Yun Duan had never imagined that a day would come when she would have to fight Shang Can.
But the heavenly fire that surged toward her left her no choice but to accept it. Yun Duan quickly dodged, her Wuyou sword flashing as it sliced through the flames. Through the gap created, she glimpsed Shang Can’s calm face—her eyes sparkling yet betraying no hint of her inner thoughts.
Shang Can’s sudden change in attitude and action felt abrupt, as if she had acted on a whim out of boredom. Yun Duan, however, felt no intent to fight; instead, she found herself increasingly restrained. As time passed, she noticed that her body was becoming sluggish, and her spiritual power felt a bit uncooperative.
She couldn’t make sense of everything that had happened since Shang Can left. Her mind was a tangled mess, longing for a chance to talk, but the person before her remained silent, rejecting her completely, using the delicate heavenly fire to entangle her. For reasons unknown, the thin fire chain around her wrist was neither withdrawn by its master nor misbehaving; it simply lay quietly against her pale wrist, flickering on and off with Shang Can’s attacks.
Suddenly, Yun Duan felt an indescribable fatigue. Her sword trembled, grazing past the approaching heavenly fire, and she instinctively tensed her body, bracing for impact. Yet the surrounding flames abruptly froze in midair.
A flicker of hope reignited in her heart. Yun Duan lifted her gaze to Shang Can, seeing that familiar yet unfamiliar figure slightly bowing her head, not looking at her, seemingly lost in thought.
“You woke up early, but the effects of the medicine haven’t completely faded.”
Maintaining her posture, Shang Can spoke indifferently, “If I were you, I wouldn’t recklessly use my spiritual power and provoke the medicine to circulate through my body.”
“……”
Yun Duan gripped the hilt of the Wuyou sword with uncertainty. She couldn’t gauge Shang Can’s intentions but selfishly interpreted her words as concern. With a tinge of urgency, she asked, “Are you worried about me?”
“Not really.”
The response came as a surprising bluntness. Shang Can shook her head, finally lifting her gaze to meet Yun Duan’s eyes with an air of nonchalance. “I just wanted to say, you can’t defeat me.”
Yun Duan felt a lump in her throat, struggling to respond softly, “…I didn’t intend to fight you.”
“Is that so?” Shang Can laughed at something in those words. Yun Duan saw a faint smile tug at her lips as she lazily added, “Then you don’t plan to have me take you away?”
The implications of “whoever wins gets to take the other away” were glaringly obvious in her words. Yun Duan’s heart was in turmoil, unsure of what emotions she felt at this moment—what motive did Shang Can have in wanting to take her away? Was it because she was Yun Duan, or simply because she was the flawless celestial being?
But looking into Shang Can’s eyes made Yun Duan realize that even if she voiced her question, she would only receive that heart-wrenching answer.
Those eyes were too calm, evoking a sense of emptiness and vastness, as if gazing at the starry sky yet unable to grasp it.
There were no ripples, no emotions, and certainly no… love, the very sentiment she longed for.
It felt as though she had finally awakened from a dream, surrounded by chaos.
What should she do? How did it come to this? What was the right course of action?
Yun Duan felt her mind blank, her vision fading to white. With the continuous onslaught of heavenly fire ceased, the temperature around her dropped rapidly, the chill penetrating through her thin clothing like dense ice crystals settling in her blood, leaving her feeling stiff and heavy.
As she moved her fingers slightly, the Wuyou sword suddenly fell from her grip, landing silently on the charred ground, lifeless as an ordinary iron sword.
“…Sister.”
It was more difficult to utter those two words than she had anticipated; the long-lost first call was always challenging. Yun Duan felt a rusty taste rise in her throat, lacking the courage to look at Shang Can. She could only sense her lips trembling uncontrollably, needing to muster all her strength to raise her voice a little to call again, “Sister.”
“I don’t want anything anymore; I can give up everything.”
Voicing those words was more painful than she had imagined. Yun Duan gasped for breath, feeling suffocated. Her rapid breathing made her look like she was sobbing, as the vague desires and midnight fantasies loomed over her life, but she could let it all go—she could let it all go.
“I won’t do anything anymore, and I have no demands. You can do whatever you want; I just want… I just want…”
With a voice that was usually cold and composed now carrying an undeniable dryness, Yun Duan whispered, “…Sister, I just want you to stay, or I will follow you.”
“Anything… is fine.”
As she spoke, her voice dwindled, and Yun Duan sadly realized she had no bargaining chips to keep Shang Can by her side. Their relationship had never been fair; with a mere frown from Shang Can, she could sever Yun Duan’s lingering desires of many years, yet here she was, worried about whether Shang Can would be satisfied with that.
“……”
The person across from her fell silent for a moment. Yun Duan couldn’t tell if she was lost in thought or pondering something, leaving her helplessly standing in place, as if waiting for a judgment.
“…Fine then.”
It felt like ages before Yun Duan finally heard Shang Can’s soft response. Those molten gold-like eyes looked at her with a faint gentleness before she slowly approached.
“Since you’ve said that,” Shang Can said, leisurely holding Yun Duan’s chin, gently forcing her to look up, “then let’s go.”
Yun Duan obediently followed her lead, dazedly gazing at Shang Can’s face. It seemed she had stared too long, causing Shang Can’s impatience to show. Those pale lips slowly parted, uttering an impersonal command: “Close your eyes and take a nap.”
Abandoning her thoughts about Shang Can’s intentions, Yun Duan simply closed her eyes obediently, feeling the person in front of her hesitate for a moment before slowly pulling her into an embrace.
Whether it was the lingering effects of the medicine or something else, Yun Duan found herself genuinely feeling drowsy. She cautiously shifted, pressing her head more tightly against Shang Can’s chest, inhaling the faint medicinal scent from her clothing.
In Qing Yu, Shang Can had carried the unique fragrance of jade, but after their reunion, she always seemed to be enveloped in an indelible medicinal odor, occasionally mixed with the scent of blood. Yet as long as it was Shang Can’s presence, it was enough to bring Yun Duan peace.
As long as it was Shang Can, she asked for nothing more.
Unaware of how she had suddenly gained an embrace, Yun Duan succumbed to the drowsiness, falling deeply asleep in Shang Can’s arms.
Shang Can had nowhere to go.
Though her activities over the years seemed extensive, they were merely in pursuit of the Dao Heart Lotus Seed, often involving hurried trips that led to swift retreats. The only place she could truly call home was the land of Bi Luo and Huang Quan.
But now, it was clear that returning was not an option. Shang Can thought, after all, Wan Shao should have awakened by now and was probably throwing a tantrum.
Even an inn might not welcome her. Even if she could use a mask to disguise herself, the infamous Yun Zhong Jun was too conspicuous; she feared she would be recognized on the streets.
Shang Can glanced down at Yun Duan, who lay softly asleep in her arms, and quickly averted her gaze, subtly tightening her hold.
…Besides, she had just opened a passage between the ghost realm and the cultivation world. It wouldn’t be long before chaos descended upon this world.
Moreover, her actions had been too high-profile, with unmistakably characteristic moves. It was only a matter of time before someone identified her as the culprit.
Rationally, Shang Can understood that her actions would inevitably lead to significant consequences, but emotionally, she couldn’t muster much concern. A certain part of her heart might have indeed undergone a change; she thought that even knowing innocent people would suffer as a result, she was solely focused on delaying the arrival of the cultivators, hoping for a couple of quiet days.
Regardless, the most pressing matter now was that she seemed to have nowhere to go.
It was rather pathetic, Shang Can thought. Her requirements for a refuge weren’t high; she only needed a place to shield her from the wind and rain since she wouldn’t stay long anyway.
She stood dazed for a while, suddenly recalling a place.
Shang Can arrived at her destination under the heavy night sky.
The mountain was shrouded in darkness, devoid of any lights, with only her fiery eyes glowing like flames. She held Yun Duan securely against her chest, carefully stepping through the dense wild grass, finally arriving at a narrow cave entrance.
This entrance was well hidden, obscured by vegetation, making it hard to notice. Yet Shang Can knew that the space behind this narrow crevice was unexpectedly large, capable of comfortably accommodating two people, with a large stone that could even serve as a makeshift bed.
Without hesitation, she gracefully passed through the entrance. The nocturnal creatures residing within the cave were startled, scurrying away in a panic. Shang Can ignored them, patiently waiting for the rustling sounds to fade before venturing deeper. Upon seeing the familiar sight, she couldn’t help but pause.
—Years ago, she must have lain on that very stone, resting her head on Yun Duan’s lap, her injuries so severe that she could hardly breathe, yet her heart was solely fixated on the demon tide lingering outside the cave.
After considerable effort, Shang Can finally managed to tidy up the cave a bit and started a fire.
With the firelight, the night’s chill retreated somewhat. Sitting beside the fire, Shang Can fell into a daze, staring at the flames for a while before her gaze unconsciously drifted to the side.
Yun Duan was still asleep, lying on a stone bed covered with thick layers of straw. It was clear that the arrangement had been somewhat clumsy.
Shang Can mused that she should have taken the blanket with her when leaving Bi Luo and Huang Quan. She felt inept at crafting.
Shang Can tried to think of other things, such as adjusting the heavenly fire to ensure the stone wouldn’t be too cold, transforming the icy surface into a warm stone bed. After all, Yun Duan’s health wasn’t great; when she had picked her up earlier, she had felt surprisingly light, making Shang Can fear that a gust of wind might sweep her away. Her flying speed had consequently dropped by thirty percent.
Knowing that Yun Duan wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, Shang Can finally felt a sense of relief as she looked at her.
The sleeping figure appeared slightly less aloof than usual. Her raven-like eyelashes seemed damp, quivering slightly, revealing the dreams she must be having.
She’s being too obedient, Shang Can thought. She had already told her that she was half-demon; why was she still trying to snuggle closer?
Conflicted emotions churned within Shang Can. She couldn’t decide whether to be happy; after all, this should be a good thing—she truly needed Yun Duan. Even if Yun Duan hadn’t expressed a desire to come with her, Shang Can would probably have resorted to force to abduct her.
Shang Can moved her nose uneasily and shifted a bit further from Yun Duan.
At this moment, her senses were much sharper than usual, especially towards Yun Duan.
Yun Duan smelled too sweet.
Shang Can felt she lacked self-control. She frowned in irritation, cursing this half-demon transformation and wondering when she would return to her original self. But she quickly calmed down, rubbing her temples and letting out a deep sigh, her hand resting silently on the hilt of her sword at her waist.
…She had initially brought the weapon for protection, but she hadn’t drawn it during her fight with Qin Yi. It was only now that she remembered it.
Glancing at Yun Duan, Shang Can swiftly drew her sword, the blade glinting coldly, exuding an icy aura. Her eyes darkened as she quietly struck down, warm blood gushing out and quickly staining the pristine blade, dripping onto the ground.
She took a deep breath, silently shaking the blood from the sword before sheathed it again.
A sharp sting radiated from her palm, the wound she had cruelly inflicted upon herself bleeding profusely. Her sleeve quickly became stained with blood, creating a ghastly sight. However, Shang Can remained quietly observing for a while, then nonchalantly thrust her injured hand into her pouch, firmly gripping her spoils from today.
The Dao Heart Lotus Seed was slightly warm, snugly pressing against her wounded palm. She wondered how Qin Yi had managed to remove the hard shell; the lotus seed now felt just like a real seed—smooth yet hard, causing sharp pain with each touch.
Shang Can pressed her lips together, feeling them turn slightly pale. She suppressed her discomfort, eventually crouching down beside Yun Duan, softly murmuring, “…It hurts so much.”
Yet she maintained her position, and after a long while, she finally relaxed her tightly clenched hand, noticing that the wound had stopped bleeding. Strangely, her palm, once covered in blood, was now mostly clean, and the Dao Heart Lotus Seed seemed fuller.
Holding her breath, Shang Can looked at Yun Duan, a hint of guilt prompting her to take her hand.
“Just a little,” she whispered apologetically, touching Yun Duan’s fingertip, using her spiritual power to extract a drop of blood. She swiftly wiped it away, applying it to the lotus seed.
In an instant, her spiritual energy surged, then slowly receded, likely indicating success. Shang Can thought to herself, finally managing to prepare the medicinal catalyst—her ten years of effort had not been in vain.
She stared at the Dao Heart Lotus Seed for a long time. It looked unremarkable, pitifully small, yet it filled her with a sense of profound relief, as if a heavy stone had fallen from her heart.
Carefully placing the Dao Heart Lotus Seed back into her pouch, she returned to sit beside the fire, the gaping wound visible and daring not to move any closer to Yun Duan.
The pain kept her grounded and dispelled her drowsiness. Shang Can couldn’t help but reflect on the events that had transpired here. She owed Yun Duan a life and had only recently learned the truth from Qin Yi’s illusion.
They say that a drop of kindness should be repaid with a fountain of gratitude, but she felt she was rather incompetent. Even though it was a matter of life and death, she had only ever returned kindness with resentment, losing count of how many times she had caused Yun Duan sorrow.
Ah, now that the sheep had fled, it was somewhat useful to mend the pen, she thought.
Staring blankly at the flickering flames, this reasoning seemed valid to her. Since she owed Yun Duan a life, having only repaid half of it back then was certainly insufficient.
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