Chapter 35:The Thoughts of Silence

Chapter 28

The quiet chamber’s jade walls pulsed with the faint glow of spiritual arrays, but the air felt stifling to Cheng Mo—Shu Yue—as she sat on the jade couch, her hands clenched, her mind a battlefield. Qing Wan’s icy departure burned in her thoughts, each cold word a reminder of her failure. I was supposed to stay out of the plot, not dive headfirst into it! Her divine sense throbbed, the backlash from guiding Qing Wan’s breakthrough a dull ache compared to the terror of her transmigration’s consequences. Frustrated to ashes by the protagonist… that’s my fate if I don’t fix this.

Outside, Jinghong Peak churned with unrest. Liu Qingxu’s rumors had spread like wildfire, accusing Elder Luyue of favoritism and neglect. In the council hall, elders murmured, their patience thinning. Liu Qingxu, seated among them, fanned the flames with a subtle nod to a cloaked disciple. “Ensure the summons reaches Elder Luyue today. Her absence will seal her guilt.” The disciple bowed, slipping away to deliver the jade slip.

Cheng Mo’s resolve hardened. I can’t run yet—not with Qing Wan out there, her dao heart cracking. She rose, ignoring the pain in her divine sense, and straightened her blood-stained robes. Step one: find Qing Wan. Step two: explain the misunderstanding. Step three: get out of this death trap of a sect. But the image of Qing Wan’s cold eyes, Wan Qing’s too-perfect gentleness, and Liu Qingxu’s lurking threat made her stomach twist. I’m dancing on a tightrope over a pit of vipers.

She opened the chamber door, startling Wan Qing, who stood guard outside, her lotus-pink gown pristine, her zither resting nearby. “Elder, you’re up!” Wan Qing’s voice was warm, but her eyes flicked over Cheng Mo’s disheveled state, a hint of calculation veiled by concern. “You need rest. Let me fetch more elixirs.”

“No,” Cheng Mo said, her tone clipped, her suspicion flaring. Too convenient, always here when I’m weakest. “I’m fine. Where’s Chu Yi? I need to know Qing Wan’s whereabouts.” Her voice was steady, but her heart raced. Keep her at arm’s length. No more falling for her trap.

Wan Qing’s smile didn’t waver, but her fingers twitched slightly. “Chu Yi is patrolling the peak, as you ordered. I can summon him. As for Sunny Sister, she was last seen heading toward the outer sect’s training grounds. Shall I—”

“I’ll handle it,” Cheng Mo cut in, stepping past her. “Stay here. Guard the cave. No one enters without my permission.” She infused her words with a trace of her Golden Core aura, a subtle warning. Wan Qing bowed, her expression serene, but a flicker of something—annoyance?—crossed her eyes.

Cheng Mo swept out of the cave, her spiritual sense scanning for Qing Wan. The outer sect’s training grounds were a chaotic sprawl of disciples sparring and practicing, their shouts echoing through the mist. She spotted Qing Wan at the edge, her sword flashing in precise, furious arcs, her Foundation Building aura sharp but unsteady. Her Silent Annihilation Sword Intent flickered, a sign of her unstable dao heart. She’s pushing herself too hard.

Before Cheng Mo could approach, a disciple rushed up, panting, a jade slip in hand. “Elder Luyue, the council demands your presence—now. They say your favoritism threatens the sect.” His words dripped with accusation, Liu Qingxu’s influence clear.

Cheng Mo’s eyes narrowed. Not now. “Tell them I’ll come when my disciple is safe,” she snapped, brushing past him. She reached Qing Wan just as the girl faltered, her sword clattering to the ground, her body swaying. “Qing Wan!” Cheng Mo caught her, her heart lurching as she felt the chaotic spiritual energy within.

Qing Wan’s eyes fluttered open, cold but wavering. “Why… are you here?” she rasped, her voice laced with pain. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Cheng Mo said, her voice breaking. “I know you saw Wan Qing in the pavilion, but it wasn’t what you think. I pushed you away to protect you—not because I don’t care.” She tightened her grip, her transmigration fears warring with her need to fix this. “You’re my disciple, Qing Wan. I… I can’t lose you.”

Qing Wan’s gaze flickered, the ice in her eyes cracking under Cheng Mo’s raw sincerity. But before she could respond, a sharp pain shot through her, her sword intent surging uncontrollably. She gasped, clutching her chest, her aura spiraling.

Cheng Mo’s heart stopped. Her dao heart—it’s breaking. She channeled her spiritual energy, stabilizing Qing Wan’s chaotic aura, but the effort drained her already-wounded divine sense. “Hold on, Qing Wan. I won’t let you fall.”

Behind them, a council enforcer appeared, flanked by disciples, their eyes cold. “Elder Luyue, you defy the council’s summons. Explain yourself, or face consequences.” Liu Qingxu’s trap was tightening, and Jinghong Peak teetered on the

edge of chaos.