Sword beside sword, separated by only half a palm’s width;

Shoulder beside shoulder, with a foot of space between them.

One was scholarly and serene as deep pool ink, the other translucent and brilliant as frost, snow, peach, and plum. Anyone seeing this scene would think it merely old friends reuniting, nothing more to say about it.

But precisely…

At this moment, not half a sound could be heard in the entire crude tea house—even quieter than when Xie Buchen had entered earlier!

Since ancient times, poor mountains and treacherous waters bred unruly people. The same held true in Jiushijiu Zhou’s cultivation world.

Though this tea house was still within the Central Domain’s Mingri Xinghai territory, it was already very close to the snow region. Now in times when great chaos was about to erupt, who among those appearing here could be easy to deal with?

Moreover, this cultivator called “Fellow Daoist Xie” didn’t react like someone encountering an old friend.

For a moment, gazes from all around converged on them.

Some quietly extended their spiritual sense toward this newly appeared female cultivator, but the instant they detected her cultivation level, their expressions changed dramatically!

Late Nascent Soul!

She was actually a genuinely formidable old monster!

In just moments, most cultivators fearfully withdrew their gazes and retracted their spiritual senses.

Even those several red-robed cultivators in the corner who seemed to be esoteric sect monks showed several traces of alarm in their eyes, quietly turning back around, no longer watching that table by the window.

Nascent Soul stage was already extremely rare throughout Jiushijiu Zhou, much less late Nascent Soul.

None of the people currently in the tea house possessed such cultivation, yet they could detect this female cultivator’s level—what did this indicate? It meant she was deliberately displaying it for them to see, so they’d know their place.

Law of the jungle—how would they dare easily offend such a “senior”?

This was the cultivation world.

Xie Buchen was at least at Golden Core peak, so he couldn’t be unaware of the surging undercurrents in this brief moment.

But he didn’t move at all, as if he truly hadn’t noticed.

His gaze remained fixed on his right side from beginning to end—Jian Chou sat there properly, wearing what could be called an affectionate smile that made her entire face more beautiful, but those eyes watching him were so deep their bottom couldn’t be seen.

“Where in life do we not meet…”

Fate?

Only a fool would believe that.

How long had he been away from Kunwu?

He’d just entered this tea house moments ago, and she followed right after—enough to prove she’d been trailing him the entire way. Yet when she entered, she acted as if she’d encountered him by chance…

A layer of gloom slowly settled over him.

But on his face, Xie Buchen’s pupils that had contracted from surprise, vigilance, and wariness slowly relaxed. The corners of his lips curved into an indifferent smile, not refuting her words: “Indeed, quite fated.”

Neither pleased nor angry, seemingly without fluctuation.

Xie Buchen’s reaction was truly rather boring, but Jian Chou wasn’t surprised at all. If one day the man before her suddenly became shocked and flustered, that wouldn’t be Xie Buchen.

Remaining unmoved even as Mount Tai collapsed before him—that was who he was.

Her eyebrows raised slightly, the smile at her lips deepened somewhat, but what surfaced in her mind were scenes from yesterday’s conversation with Fudao Shanren at Kunwu…

Usually such a carefree and dissolute person?

But after she said “I want to bring Junior Brother Yu back,” his old eyes reddened and he crouched by the mountain path crying…

Jian Chou had never seen Fudao Shanren like that.

And had never met that Junior Brother Yu who perished in the snow region.

Until leaving Kunwu and pursuing Xie Buchen all this way, that scene couldn’t be erased from her mind.

So it had been heavily suppressed, replaying until this moment.

“Your tea.”

Perhaps also sensing the depth of Jian Chou’s cultivation, the assistant who had served tea to the many travelers in the tea house with casual ease now showed several traces of restraint, respectfully pouring Jian Chou’s bowl of tea.

“Thank you.”

Jian Chou nodded slightly, her expression also gentle.

Casually picking up the rough pottery tea bowl, she took a sip. Her face showed no trace of displeasure, as if she were drinking a very ordinary bowl of tea—neither good nor bad.

Her slender, delicate fingers resting on the dark-colored tea bowl created an almost startling contrast.

Xie Buchen’s gaze fell on her slightly pursed lips, and also on her face that showed no trace of displeasure. In the depths of his heart, in those blood-stained ashes, a spark suddenly flickered bright.

In an instant, it reignited.

“Many years have passed, things change but people remain. Yet Fellow Daoist Xie still looks the same as in former years.”

Glancing at the untouched rough tea bowl before him, the smile at Jian Chou’s lips carried a bit of seemingly real, seemingly false coolness, not without irony.

“Rich seats and thick carpets, dining with arranged cauldrons. Only long poems to accompany wine, only snow swords to brew tea—”

In former years in the capital, the Third Young Master of Marquis Xie’s mansion was a first-rate refined gentleman.

Only pity…

Who could have imagined those later events?

Xie Buchen didn’t answer her words, only raised his eyes to look into hers.

So those memories that should have been distant by now surfaced so easily…

That year, Marquis Xie’s mansion was raided and they fled together.

Thirty li south from the capital was the canal. The pursuing soldiers and Court of Judicial Review officials responsible for the raid had already sealed the four city gates. But at that time, they didn’t yet know anyone had escaped from the mansion.

So they boldly mixed in with a group of peddlers and laborers wanting to leave the city, hoping to escape during the confusion.

Jian Chou disguised herself as a peasant woman entering the city to buy medicine, while he lowered his status to wear porter’s clothes.

Because many people were leaving the city, the two sat separated by a long distance in a tea house near the city gate, waiting for more peasant women and porters to leave the city before preparing to go out together.

At that time, the Court of Judicial Review’s Zhang Tang, whom people called “Death Face,” came riding past them.

News of Third Young Master Xie’s escape hadn’t yet spread.

The two ultimately left the city without incident.

But he hadn’t expected that in less than two hours, just as they reached the canal, large numbers of soldiers came pursuing from behind. Leading the charge was Zhang Tang!

With a single command came earth-shaking battle cries and arrows falling like rain.

Even with his thousand-fold wisdom and ten-thousand-fold strategies, at that moment they were truly useless—except for fleeing, there was no second path.

So he pulled her hand and boarded a boat before the soldiers arrived, going downstream.

Midway, they quietly jumped off under cover of night.

He was shot in the shoulder by an arrow from behind, but she didn’t notice at the time. Only after swimming ashore and hiding in the riverside reeds did she startle at the fresh blood dripping on the white reeds.

Her face was white, her lips blue, her hands trembling.

Her expression carried several traces of suppressed panic and worry she didn’t want him to see…

But at that time, only one question filled his mind: How could Zhang Tang arrive so quickly, so precisely?

Not until he collapsed from his wounds and Jian Chou cared for him, fetching water for him to drink, did he suddenly understand where their oversight had been—

The tea house.

Just like this tea house at this very moment.

Xie Buchen’s eyes were cold and indifferent throughout. He withdrew his gaze, settling it on the tea bowl before him, and said: “Long poems all false, snow swords all empty…”

What others saw was all fake.

When had he ever done anything without hiding some purpose? There had never been such simple intent as “liking because of liking.”

Speaking thus, he picked up the tea bowl and slowly drank a mouthful.

Bitter, rough.

With an indescribable strange taste.

But Xie Buchen’s face was exactly like Jian Chou’s moments before—even his eyebrows were equally relaxed, equally motionless, without half a trace of telltale signs or flaws.

Jian Chou laughed aloud: “With such cultivation early on, you probably wouldn’t have nearly died at Zhang Tang’s hands back then…”

The reason Zhang Tang had pursued so quickly was because of a bowl of tea—a bowl of tea that Xie Buchen had drunk once, quietly frowned, and set down.

One must know that Third Young Master of Marquis Xie’s mansion was born extremely high, and even without extravagant living, he was seven-apertures exquisite, making many friends, never lacking in daily tea and wine.

But market peddlers and laborers—where would they have any tea-drinking habits?

Resting at tea houses was just to moisten the throat and quench thirst. When livelihood was already difficult, how could they be particular and wasteful?

When Zhang Tang passed by and saw the details of Xie Buchen drinking tea, he didn’t think much of it.

But when news came of Third Young Master Xie’s escape, this detail immediately surfaced, leading to the swift pursuit that nearly cost Xie Buchen his life.

Someone like him who strove for perfection—how could he allow himself to fall in the same pit twice?

So from then on, he changed.

But Jian Chou somewhat hadn’t expected that here in Jiushijiu Zhou, today, she would again see that former Third Young Master Xie through this bowl of tea.

She knew everything about him.

She knew.

He knew too.

Xie Buchen’s hand was very steady. Lowering his eyes, he ultimately still slowly set down the tea cup.

He wouldn’t drink a second mouthful.

If people could accommodate me, why must I accommodate people?

In the end, it was just a bowl of tea.

The current him couldn’t possibly make another mistake over a bowl of tea, putting himself in mortal danger again.

“It seems you’re also heading north.”

Such obvious matters—Xie Buchen wasn’t willing to waste time beating around the bush.

Jian Chou’s face still carried a smile, but her gaze swept around the tea house, lingering longer on those figures that seemed to be esoteric sect monks, only saying: “Yes, heading north. Fellow Daoist Xie and I have been through life and death together—a bond forged through mortal danger. On this journey, why don’t we travel together?”

“…”

Life and death, a bond “forged through mortal danger.” From another angle, these words were truly not false at all.

Xie Buchen looked at her sideways, not answering for the moment.

The Burning Lamp Sword and Human Emperor Sword lay side by side between them, extremely close, almost touching. But precisely these two swords clearly and definitively separated the two people who also sat very close.

To the left of the Human Emperor Sword was him, to the right of the Burning Lamp Sword was her.

Xie Buchen thought of his purpose for this journey, thought of the Nine Doubts Cauldron, thought of Hengxu Laoguai’s instructions, and also thought of his own…

Heart demon.

At this instant, that doubt buried deep in his heart finally surfaced again.

Why had Hengxu Laoguai personally spoken of sending him to Kunwu in front of so many people in the Heavens Hall?

As if afraid others wouldn’t know.

As if openly telling Yashan to send people to follow.

Travel together?

Xie Buchen’s eyelids flickered slightly. He glanced at the sky outside, his expression unchanged, a few traces of shifting light in his indifferent eyes: “My cultivation is shallow. To have Fellow Daoist Jian Chou travel with me would be most fortunate. On this journey, I fear I’ll need much care and protection.”

“Care?”

Hearing this, several traces of interest appeared in Jian Chou’s frost and snow-covered eyes, while the nearly boiling killing intent hid beneath, disguising her as the most unperturbed hunter, squinting as she watched the “prey” beside her. Her voice sounded soft and kind.

“No need for courtesy. It’s only proper.”

The gazes of the two finally collided across those two swords between them.

For a moment, the atmosphere became subtle to the extreme.