Chapter 68:Rescued

In the Fallen Dragon Rift, time stretched endlessly, filled only with the howling baleful wind and the faint, stubborn pulse of their intertwined life forces.

Shuyue’s consciousness wavered in a sea of pain and self-loathing, each laborious circulation of spiritual energy accompanied by soul-rending agony—the backlash of her inner demons.

The urge to die lingered like a festering parasite in the darkest corners of her heart, whispering temptations to abandon this futile struggle.

“It’s too painful… let go…”

“Dying… brings release…”

“Living… you’ll only hurt her more…”

These voices were inescapable.

Yet, each time she teetered on the edge of surrendering to the darkness, she felt those hands gripping her tightly, that trembling yet warm body pressed against hers, and the relentless, tear-choked stream of spiritual energy refusing to give up.

“…Don’t sleep…”

“…Hold on…”

“…Together…”

Wanqing’s voice was hoarse, barely audible, but she repeated it stubbornly, like a devout believer chanting a sacred mantra.

Her spiritual energy was nearly depleted, her face blackened from the baleful aura’s erosion, clearly enduring immense pain. Yet her arms around Shuyue never loosened, only tightening further.

“She’s… in pain too…”

“Because of me…”

This realization pierced Shuyue’s numb heart like a needle.

“If I die… will she really die with me?”

“This fool… she’d actually do it…”

Why? After all the pain Shuyue caused her, why should Wanqing endure the agony of dying alongside her?

What right did she have to drag this girl, with her boundless future, into this hell?

A sense of responsibility, buried deep, began to claw its way to the surface.

It was the weight of another’s life, the realization that her actions affected more than her own survival—a new kind of pressure.

This pressure was suffocating, yet it strangely anchored her plummeting soul.

Slowly, she began to cooperate more actively with Wanqing’s spiritual guidance.

Though each minute adjustment felt like scraping poison from her bones, she no longer remained entirely passive.

Wanqing sensed the subtle shift instantly!

She looked up, joy sparking through her tear-blurred vision as she strained to see Shuyue’s face: “Shuyue? You… you’re awake?”

Shuyue lacked the strength to respond or open her eyes, but with all her might, she gave Wanqing’s hand a faint squeeze.

The barely perceptible gesture sent Wanqing’s tears streaming anew!

“Thank goodness… thank goodness…” Incoherent, she buried her face in the crook of Shuyue’s neck, hot tears flowing again, this time tinged with the hope of survival.

She stopped blindly pouring energy and began guiding it more precisely, using their shared Silent Heart Sword Art as a foundation to painstakingly build a more effective dual-cycle defense, warding off the pervasive baleful aura.

The process was grueling; both were at their limits.

A silent understanding blossomed in their desperate struggle.

“Live…”

“At least… let her live…”

This thought replaced her desire for death, becoming the new pillar sustaining her fading consciousness.

Though still rooted in guilt, it pointed in a starkly different direction.

Just as their strength neared exhaustion, their fragile dual cycle teetering on collapse, a faint disturbance rippled from above the rift!

Muffled shouts echoed faintly!

Wanqing’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with hope!

“They’re here! They’re here! Shuyue, do you hear that?! Rescue is coming!” She shook the figure in her arms, her voice choking with joy.

Shuyue vaguely heard the sounds, sensing several powerful spiritual energies rapidly approaching, struggling to pierce the thick baleful aura.

“Saved…”

“She… can be saved…”

This thought eased her taut nerves slightly.

But in that moment of relaxation, her body, held together by sheer will, reached its limit. The faint cycle they’d maintained snapped!

The baleful aura seized the opening, surging in with intensified erosion!

Shuyue’s body convulsed, coughing up a gush of dark, clotted blood before slipping into unconsciousness.

Her hand, which had clung to Wanqing, went limp.

“Shuyue!” Wanqing panicked, clutching her collapsing form, screaming hoarsely upward:

“Hurry! Save her! She’s dying! Please, hurry!”

The spiritual fluctuations above grew more urgent. A beam of purifying white light, paired with a clear, urgent flute melody that steadied the soul, finally tore through the dense baleful aura like a pillar of light piercing clouds, enveloping their position!

The light dispelled some of the darkness, illuminating Wanqing’s tear-and-blood-streaked face, etched with desperate pleas, and the faint, almost fading white-robed figure in her arms.

Rescue had arrived at the last possible moment.

Canglan Sword Sect, Lingxiao Hall’s Side Chamber

Shuyue had been placed in a quiet room shielded by layered arrays, tended by the Medicine Hall Elder. Elders from the Melody Pavilion, skilled in healing melodies, and a Yaochi Immortal Sect expert wielding the Purifying Lotus Platform assisted, stabilizing her heart meridians and soul while purging the dragon’s baleful aura.

Outside, the atmosphere was heavy.

Elder Qingxu, brows furrowed, gazed toward the quiet room, sighing deeply: “Alas… Shuyue, this child… she’s let herself spiral into this.”

His tone carried profound relief and fear. “If not for Wanqing’s decisive action, rushing in despite the danger… the consequences would be unthinkable.”

Elder Yuheng, setting aside his usual flippancy, shook his head, eyes narrowed: “Who could’ve imagined? That girl, who in just six years soared from Foundation Establishment to Golden Core, shocking the cultivation world with her peerless grace and becoming Startled Swan Peak’s Elder… would one day let her heart collapse and seek death.”

His words were filled with感慨.

Shuyue’s rise had been a legend in the Canglan Sword Sect and the broader cultivation world.

Six years—for many cultivators, barely time for a short seclusion—yet she’d achieved a leap others couldn’t in centuries.

Her terrifying talent and resolute will had left countless in awe, even envy.

This was why she, so young, could lead a peak—strength was the ultimate authority.

“Hmph! Six years to Golden Core, so what? An unstable heart makes it all a house of cards!” A booming voice cut in.

It was Elder Xuanshi.

“This girl!” Xuanshi strode forward, his voice like a bell, shaking the hall’s beams. “When she first reached Golden Core and registered at the Discipline Hall, I saw a flicker of instability in her eyes! Cold on the surface, but rootless beneath! I thought she was young, needing tempering! Who knew she’d temper herself onto a death path!”

His words were harsh, filled with reproach, but those present knew Xuanshi’s nature—his strictness grew with his regard, his scolding fiercer for those he valued.

His recalling Shuyue’s state back then showed how much he’d paid attention to this prodigy.

Elder Qingxu said helplessly: “Xuanshi, calm down. Shuyue’s heart knot likely didn’t form overnight. Her cultivation speed was too fast; her heart may not have kept pace. Add to that…”

He paused, not explicitly mentioning her tangled, heart-demon-igniting bond with Wanqing, “…various circumstances that led to today’s calamity.”

“Circumstances? Heart knot?”

Xuanshi’s eyes widened. “Excuses! Cultivators defy the heavens—whose path isn’t fraught with thorns? Instead of cutting through heart demons and solidifying her Dao heart, she chose self-destruction? Absurd! She’s squandered her supreme talent and betrayed the sect’s expectations and Startled Swan Peak’s trust!”

Despite his words, his clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil. He truly cherished her talent, was genuinely angered by her reckless choice, and… deeply shaken.

Elder Yuheng sighed, mediating: “Enough, Xuanshi. What’s the use now? She’s been saved. The priority is stabilizing her injuries and mind. The rift’s baleful aura is no small matter, and her heart demon backlash is severe. Whether she pulls through is uncertain.”

At the mention of injuries, Xuanshi’s face darkened further. He spun toward the quiet room, bellowing: “Is the Medicine Hall competent or not? If not, step aside! I’ll use my Earth Essence Qi to stabilize her heart meridians!”

Elder Qingxu quickly intervened: “No! Your technique clashes with hers. Her meridians are fragile now; she can’t handle such force. Trust the Medicine Hall, Melody Pavilion, and our Yaochi friends.”

Xuanshi paced irritably, finally stomping hard enough to shake the ground: “Fine! When she wakes, I’ll settle this with her! She’s going to the Reflection Cliff to temper that glass heart of hers!”

His words sounded like punishment, but everyone understood—this was Xuanshi’s way of showing care. He wanted Shuyue to live, and live strongly.

The Sect Leader Qingxu and Elder Yuheng exchanged glances, seeing both resignation and a touch of relief in each other’s eyes.

No matter what, Shuyue, the sect’s once-in-a-century genius, hadn’t been abandoned by the elders.

Her six-year legend, her stunning talent, and her current dire predicament tugged at the hearts of these sect pillars.

The hall fell silent again, all eyes fixed on the sealed quiet room door, awaiting the outcome.

Waiting to see if this legend would fall or rise from the ashes in this desperate trial.

Whatever the result, Shuyue’s name—her six years of glory and her current collapse—had already left an indelible, complex mark on the Canglan Sword Sect’s history.