Chapter 62: As Long as You Live, There Will Never Be Peace in This World

"Is... is that our senior brother?"
"Keep your voice down." Yang Wennan quickly covered her mouth, only relaxing when he saw the demonic zither floating beside Wen Jinge.
"Until you find a suitable sword, Gouchen will stay with you for now."
Swords possess spirits; unless a sword has chosen its wielder, Wen Jinge could not pass it on in her lifetime.
A good sword is judged by its spirit and its wielder.
"Senior brother." Wang Xi tugged at his shoulder, pulling him down a little before whispering, "Let me tell you, our Qianyan Clan has plenty of treasured swords. I’ll help you find one then."
"Alright."
Yang Wennan was in high spirits, though his brows remained furrowed. It wasn't that his words contradicted his feelings, but rather because Senior Brother had been standing before the stone wall for quite some time.
Wang Xi glanced curiously at the bracelet on her wrist. This time, instead of glowing steadily, it flickered.
Something major must have happened to Liang Si—yet Liang Si was right in front of them, standing motionless as if facing a wall.
"Master..."
"Go have a look." Wen Jinge patted the two children’s heads and led the way herself. "If anything seems wrong, let Gouchen take you and run. It understands."
"Yes, I will protect Junior Sister," Yang Wennan replied firmly.
Wen Jinge was gratified. Yang Wennan, like Liang Si, was a child who put her mind at ease.
"Sisi." Wen Jinge called out to the figure ahead.
Liang Si did not respond, as if deaf to the world.
Wen Jinge stood beside him, watching for a while, unmoving. Then she crouched down.
On the ground, two dense black lines snaked their way through the grass, winding their course from beneath the stone wall ahead.
The black threads connected directly to the tips of Liang Si’s toes, vanishing beneath his feet.
Wen Jinge glanced uncertainly at her own hand, then reached out and pinched one of the black lines, breaking it.
Liang Si swayed, his already pale face turning ghostly white; his eyes opened wide and blank, as if his soul had fled.
In an instant, a drop of blood trickled from his nose.
The blood never reached the grass; the black lines rapidly curled around it, and slowly, the blood vanished.
Wen Jinge withdrew her hand, and the bleeding began to subside.
Malignance—this was Wen Jinge’s first thought.

These black lines could not be severed recklessly; if broken, Liang Si might die on the spot.
Yet if left untouched, judging by the bleeding, Liang Si may soon be drained of life all the same.
Was there truly no way to save her beloved disciple?
In "Sword God of the Heavenly Veins," she had at least been an antagonist. Now, by some twist of fate, she had become the cherished heart of the Xuan Yun Sect.
The other disciples, though unwritten in the book, she had taken in regardless. Even if something befell Liang Si, it shouldn’t happen here!
Something was amiss.
She gently laid Liang Si on the ground and instructed the two disciples not far away, "Stay back. Watch over Sisi from here. I’m going in."
Liang Si’s state suggested his soul had entered, while his body lingered outside the stone wall. Moreover, with his eyes still open, he must have seen something here.
Wen Jinge had no intention of charging straight into the stone. Instead, she half-embraced Liang Si. The black lines, sensing richer nourishment, surged toward her.
Wen Jinge obediently lay down on the ground, relaxing her body and allowing the threads to swarm over her.
The sensation was unpleasant; though shadows on the ground, their bite felt like thousands of ants crawling upon her.
But it did not matter—her efforts would not be in vain.
In the final glimmer of light, she saw the stone on Wang Xi’s hand glowing steadily, no longer flickering, and at last she understood what Liang Si had seen.
Another version of herself.
Another Liang Si.
And another Qiao Yu.
"A trick of the Three-Legged Golden Crow?" Wen Jinge’s soul drifted out from her body and slowly approached the stone wall, where, in her soul state, she could see a door.
Perhaps it was because she had forgotten so much that she could not see through such a simple mechanism.
"You’ve come?" Qiao Yu’s voice was soft; in a blink, Wen Jinge felt herself float for a long time before finding Qiao Yu standing in water. "Master, why do you hate me so much?"
Wen Jinge replied, "Didn’t I tell you already? Are you stupid?"
She had said those words before, yet suddenly realized another Wen Jinge was standing beside her.
"Why? You ask why? Your talent is too great! I’m jealous! Your heart is too kind, not fit for life atop Wanzhang Peak! You’re too foolish, unworthy of being my disciple!"
The other Wen Jinge spoke in a flustered rush, as if someone were chasing her from behind—very unlike Wen Jinge’s usual demeanor.
Her expression, too, was not her own—there was a touch of Shan Hongxing’s icy demeanor, like a block of ice.
Her eyes were cold, blank, devoid of life—not quite human, more like a drunken soul wandering the illusory realm.

Qiao Yu’s face stiffened, showing a trace of bitterness; he slowly looked up, and Wen Jinge followed his gaze.
The water rippled. Two nearly invisible black threads descended from above, piercing through his collarbones, suspending Qiao Yu in place.
"Master, how could you be so cruel?"
"I’m not cruel," Wen Jinge continued to murmur to herself.
She knew the words were not meant for her, but for the other Wen Jinge nearby. Still, she wanted to interject, if only to break the silence.
"I’m not cruel!" the Wen Jinge at her side echoed. "If I were cruel, do you think you could have become my disciple? Do you think the gates of Wanzhang Peak are so easily entered?"
"Master, you’re nothing but a sanctimonious hypocrite!" Qiao Yu cursed her, his sorrowful smile tinged with a sense of liberation, as though he knew his days were numbered. "Master, may you die a wretched death!"
Wen Jinge looked at the other self beside her—her face unchanged, like a statue.
Just when Wen Jinge thought this was some kind of mannequin and reached out to prod it, the figure suddenly moved.
"Obstinate fool! Reflect on your errors again!" She watched herself fling her sleeves, vanishing into the darkness as if she were leaving for good.
Qiao Yu had no intention of letting her go. Perhaps it was because his body bore so many wounds, riddled with cuts and bruises. Wen Jinge noticed this Qiao Yu was much thinner than the one she had raised, his wrists frail—a child stunted by hardship.
Her own Qiao Yu was chubbier, always cautious, but without the heavy sorrow that clouded this one’s brow.
His eyes were still clear, but the spirit within was utterly different.
Her Qiao Yu was like a puppy longing for praise; this one, like an old dog, terrified by too many beatings.
"Reflect? Me?" Qiao Yu laughed coldly, and as he laughed, he sank into the water, choking. Suddenly, he burst out in rage: "What am I to you? After all this time, have you ever considered me even half a disciple? Me? Ha, how ridiculous—I’m nothing but a stand-in for someone else!"
"What?" Wen Jinge frowned. A stand-in? For whom?
Had she left a trail of romantic debts at the mountain’s foot?
Wen Jinge began to feel panic, as did the other self beside her.
"Do you even know what you’re saying?" Wen Jinge stared at herself, pushing Qiao Yu’s head underwater, making the child cough and gasp for air.
"No, no—it can’t be!" Wen Jinge grabbed the other’s hand, trying to stop her. "No matter the mistake, he’s still just a child!"
"If you live, the world will know no peace!"