Chapter 17

The Wuyi Sect was one of the top-tier sects in the Central Region.

At this moment, aside from Jianchou, only Zhang Sui’s Fengmo Sword Sect could compare.

Among the countless cultivators across the Nineteen Continents, perhaps because Zhang Sui and Zhou Kuang had been secluded in cultivation, they had never heard of someone like Tao Zhang.

However, Xu Lan’er, whom they had encountered earlier, clearly knew his background.

This man came like the wind and left without a trace, only sighing inexplicably about “Yashan,” leaving everyone utterly baffled.

Yet, Zhang Sui and Zhou Kuang had to admit: just the two words “Yashan,” rolling on the tip of their tongues, carried with them countless legends, countless myths, countless pasts, and countless stories across the Nineteen Continents…

For a moment, just because Tao Zhang sighed those two words—”Yashan”—the two of them also fell into melancholy.

After a long while, Zhang Sui slowly withdrew his gaze from the void and turned to look at Jianchou, his expression instantly growing complicated.

This woman before them, whom they had met in the mortal world, was someone that Fudao Shanren had casually dragged along to make up the numbers.

Yet, she was also a disciple of Yashan.

Perhaps soon, her name would be etched alongside those countless tales of old, becoming yet another legend passed down among the cultivators of the Nineteen Continents…

Even after enduring great calamity, Yashan was still Yashan.

Zhang Sui couldn’t control the flurry of thoughts in his mind.

Zhou Kuang, however, was simple-minded and didn’t dwell on such things.

Seeing Jianchou in a daze, he grew increasingly worried.

“Senior Sister? Senior Sister?”

Jianchou heard the voice and turned her head, forcing a weak smile.

“I’m fine…”

Clink!

A soft sound.

Jianchou’s hand loosened, and the Nine-Jointed Bamboo slipped from her grasp, falling onto the reef with a crisp clatter.

All sense of danger had faded.

Her long-exhausted body could no longer hold on.

Her vision darkened, and the last image in her mind was of the boundless sea.

Jianchou had a dream—the first since her death.

She sat in a humble farmhouse, slowly sewing Xie Buchen’s clothes, when the sound of a baby’s cry came from inside the house.

She quickly set aside her needlework and hurried into the inner room.

It seemed to be summer.

Cicadas chirped outside the window, and lush green trees lined the yard, a beautiful sight.

A simple cradle stood by the window, gently rocking.

Jianchou walked over but suddenly froze.

The cradle was empty.

There was nothing inside.

Yet, the baby’s cries still echoed through the room, clear and piercing.

In the dream, Jianchou panicked, pacing around, shouting—though she didn’t even know what she was shouting.

She couldn’t find her child.

She searched the house, then the yard, and finally stumbled back to the room where she had been sewing.

There, she saw the unfinished garment, the small rattle in the sewing basket, and…

A silver locket on a red string.

In that instant, Jianchou felt as though ten thousand arrows had pierced her heart—no less painful than Xie Buchen’s sword that day.

She woke with a start, her eyes flying open.

Above her, stars twinkled in the dark blue night sky.

The salty scent of the sea breeze filled the air.

When had it gotten dark again?

She seemed to be lying on a flat surface, the ground beneath her not too uncomfortable, but a deep ache pulsed through her limbs.

The slightest movement sent needles of pain shooting through her body.

Jianchou tried to sit up but couldn’t bear the pain, collapsing back down.

Zhang Sui, standing nearby, immediately turned.

“You’re awake!”

He strode over and, seeing her struggle, hesitated before bending down to help her up.

Jianchou recognized him, though her head throbbed and her lips were parched.

“Where’s Xiaowan?”

Zhang Sui was taken aback.

Earlier, when they had seen Jianchou facing Tao Zhang, her aura unyielding, they had assumed she was fine.

They hadn’t expected her to collapse the moment Tao Zhang left—she had been holding on by sheer will.

Unconsciously, he felt a surge of admiration.

But what surprised Zhang Sui even more was that Jianchou’s first question upon waking was about Nie Xiaowan.

He glanced to the side.

Zhou Kuang’s burly figure sat cross-legged there, with Nie Xiaowan’s pale, delicate form lying before him.

A deep violet light extended from Zhou Kuang’s palm, swirling slowly over Nie Xiaowan’s brow.

Jianchou could see the fine beads of sweat on Zhou Kuang’s forehead—maintaining this seemed to be taking everything he had.

Zhang Sui’s voice was calm but bitter.

“Xu Lan’er’s strike damaged her heart meridian and disrupted her qi flow. She can’t heal on her own. Zhou and I… our cultivation is too low to help. All we can do is stabilize her condition. Once we return to the Nineteen Continents and notify Wuwang Pavilion, perhaps her elders can do something.”

But there was one thing Zhang Sui didn’t say.

Even if Nie Xiaowan survived, her cultivation would regress.

Seeing Jianchou’s fragile state, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

After a long silence, Jianchou said, “They will.”

She forced herself up, wincing at the pain, and took one last look at Nie Xiaowan’s unconscious form before surveying their surroundings.

This wasn’t the narrow reef where she had collapsed—it was a massive island.

Jianchou now stood beside a small stone pool, her feet on a moss-covered rock.

The moss bore faint impressions where she had lain moments before.

Farther away, deep grooves were carved into the ground.

Jianchou recognized them—a teleportation array, though it was now littered with rubble, as if deliberately destroyed.

“After you fainted, Zhou and I discussed it. Since the Thirteenth AAscension Island wasn’t far, we carried you and Xiaowan here.”

Zhang Sui recounted what had happened while she was unconscious.

“We thought the array left by our predecessors would still work, and we still had teleportation talismans. We could return to the Nineteen Continents and seek help from our sects. But…”

Jianchou’s gaze returned to the aged teleportation array.

“But someone destroyed it, didn’t they?”

“Yes…”

Zhang Sui studied her, surprised by her sharp deduction.

He pulled something from his sleeve and handed it to her.

“Zhou and I found bloodstains near the array… and this.”

In Jianchou’s palm was a small shard—jade, warm to the touch, its edges sharp where it had broken.

“What is it?”

“A used teleportation talisman.”

Zhang Sui’s voice was heavy with defeat.

“From Jianzhu Sect. Look at the bottom right.”

Jianchou shifted her fingers and saw the emblem she had missed earlier—a pair of windows, identical to the insignia on Xu Lan’er’s robes.

“So, after our fight, she used some secret technique to escape, then rushed ahead of us to the Ascension Island. She used the array, then destroyed it?”

Jianchou had already learned that fluctuations during teleportation could alter the destination.

“She must have used a supplementary array to teleport herself first, then sabotaged the main one.”

Zhang Sui’s voice was grim.

“She must have known Xiaowan was gravely injured. Destroying the array… she meant to leave us for dead.”

A heart as venomous as a snake’s.

Today, Zhang Sui had truly witnessed it.

Having explained everything, he fell silent, assuming Jianchou now understood their predicament.

Jianchou studied the island.

“Do many pass through this Ascension Island?”

“Not many. We arrived near dusk, and no one’s come since.”

Zhang Sui shook his head.

“Even if they did, no one would take us, and no one could repair the array.”

Teleportation arrays involved the laws of space—they weren’t so easily fixed.

Jianchou, too, fell silent.

This island was clearly far larger than Severing Karma Island, its edges lost in the distance.

There was no point hoping for a second array—if Jianchou were Xu Lan’er, she wouldn’t have made such a mistake, and if she were Zhang Sui, she wouldn’t have overlooked such a lifeline.

She racked her brain but found no solution.

Cough, cough…

A sudden cough.

Jianchou and Zhang Sui turned—but it wasn’t Nie Xiaowan waking.

Zhou Kuang was struggling to his feet, his face ashen.

“How is she?” Jianchou asked urgently.

Zhou Kuang shook his head.

“My cultivation isn’t enough. I can’t help her. And… her injuries are too severe. We must return to the Nineteen Continents as soon as possible to find someone who can.”

Returning quickly? How?

Zhang Sui’s heart sank.

Jianchou’s gaze shifted between them before settling on Nie Xiaowan.

She remembered the girl’s shyness when they first met, her playfulness later, her shock upon learning Jianchou’s ten feet battle disc, her excitement talking about the Left Three Thousand assembly…

Now, she lay there silently, her breathing faint.

Blinking, Jianchou lowered her eyes and turned to Zhang Sui and Zhou Kuang.

“We were strangers, yet you’ve helped me so much. I’m deeply grateful.”

Zhang Sui frowned instinctively.

Zhou Kuang stayed silent.

They knew Jianchou had more to say.

“But now, Xiaowan’s life hangs by a thread. I know that, with your cultivation, crossing the sea alone would be no trouble. But carrying two people… that would be impossible.”

Her voice was soft.

Zhou Kuang realized what she meant.

“Senior Sister, we—”

He cut off abruptly.

Zhang Sui had placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

Jianchou smiled faintly, her heart lighter.

“Still, I must ask one more thing of you—take Xiaowan and go first. You said the Thirteenth Island is close to the Nineteen Continents. We don’t know when others might come here, and we can’t afford to wait.”

“But what about you?”

Despite Zhang Sui’s warning, Zhou Kuang couldn’t help but ask.

Zhou Kuang’s cultivation was weaker—carrying one person would be difficult.

But Zhang Sui could manage.

Yet if they took Nie Xiaowan, what would happen to Jianchou?

“It’s been nearly two days. The time I agreed on with my master is almost up.”

Jianchou pointed at the Nine-Jointed Bamboo on the ground.

“Once I rest, I’ll recover enough to defend myself. The Secret Realm of Qingfeng Temple is dangerous, but you’ve all said Yashan is mighty. My master will be fine. I was supposed to wait for him here anyway, so I won’t go with you.”

Her reasoning was sound.

Jianchou could protect herself.

Zhang Sui and Zhou Kuang had both seen her, at Qi Refining stage, block Xu Lan’er’s strike with the Nine-Jointed Bamboo.

If she recovered, ordinary threats wouldn’t be a problem.

The two exchanged a glance—Zhou Kuang was convinced.

Seeing their silence, Jianchou knew she had persuaded them.

She smiled.

“There’s no time to waste. Go.”

“But…”

Zhou Kuang still felt leaving her behind was dishonorable.

Zhang Sui, more pragmatic, patted a small pouch at his waist.

When he opened his hand, five white jade-like stones and a yellow paper talisman lay in his palm.

“Please take these, Senior Sister.”

“What are they?”

The stones looked familiar.

“Five low-grade spirit stones. Absorbing their energy is faster and purer than meditating. The talisman is a Heaven Thunder Talisman—it can summon a lightning strike for defense.”

These were exactly what she needed now.

Jianchou didn’t refuse.

She took them with a smile.

“Then I’ll accept your kindness.”

Zhou Kuang slapped his forehead.

“I have two as well. Here!”

He handed her two more spirit stones.

Jianchou accepted them gratefully.

“This is my first time seeing spirit stones, and so many at that. If fate allows, I’ll repay you.”

“Senior Sister flatters us. If anything, we owe you.”

Zhang Sui hesitated, then untied a token from his waist.

“Take this as well.”

Jian Chou took it.

The black wooden token bore a sword on one side and two seal characters on the other: Fengmo.

“The Fengmo Sword Sect is nothing compared to Yashan in the Nineteen Continents. But Yashan’s reputation… might attract unnecessary trouble. If—if your master doesn’t come, and others pass by, this token will make things easier.”

Such thorough consideration.

Jianchou studied Zhang Sui anew.

He seemed as taciturn as ever, yet he had spoken more in this moment than in days prior.

She clenched the token and nodded slowly.

“I understand.”

Only then did Zhang Sui relax.

He walked over and carefully lifted Nie Xiaowan, summoning his sheathed sword to hover beside him.

Zhou Kuang tossed out his axe and stepped onto it.

Jianchou watched as they prepared to leave.

Just before mounting his sword, Zhang Sui turned back, his gaze fixed on her.

Jianchou frowned.

“Something else?”

After a long pause, he asked, “Senior Sister… do you have a Dao Companion?”

“A Dao Companion?”

What did that mean?

She didn’t understand.

Zhou Kuang, already mid-air, nearly tumbled off his axe, shooting Zhang Sui a scandalized look.

Zhang Sui seemed oblivious.

At Jianchou’s confusion, he paused, then chuckled softly.

“I see.”

With that, he cradled Nie Xiaowan and soared into the sky.

“Take care, Senior Sister.”

Jianchou watched as their glowing artifacts vanished into the dark horizon.

She blinked.

“What’s a Dao Companion?”

Exhausted, she sat back on the mossy rock.

The scent of damp greenery filled her nose.

It must have been past midnight.

Mayflies flitted above the pool, tiny and translucent, like motes of dust.

A newborn mayfly fluttered its delicate wings and alighted on the emerald Nine-Jointed Bamboo beside her, motionless.