Fang Zhun curled his lips into a smile that was both mischievous and sarcastic. “We immortals care least about such things.”

He spoke no more nonsense and drifted out of the room. Suddenly, he heard a thunderous “boom” behind him, followed by scorching waves of fire sweeping toward his back. Shentu swung his blade urgently, the whirlwind raised by the long sword splitting the tongues of flame apart. They raced along the ground and burned all the way into the sea.

Looking back, the small seaside house had been reduced to scattered ruins by the raging fire, collapsing to the ground.

The brightest point in the flames flickered and swayed in Feng Yi’s hand—it was that strangely-shaped Fire Control Flute. Beneath him, the Water Glass Zither was completely unaffected, its myriad cold lights still brilliant and radiant.

Reflected in the firelight, Feng Yi’s face was exceptionally pale. He said quietly, “You’re always so obstructive, always blocking my way, yet you never die. You even managed to extract the Shared Destruction seal. What do you expect me to do? Truly kill you with my own hands?”

Fang Zhun didn’t turn around, but his voice carried a trace of laughter. “That depends on whether you can kill me.”

He raised his hand, a diamond nail clearly held between his slender fingers.

Feng Yi turned his head away, his cheek flickering in the firelight. “I naturally cannot kill you now, nor do I have time to kill you. The moment has nearly arrived—I’m going to perform the ritual for the Water Element’s power. If you don’t want to die, put down Hu Sha and leave quickly!”

Fang Zhun remained silent for a long time before saying, “You… truly intend to do this?”

“Nonsense!” Feng Yi laughed coldly, fire seeming to burn in his pitch-black eyes—impossible to tell if it was a reflection or something else. “I told you long ago, you understand nothing.”

Fang Zhun turned around, staring fixedly at him. “Fine, I won’t leave. I’ll watch how you become a true demon. If you succeed, the three of our lives will be lost here together. If you fail… I cannot intervene to save you. Don’t regret it.”

Feng Yi looked at him one last time. After a moment, the flames gradually subsided, and he sat cross-legged opposite the Water Glass Zither, entering deep meditation.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, blood-red veins suddenly crawled across his face, writhing incessantly—an extremely horrifying sight.

Shentu felt a chill in his heart and said in a low voice, “Fang Zhun! Why not seize him now while there’s a chance?”

Fang Zhun shook his head silently. “…The ritual has already begun. Within a radius of ten feet is a barrier—even celestial deities cannot enter.”

Shentu didn’t believe it and stepped forward to strike with his blade. Sure enough, he was bounced back halfway. Around Feng Yi’s body for ten feet, there seemed to be an invisible wall blocking all objects.

Gradually, faint blue light began to seep out from within the barrier, wave after wave, swirling and dancing around his head and body.

The Water Element’s power was being extracted from the Water Glass Zither, accumulating more and more until the entire barrier was enveloped in that layer of blue light. The ground around him rapidly froze with a thick layer of ice, white mist diffusing with each breath.

Though Shentu was a celestial deity who had descended as punishment, this was his first time witnessing such a spectacle. He couldn’t help feeling shocked and muttered in a low voice, “What the hell—he’s just a mortal, how does he have the ability to extract the Five Elements’ power? That worthless Zhenjun we fought last time didn’t seem able to fully control the Earth and Wood powers.”

Because he hadn’t been able to fully extract the Five Elements’ power from the Wood Brilliance Bell and Earth Embankment Drum, Shentu had been able to injure Qingling Zhenjun so easily last time. Otherwise, who knew which side would have fled in defeat.

“That stone is a divine frame, used to stabilize and contain the Five Elements’ power of divine artifacts.” Fang Zhun stared at the black boulder beneath the Water Glass Zither.

Without a divine frame, there was no way to extract the Five Elements’ power. For the five divine artifacts, there should have been five divine frames and five stone boxes, but unfortunately the rest had been lost, leaving only the divine frame that held the Fire Control Flute. Feng Yi was somewhat luckier than Qingling Zhenjun, having obtained a divine frame… He remembered that day in Xuanzhou, Shentu could still injure him with his long blade, but now couldn’t pierce through. He must have only recently learned how to use the divine frame. In just a few days, he’d absorbed the Five Elements’ power from two divine artifacts consecutively, and now this was the third… He was truly courting death.

The blue light within the barrier had already begun to slowly recede, strand by strand, thread by thread, gradually pouring in from above Feng Yi’s head. His entire body seemed to have formed a layer of crystalline white frost, his eyes tightly shut, looking like an ice sculpture.

Fang Zhun’s gaze was profound as he watched intently while that layer of blue light drilled into Feng Yi’s body. After a moment, the layer of frost on his body gradually melted into water, sliding down his face. The Water Glass Zither placed on the divine frame also lost its flowing precious light, once again becoming dull and gray like a broken piece of stone.

It was complete!

Shentu vigilantly positioned himself protectively behind Fang Zhun, raising his great blade horizontally before his chest, eyes locked tightly on Feng Yi.

His eyelashes trembled slightly, like dampened butterfly wings, then suddenly opened quietly. His pupils had turned dark red, and combined with his snow-white face, created an extremely bewitching and sinister appearance.

He smiled gently at Fang Zhun, as if saying: Today, the three of your lives will truly be lost here.

As if concluding an ordinary meditation session, Feng Yi slowly stood up, brushing his sleeves and shaking off the ice shards that hadn’t completely thawed.

Then he held his hands before his eyes, examining them carefully.

They were the same hands—slender, nimble, like unopened orchid blossoms. But there was one difference: these hands seemed to contain inexhaustible power, clamoring to emerge as if possessing consciousness of their own.

He suddenly raised his head, smiling maliciously at Fang Zhun. His palm lifted slightly, and a mass of dark red light instantly condensed in his palm. He made as if to throw it, but midway his wrist suddenly twisted, and that ball of light struck directly into the sea. Soundlessly, vast swaths of seawater suddenly vaporized, shooting urgently into the sky before cascading down like rain, drenching the clothes of all three people opposite.

Half the raindrops were scorching hot, half ice-cold, so the three of them had steam rising from half their bodies while the other half frosted over—an extremely bizarre sight.

Feng Yi seemed quite satisfied with this result, yet also somewhat surprised. Like a child, he rubbed his hands against his body, and a bashful smile appeared on his bewitching face. “…Sorry, I seem to have trouble controlling it.”

His long hair was blown by the wind, and in the blink of an eye all the black faded away, transforming to the same dark red as his pupils.

This was the true appearance possessed only by genuine demons—bloodthirsty, bewitching, yet also incomparably pure.

Shentu grew more panicked, his hands gripping the great blade slick with sweat. He said urgently in a low voice, “Hey! He’s really become a demon! We’d better retreat quickly!”

Fang Zhun still said nothing, quietly watching Feng Yi. Feng Yi swept the long hair scattered on his shoulders back behind his head, then tilted his head to glance this way and walked toward them.

One step, two steps, three steps.

He walked ten steps total, finally stopping three feet in front of Shentu, extending one hand. “Give me Hu Sha. I’m taking her to Mount Xiaoyao.”

Fang Zhun’s gaze was profound. He looked at him for a moment, then slowly shifted his eyes away, saying in a low voice, “Can you not see what you look like right now?”

Feng Yi sighed. “Master, you know I don’t want to kill you with my own hands, yet you rely on this to provoke me relentlessly. I don’t want to say it a third time—quickly give me Hu Sha.”

Fang Zhun raised his head to gaze at the azure sky, his voice very soft. “Give her to you? For what purpose? To let her turn to ash and scatter alongside you?”

Feng Yi’s expression changed slightly. Just as he was about to speak, thunder suddenly rumbled at the edge of the sky. In an instant, the sky near the sea surface darkened, as if giant hands at the zenith had drawn closed a black curtain.

He moved in shock, seeming about to step forward, but a circle of lightning restraints suddenly closed around him. The moment his body touched them, he was jolted back several steps.

Immediately after, several blood-red bolts of heavenly thunder struck down from the sky, striking his body one after another. Caught off guard, Feng Yi was struck by the heavenly thunder until he half-knelt, the crown of his head split open with blood streaming down his face.

He looked up at Fang Zhun in disbelief, his gaze vicious. “You did this? You cannot bear to see me become a demon, so you deliberately sabotaged it?”

Fang Zhun said softly, “It wasn’t me. Don’t you know that becoming a true demon, like becoming a celestial deity, requires tribulation? Ninety-nine bolts of heavenly thunder—only by enduring them can one truly achieve the Way. Can your current body withstand ninety-nine bolts of heavenly thunder?”

Feng Yi no longer spoke with him, quickly sitting cross-legged on the ground and summoning his demonic power to resist.

For a time, only the sound of thunder could be heard at the edge of the sky. His body trembled slightly, rising and falling as the heavenly thunder struck him.

Fresh blood flowed down his deathly pale face. Though he summoned demonic power to resist, he still couldn’t withstand the heavenly tribulation. Gradually, a trace of anguish appeared on his face, though he struggled to endure.

The heavenly thunder knew nothing of the tribulation-taker’s suffering or coldness, only continuing to strike down bolt after bolt.

Dense crimson veins suddenly appeared on Feng Yi’s face, as if the pain was unbearable. He could no longer remain seated and raised both hands to protect his head, as if trying to resist the heavenly thunder. Before long, his hands had also become a bloody mess.

Shentu quickly turned around, unwilling to watch anymore, only saying in a low voice, “What suffering!”

Fang Zhun remained motionless, quietly watching all ninety-nine bolts of heavenly thunder strike completely. The dark clouds instantly withdrew, and the gloomy sky rapidly recovered its original clear azure appearance.

But the person on the beach could never return to his original form.

Blood pooled into small rivers beneath him. His entire body seemed unable to find a single patch of intact skin—he had become a person of blood.

Suddenly, he seemed to stir, slowly propping himself up from the ground and sitting cross-legged in meditation once more.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the cracked and tattered skin on his face gradually healed, revealing once again a pale, delicate countenance.

Opening his eyes, he looked at no one, only gazing quietly at the silent firmament. After a long while, he drew out a bitter smile.

“Heaven is unjust.” His voice was very low, like a whisper.

Many scenes seemed to float before his eyes, nearly all of them forgotten, buried in the deepest recesses of his heart.

For instance, one morning when he was seventeen, dreaming of picking an orchid blossom in the corridor. And for instance, during New Year’s, eating a copper coin his mother had wrapped in a dumpling, the whole family overjoyed, as if things would never change.

Would never change.

He stood up abruptly, turning toward the ruins of the small house. Beneath a charred piece of wood still lay a green coral hairpin broken in half—he had just taken it out and forgotten to put it back.

The hairpin rested in his palm, greenish and lustrous, perfectly matching her fair complexion.

He gently kissed it, placing the broken hairpin in his chest. Below his knees, his body had already turned to ash-gray, scattering when the wind blew. His entire being seemed to instantly lose all weight, floating lightly in midair, his empty robe hem drifting back and forth, rustling softly.

“Master…” he said softly, head bowed. “Thank you for teaching me all these years. In my heart… I’m actually very grateful to you. That Shared Destruction seal you bear can be removed with Carefree Grass from Mount Xiaoyao. Don’t forget to request it from Qingling Zhenjun.”

He turned around, his expression extremely complex—desperate yet unwilling yet sorrowful, but finally transforming into stubborn viciousness.

“Hmph, though I’m afraid that old dog won’t give it to you. Having you die alongside me, never again to be carefree—that’s ultimately a satisfying thing!”

Fang Zhun remained silent for a long moment. Seeing that more than half his body had already turned to ash-gray, he suddenly said in a low voice, “Are those your final words?”

Feng Yi’s eyelashes trembled slightly. He glanced at the unconscious Hu Sha, then suddenly turned his body away, no longer looking.

He had countless things he wanted to say, infinite resentment and unwillingness still stored in his heart. He hated heaven’s injustice, hated this lonely and cruel world.

He still wanted to grip Hu Sha’s throat, tear her into pieces, and take her with him. They were fundamentally the same—her existence was humiliation and exploitation, yet the one who had to die wasn’t her.

Perhaps she still had a beautiful future, cowering weakly behind Fang Zhun, relying on his pity to survive wretchedly, living her so-called happy days.

A happiness like hell.

He hated her so much, envied her, despised her. Yet in the end, he couldn’t forget her to his very bones.

“…Tell her I’d rather have never known this person… and rather have never known you, never gone to Qingyuan, never come to this place…”

Something like water droplets seemed to slide down his face, but with his back turned, no one could see clearly.

Finally, he sighed softly. “…No, don’t tell her after all. Let her be peaceful and quiet.”

The ash-gray finally scattered completely and cleanly, not a trace remaining to be gathered.

Three objects remained on the ground—precisely the divine artifacts collected for him. Shentu carefully walked over to examine them, then turned and beckoned. “The divine artifacts all seem undamaged! The Five Elements’ power that was extracted has returned.”

Fang Zhun said nothing. He stood dazed for a long time, until Shentu called him many times. Only then did he nod silently, lowering his head to glance at Hu Sha. She still had her eyes tightly shut, but her eyelashes were trembling slightly, her face covered with moisture.

She had actually awakened early on, and had probably also witnessed the instant Feng Yi turned to scattered ash.

He sighed deeply in his heart, raising his hand to wipe away the tears on her face. After a long while, he finally said in a low voice, “…Let’s go. We’re going home.”

The nights in Qingyuan were very peaceful, a scene of tranquility.

Zhiyan Studio had undergone repairs and long since recovered its former appearance. The several beds of apricot blossoms before the thatched cottage had been affected by the Wood Element’s power and grown thick and tall, pavilion-like canopies. They’d all been cut down early on and replaced with newly planted apricot trees. Perhaps they were somewhat particular about soil and water—they hadn’t yet bloomed, just bare branches looking rather desolate.

Circling around Fang Zhun’s thatched cottage, behind it were several large blue-tiled houses. Previously they had been the residence of Hu Sha and her two senior martial brothers. Now both the left and right rooms were empty.

Feng Yi had turned to ash. Feng Di, his eyes blinded, had no face left to remain at Zhiyan Studio. Unless Ancestor Jinting had matters requiring him, he stayed hidden in Spirit Cliff Cave at Three-Eye Peak, facing the wall alone in self-reflection.

Hu Sha lived alone in the middle room, seemingly sleeping soundly with eyes closed.

The door was gently pushed open, and someone carrying a lamp tiptoed inside—dressed in white robes with long hair falling over shoulders. It was Fang Zhun.

Walking to the bedside, he quietly lifted the blue gauze canopy. The young woman inside was completely unaware, not moving at all.

Fang Zhun watched for a while, seeing that even in sleep her brows were tightly furrowed. His heart couldn’t help but ache slightly. He raised his hand and gently pressed it there, his fingertips helping her relax those tightened brows.

Her breathing suddenly became heavy. Fang Zhun released his hand, thinking she was about to wake. Suddenly he saw her eyelashes flutter twice, then her breathing abruptly cut off—he could no longer hear any sound at all.

Somewhat puzzled, he lowered his head to listen carefully but still couldn’t hear the slightest breath. Placing his hand on her face, he felt only the heat gradually receding bit by bit, turning ice-cold.

This condition was exactly like someone who had just died.

Fang Zhun shook her. “Hu Sha, Hu Sha?”

Not the slightest response.

He couldn’t help feeling alarmed. Covering her forehead with his palm and probing slightly, he immediately sensed that her soul had long since left her body. This wasn’t normal death with the soul departing—this situation looked like forced soul separation.

Someone had placed a curse on her—a very advanced curse that only activated during sleep, extremely difficult to detect. This distinctive yet concealed method could only be the work of Qingling Zhenjun.

Someone afflicted with the Soul Separation Curse almost couldn’t sleep. Once they fell into slumber, their soul would automatically leave their body and go to an illusion created by the caster. The illusion could be anything—fear, temptation, slaughter, disappointment. The purpose was merely to torment the cursed person. Thus this was also an extremely concealed method of murder. Occasionally commoners would pay large sums to hire someone who knew this technique to curse enemies to death.

Ordinary people who couldn’t sleep for several consecutive days would weaken and die. Even if the body didn’t die, sooner or later they would perish within the illusion.

This method was extremely vicious. Even among immortals, mention of it brought head-shaking condemnation. This Zhenjun had committed countless inconceivable evil deeds, yet the Nine Heavens Above had no reaction whatsoever—truly strange.

Fang Zhun didn’t want to think too much. He immediately attempted to use magic to remove the curse for her, his fingertips slowly using immortal power to coax out the curse magic above her head. He worked for a long time, but there was no movement at all. His complexion gradually paled, sweat beading on his forehead.

Hu Sha suddenly stirred, her expression incomparably weary. She slowly opened her eyes, looking directly into Fang Zhun’s pitch-black pupils. She immediately froze.

Fang Zhun smiled slightly, saying gently, “You’re awake? Where did you just go?”

Hu Sha seemed not to hear at all, only staring at him blankly. After a long moment, she suddenly seemed to react, shrinking sharply backward until she reached the corner of the bed. Like a frightened little animal, she tightly covered her head with the blanket, not moving at all.

Fang Zhun laughed and sighed, gently tugging the blanket. “Hu Sha… Hu Sha? Isn’t it stuffy?”

She still didn’t move. After a while, she finally said in a hoarse, low voice, “…It’s late at night. Master should go rest quickly. Tomorrow morning we still need to see Grand Master.”

Fang Zhun sat at the head of the bed, pinching a corner of the blanket, saying softly, “But I miss you.”

The weak little animal curled under the blanket trembled slightly but still refused to show itself. As if in self-abandonment, she said tremulously, “I… I can’t… Yunyou Yuanjun is a very good person… She…”

Before finishing her words, the blanket was forcefully yanked away. Hu Sha was so startled she gasped, covering her face and curling up, screaming shrilly, “Don’t look at me! Don’t come find me! Don’t look at me!”

Something like a hand gathered up her disheveled long hair, carefully combing it, fingertips gently sliding through the strands. Occasionally touching her scalp, she would tremble violently, tears flowing ceaselessly through the gaps between her fingers.

While helping her untangle the knotted hair, Fang Zhun said in a low voice, “Your hair is so messy like this. With no one caring for you, you’ve made yourself completely disheveled—it makes one not know whether to laugh or cry.”

She didn’t speak.

“You yourself are someone who makes people unable to feel at ease. If I left, who else would care for you?” His voice was very soft, like a gentle spring breeze, blowing past her ear, calming all grievances and restlessness.

After completely smoothing out her long hair, he supported her shoulders and called again, “Hu Sha.”

She still didn’t move. This time he used force in his hands, forcibly turning her around. He felt her entire body rigid—just from the contact with her skin he could sense she was resisting with all her might from head to toe.

Fang Zhun pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly, calling her name in a low voice, “Hu Sha…”

Her entire world had already been dragged into darkness. She feared all light, feared him. She only wanted to find a quiet place to hide where no one could see her.

But he wouldn’t allow it. As if wanting to fuse her into his bones and blood, he held her tightly, as if he would lose her the next moment, reluctant to let go.

Hu Sha’s rigid body finally slowly softened. Gradually, she raised her arms and returned the embrace around his slender body.

She had no face to see him. She was no longer a chaste woman. Before, she had already looked up to him so much—what about now?

Though she’d already left her hometown five years ago, she still clearly remembered how unchaste women were punished. Regardless of whether it was voluntary, the final outcome was always extremely tragic.

She’d grown up playing with a group of young Daoists, and her parents hadn’t restrained her much. But one day, seeing the normally kind-hearted villagers with ferocious faces tie a woman who’d lost her chastity to stones and drown her in the lake, she became terrified.

What terrified her even more was Mother’s attitude—she even carried a trace of disdain, shaking her head and sighing: What suffering, a woman who doesn’t observe proper conduct… In the end it’s still a living life, lost for a moment of indulgence.

Back then, she still didn’t know what losing chastity meant, but from that moment on, the impression was planted in her mind that losing chastity was extremely terrible.

In her dreams she never imagined that she too had now lost her chastity. Before revenge could even come, the culprit had already scattered into ash, never to be found again.

Leaving only her alone, truly feeling what it meant to live like a disgrace.

Hu Sha only felt her chest suffocating, her throat in extreme pain, tears impossible to stop.

She could only cry, as if she would never stop.

Fang Zhun lowered his head and kissed her hair lightly, murmuring, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. Hu Sha, what exactly are you afraid of?”

Originally she wasn’t afraid of anything. Now she knew she feared many things.

Fears she couldn’t speak aloud.

Perhaps she should simply die in that illusion, have her soul devoured by the demon beasts—that would be cleaner. Yet her heart was unwilling, unwilling to die so wretchedly, letting others mock her and reap the benefits.

What did “other than death, nothing matters” mean? Because she didn’t understand, she could say it so easily.

Some things in this world couldn’t simply be measured by life and death, or determine victory and defeat. Dying was easy—with Ten-Eight Oriole against the throat, even immortals would stop breathing. But precisely because death was easy, living was incomparably difficult and precious.

Living was a disgrace, but she couldn’t die an even more disgraceful death, like a piece of tattered cloth, inexplicably dragged to a foreign land, thoroughly used by others, then dying without dignity.

Moony’s ashes still remained. He had dutifully carried out his mission, dutifully lived, keeping his head down and behaving like a good citizen. Now only a handful of black ash remained.

Feng Yi had lived even more difficultly, walking an evil path, opposing everyone. Now not even ash could be found.

Hu Sha, how will you live from now on?

She asked herself this but couldn’t find an answer.

“Hu Sha, do you remember that game of chess we played?” Fang Zhun gently patted her back, speaking softly.

She nodded silently. Everything she’d experienced with him, she would never forget.

“Then do you remember what I said to you?”

Still nodding. How could she forget? That was the most beautiful time of her life.

Fang Zhun swept her long hair behind her ear, slowly, carefully, as if caressing a precious porcelain piece, with sweet appreciation.

“If you remember, then I’m telling you now—in my heart, you are the best. No one can replace you. No matter what you become, whether sad or despairing or even if you forget me, the best is always the best. Hu Sha, would you detest and despise me because I lost an arm or a leg?”

How could she! She quickly tried to sit up straight to deny it.

Fang Zhun pressed her down, lowering his head to kiss lightly on her ear, speaking softly against her trembling, burning ear, “So—you’re still fine, with all your limbs intact, you’re here, and your future is still here. What exactly are you afraid of?”

Hu Sha shook her head, unable to speak for a long time.

Losing arms or legs, suffering serious injuries—these were different from losing chastity.

To her, what was lost wasn’t just the most precious chastity for a woman, but human dignity. If extreme happiness was like a brand seared into one’s heart, never to be forgotten, then what Feng Yi brought her was extreme pain—clearly a sharp blade piercing through everything about her. Even when the wound healed, the scar would never disappear.

How could she forget? Treat that night as a feather, lightly discarded as if it never happened?

No, she couldn’t forget. Her dignity had already been crushed to pieces by that person’s hand.

Even though Feng Yi had turned to ash, his heart must have felt satisfied. Just like the satisfaction she’d felt when smashing the divine artifact. He hated her so much, and in the end he’d finally destroyed her too.

Nothing could return to how it was.

Hu Sha slowly, firmly pushed Fang Zhun away, her entire body curling into the shadows, her outline blurred.

Fang Zhun quietly watched as she buried her face in her knees, like an injured little animal refusing to let anyone approach. For the first time, he didn’t know what to say or do.

The harm she’d suffered was far worse than he’d imagined. What could a few light words of comfort accomplish?

Watching the east gradually lighten with the pale light of dawn, Fang Zhun suddenly said, “You’ve been cursed with Soul Separation, haven’t you?”

Hu Sha stiffened again, finally nodding. “Not just me—he… he also was.”

He was silent for a moment, sighing softly. “This method is profound. I alone cannot break it. In a while, I’ll ask Master to set up a formation to break it for you. As long as it’s not a Shared Destruction type curse seal, there’s no need to worry.”

Hu Sha suddenly raised her head. “…It can really be broken?”

Fang Zhun nodded slightly. “It just takes some effort. Feng Yi never… spoke to me about this. If I’d discovered it earlier, perhaps today also…”

At this point, lamenting was merely meaningless.

What Feng Yi’s temperament was like, they all understood clearly. If he’d softened even slightly and been willing to ask for help, he wouldn’t have turned to ash right before their eyes.

Things too rigid and unbending are often broken most quickly, unable to exist in this world for long.

Fang Zhun’s voice was so low it was like a sigh. “Hu Sha, you must live on. You must live. You still have a future…”

Don’t become like Feng Yi—he no longer had a future.

When Hu Sha emerged from Yuhua Hall at One-Eye Peak, it was already past noon.

Fang Zhun stood alone leaning against the white jade railing waiting for her. At his feet was a thousand-ren precipice, clouds and mist swirling, the depths below unfathomable. His robes were lifted by the wind, long hair swaying lazily. Just seeing this slender, sharp-featured back, Hu Sha felt her heart brushed by spring wind, a warmth spreading. But thinking of all those things that had happened to her, her heart turned cold again.

She wanted to approach him, yet dared not approach. She could only hesitate silently behind him.

“How was it? Was the curse broken?” Fang Zhun seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. Without turning around, he asked her in a low voice.

Hu Sha was silent for a moment, saying in a low voice, “Grand Master expended great effort, and several senior disciples helped set up the formation. They all said it was the first time they’d seen such a strange Soul Separation Curse, but they still broke it.”

Fang Zhun laughed, slowly turning around, leaning his upper body lazily against the railing, tilting his head to look at her, his two eyes like black gemstones, sparkling brilliantly.

“Do you want to go back and have a good sleep first?” He asked somewhat teasingly, even with a rare trace of playfulness, yet not the least bit annoying.

Hu Sha felt somewhat embarrassed, shaking her head with a red face. Suddenly remembering something, she asked softly, “Master, Grand Master’s mood seemed very poor. He was barely willing to look at me. When I kowtowed to him, he said I should thank you well and not do anything to let you down. This time… you also asked him to help break the curse for me, didn’t you?”

Fang Zhun still smiled, his clear brows and eyes truly like spring wind when smiling.

“Master has always been angry that I only have my own disciples in my heart—this isn’t the first time. He can’t put down his dignity, but actually even if I hadn’t asked, if he’d learned of it, he certainly would have helped you break the curse. After helping you, he has to say some unpleasant words—that’s Master’s temperament.”

Hu Sha nodded.