Having cultivated for over five hundred years, possessing outstanding talent among his peers.

If not for Hengxu Zhenren suddenly taking Xie Buchen as his direct disciple, he would probably be the true “first in comprehension” among all of Kunwu’s current members.

However, in people’s rumors, this person had a nature that didn’t love cultivation—a free cloud and wild crane.

Kunwu disciples had once complained, saying that if Senior Brother Wang Que had even half the diligence of others, he would probably have long surpassed the three senior brothers ahead of him.

…

Everything related to this person flashed through her mind in an instant, slowly overlapping with the grey-robed male cultivator approaching on the small boat ahead.

Jian Chou gazed at him, her eyes gradually becoming profound.

In the Left Three Thousand, staring at someone like this might merely be due to curiosity; but in tomorrow’s Star Sea, staring at someone like this gave them every reason to suspect you were about to kill and rob.

Wang Que had been to tomorrow’s Star Sea before and had encountered such situations many times.

However…

At this moment, this female cultivator before him only had mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivation. To say she had set her sights on his late-stage Nascent Soul self? Generally speaking, no one would be this foolish.

“Fellow Daoist, do we know each other?”

With doubts in his heart, and Wang Que being someone who didn’t drag things out, he smiled slightly and opened his mouth to inquire, his voice carrying a slight hoarseness.

Jian Chou was somewhat surprised that he would take the initiative to ask.

Toward Kunwu people, she found it difficult to generate any favorable feelings at first meeting, even if they were excellent. Being able to avoid generating ill will was already extremely rare.

She sat upright in the boat, her spine straight. The misty breeze lifted her robes but couldn’t move her figure. She only replied faintly: “We don’t know each other.”

This answer was too straightforward.

Wang Que frowned slightly: “Perhaps I should rephrase the question. I indeed don’t know you, fellow daoist, but you seem to know me?”

“The great name of Kunwu’s Hermit Sword has long been heard. Being able to recognize you isn’t anything remarkable, is it?”

Jian Chou’s tone couldn’t be called very polite.

Even though she knew the other party had higher cultivation and had been cultivating longer.

But what did that matter?

Even his third senior brother Wuduan always called himself “junior brother” in front of her, not daring to claim the title of “senior brother.” Who told her that despite her short cultivation years, she happened to be Yashan’s “senior sister”?

She smiled at him: “I once heard Fellow Daoist Wuduan from your esteemed sect mention you, saying your cultivation talent was extraordinarily high. If not for your master taking Xie Buchen as a disciple, you would probably be first in the sect. Speaking of which, sixty years ago, your sect’s Junior Brother Xie seemed to have had an incident. Is he alright now?”

Junior Brother Xie…

In this instant, Wang Que’s brow twitched, and even his pupils contracted.

A sense of wariness suddenly arose, and the sword intent deeply hidden in his eyes almost uncontrollably burst forth, making his gaze extremely sharp!

The two small boats on the lake surface were now only about three zhang apart.

With just a flash of thought, he could cross over.

The boats continued drifting with the waves, but the mist and lotus fragrance covering the surrounding lake surface had become cold and frozen at this moment, as if captured by some mysterious force, not daring to move even slightly!

Pressure aura!

Wang Que was already the first among Nascent Soul cultivators in the current Nineteen Continents. His abilities and combat power—how could they be ordinary?

But at this moment…

Jian Chou seemed completely unaffected, meeting his gaze directly, even with some meaningful smile in her eyes. However, frozen ice lay hidden beneath this smile.

Threads of pure power flowed from her meridians, flowing between the five fingers holding the folder, wandering and splashing…

Heart-trembling!

If her mention of Junior Brother Xie made Wang Que suddenly wary, then at this moment it was pure shock—

Clearly just a mid-stage Nascent Soul female cultivator…

But why did she give him a feeling of being evenly matched?

As if…

This female cultivator before him was no weaker than himself!

The lotus pod at his fingertips transmitted a slight chill.

Wang Que tensed his body, his locked brows not relaxing, almost immediately wanting to test her with an attack. But when his gaze shifted, he caught sight of that barely perceptible smile at the corner of her mouth…

She was…

Anticipating?

To attack or not to attack?

This was a brief and urgent moment, like lightning instantly crossing the sky.

Countless thoughts flashed through Wang Que’s mind, but in the end he suddenly laughed, showing no intention of attacking: “I have wandered the Nineteen Continents for sixty years, long away from home, and don’t know much about sect affairs. Fellow Daoist has asked the wrong person. Since you also know my third senior brother Wuduan, why not ask him directly?”

He didn’t attack.

In Jian Chou’s eyes, a trace of undisguised disappointment immediately flashed.

Sixty years ago, her name had briefly appeared on the Fourth Heavenly Tablet; sixty years later, Wang Que was the current first on the tablet.

She had wanted to test exactly where the difference lay between her combat power and this Hermit Sword’s.

Unfortunately, there was no opportunity now.

But this development was still within her expectations.

Wang Que was after all also Hengxu Zhenren’s fourth disciple, one of Kunwu’s many prodigies. If he would start a war over such small matters, he probably wouldn’t qualify to be called “Hermit Sword.”

So she wasn’t too surprised.

Hearing Wang Que’s explanation and suggestion, she actually recalled the rather subtle relationship between Wuduan and Xie Buchen, so the smile at her lips suddenly deepened: “I was indeed confused. What you say is a good idea.”

Hengxu Zhenren had thirteen direct disciples in total. Wang Que entered the sect early, while Wuduan was about twenty years earlier than him. So their relationship had always been quite good.

But he had never known Wuduan knew such a female cultivator.

He couldn’t sense too much malice, yet it didn’t seem like goodwill either.

Looking at this cultivation level, she should have been cultivating for several hundred years at least. But in his knowledge, there was no impression of this female cultivator at all.

Seeing the two small boats approach, then cross paths and slowly drift apart, Wang Que ultimately couldn’t resist the curiosity in his heart: “Fellow Daoist already knows my identity, but I still know nothing about you. May I presumptuously ask your esteemed name?”

Toward female cultivators, he should have asked for her “fragrant name.”

But Wang Que inexplicably felt these two words didn’t suit this female cultivator, so he abandoned them.

Jian Chou naturally heard this subtle difference but didn’t react much.

She only lowered her gaze to the jade folder in her hands. Lines of text remained neat and clear—

Fourth Heavenly Tablet first place, Kunwu, Wang Que.

Deep in her eyes, several traces of burning brilliance shone through.

Jian Chou stared for a moment, slowly smiled, but didn’t look back. She only closed the jade folder, her voice distant: “Who am I… if there’s an opportunity, wait a few more days, and Fellow Daoist Wang Que will naturally know.”

Will naturally know…

Her voice was extremely light, mixing with the sound of the drifting boat, quickly flowing away and merging into the surrounding hazy mist, hidden from sight.

On the lake surface, only one person and one boat remained.

Wang Que still held that green lotus pod in his hand, somewhat dazed for a moment. He hadn’t quite understood what Jian Chou meant, but faintly felt a strange sense of startling excitement.

Wait a few days?

What major event would happen in a few days?

And why did this female cultivator ask about Junior Brother Xie…

With a light “snap,” Wang Que broke off a lotus seed and examined it carefully in his palm, but his thoughts weren’t on this at all.

He had indeed been away from his sect for sixty years.

After being commanded to demonstrate Hermit Sword intent to that Junior Brother Xie who had recently arrived, he embarked on his distant journey and never returned to Kunwu.

Later, when he heard about the Qingfeng Nunnery hidden realm incident, it was already long after it occurred.

But Kunwu always had their master presiding, so nothing serious would happen. Moreover, his relationship with this Junior Brother Xie wasn’t deep, so he didn’t inquire further.

Until recently, while he was in the Southern Domain, he suddenly received a wind message from his master.

In the letter, Hengxu Zhenren asked him to end his wandering and return to the sect.

Firstly, his cultivation had now reached late-stage Nascent Soul, gradually approaching the time to break through to the next realm—being in the sect would be better than outside.

Secondly, the current Nineteen Continents were experiencing changing winds and clouds. The Southern Domain had demons dancing wildly, the Star Sea was dark and unclear, and the Yin-Yang Sects and Chan-Tantric Sects were also in constant internal strife. Even a famous sect like Kunwu would benefit from having one more person presiding.

The taste of approaching storm was evident between the lines.

At that time, Wang Que somehow recalled a rumor known to very few in Kunwu: Master’s acceptance of Xie Buchen as a disciple seemed to be to resolve a “tribulation” that would come in a hundred years…

Now, was the “tribulation” arriving?

Wang Que couldn’t be certain.

He could only end his wandering and take the route through tomorrow’s Star Sea to return.

But unexpectedly, after arriving here, he happened to hear about a matter somewhat related to Kunwu and Yashan. So he had to stop and stay at this inn, preparing to gather information later to see if there was an opportunity to handle it.

As for recent conditions in the sect, news naturally came from Kunwu continuously.

That Junior Brother Xie with whom he wasn’t very familiar was currently at a very critical moment…

What a coincidence—there was such a female cultivator who encountered him by chance and wanted to inquire about Xie Buchen’s news?

Wang Que thought about it but couldn’t determine whether this was coincidence or not.

Seeing that he was quickly approaching the lakeside walkway, he finally shook his head, casting out all the speculations and thoughts in his mind.

He was indeed curious about this female cultivator’s identity, but these were all worldly matters.

He was a Kunwu disciple and should naturally have his heart toward Kunwu. But when it came to these grudges and entanglements within Kunwu’s gates, he shouldn’t think too much about them.

After all, “heart beyond white clouds, sword traveling through mountains and waters”—this was the true meaning of Hermit Sword.

When the boat reached the walkway, Wang Que laughed once, abandoned the boat to go ashore, and without thinking further, went up the walkway toward the inn’s exit.

On the lake surface, mountains and waters remained hazy, islands scattered like stars.

Jian Chou’s small boat passed through a large expanse of lotus leaves and flowers ahead, docking beside an island.

The island was surrounded by green trees with chirping birds.

A wooden walkway was similarly built by the shore, with steps at the end leading to an exquisite dwelling.

Carved flower windows opened outward. Going ashore and walking up the walkway, one could vaguely see the interior furnishings through this window.

Extremely simple.

Two or three meditation cushions, tables, chairs, bed, tea set, a spirit-gathering and heart-clearing array, plus an incense table and incense burner.

Against the wall was a bookshelf with some books and jade slips casually placed. There were vague words like “Tomorrow’s Star Sea Map,” presumably prepared by the inn for traveling guests’ convenience, like the “Zhilin Sou Daily News” placed on the boat.

For Jian Chou, these were all very useful things that she should have picked up to examine.

But at this moment…

She only pushed open the door and stood before the incense table, daylight casting her shadow into a long, narrow strip.

The air floated with sandalwood fragrance.

Her face still maintained the composure and calmness from her earlier chance encounter and conversation with Wang Que, but her eyes were already covered with ice-cold killing intent.

Jian Chou’s gaze only fell on a certain point in space, as if through this point, she could see the other end of time’s long river, all the past kindness and enmity, love and hate…

Faintly like that spring cold of old days, faintly this same deep, bitter sandalwood fragrance.

She bent over the table copying Buddhist scriptures, and that Young Master Xie’s voice rang in her ears: “With Buddha in the heart, the spiritual platform grieves…”

Her writing hand paused as she turned to look at the window.

That Young Master Xie, praised by everyone in the capital, stood by the window.

His snow-white crane cloak still carried the cold air of early spring from outside, but his slender fingers held two branches of budding peach blossoms picked from outside, casually inserting them into an empty plum vase.

Then he turned his head and smiled, asking her: “Your name came from this, didn’t it?”

His brows and eyes were clear and handsome, with an innate nobility.

In just a blink, these cold, clear brows and eyes were illuminated by dim, flickering fishing lights, filled with warm tenderness. His slightly fevered forehead touched hers as he said in that hoarse voice: “Heaven gave you a name but not a surname. The name arose from sorrow, the surname from me—is that good?”

The small boat on the river drifted and swayed.

The sound of flowing river water roared in her ears, but his low voice roared in her heart. From then on, she was “Xie family’s Jian Chou.”

Xie family’s Jian Chou.

The flowing river rushed past, washing out green mountains and trees, a lonely new grave with a simple wooden tombstone standing before it, these four characters written on it.

Not just “Xie family’s Jian Chou,” but “Tomb of My Wife, Xie Family’s Jian Chou”…

Standing in this room, looking at this dwelling and furnishings that seemed similar to old days due to their simplicity, Jian Chou finally laughed.

“If fate is exhausted, why must Kunwu be so secretive…”

Only if a person was still alive would there be various reasons for the current situation where no one knew the truth, making Wang Que speak evasively.

Otherwise, if thoroughly dead, then thoroughly dead—what room would there be for citywide storms?

“In this life I wronged you. If there’s a next life, you may freely demand my life…”

When he withdrew that blood-stained sword, his equally blood-stained words began echoing in her ears again. Layer upon layer, as if separated by distant mountains and clouds, becoming somewhat hazy.

In her dazed thoughts, Jian Chou slowly opened her palm.

Lying quietly in her palm was that small silver lock, the red cord tied to it already somewhat aged and faded. But falling into her eyes, it was like blood color stabbing at one’s sight.

“Xie Buchen, who wants to discuss any next life with you…”