Song Qian Ji was carving ice sculptures on the snowplain. The endless, unfinished ice sculptures almost made him forget time itself.

Zi Ye Wen Shu sat by the window, resembling an ice sculpture himself.

The window was wide open, allowing moonlight to pour in like flowing water across the desk.

Zi Ye Wen Shu’s sleeping quarters were situated at an extremely high elevation. Looking out the window, one could see white banners fluttering across the mountains.

The Calligraphy Saint had passed away, and Qing Cliff was draped in white mourning cloth.

The old man who used to fish by the ink pool was gone, and all vibrant colors had been covered or erased. Under the cold moonlight, only the pure colors of green, white, and black remained in the mountains, creating an atmosphere of extreme solemnity.

Qing Cliff was abundant with weeping willows, pines, cypresses, and emerald bamboo. Throughout the four seasons, there were always varying shades of cyan and green.

Qing Cliff was also home to many scholars and students. From morning until night, one could always hear the sounds of reading and recitation.

The young disciples liked to gather together to practice calligraphy, debate, draw talismans, play chess and cards, and feed the white deer in the mountains. They always had endless topics to discuss.

Only Zi Ye Wen Shu lived on the highest mountain of Qing Cliff, a place where nothing existed—no lush greenery, no deer calls, and no bustling human voices.

The people of Qing Cliff immensely supported, trusted, and revered him, yet they also feared him.

Upon seeing him, they would be reminded of strict laws and rules, unconsciously becoming restrained.

He practiced with his blade at midnight and wrote in his diary at dawn. When there were no matters requiring his attention, he preferred not to see people.

Now he sat alone by the window. Instead of his diary, there was only a small jade box on the table.

Zi Ye Wen Shu opened the box with one hand, then closed it, repeating this action over and over.

Since obtaining it, this repetitive action has become almost a habit for Zi Ye Wen Shu.

“Click, click.” The box lid rose and fell with a crisp sound.

Tonight, however, this activity was forcibly interrupted.

“Academy Supervisor Senior Brother, we seek an audience on an urgent matter,” Zi Mo announced from outside.

After receiving permission, a group of Qing Cliff disciples filed in, instantly filling Zi Ye Wen Shu’s spacious quarters.

The disciples looked excited, their chests heaving dramatically as if they had just concluded a rally.

“What matter?” Zi Ye Wen Shu was somewhat surprised but remained calm.

There had been no disturbance in Qing Cliff’s formation arrays, no enemy invasion, and the Academy Principal had not sent him any messages, indicating that Qing Cliff remained safe.

In these chaotic times, almost the entire cultivation world had been dragged into the vortex of war, yet Qing Cliff Academy remained unusually silent, almost forgotten.

Zi Mo and Qing Zhai, who were leading the group, exchanged glances, trying to decide with their eyes who should speak first.

But someone at the back of the crowd spoke up first: “May I ask Academy Supervisor Senior Brother, are you planning to go to Thousand Channels alone?”

Zi Ye Wen Shu frowned slightly: “Who said that?”

As he frowned, the temperature suddenly dropped. The disciples, who had just finished their rally and were still fired up, instantly calmed down.

“Academy Supervisor Senior Brother is formidable with the blade, but not skilled at acting,” Zi Mo said with a bitter smile.

After leaving Blood River Valley, Zi Ye Wen Shu did not mention Thousand Channels, not a single word.

That’s precisely why it was abnormal.

“I’m not saying Senior Brother is acting. We’ve followed Senior Brother for so long, we can somewhat sense… Ah, I’m not trying to guess Senior Brother’s thoughts either, I just mean, I mean to say…”

Zi Mo was digging himself into a deeper hole and received a hard stomp on his foot from Qing Zhai.

“Hand me what you’re holding,” Zi Ye Wen Shu extended his hand toward the crowd.

The first disciple who had spoken froze, unable to hide the papers in time, and could only obediently hand them over.

“Anti-Immortal Alliance, Aid to Thousand Channels? A joint petition?” Zi Ye Wen Shu glanced over it. “You want to boycott classes?”

“The teachers have agreed to this!” The young disciple met the Supervisor’s gaze, then his voice weakened: “…Actually, the Principal has also agreed, ahem, tacitly approved.”

Qing Zhai quickly came to his rescue: “King Song is righteous and kind. Back in the ice cave of Blood River Valley, we misunderstood him greatly, yet he didn’t hold it against us. He rescued us from danger and guided our cultivation, making us feel even more ashamed. Now that Thousand Channels is in peril, how can we turn a blind eye? If we truly shut our ears to matters outside our window, how can we focus on our studies?”

Seeing that Zi Ye Wen Shu didn’t object, the disciples finally dared to speak:

“Even those rogue cultivators weren’t afraid of death and dared to accompany King Song on his journey. Are we cowards?”

“We disciples of Qing Cliff are not scholars without responsibility. If Senior Brother bears this burden for us, in the future we… might develop heart demons.”

“We want to go to Thousand Channels with Senior Brother!”

Zi Ye Wen Shu listened quietly, then suddenly turned to look at the jade box on the table.

Zi Mo and Qing Zhai were quite puzzled.

Then they saw Zi Ye Wen Shu nod: “Very well. I agree.”

The disciples were overjoyed but didn’t dare cheer loudly in front of Zi Ye Wen Shu.

Zi Mo excitedly asked: “What should we do? We’ll follow Academy Supervisor Senior Brother’s arrangements!”

Zi Ye Wen Shu uttered a single word: “Wait.”

“Wait… wait?”

Zi Ye Wen Shu said: “Go back now, continue your studies tomorrow.”

Some disciples saw a fleeting smile in his eyes, so quick it seemed like an illusion.

After the disciples had walked far away, they began to whisper among themselves.

“Now that everything’s out in the open, why do we still need to wait?”

“If waiting is what’s needed, then we wait. Don’t act on your own. Be careful not to ruin Academy Supervisor Senior Brother’s arrangements.”

Qing Zhai: “What do you think is inside that box? Aren’t you curious?”

Zi Mo: “Of course I’m curious, but I don’t know, and I don’t dare ask, you know?”

…

In stark contrast to Qing Cliff’s outwardly quiet yet inwardly fervent atmosphere, Hua Wei Sect was truly silent.

Xu Yun was meditating in the Qian Kun Hall.

His avatar had died under Song Qian Ji’s sword, causing his true body to be injured. Then, at his weakest moment, he had been attacked. If not for the spiritual medicines and pills he had collected over the years, and if he hadn’t been in Hua Wei Sect, he would already be dead.

The assassin had been chased to Broken Mountain Cliff and jumped off, and whether they lived or died remained unknown.

He had practiced the techniques taught by Wu Xiang, and the spiritual energy in his body had turned blood-colored, so he didn’t dare seek treatment from renowned medical cultivators.

But his injuries were rapidly worsening, and with the ongoing war and tense situation, he had no choice but to compromise with He Qing Qing.

He didn’t trust He Qing Qing; that female cultivator was like a beautiful snake. He had Yuan Qing Shi accompany He Qing Qing, ostensibly as a companion but actually to monitor her.

As soon as He Qing Qing arrived at Hua Wei Sect, before even meeting Xu Yun, she was surrounded and escorted to tour the scenic spots of Hua Wei.

They viewed lotus flowers by the lake and golden carp from Falling Water Bridge. Hua Wei Sect put on a full display of hospitality for their esteemed guest.

“This is our sect’s important site, ‘Star-Plucking Terrace,'” Yuan Qing Shi said.

However, the weather was not cooperating. A thick fog had risen that day.

Looking out from the high vantage point, one couldn’t see the mountain scenery, only an endless sea of clouds, with the world draped in a sheet of white.

That stone table still stood in the pavilion, with the famous “Hero’s Note” upon it.

The people of Hua Wei Sect had mixed feelings about it—it was both glory and shame.

When these four lines of poetry were written, Song Qian Ji had been just a small outer sect disciple. Now he was a king and a great enemy of the sect.

He Qing Qing sat at the stone table and suddenly drew a dagger.

A flash of cold light and her fair hands moved swiftly. The Hua Wei Sect disciples exclaimed in surprise.

“I’m just carving a few words, why are you so nervous?” He Qing Qing said with a leisurely smile.

Yuan Qing Shi leaned forward to look and saw four lines of poetry appear on the stone table:

“Breaking through dangers with blood running hot, clouds press on the immortal mountain making the path hard to choose.”

“When I hold the Tai’e Sword handle one day, I dare make heaven and earth change color.”

“Excellent calligraphy, excellent poetry!”

The disciples of Celestial Sound Gate praised: “Sect Leader writes so well!”

Yuan Qing Shi looked at the poem, then at the vast fog, and smiled: “This fog will disperse by noon, and the beauty of Hua Wei will be fully visible—colorful and gorgeous. If Sect Leader He doesn’t wish to wait, I can use the Hua Wei Sword to disperse these vision-obscuring clouds with my sword energy!”

He Qing Qing stood up: “There’s no need to wait. Treating Sect Leader Xu Yun’s injuries is more urgent.”

“Sect Leader He is so virtuous!”

This time even the Hua Wei Sect disciples joined in praising her.

No one dislikes hearing compliments, but He Qing Qing had heard too many recently and had grown somewhat weary of them.

Still, listening to people rack their brains to say nice things was a thousand times better than being spat upon.

Amidst the chorus of praise, a Celestial Sound disciple suddenly exclaimed softly in surprise:

“Oh, there’s another poem on this table?”

“Zhu Xin, don’t spoil the Sect Leader’s mood!”

She was immediately silenced.

But He Qing Qing had already turned back and saw the characters on the table.

Besides the Hero’s Note and her poem next to it, there was a third poem in the corner of the stone table.

The strokes were firm, yet the handwriting was elegant.

“I recognize it. This is Junior Sister Chen’s—ahem, Chen Hong Zhu’s handwriting,” Yuan Qing Shi realized suddenly. “I remember now, she came to Star-Plucking Terrace the night before she betrayed the sect and left the mountain. She must have written it then.”

Everyone crowded around again.

He Qing Qing’s fingertip traced across the stone table as she read aloud softly, word by word:

“The bright moon leaves the branch, flowers leave with the wind, you go to Thousand Channels while I go east.”

She smiled, realizing it was a farewell poem.

The bright moon departing from the branch, fallen flowers scattering in the wind, that person returns to Thousand Channels, while I alone journey toward the Eastern Continent.

He Qing Qing thought to herself that being unable to either take it up or put it down, only daring to write a farewell poem where no one could see, was nothing special after all.

She looked down, and her gaze suddenly froze: “Wind, flowers, snow, and moon should laugh at me, my heart is in the ninth layer of the mysterious sky—”

With these two lines, the previous moon and flowers transformed into scenery along the path forward, and a surge of heroic spirit leaped from the stone table, shooting straight up to the ninth layer of heaven.

He Qing Qing was stunned for a moment: “Based on this line alone, my writing is inferior to hers.”

She drew her dagger again, intending to erase the poem she had written.

Yuan Qing Shi, unwilling to see her frown, quickly said: “So what if it’s not as good? It’s not worth destroying. No, I don’t think it’s inferior at all!”