupied moments ago.

Ming He’s eyes narrowed as she took in the black-clad figure. When she raised her head, she was met with a handsome face marred by scars. “You’re not dead.”

The man stood tall, his black clothes neatly fitted, his hair tied back. His expression was calm, his eyes kind, and a faint smile lingered on his lips—it was none other than Mu Qian.

“Indeed.” Mu Qian replied courteously, “The sword you drove into my heart that day also missed by an inch.”

Just like the sword Yóu Lìng had thrust into Ming He’s heart.

But while Yóu Lìng’s strike had been deliberate, Ming He’s had been a reflexive act, driven by instinct in a fleeting moment.

She had believed Mu Qian had perished by her blade.

Yet here he stood, alive.

“The envoy sent me to break your pride and destroy your swordsmanship.” He picked up the long sword lying in the pool of blood with a gentle expression, taking a clean handkerchief from his robe to carefully wipe away the bloodstains on the blade. His focused demeanor suggested that his swordsmanship had not yet been ruined.

But he had once practiced the techniques of the Floating Cloud Sect and learned their swordsmanship.

The clouds of the Floating Cloud Sect fell under the blazing sun, accompanied by its scorching light, and naturally could not hide in the darkness.

He had allied himself with the foreign race, so his swordsmanship from the Floating Cloud Sect was naturally useless now.

Having lost his own swordsmanship, he certainly knew how to ruin someone else’s.

Because he understood the sword.

This was the true reason Yóu Lìng had called for him.

“Junior Sister Ming He.” Mu Qian calmly addressed her as he noticed her silence, confident that she would speak in the next moment. “Do you know? Qin Chu Yi is in danger.”

“What danger?” Ming He understood he was trying to provoke her into speaking and knew what he said might not be true; it was more likely a deception.

But when it concerned her Senior Sister—

She lifted her head and met Mu Qian’s smiling gaze, which surprisingly contained hints of joy and clarity, just like their initial meeting in front of the library of the Floating Cloud Sect.

“Junior Sister Ming He.” Mu Qian’s smile grew wider. “You truly haven’t changed at all.” That was just fine.

“But you have changed a lot.” Ming He replied.

As she gazed at the young man’s open features, her thoughts became a bit hazy, and she remembered.

The unresolved matters remained unanswered.

That phrase had been spoken by Mu Qian.

How did the noble young man of that time become like he was today?

Although aside from the scar that ran across his entire face, he appeared mostly unchanged.

“Yes.” Mu Qian did not deny it. “Very few cultivators remain unchanged over the years; it is normal for the times to change.”

The sea changes into mulberry fields, and moments pass like fleeting time, nothing more than that.

“Let’s return to the original topic.” He looked at Ming He’s deep eyes and took the initiative to speak. “Do you want to know why your Senior Sister might be in danger?”

“Why?” Ming He squinted, her aura darkening.

“Because she has made enemies!” Mu Qian blinked and smiled cheerfully, then avoided Ming He’s dark, silent eyes with a chuckle that seemed slightly inappropriate. He scratched his nose and cleared his throat.

“The human race is hunting you down because they believe you are the long-voice guardian under Mu Xuan Ye, Left Envoy of the demon race, hiding among the human race to steal intelligence, intending to repeat Xin Ming Zhu’s deeds from years ago.”

“But you and I both know you are not the long-voice.”

“Then where is the real long-voice? What identity do they hold?”

The young man in black clothes smiled with a trace of playfulness.

He clearly knew the answer, yet he was in no hurry to divulge it; instead, he enjoyed watching Ming He furrow her brows in thought, a fleeting joy shining in her eyes.

Ming He was indeed contemplating; she did not like to ask others too many questions.

Especially when standing in front of Mu Qian.

She had now learned to hide her emotions, not showing her anger upon seeing him, and could even converse with him calmly.

Yet the lingering images of blood-colored flames still danced in her mind, never ceasing for a moment.

The human race has spared no effort in hunting her down, even though they once risked their lives to protect her.

She has never forgotten this.

The true long-voice.

On that day at Canglang Island, Liu Yu mentioned that Mu Xuan Ye had two great guardians: Fierce Killer and long-voice.

Fierce Killer is Zhao Zhi Yuan, the fourth young master of the Zhao family from Qing Shi Town. After seizing a human body and regaining his memories, he rescued Mu Xuan Ye from the ancient cave dwelling and has been by her side ever since.

Mu Xuan Ye, the Left Envoy of the demon race, was imprisoned in the ancient cave dwelling, suppressed by the Star Lock.

She didn’t know the full details of what had transpired back then, but Mu Xuan Ye had once led the demon race to the brink of overthrowing the human race. After her imprisonment, the young Demon Lord rose to power, and the Right Envoy took control. Naturally, her guardians met grim fates.

Fierce Killer was reduced to possessing a lowly youth from Qing Shi Town, and long-voice likely suffered a similar fate.

So where is she now?

Ming He glanced at Mu Qian’s teasing gaze and lightly raised an eyebrow. “Have I seen her before?”

She couldn’t quite understand why both Yóu Lìng and Mu Qian seemed so eager to share these things with her.

Did they want her to fall into darkness?

Did they think she felt insecure standing alone in the shadows?

“Of course, you have,” Mu Qian replied with a smile. “Your current predicament of being hunted by the world is largely thanks to long-voice.”

Largely thanks to long-voice.

Ming He lowered her gaze. It was Liu Yu who had orchestrated her branding as a demon, turning her into an enemy of the world.

But Liu Yu couldn’t possibly be a demon.

She might conspire with the demon race and the Black Wind Alliance, but she could never truly be one of them.

After all, she was a powerful ally of the Earth Emperor Realm.

The Earth Emperor Realm connects heaven and earth, harnessing the forces of nature. The distinction between the human and demon races cannot be hidden from the world, so it was impossible.

Not Liu Yu.

Ming He’s thoughts drifted to the figure who had followed Liu Yu on Canglang Island. Her gaze faltered, and her breath hitched. She looked at Mu Qian’s confirming nod and spoke with difficulty, “It’s Song Tian Rou.”

Song Tian Rou is the long-voice guardian of the demon race.

But she belongs to the Song Clan, one of the Four Great Ancient Clans!

If Song Tian Rou is long-voice, then what about her Senior Sister—

Ming He couldn’t suppress her growing concern. She had always trusted Qin Huang Mountain, trusted Song Guanting, trusted Zhan Qing Yi, but she had also once trusted the Song Clan.

The significance of the Ancient Clans to the human race is undeniable, especially the Song Clan.

If the Song Clan has fallen, what does that mean for Qin Huang Mountain? What does it say about the human race as a whole—what corruption lies hidden within?

It seems the enemies Yóu Lìng spoke of truly exist, scattered across the vast world she had once known.

Though the Earth Emperor Realm boasts a powerful ally, that ally is now preoccupied, teetering on the edge of death. Could they truly spare any thought for her Senior Sister?

That is the Ice Palace, after all.

Heavenly Horn Scorpion poison, long-voice guardian, the ancestors of Qin Huang Mountain, being hunted by the world, her Senior Sister.

Ming He’s eyes gleamed with realization. “So this is a chain of traps.”

Yóu Lìng seeks to destroy her while also aiming to annihilate the human race.

She had always known that the Black Wind Alliance and foreign forces had infiltrated the human race, but she hadn’t known the extent.

Now, she realized the number must be horrifying.

Can Tianwu Continent still belong to the human race?

Can such a human race truly withstand such foreign threats?

Ming He didn’t know. Her mind was restless, her thoughts consumed by the cold, solitary image of her Senior Sister.

Her Senior Sister had once been a part of the human race.

The name Qin Chu Yi even carried more weight than her swordsmanship!

“If you choose to join the Black Wind Alliance now, your Senior Sister will remain unharmed,” Mu Qian coaxed gently.

Ming He smiled, her expression both radiant and resolute. “Alright, I’ll join.”

She spoke slowly, her voice steady.