Next Stop: Snow Lady Sect

Snow Maiden Sect.

This was a reclusive sect perched atop a ten-thousand-year-old snow-capped mountain peak. The mountain was tall and shrouded in clouds, with year-round snow so deep that the cold alone during the ascent could freeze the spiritual platform of an ordinary cultivator.

The sect’s rules were strict, claiming to sever all human emotions and desires. Within a hundred miles of the mountain gate, any man who dared enter would be killed without mercy.

Before the mountain gate, the wind howled, carrying snow across a vast white expanse. Several female disciples in moon-white tunics stood with icy longswords drawn, blocking the path of three people. The swords glinted coldly in the falling snow, hinting at a murderous edge.

“Stop right there!”

The lead female disciple, at the Core Formation stage, had sharp eyes and looked down upon Ye Xuan with undisguised contempt. Her voice was as icy as a blade:

“The Snow Maiden Sect is a pure cultivation sanctuary. Men and dogs are forbidden entry. What reckless rogue cultivator dares come here? Take one more step, and I will take your life myself.”

Ying'er gasped, shrinking behind Ye Xuan and tugging on his sleeve. She whispered, “Husband... this sect is so fierce. Maybe we should look elsewhere?”

Wu Lingfeng frowned slightly and advised in a low voice, “Benefactor, the founder of this sect, the Cold Moon Fairy, is said to be notoriously ruthless and hates men the most. Forcing our way in like this might...”

Ye Xuan didn’t answer her.

He didn’t even activate his protective spiritual light, didn’t draw his sword, and didn’t use any techniques. He simply took a bold step forward, passed the disciples’ attempts to intercept with their swords, and stood directly in front of the mountain gate.

He looked up at the main peak, shrouded in deep clouds and countless layers, and called out in a casual, slightly whining tone:

“Little Moon, is this how you taught your disciples? Even they dare to block me?”

His voice wasn’t particularly loud, and he didn’t use any special sound transmission technique. Yet there was a strange rhythm in it that precisely pierced through layer after layer of the mountain-protecting array, sinking deep into the main peak.

Then.

Silence.

The female guards were stunned for a moment, then erupted in fury, their killing intent surging.

“How dare you!”

“You invoke the Old Ancestor's name! Are you tired of living!”

The lead disciple laughed in rage, her icy sword swinging out. A sharp, snow-white sword aura tore through the air, carrying the chilling force to freeze the void, aimed directly at Ye Xuan’s brow—a killing move with no mercy.

“Cut out his tongue and feed it to the snow wolves!”

Ying'er cried out, already leaping forward, but the sword aura was too fast. She didn’t have time to draw her sword.

Wu Lingfeng’s hand quietly moved to her waist.

Boom!

The entire snow-covered main peak suddenly let out a deep rumble, as if something was splitting it from within. The veins of the earth trembled, snow slid off, and the clouds that blocked the sky surged violently. A massive pressure dropped from above like a weight.

It was the pressure of the Tribulation Transcendence realm.

The sword aura shattered silently at the touch of this pressure, like smoke.

The next moment, a streak of white light shot out from the peak like a comet.

Slap!

A crisp slap echoed across the mountain gate, loud in the snowy wind.

The leading disciple, at the Core Formation stage, didn’t even have time to scream before the slap sent her flying hundreds of yards, crashing into the thick snow in the distance. One side of her face was swollen beyond recognition, and her life hung in the balance.

“Old... Old Ancestor?”

The remaining disciples trembled in terror, falling to their knees one by one. Their knees sank into the snow, and they didn’t dare breathe, shaking like leaves in the wind.

From the wind and snow, a woman appeared.

She walked barefoot on the ice and snow, her moon-white gauze dress flowing lightly as if weightless. Her long hair was half loose, with a plain velvet flower tucked beside her temple, as if she had come out without any preparation.

Though she had lived for thousands of years and was a supreme expert of the Tribulation Transcendence realm, her face still appeared as youthful as a sixteen-year-old girl. Her eyes held a pure snowy clarity, as if she had stepped out of a painting.

But at that moment, on her stunning face, two clear tears left trails.

She didn’t spare a glance at the disciples kneeling on the ground. Her gaze passed over everyone, locking onto Ye Xuan’s face as if she feared he would vanish if she looked away for even a second.

Then, this founder of the Snow Maiden Sect, who claimed to have severed all emotions and desires and was famously ruthless, the Cold Moon Fairy.

Under the stunned gaze of everyone, like a deeply wronged little girl, she threw herself into Ye Xuan’s arms without any dignity.

“Wuwu... You rascal! Why did you only come now!”

She clung to him tightly, her voice choked with tears, full of grievance, reproach, and the messiness of years of pent-up longing bursting forth:

“I thought you were really dead... I thought I’d never see you again in this life... Do you know how long I’ve waited... Do you know...”

Before she finished, she cried again.

She sobbed, her shoulders trembling. She cried with none of the majesty of a fairy, like a girl with nothing left.

Everyone was completely frozen.

Ying’er’s mouth hung wide open, unable to close.

Wu Lingfeng stood rigid, as if doused with ice water from head to toe, a chill running through her.

Ye Xuan let her hold him, his hand naturally resting on her back, gently stroking her hair as if calming an upset cat. His tone was affectionate and resigned:

“Alright, alright. So many people are watching. Aren’t you embarrassed? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Cold Moon Fairy lifted her face, still tear-streaked, but suddenly snapped back to reality. She turned to the disciples, who knelt frozen and silent, and swept them with a sharp, knife-like gaze:

“Anyone who dares look, I’ll gouge out your eyes and feed them to the snow wolves.”

“...Yes!”

The disciples lowered their heads in unison, nearly burying their faces in the snow.

After that, Cold Moon Fairy turned back immediately, her expression shifting so fast it was astonishing. She tenderly took Ye Xuan’s arm, looked up with tears still in her eyes but already smiling:

“Brother Ye, it’s cold out here. Come inside with me quickly. I just warmed up your favorite Drunken Immortal Brew yesterday, waiting for you.”

“...Waiting for me?” Ye Xuan glanced at her, a warm sincerity in his eyes. “How did you know I’d come?”

“I didn’t.”

Cold Moon Fairy tilted her head and said matter-of-factly: “But I’ve warmed it every day. For who knows how many years now.”

Ye Xuan didn’t answer that.

He just lowered his head and gently patted her hand on his arm.

Wu Lingfeng stood there, watching this scene. For some reason, her heart felt pressed down, then released again.

And so, Ye Xuan swaggered into the mountain.

In a warm pavilion, snow-melting incense burned. The scent of wine lingered, and tea smoke curled lazily.

Wu Lingfeng and Ying’er were settled in a side hall. Through a folding screen, they could faintly hear voices from the inner room: laughter, sometimes mixed with soft words, and the crisp clink of tea cups.

Ying'er peeked curiously into the inner chamber, only to have Wu Lingfeng press her head down firmly.

"Don't look."

Ying'er pouted, confused, and withdrew, muttering under her breath: "Brother Wu, why are you so harsh?"

Wu Lingfeng said nothing.

She simply stared at the intricately embroidered screen. Unbeknownst to her, a thin layer of sweat had formed on her palms. She clenched her fingers with some force, then slowly released them.

After what felt like an eternity, a hushed voice came from the inner chamber—Cold Moon Fairy's voice, trembling slightly, as if she were touching something forbidden:

"Brother Ye... do you still remember that incident back then?"

"At that time, I really wanted to speak up..."

"But I didn't have the courage."

"I always thought, once my cultivation was strong enough, once I became powerful enough to be worthy of you... but before that day could come, you already..."

She didn't finish.

Ye Xuan's voice followed, calm and gentle, faint yet enough to suppress every quiver in her tone:

"There is no 'back then.'"

"You were there. I remember. That's enough."

A moment of silence.

Then came a barely audible sob, muffled but still escaping.

Wu Lingfeng closed her eyes.

Those words were like a key—unlocking the wrong lock, yet inadvertently opening the deepest part of her heart.

You were there. I remember. That's enough.

She was there.

She had always been there.

She had remade herself into another person for him, lived like a taut string, stretched for all these years without breaking.

But he had never known.

Never known, and never asked.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, forcing that rising ache back down, suppressing it completely.