Chapter 14: Questioning the Conscience
On Jinghong Peak, beneath a deliberately maintained icy calm, undercurrents surged.
Shu Yue perfectly embodied the “Iceberg Elder.” She no longer scolded Qing Wan, as that would seem too intentional, instead opting for a more thorough approach—complete disregard.
She stopped assigning Qing Wan harsh tasks, instead treating her existence as utterly invisible.
All instructions came through cold, impersonal transmission talismans, strictly businesslike and devoid of emotion: [Medicine garden spirit plants require the Cloud Rain Technique, to be done at the third quarter of the Mao hour.]
[Clean the dust from the library shelves in Jinghong Hall; jade slips must remain in order.]
Shu Yue avoided any unnecessary contact with Qing Wan.
Even when they crossed paths outside Jinghong Hall, her gaze would slide past Qing Wan without a ripple, as if she were air, before walking away without a trace of disturbance.
This absolute indifference suffocated Qing Wan more than any previous reprimands.
She would rather the Elder scold or punish her—at least that meant she was still in her sight.
Not like now, as if she didn’t exist at all.
‘Senior Sister… does she really… not see me anymore?’
On the other hand, with Liu Qingxu, Shu Yue adopted a “neither initiate, nor refuse, nor engage” attitude of perfunctory tolerance.
Liu Qingxu continued her frequent visits, always with some pretext.
Shu Yue no longer outright dismissed her but remained far from warm.
She allowed Liu Qingxu to stay on Jinghong Peak but mostly ignored her, showing little interest in the spirit fruits, immortal teas, or sword manuals she brought.
Her occasional responses were limited to curt phrases like “Hmm,” “Leave it there,” or “That path is flawed.”
At times, she even “used” Liu Qingxu.
For instance, while practicing swordplay before the peak, she’d sense Qing Wan secretly watching from afar.
‘Hmph, little girl thinks I don’t notice her?’
Shu Yue would pause abruptly and offer Liu Qingxu a brief pointer: “Your wrist is too low, your spiritual power flows sluggishly.”
This was less about guiding Liu Qingxu and more about… indirectly correcting a certain eavesdropper’s mistake.
Of course, her expression remained cold, her tone flat, as if it were a casual remark.
Liu Qingxu, flattered, hurriedly adjusted.
Meanwhile, Qing Wan, watching from afar, would freeze, instinctively checking her own stance, then sink into gloom: ‘So… the Elder would rather guide Sister Liu than teach me directly?’
This was exactly the effect Shu Yue wanted.
‘Perfect! Maintained my aloof persona, indirectly curbed Qing Wan’s favorability, and brushed off Liu Qingxu! I’m a genius!’
One day, Xie Liuyun from Tianyan Sword Sect visited again.
Unlike his previous formal challenge, this time he adopted a humbler posture, stating he sought guidance, not a spar.
He brought questions from his sect’s elders about “Annihilation,” his attitude sincere, his disciple’s courtesy impeccable.
One doesn’t strike a smiling face, especially when the visitor came with a legitimate “academic exchange” pretext.
Though annoyed, Shu Yue couldn’t outright dismiss him and received him in the stone pavilion before Jinghong Hall.
They sat across from each other.
Xie Liuyun spoke eloquently, his questions sharp and insightful, revealing his profound swordsmanship knowledge.
Shu Yue listened silently most of the time, offering concise pointers only at key moments.
Her voice was cold, her demeanor focused, sunlight filtering through bamboo leaves casting a hazy glow on her, making her seem otherworldly.
This scene was witnessed by Qing Wan, who had been sent to deliver freshly picked spirit tea.
She stood frozen, holding the tea tray.
In the pavilion, the Elder sat across from that Friend Xie.
Xie Liuyun was refined and eloquent, and though the Elder remained cool, she didn’t reject him, even responding occasionally.
A subtle rapport, unique to cultivators of their caliber, flowed between them.
So dazzling, so… well-matched.
And she, like a mortal stumbling into a fairy realm, felt humble and out of place.
Qing Wan’s heart ached with a sour pang.
Self-doubt, envy, and an indescribable sense of loss swirled, nearly overwhelming her.
She didn’t dare approach, fearing she’d disrupt their harmony or face the Elder’s cold gaze.
As she hesitated whether to slip away, Liu Qingxu’s voice cut in with a coy laugh:
“Oh, Friend Xie is here seeking Sister Luyue’s guidance again? So diligent!”
Ignoring Qing Wan, she sauntered to the pavilion and sat down familiarly. “I recently learned a piece, [Tranquil Brahma Melody]. Perhaps it could aid your sword discussion?”
She took out a small guqin, her delicate fingers strumming, sending ethereal notes flowing, trying to force her way into their exchange.
Xie Liuyun’s nose twitched slightly, clearly displeased at the interruption but too polite to object.
Shu Yue’s eyes snapped shut, her aura chilling sharply, visibly irritated.
‘One hasn’t left, and now another louder one shows up! Is this a teahouse?’
The pavilion’s atmosphere grew awkward.
Qing Wan stood nearby, watching the odd trio: the distinguished Xie Liuyun, Liu Qingxu trying too hard and seeming out of place, and the visibly annoyed Elder with her eyes closed.
Suddenly, her own small pangs of sorrow and loss felt laughably insignificant in this scene.
She didn’t approach, instead quietly turning away with the now-cold tea, her silhouette lonely and forlorn.
In the pavilion, Liu Qingxu’s music didn’t last long.
Shu Yue suddenly opened her eyes, not looking at Liu Qingxu but addressing Xie Liuyun, her voice icy: “A clear sword heart needs no external sounds. Distractions only lead to lesser paths.”
Though directed at Xie Liuyun, the words unceremoniously halted Liu Qingxu’s performance.
Liu Qingxu’s fingers froze, the music stopping abruptly. Her face flushed with shame and indignation.
Xie Liuyun’s eyes shone with admiration as he bowed. “The Fairy speaks true. I was swayed by appearances.”
He felt anew that Fairy Luyue, though cold, was so pure in her sword path that she tolerated no impurities or pretense.
Shu Yue nodded faintly and stood. “That’s all for today.”
She dismissed them both, including Liu Qingxu.
Xie Liuyun left gracefully.
Liu Qingxu, though reluctant, didn’t dare linger and left sullenly.
Finally, peace.
Shu Yue stood alone in the pavilion, rubbing her brow.
‘They’re finally gone… Dealing with people is more exhausting than sword practice! Hmm… Did I see Qing Wan come and leave just now?’
‘She didn’t even deliver the tea… Well, good that she left, saves me the irritation… Wait, why am I feeling irritated?’
She glanced instinctively toward where Qing Wan had gone, but the deep bamboo shadows were empty.
A mountain breeze brought a chill, rippling the seemingly calm lake of her heart.
A faint, unnoticed restlessness lingered.
She had
successfully pushed everyone away.
But why… didn’t she feel the expected relief?