I Don’t Talk About Love With My Martial Sister Chapter 128

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“She really has terrible luck with water.”

Was it because she wielded fire? Shang Can wondered. Why was it that every time she found herself in trouble, it always seemed to involve falling into water? First it was Wangchuan, and now here, in Qinglian Lake.

Even though drowning wouldn’t kill her, this method of attack remained simple yet effective. Shang Can, pressed down into Qinglian Lake, felt like she’d been slammed into the water, her mind buzzing. The water of Qinglian Lake seemed different from ordinary lake water—bone-chilling cold, mercilessly burrowing into the wound on her right arm. In just a few breaths, the spiritual energy surrounding her body had already started to stagnate. Shang Can gritted her teeth and struggled to the surface.

But now that she had been caught, escaping wasn’t going to be easy. What should have been the surface, close at hand, suddenly seemed impossibly distant when she looked up. She could only see the faint, blurry light far above. She tried swimming closer, but when she noticed the distance remained unchanged, she stopped. She knew now this was probably Yu Jiu’s spell, and that light was just an illusion to deceive her—chasing it would likely only drag her in deeper.

Though Yu Jiu was a madwoman, the rumors of her being the one closest to ascending to immortality weren’t for nothing. As a phoenix half-demon with exceptional talent, Shang Can was still young and far less experienced in battle compared to Yu Jiu. A moment’s distraction had led to this predicament, and she couldn’t help but furrow her brows in frustration.

Duan’er, she thought anxiously. I wonder how Duan’er is faring?

The thought of her lover facing such an enemy alone made her heart burn with worry. Although Shang Can was wounded, she could still move freely and cast spells. She couldn’t understand why Yu Jiu hadn’t taken the opportunity to finish her off—perhaps she was too preoccupied with Yun Duan.

Despite the bright daylight outside, the bottom of Qinglian Lake was unusually dark. Maybe it was another of Yu Jiu’s spells. Shang Can tried forming a few dispelling hand seals, but they had no effect. Her spiritual power flowed, but it wasn’t as smooth as before. She sighed, bubbles rising in the water as she exhaled.

There’s no time to waste here. Clenching her fist tightly, she pressed her hand to the bleeding wound on her arm, feeling the pain—now dull—helping her to stay clear-headed. Her spiritual power was still circulating, but she knew she couldn’t afford to waste too much of it. The path ahead was unclear, and she couldn’t risk making any reckless moves. Her biggest priority now was finding a way to escape this place. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Shang Can scanned her surroundings.

The lakebed was vast, dominated by the tangled roots of lotus flowers stretching in all directions. Can lotus flowers really grow such long stems? she wondered, peering into the seemingly bottomless depths below. The deeper it went, the colder it seemed to get.

She swam toward the thickest root, soon realizing it was connected to the lotus leaf where Yu Jiu had been sitting. With no blade on hand, Shang Can summoned heavenly fire in her palm and grasped the root. But as soon as she touched it, it felt like ancient ice—frozen for thousands of years. Even the power of her heavenly fire only melted it slowly, inch by inch. Still, the fact that it was giving way at all meant there was a chance for her to do something.

Just as a flicker of hope rose in her heart, Shang Can sensed an icy presence approaching from below. Instinctively, she shifted to the side, but her movements were sluggish underwater. As she glanced down, everything seemed to unfold in slow motion.

A woman in a red dress appeared, out of place in the pitch-black depths of the lake, like a flower blooming where it didn’t belong.

Her long black hair floated behind her like seaweed, her features so strikingly beautiful that it was hard to look away. Beneath her eye was a small mole, adding a mysterious allure to her already mesmerizing appearance.

The words “Qinglian Jun” caught in Shang Can’s throat. For a moment, she thought Yu Jiu had sent a puppet to deal with her, but when their eyes met, she dismissed the idea.

Those eyes were filled with a gentle, watery light, blinking slowly at her—playful, almost seductive. There was a liveliness in them that made them utterly captivating.

This woman was entirely different from the Qinglian Jun she resembled on the shore.

In a flash, Shang Can realized the difference between the two. Her mind, still chaotic, struggled to understand the connection. But before she could make sense of it, the “Qinglian Jun” silently moved closer. Though Shang Can knew she should be wary, she found herself unable to muster any hostility. The expression on the woman’s face—a mix of innocence and curiosity—didn’t seem to match her enchanting presence, yet somehow it all felt completely natural.

As the woman drifted closer, Shang Can hesitated, unsure how to address her. But before she could speak, she saw the woman extend a pale hand towards her. Shang Can, a beat too slow to react, watched as the woman now held a small porcelain bottle. Her radiant face bore a look of childlike wonder.

It was the Dream Incense that Wan Shao had given her.

Shang Can had intended to use it during a nighttime raid on Tianwaitian, but when she found Qinglian Jun wasn’t there, the plan was scrapped. Shang Can blinked in confusion, unsure why the woman had taken it from her pouch now. Then, she saw “Qinglian Jun” smile suddenly, like a lotus blooming in the water.

The woman uncorked the bottle and poured its contents into the lake, the liquid dispersing into the sluggish currents. She then reached out with her hand, as if to touch Shang Can, though their skin never quite made contact.

Despite her suspicions about the woman’s identity, Shang Can couldn’t help but feel a wave of familiarity as the world around her began to blur.

This “Qinglian Jun” was a ghost.

The scenes that followed were more chaotic than any ghostly illusions she had encountered before—fragmented and bizarre.

Her perspective kept shifting, not as an observer but as if she were inside the memory itself. She looked up to see a tall female cultivator staring at her, curiosity in her gaze.

“Who are you?” the cultivator asked.

“…”

The voice that responded was the same as the one she had heard during their earlier confrontation, though now it was hesitant, awkward, as if the speaker were unsure of themselves. There was an unmistakable hint of admiration and curiosity in the woman’s eyes.

“I…” Shang Can felt herself speaking uncontrollably, her heart filled with an uneasy hesitation. Finally, in a soft voice, she answered, “Qinglian Jun. You can call me Qinglian Jun.”

Lies. It was all lies from the start.

The illusion shattered in an instant, crumbling into dust. Shang Can instinctively closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the woman in the red dress stood silently by the lakeshore, her hand gently brushing a lotus flower, like a serene painting come to life.

“Do you like lotus flowers?”

A sudden warmth flooded her heart, and Shang Can heard herself respond, “Yes, I do.”

The woman’s gaze drifted from the flower to Shang Can, her eyes as captivating as ever. In a soft, innocent voice, she said, “They’re so beautiful, don’t you think?”

With her heart pounding loudly in her chest, Shang Can felt her body betray her thoughts, her throat trembling as she spoke her true feelings: “…They’re very beautiful. I… like them too.”

And just like that, the scene shattered once more.

Shang Can’s head throbbed painfully. She realized she was witnessing someone else’s past, and with it came a strange, inexplicable sorrow. Was it her emotions or those of the one in the vision?

If this is how things started… how did it all go so wrong?

The question barely formed in her mind before the next scene unfolded. Qinglian Jun reappeared, this time more disheveled than before. From her perspective, Shang Can realized she must be resting on Qinglian Jun’s lap, and in a flash, she recalled their joint battle against a demonic cultivator—the giant lotus flower she had seen before losing consciousness.

She jerked upright, ignoring Qinglian Jun’s startled cry to stay still. Stubbornly, she backed away several steps. Despite the many wounds covering her body, which had been carefully bandaged, they reopened with her movements. Yet the pain now seemed strangely dull. Trembling, she spoke:

“…You’re a demon?”

Though she had seen it with her own eyes, the question still held a trace of desperate hope, as if she wished for a denial.

But there was no denial.

As Qinglian Jun remained silent, Shang Can’s heart filled with desolation. Her emotions, from fear to betrayal, were clouded by the pride of a cultivator. When she finally spoke again, her voice was hoarse, barely recognizable:

“…Why did you deceive me? I even… gave you the lotus…”

She bit back the rest of her words, unwilling to let herself appear weak. She heard the demon before her stammer out a response:

“I didn’t mean to deceive you, I just—”

“Enough.”

Swallowing down the tremor in her voice, Shang Can forced herself to regain the cold composure of a top cultivator.

“…So even your name was a lie. Who are you, really?”

The flower demon was silent for a long time before she finally closed her eyes and answered,

“…Jilian. My name is Jilian.”

With her words came a dizzying sensation, as if the world were spinning around her. She recognized that name—Jilian, the elusive beauty in red, known for enchanting others with her fragrance. Carefree yet calculating, she had brought untold suffering to the world of cultivators—

She was the Demon Lord of Biluohuangquan. The Demon Lord.

Her heart ached as if it were being tightly gripped, and she couldn’t tell whether she was laughing at the demon clan’s boldness or at her own foolishness. In any case, she let out a soft laugh, a sound that escaped her lips, before she stumbled and turned away.

“…You might as well have deceived me for a lifetime, never revealing the truth, never letting me find out.” She murmured quietly. “That way…”

But she didn’t finish her thought, limping determinedly towards the exit. Jilian didn’t attempt to stop her; instead, she watched as the wounds on her body burst open, leaving bloody footprints with each step. She walked onward, step by step.

Before leaving the hidden cave, Shang Can—Yu Jiu—heard a voice behind her, Jilian’s voice, infused with an unheard whimper.

“…But if I don’t turn into a demon, I won’t be able to save you…”

How painful.

The emotions surging within her chest weren’t her own, yet Shang Can felt her heart and eyes burning as if they were on fire. Trembling, she raised her hand to touch her face but found it dry, no tears came; she couldn’t cry.

This wasn’t her story, not her experience. Shang Can had never so deeply realized her own fortune: she loved Yunduan, and Yunduan loved her. Their love had nothing to do with being human or demon, yet that was not the reality of the world of cultivators.

What unfolded before her was a typical human affair: the vast chasm between cultivators and demons, the entanglements of love and hatred born from deceit. These weren’t entirely unrelated to Shang Can’s past, but how fortunate she was—Yunduan had always loved her.

How painful.

She shouldn’t keep watching. She couldn’t continue to watch. She wanted to return to Yunduan’s side. She knew the ending of this past story all too well, yet now, remembering her moments with Yunduan brought forth an inexplicable pain. This pain wasn’t her own; whose was it? Who felt envy, jealousy, love, and hatred? Who was it—

A buzzing echoed in her ears, and within the fractures of all that shattered, a final sound emerged.

Everything before her was pitch black; she could see nothing but heard a voice slipping through her fingers. The sound of a sword piercing flesh shouldn’t have been so loud, yet it was deafening. Shang Can, unable to bear it, covered her ears, but she couldn’t drown out their voices.

“…I heard you haven’t been well lately, so I thought I would…”

“Enough, Demon Lord of Biluohuangquan.”

“…”

“You are the reason for my downfall… enough… it’s enough.”

Shang Can wasn’t sure if she heard a sob at the end of that sentence. Then, in an instant of silence, a tremendous force yanked her from the water, roughly grabbing her collar and pulling her up. As she gasped for air, a furious roar echoed, more vivid than what she had heard in the illusions: “What are you watching?!”

For the first time, she saw Yu Jiu like this. Shang Can half-opened her eyes, gazing at her—witnessing the panic beneath her fierce façade, the trembling and evasion that couldn’t be concealed. Shang Can knew she shouldn’t, yet a flicker of pity surged within her.

A sword’s cold light came slicing through, and this time it didn’t miss its mark. The hand gripping Shang Can’s collar was severed cleanly, blood gushing forth—half splattering onto Shang Can, the rest falling into Qinglian Lake. Shang Can’s gaze fell upon the lake’s surface, just as she saw the blood spread, she was suddenly swept into a familiar embrace.

The person holding her had an uneven breath, their heartbeat erratic. The once immaculate white robes were now riddled with small tears, with shallow stains of red seeping through in places. Shang Can’s heart tightened; just as she was about to look, she was pulled tightly into the embrace again, Yunduan’s head buried in her shoulder. Shang Can watched as Yunduan’s slender shoulders heaved several times before gradually calming down. The arms wrapped around her waist didn’t loosen, holding her tightly as if trying to meld her into their very being.

The chill within her was completely dispelled by this all-encompassing embrace, and the cool fragrance that belonged to Yunduan brought Shang Can back to the world of the living. Slowly, she returned the embrace, as if cradling the moon pulled from the water.

How to describe their past, how to convey the stories of others she had just witnessed.

Shang Can found it hard to imagine Jilian’s feelings when Yu Jiu stabbed her, after all, she didn’t even understand whether there had ever been such feelings between them. She had only glimpsed fragments of their story; those desolate pains felt like a fishbone lodged in her throat. But were those sights true? Were the words spoken trustworthy? How could she know—

Most good things are not sturdy; colorful clouds disperse easily, and glass is fragile.

Why think so much? Shang Can slowly closed her eyes, nuzzling against her lover’s neck, softly calling her name: “…Duan’er.”

With the sun, moon, stars, and everything in this world, as long as this one embrace was real, that would be enough.

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Chapter 128