It was the sound of the Blood Zither. Whether the melody played was melodious and ethereal or high and stirring, once played on the Blood Zither, it would always carry a faint undertone of sorrow — not because of the melody itself, but because of the ancient quality woven into the very timbre of its strings.

It must be Xuanyuan Lige, from that forest — he’d actually followed her all the way here.

Still not going to make a move?

The corner of Ziqing’s lips curved in a helpless smile. She’d always assumed something would happen in Nanzhao, and yet, right up until she’d left through Nanzhao’s gates, he’d never once shown himself — only Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s attempt to pick a fight that one morning.

Ziqing listened for a moment, then turned to leave. But at that instant, the zither’s tone abruptly shifted, plunging suddenly into a deep, low register. Had Ziqing’s willpower not been so strong, she might well have already fallen under the music’s spell!

The sound pressed down on the heart until it felt impossible to breathe, as though a great boulder sat upon her chest, and no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t break free!

And the terrifying thing was, the melody kept sinking even lower!

Ziqing could barely stand it any longer. She quickly clapped her hands over her ears, breathing deeply without meaning to. This was the first time she’d ever heard such a low, oppressive melody — the first time she’d realized zither strings could even produce such a sound!

But even with her ears covered, the sound still pierced straight through her palms and drove directly into her ears!

Ziqing’s brow furrowed tightly. Was this true sound-killing? A blood-toned sound-kill, the tone sinking lower and lower, endlessly, without limit!

What was he trying to do?

Ziqing struggled to gather her wits, refusing to let this music steal her very soul!

The sound wasn’t just growing louder — it was also growing lower, and she knew the man was drawing closer.

She didn’t know whether he’d stop if she turned around, but she stubbornly refused to turn. Everything had already been made clear between them before — she wanted nothing more to do with something that led nowhere!

At last, the sense of pressure was no longer just the music — it was the man standing right behind her, nearly pressed against her back. One arm cradled the zither, the other played it with fluid, effortless grace. His pale, stunningly beautiful face was calm and silent, unchanged by the melody, as though his very soul had never entered into the music at all — and yet somehow he could still play a tune capable of stealing away another’s soul.

When Xuanyuan Lige’s back pressed against Ziqing’s, she realized only then that she had already been trapped by the music all along, utterly unable to move.

Her heart gave a small jolt of alarm — the power of sound-killing was not something to be underestimated!

But what startled her even more was how icy cold this man’s back felt. Before, when he’d taught her fingering technique, his fingers had been cold too, but never quite this cold.

Ziqing couldn’t help but think of his illness from before. After all this time, had he still not recovered?

“Xuanyuan Lige, what is the meaning of this?” she finally spoke, her voice flat. She truly didn’t know what he meant by any of this.

“Ziqing, why not try fighting zither with zither, sound with sound,” Xuanyuan Lige said mildly, as though nothing had ever happened between them.

He called her Ziqing; she, in turn, still called him A’Li.

“Xuanyuan Lige, aren’t you afraid that what you taught me, I’ll one day use against you?” Ziqing said flatly, her small face lowered, expressionless.

“We agreed — we wouldn’t talk about that.” Xuanyuan Lige smiled, withdrawing his hand, setting the zither down.

The moment the music stopped, Ziqing felt her head grow lighter, her limbs loosening — she could move again. And yet, she still didn’t turn around.

“We agreed you wouldn’t come again,” Ziqing said flatly, her coldness enough to freeze a person’s heart.

Xuanyuan Lige simply ignored this, and even said earnestly, “I just came to see you…”

Here he paused, just as he had every other time he’d said this before, then continued, “To see how far you’ve gotten with Lishang, and whether there’s anything you don’t understand.”

Ziqing was instantly furious. How could there be such a person — so persistent, so unwilling to let go, and yet showing not a trace of humility or self-pity, so utterly at ease, as though nothing had ever truly stood between them, as though they’d never been destined to stand on opposite sides at all!

At last, Ziqing spun around abruptly. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Xuanyuan Lige suddenly stepped back, instantly putting distance between them, stopping some way off, and once more raised the Wuzheng zither, striking its strings in a ringing cascade!

At once, the melody soared, climbing higher and faster — utterly unlike the low, oppressive tone from before, this one rose relentlessly, drawing every thread of attention upward with it, her heart lifting along with it into a dizzying, boundless height, and still it kept climbing!

Ziqing could hardly bear it — she felt as though it were pushing right up against the very limits her heart could withstand, nearly to the point of coughing up blood.

Finally, she had no choice but to unsling the Wuzheng zither she always carried on her back. She had to admit — Xuanyuan Lige was an excellent teacher. Ziqing immediately followed what she’d learned from him, cradling the Wuzheng zither upright in one arm and striking the strings with the other!

Ziqing knew there was no way she could match this man in raw sound-killing power.

The essence of contesting sound-kill was to overcome melody with melody — Ziqing needed to play something even higher than Xuanyuan Lige’s tune, to forcibly suppress his sound-kill.

Ziqing wisely chose the simplest approach — she played Lishang.

There were two kinds of sound-killing. One was what Xuanyuan Lige was playing now — pushing the highest and lowest notes to their absolute extremes, driving them straight into the eardrum, directly affecting the heartbeat and emotions, causing the blood vessels to expand rapidly within a short span, beyond what they could withstand!

Sometimes, a high enough note could shatter glass — proof enough of the sheer power sound could hold!

The other kind worked through the emotions a melody could evoke, seizing control of a person’s soul, conjuring illusions, causing one to die of excessive joy amid happiness, or die of grief amid sorrow.

Ziqing had no intention of sound-killing Xuanyuan Lige — she hadn’t even realized that, from beginning to end, she’d never once harbored any intent to kill this man. She only wanted to control her own focus, to ignore his melody as completely as she possibly could.

Lishang truly deserved its reputation as the ultimate sound-kill piece.

Ziqing had only just begun playing — she’d practiced up through the seventy-fifth movement, its grief-stricken, sorrowful tones like the Wuzheng itself weeping. Anyone with even a little life experience would surely be moved to tears the instant they heard it, unable to help themselves.

But just as Ziqing had played only a short passage, Xuanyuan Lige suddenly stopped and stepped close, his clear, bright eyes brimming with a sorrow too thick to dissolve.

And yet he smiled all the same. “Ziqing, you truly have talent — self-taught, and yet you already knew to use Lishang as your defense.”

Ziqing started, only then realizing that all the thoughts she’d just had were, in fact, exactly the counter-strategy — she’d been learning the whole time, without even meaning to!

Did this man even know that he’d just taught her yet another way to resist him — even to kill him?

Ziqing’s small face fell; she wanted very badly to shout at him, but looking at him, she found she simply couldn’t.

This man — his smile was so genuine, so happy.

He smiled and smiled, then put away the Wuzheng and stepped back. And that was it — he really had just come to see how her Lishang was coming along. Without another word, he truly turned to leave.

“Wait!” Ziqing finally couldn’t hold back. “Xuanyuan Lige, is your illness still not cured?”

But Xuanyuan Lige didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away. “Han Ziqing, go to Liuxian Island in the Eastern Sea with an easy heart. We in Dongqin will wait for Jun Beiyue’s return.”

With that, he walked away without a backward glance, leaving Ziqing standing there alone, utterly stunned…

That single “Han Ziqing” — so strange, so distant.