Once a Beloved Confidante

Several more days passed.

The three stopped at the outskirts of a small town.

Ye Xuan patted the storage pouch at his waist, pausing for a silent moment.

It was empty.

Ying'er leaned over to peek, then immediately declared with murderous intent, "Husband! Let's go rob them! There are several decent auras in that town ahead—definitely some fat sheep! Or we could do some bounty hunting, kill some bad guys and collect the rewards!"

In her worldview, this was called taking from the rich to help the poor, as natural as the sun rising.

Wu Lingfeng said nothing, but quietly gathered a wisp of spiritual power in her sleeve, waiting in silence.

If Ye Xuan gave the word, even turning the entire town upside down, let alone the sects for ten thousand miles around, would be a snap of her fingers for her.

She almost hoped he would give the order, so she would have a rightful reason to stand by his side and sweep everything aside for him.

But Ye Xuan shook his head.

He flicked Ying'er on the forehead, a hint of helplessness in his voice: "Young lady, always fighting and killing—what kind of example is that?"

"Then what do you suggest?" Wu Lingfeng couldn't help asking. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine how a penniless cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage could scrape together the vast resources needed for cultivation, apart from robbery.

Ye Xuan turned back, his eyes landing on her, a mysterious smile slowly curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Brother Wu, it seems you still don't know me well enough."

He clasped his hands behind his back, gazing at the distant, boundless sea of clouds, his tone carrying the worldly wisdom that only comes from enduring countless ages.

"Everyone knows I, Ye Xuan, have lived through a hundred lifetimes. I left footprints in this world each time—and I left favors."

"I have not a few Dao companions from my past lives, and quite a few close female friends, too."

Ye Xuan spread his hands, his tone matter-of-fact:

"Now that I'm short on resources, going to borrow a little from them—that's only reasonable, isn't it?"

Ying'er's eyes lit up, and she clapped excitedly: "Wow! Husband, you're amazing! Trading your looks for spirit stones!"

"..." Ye Xuan gave her a wordless look. "Could you phrase that a little more nicely?"

But Wu Lingfeng felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been driven straight through her heart.

More women.

Those damned old flames from his past lives.

She clenched her hand in her sleeve, the crescent-shaped wound on her palm splitting open again, blood seeping out, though she didn't notice.

Bitterness and fury coiled like two snakes in her chest, churning and twisting, slowly shredding her composure.

She forced her voice to stay steady, making it sound coldly indifferent, "Go begging to them? Aren't you afraid they'll lock you up again?"

"Lock me up?"

Ye Xuan let out a scornful laugh, turning to glance at her. "Do you think all the women under heaven are as twisted as those two madwomen, Wu Lingxiao and Wu Lingfeng?"

Those two names landed together like a thunderclap in Wu Lingfeng's ears.

"Wu Lingfeng."

Her own name, spoken from his lips, lightly wrapped up and thrown away with the single word "madwoman," casually discarded.

She felt a fierce, nearly devastating shame and humiliation.

She ground her teeth, her voice so tightly controlled it almost betrayed no tremor: "Then what, in your opinion, counts as... true love?"

Ye Xuan stopped walking and turned his head.

The setting sun slanted down, his profile half in shadow, half in light. Something flickered in his gaze—quickly, too quickly even for him to notice.

"True love," he said slowly, "is about letting go, about sacrifice, about being content just knowing I'm happy, not chaining me by your side and watching me suffocate."

"A woman like that is worth my turning back for, Ye Xuan."

Wu Lingfeng stood frozen in place, not moving.

Her heart felt like it was sinking into an unfathomable deep water, falling, falling, settling into the mud.

Letting go. Sacrifice. Being content just knowing he's happy.

She had crushed her own yin and yang to get close to him—wasn't that letting go? She had willingly disguised herself as a man, following quietly behind him, not even daring to let him know her name—what was that?

Wasn't that exactly...

But why did his words, falling on her ears, sound like a knife?

"Let's go," Ye Xuan said, withdrawing his gaze, his tone light again. "I'll show you what real charisma looks like."

He stepped forward, heading toward the small town.

Ying'er enthusiastically followed.

Wu Lingfeng moved last, walking silently at the tail of the group, her heavy gaze fixed on that figure ahead.

She asked herself in her heart:

Eight hundred years.

If this isn't love, what else do you want?

No one answered her.

Wu Lingfeng took a deep breath, lifted her head, took a step, and followed again...

Three days later.

The three arrived before a hidden cave dwelling.

Surrounding the cave dwelling were extremely profound prohibitions, with formations flowing and exuding a terrifying aura that could shake heaven and earth.

Wu Lingfeng's eyes instantly became alert, and she couldn't help but pause in her steps.

Without a doubt, this was the cave dwelling of a Nascent Soul great cultivator.

She studied the path of the formations and frowned slightly: "Benefactor, the master of this place is no ordinary cultivator, and judging by the formation's pattern, it bears the handiwork of the Heartless Valley lineage. The old monsters of that sect are the most eccentric and irritable; they rarely see outsiders and kill without hesitation. For now, we..."

Ye Xuan paid her no attention.

He didn't even bother to muster a protective spiritual light, and just boldly strode right up to the restrictions that could easily kill a Deity Transformation cultivator.

"Senior Sister."

Two simple words, spoken softly, but as if piercing through layers of stacked formations, all the way to the depths of the cave dwelling.

Wu Lingfeng subconsciously stepped back half a step, her hand already gathering spiritual power in her sleeve...

Then she saw it.

The gate of the Heartless Cave dwelling, amid a deep rumbling sound, inch by inch, swung open inward.

A white-haired old woman, leaning on a dragon-head staff, tottered out.

She was exceedingly old.

Her skin was wrinkled and blotchy like withered bark from years past, her white hair sparse and unkempt, her whole body exuding a lingering decay—the very air stirred by her sleeves as she moved felt heavy and stagnant.

Only her eyes, worn by time until their color was nearly lost, suddenly burst with a light as clear and passionate as a young girl's the moment they fixed on Ye Xuan's face.

Ying'er stood frozen, secretly tugging at Ye Xuan's sleeve, lowering her voice with a complicated expression: "Husband... is this the one you call your... soulmate?"

Wu Lingfeng stood behind, saying nothing, just watching silently.

She didn't know what was churning inside her at that moment.

The old woman slowly drew closer, her eyes never leaving Ye Xuan, as if she had found a treasure, or as if she had returned from a long ordeal. A thousand words were stuck in her throat, and in the end, they turned into one hoarse, trembling sentence:

"Senior Brother... you've come back."

"Long time no see, Senior Sister."

At this moment, Ye Xuan's voice lost its usual nonchalance, becoming low and sincere.

He looked at the white-haired old woman before him, and there was not a trace of disgust in his eyes—only a warmth born from the passage of years that could tighten one's heart. "Senior Sister, your grace remains undiminished from those days."

The old woman was momentarily startled, then shook her head bitterly, touching her own withered, tree-bark-like face. "Senior Brother is joking. This ghostly form of mine now..."

"In my eyes…" Ye Xuan interrupted her, stepping forward and naturally lifting his hand to support her arm, his movements gentle. "Senior Sister will always be the one who once stood before me in the Purple Bamboo Grove and took the sword strike from the Enforcement Hall on my behalf."

The old woman's body trembled violently. Her withered hands began to shake slightly within Ye Xuan's palm, like a taut string that had been pressed down for far too long, finally snapping.

Her eyes reddened instantly.

The two others were welcomed into the cave dwelling.

Inside, there was no lavish decoration. A few solitary lamps flickered in the chill, filling the chamber with a stark, cold emptiness—a world apart from the bustling outside.

In the days that followed.

Ye Xuan acted as if he had returned home. He sat with the old woman, brewing tea, discussing the Great Way, and recounting curious tales from beyond.

Every now and then, he would reach out to smooth the disordered spiritual energy within her body, his movements practiced and meticulous.

Wu Lingfeng sat in the corner, restless and ill at ease.

She watched Ye Xuan as he tidied the old woman's hair—his fingers gentle, his expression placid. That tenderness was something she had sought in vain for twenty full years in Youzhou.

She watched as he leaned down to pour tea for the old woman, the stream of tea falling perfectly into the cup without a single spill over the brim.

She clenched her hands on her knees.

The old wound in her palm began to seep blood once more.

But she didn't even notice.

On the afternoon of the second day, after a long silence in the cave, the old woman suddenly spoke in a soft voice, her tone carrying a cautious tentativeness—as if the word she was about to utter was a red-hot coal, too hot to hold, yet too precious to let go.

"Senior Brother… do you still remember her?"

Ye Xuan's hand, which was pouring tea, paused for a brief moment.

It was an extremely short pause—no more than half a breath. Unless one was paying close attention, it was barely noticeable.

But Wu Lingfeng noticed it.

She sensed something deep in Ye Xuan's eyes tighten in that instant—not grief, not longing, but something far more complex.

Ye Xuan lifted his head, his face resuming its usual light, carefree expression. "Who does Senior Sister mean?"

The old woman sighed, hesitating as if she wanted to say more, but in the end, she finally uttered that name…

"Xiao Honglian."