Transmigrated Into A Waste Who Married The Villain. Chapter 63: Longing

Luo Jinxiao had dozed off in the thick snow and wind for a long time, lost in a haze and unsure of what time it was. Eventually, she decided she didn’t want to sleep anymore. She stood up from the icy bed, opened the door, and stepped out into the snowstorm.

The biting cold felt like a knife cutting through her, making her shiver. She raised her hand, gathering spiritual energy at her fingertips to provide illumination as she looked at the snowmen in front of her. They were indeed a bit crooked but stood quite steadily.

The largest of the snowmen had two rosy cheeks, giving it a somewhat silly, charming aura.

“The snow is blowing down from high up. With the recent cold snap and the fierce winds, we should move them inside,” she murmured to herself.

A voice came from behind her, and she turned to see the Sect Master standing there, her white robes fluttering wildly in the wind. Her silver hair nearly blended into the snowstorm, giving her a fragile and cold appearance.

Luo Jinxiao smiled faintly and shook her head. “It’s nothing. If they fall over, I can just rebuild them.”

The Sect Master stepped forward a few paces, standing beside her at the edge of the cliff, both of them gazing down at the vast expanse of hills and valleys beneath them. Each day presented an unchanging view, nothing but a gloomy landscape that resembled a hanging painting, with the same dull scene staring back at them all day.

Yet Luo Jinxiao still enjoyed standing here, watching day after day.

“Are you thinking of that person?” the Sect Master asked.

Luo Jinxiao turned her head to glance at her but remained silent with a smile.

“How is Zhao Zhao doing recently?” Luo Jinxiao finally asked.

“I’ve told you many times—call me Beisang, I’m no longer the Sect Master,” the woman sighed, a hint of sadness creeping into her eyes. “Her final soul fragment will soon vanish.”

After decades of guarding her, it all felt utterly meaningless.

Compassion welled up in Luo Jinxiao’s heart. She took off her outer garment and gently draped it over the Sect Master’s shoulders, smiling as she said, “Then let’s go see her again.”

The Sect Master coughed gently and agreed.

Ever since she had helped Luo Jinxiao save a life that day, her own condition had deteriorated. It was uncertain whether it was due to her age or because she hadn’t practiced in a long time, but the sudden expenditure of energy had left her struggling to recover.

Luo Jinxiao noticed this and felt guilty, which is why she never mentioned her desire to leave.

Even though time had passed, her longing had not waned in the slightest. She often imagined what kind of life Qu Weiyin was leading down the mountain and whether she had forgotten her.

Generations within Wuhui Sect had come and gone, and a new crop of familiar disciples had appeared.

Luo Jinxiao took one last look at the rosy-cheeked snowman before helping the Sect Master into the cave.

Inside, nothing much had changed since five years ago, except for the addition of a large, fluffy cat. Compared to five years prior, Qiongqi had grown considerably, and now Luo Jinxiao could no longer lift her.

But at the same time, she had lost some weight, and to keep warm, her fur had become even thicker. This made Luo Jinxiao reflect on how animals’ adaptability surpassed her own by a long shot.

Zhao Zhao lay there as she always had, utterly motionless. The Sect Master lifted her skirts and knelt by the coffin, leaning over to watch her intently.

“Once her final soul fragment vanishes, her physical body won’t be able to be preserved either,” the Sect Master said softly but with an undercurrent of profound sadness.

She continued to gaze at Zhao Zhao from the edge of the coffin, her focus unwavering. After decades had passed, she found that she had almost forgotten her voice and smile.

If even Zhao Zhao’s body were to disappear, what would she have left to remember?

She didn’t know how long she remained lost in thought before she finally lifted her head, only to see Luo Jinxiao sitting beside her, leaning against the coffin, her eyes fixed on the dark mouth of the cave as if lost in her thoughts.

“Your clothes seem to be much smaller,” the Sect Master remarked.

Luo Jinxiao’s attention was drawn back by her words. She glanced down at her sleeves and then smiled. “This garment was given to me by Master Uncle. It does indeed have a few years on it.”

At that moment, an elderly woman rushed into the cave, her expression somewhat flustered, snowflakes dotting her white hair. “There’s a problem with the Sect Master’s barrier; a large bird has burst through!”

“A large bird?” The Sect Master furrowed her brows, slowly getting to her feet and moving toward the cave entrance. “How could the barrier fail?”

“Ah!” Luo Jinxiao quickly stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “Sect Master, let me handle this.”

The Sect Master hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. She looked Luo Jinxiao over and said, “Hmm, it’s a good opportunity to test your current cultivation level.”

With a task to accomplish, Luo Jinxiao felt a surge of energy and bolted out of the cave, charging into the blustery snow.

“Sect Master, that bird looks like it has demonic energy; aren’t you worried it might hurt her?” the elderly woman called after her, concern etched on her face.

The Sect Master shook her head, a faint smile appearing on her lips. “South Dipper Peak is rich in spiritual energy, and she’s been cultivating quickly. Over the years, her skills have improved significantly; don’t underestimate her.”

The elderly woman nodded hesitantly. “But I can’t see Luo Jinxiao’s cultivation level.”

“Someone has cast a spell on her, so you can’t see it, but I can discern her power,” the Sect Master replied.

Just as Luo Jinxiao stepped out, a massive bird’s wing swept through, sending a gust of wind that stirred up the snow beneath her, making it difficult to see. Luo Jinxiao leapt in place, and Nu Jue appeared below her feet, helping her stabilize herself against the raging winds.

Golden feathers were scattered across the snow, and Luo Jinxiao felt a strange familiarity. When she looked up, her eyes widened in surprise—wasn’t that the golden eagle belonging to Qu Chengzhou from five years ago?

So, it hadn’t been killed by Qiongqi and was still alive to this day.

However, for some reason, it seemed to have become infused with demonic energy, transforming from a spirit beast into a demon beast. Its once golden feathers were now darkened, and it circled in the air while screeching.

The golden eagle turned its focus on Luo Jinxiao again, diving down with tremendous force, carrying a suffocating aura as it seemed determined to swallow her whole.

While Luo Jinxiao felt puzzled, she wasn’t afraid. She summoned an icy blade with her right hand and swung it backhandedly. The ice blade, swirling with snow, nearly sliced off the eagle’s wing.

Despite its large size, the eagle was agile enough to evade the icy attack. It opened its beak wide, unleashing a torrent of black gas that poured out toward her. Upon seeing the demonic energy, Luo Jinxiao’s expression became razor-sharp. She withdrew the ice blade and grasped Nu Jue, floating effortlessly in the air.

“Another demon,” she said with fierce indignation, and as Nu Jue twirled in her hand, the surrounding snowflakes seemed to respond to her call. After a brief pause, they spiraled together, forming countless sharp ice needles that rushed toward the golden eagle.

With nowhere to flee, the eagle had no choice but to shield itself with its rigid feathers. A cacophony of sounds erupted as the ice needles struck, but as it raised its head again, the gleaming Nu Jue was already in front of it.

In the next moment, before the eagle could even emit a cry, its head was severed by Nu Jue. Its massive body glided momentarily on the wind before crashing down into the snow, leaving a long, bloody trail behind.

Luo Jinxiao gradually descended, standing tall and graceful at the icy mountaintop, her green robe flowing behind her, and her long hair swirling in the wind.

She let out a light scoff, retracting Nu Jue with a wave of her hand. As she muttered a spell, the snow-covered body of the golden eagle was stripped of its feathers, transforming into a colossal, featherless chicken.

She thought bitterly that her most despised person was Qu Chengzhou, and this foolish bird dared to collide with her—serves it right.

Qiongqi, awakened by the commotion, scampered out excitedly, devouring the eagle’s head in one gulp. Then, shaking its tail, it dashed toward the massive bird body, opening its mouth wide to tear into it.

Luo Jinxiao was showered with snow kicked up by its paws and helplessly shielded her eyes, chuckling, “Slow down! Be careful not to choke!”

In these five years, the mountain was barren with little to eat, leaving Qiongqi desperately hungry. Now, however, it had also overcome its pickiness and was practically on the verge of eating grass.

But just then, Luo Jinxiao noticed a tear in her sleeve caused by the golden eagle’s feathers. Heartbroken, she touched the fabric, knowing she would have to mend it when she returned.

As she walked back to the ice chamber and entered the cave, she immediately sensed that the atmosphere was wrong.

A jolt of anxiety shot through her. She hurried a few steps and crouched down next to the Sect Master, leaning over to check her face. “Sect Master, what’s happened?”

The elderly woman beside them wiped her tears, shaking her head. “Miss Luo, Zhao Zhao… her last soul fragment has ascended.”

But moments before, Luo Jinxiao had felt somewhat at ease; now, that feeling plunged into the depths of despair. She rushed to the coffin, only to see the once beautiful and youthful girl rapidly aging, her form disintegrating, until she turned to shimmering powder that floated in the air and gradually scattered.

Even though Luo Jinxiao had never seen Zhao Zhao alive, witnessing such a scene still struck her heart with pain.

Meanwhile, the Sect Master’s expression remained remarkably calm as she looked up at the spot where Zhao Zhao had vanished. Her glass-like eyes reflected the countless specks of starlight, yet the sorrow hidden within them could not be concealed.

After a long pause, a single tear slipped down her pale cheek.

“I had anticipated this day for a long time,” the Sect Master said, her once rosy lips now devoid of color. She spoke, but her body swayed as if ready to collapse.

“It was her time to go,” she added, using the coffin for support as she slowly stood up.

Before the Sect Master could fully regain her footing, she stumbled forward. Luo Jinxiao quickly stepped up to support her. Over the years, the Sect Master had not only treated her well but had also imparted numerous cultivation techniques to her. Luo Jinxiao had long regarded her as a mentor.

Seeing her in such pain and desolation pained Luo Jinxiao’s heart, yet she didn’t know how to offer comfort.

She couldn’t help but think of Qu Weiyin—would she feel this way too?

The longing that had built up over five years peaked at that moment.

“Be careful of your health, Sect Master!” the elderly woman also shuffled forward, her frail hands wiping away tears.

“I’m fine.” The Sect Master gritted her teeth, determined not to let her grief show too plainly. She pushed Luo Jinxiao away and slowly walked toward the cave entrance.

Worried that she might faint, Luo Jinxiao followed closely behind her until the Sect Master lay back down on the icy bed, finally feeling a sense of relief as she sat beside her.

“There’s no need for you to stay by my side. I want to be alone for a while,” the Sect Master’s voice lacked its usual ethereal quality.

“You’ve been alone for decades; surely you’ve had enough.” Taking a bold step, Luo Jinxiao reached into her pouch and retrieved a handkerchief, gently wiping away the tears from the Sect Master’s face.

The Sect Master fell silent, lying flat on her back as her silvery hair spread out like flowing light on the crystalline ice bed. With her eyes closed, it gave Luo Jinxiao the illusion that she, too, had succumbed to sleep.

Luo Jinxiao was even more hesitant to leave, sitting quietly by her side, waiting for her to wake.

The wind and snow howled throughout the night, finally subsiding by the time morning arrived. The bright red sunlight reflected off the pure white snow, making the outside world appear even brighter than usual.

When the Sect Master opened her eyes, she saw Luo Jinxiao beside her, carefully sculpting a little ice figurine. Several neatly arranged figures lay on the ground in front of her.

“Sect Master, you’re awake!” Luo Jinxiao beamed as she smiled.

The Sect Master was taken aback for a moment before averting her gaze, raising her chin to gesture at the little ice figurines. “Who are these?”

Luo Jinxiao, clearly excited, picked up the most exquisitely crafted one and held it out for the Sect Master to see, her beaming smile unwavering. “This is my Master Uncle. Look, she has the most delicate and beautiful figure!”

The Sect Master stared at the ice figurine in Luo Jinxiao’s hands, then cleared her throat.

Luo Jinxiao cheerfully cradled the little ice figure of Qu Weiyin in her arms and picked up another figurine with a square face. “This is my Master; his face is as dark as coal.”

“And this is Lu Fanzhi, my good friend. And here’s Luo Ning, my sister, the only family I have left in this world.”

“And the one in your hands?” the Sect Master asked.

“This is you.” Luo Jinxiao offered the half-finished ice figurine she was sculpting to the Sect Master.

The figurine was only partially completed; the lower half hadn’t taken shape yet, but the hair was long and trailed on the ground.

“It’s not bad,” the Sect Master replied softly.

Luo Jinxiao looked at her with concern and asked, “Sect Master, how are you feeling?”

“It’s nothing; just the same as always,” the Sect Master answered. Perhaps the long years of sorrow had left her numb, or perhaps, because this day really didn’t differ from any other, since Zhao Zhao had long since died.

“Do you really want to leave the mountain?” the Sect Master suddenly inquired.

Upon hearing this, Luo Jinxiao fell into silence, cradling the ice figure of Qu Weiyin and gently stroking its long hair.

She didn’t particularly long to leave the mountain; she was quite capable of tolerating loneliness.

But she truly missed her—she missed her deeply, more than words could express.