It was only an hour after the ruins closed that the noise on the plaza of Canglan Island's Dao Discourse stage finally began to subside.
The disciples of various sects were led to their respective temporary residences. The injured were sent to the medical cultivators, those who had gained much were busy counting their spoils, and those who had come back empty-handed followed silently at the end of their groups.
A faint lingering aura of spiritual power floated above the plaza, like the wet marks left on a beach after a great tide recedes. One could still faintly smell that ancient chill from the depths of the ruins.
Bai Qingxue and the others were reassigned to a quiet room on the far east side of the Xuantian Sect's residence.
This place was much better than the stone room in the ruins.
There was a wooden bed, a low table, and a window that could be pushed open. Outside the window were the stunted pines and grayish-white reefs unique to Canglan Island, and in the distance, the sea could be seen shimmering like fragmented silver under the sunlight.
Lu Xueqing checked the doors, windows, and restrictions for her, then moved her own bedroll to the room next door. Separated only by a thin wall, Bai Qingxue could even hear the sound of coughing from the other side.
After Lu Xueqing settled everything, she stood at the door for a moment. Her gaze fell on Bai Qingxue's profile as she sat leaning against the edge of the bed. Finally, she left only with the words “I’m right next door” and gently closed the door.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded in the corridor, stopping in front of her own door. Then came the sound of the door opening, closing, and the lock clicking into place.
Bai Qingxue closed her eyes, placed the Frost Moon Chant across her knees, and began to slowly regulate her breathing.
About an hour later, a sudden burst of hurried footsteps and rising clamor came from outside the residence.
Someone was shouting that the scores were out, while others were asking who was ranked first. The voices passed through the stunted pines and stone walls, faintly reaching the quiet room.
Bai Qingxue opened her eyes and glanced out the window. She saw several disciples from other sects rushing toward the plaza, their robes fluttering loudly in the wind.
A moment later, Lu Xueqing's voice came from outside the door. Through the wooden panel, it carried a trace of uncontrollable excitement. “Senior Sister Bai, the leaderboard is out. Let’s go to the plaza and see.”
Bai Qingxue stood up and pushed open the door.
Lu Xueqing was standing at the entrance. She had changed into a clean frost-white Daoist robe, and her hair had been re-bundled. Although the dark circles under her eyes still showed exhaustion, her spirit was much better than it had been in the ruins.
The corners of her mouth were slightly curled, as if she had seen some unexpectedly good news but wasn't sure if she should laugh out loud just yet.
The two of them walked toward the plaza together.
On the giant jade wall in front of the Dao Discourse stage, lines of golden characters were slowly appearing.
These were the final rankings and scores for each team. Each stroke looked as if an invisible finger had dipped into gold dust to write them, shimmering brightly under the midday sun.
A large crowd had already gathered in front of the jade wall. Some looked up to read line by line, while others conversed in low voices. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than before.
Bai Qingxue's gaze slowly moved up from the bottom of the jade wall, passing over unfamiliar team names and numbers, before stopping at the very top.
Xuantian Sect: Bai Qingxue, Lu Xueqing, Ning Qinghan — 107 points.
Falling Star Pavilion: Han Muchun, Shen Yan, Chu Mu — 107 points.
Tied for first.
“Senior Sister Bai, it’s a tie,” Lu Xueqing’s voice sounded beside her, carrying a lightness of relief. “We have the same score as them.”
Lu Xueqing paused after speaking and turned her head to glance at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue looked at the two lines of identical numbers at the top of the jade wall, her fingertips lightly resting on the sash of her storage bag.
Bai Qingxue also knew that a significant portion of those 107 points came from that golden token. Without it, relying solely on the low-grade spiritual items they picked up afterward, they probably wouldn't have even made it into the top ten.
But with the result before her eyes, not a point more and not a point less, it was an exact draw.
The text on the jade wall continued to change. The golden characters faded away, replaced by a line of even thicker and brighter vermilion characters:
“Xuantian Sect and Falling Star Pavilion are tied for first place. According to the rules of the assembly, each sect shall send one person to engage in a tie-breaker match at the Canglan Arena tomorrow at midnight. The winner shall obtain the rights to the spiritual vein.”
The vermilion characters lingered on the jade wall for a long time before slowly fading, like a seal heavily stamped upon the final conclusion.
The murmurs of the spectating disciples suddenly grew louder. Some looked toward the Xuantian Sect, while others looked toward the Falling Star Pavilion, their gazes darting back and forth between the two teams.
Bai Qingxue knew people were watching her.
In those gazes, there was curiosity, scrutiny, and the expectation of watching a good show.
But what of it?
Bai Qingxue turned to walk back. Lu Xueqing followed by her side without speaking.
As the two of them passed through the path lined with stunted pines, the wind blew in from the sea, making their robes flutter. The sound of their footsteps rose and fell on the stone slabs, one after another, steady and certain.
The night before the finals, the moonlight was faint.
The night on Canglan Island was not quiet.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore came from afar, over and over again.
The sea breeze carried a salty tang and a chill, passing through the gaps in the residence's window lattices and causing the flame of the oil lamp on the table to flicker.
Bai Qingxue sat alone in the quiet room, her legs crossed. The Frost Moon Chant lay across her knees, and her hands formed seals over both sides of the flute.
A pale blue spiritual light seeped from her fingertips, winding around the flute like silken threads before being slowly absorbed into her body.
After a full day of regulating her breathing, the pool of stagnant Ice Spirit power in her dantian had mostly cleared. Although she was far from her peak, it at least wouldn't suddenly snap at a critical moment when she was circulating spiritual power.
Bai Qingxue opened her eyes and exhaled a breath of white mist.
The white mist condensed into a cloud before her, then slowly dissipated, merging with the dampness seeping in from the sea breeze.
At that moment, she heard extremely light footsteps outside the door.
The footsteps landed in the corridor with consistent intervals. The force of each step was deliberately controlled to be even, carrying a rhythm of someone used to maintaining composure in various settings.
The footsteps stopped outside the quiet room. After a few breaths of silence, someone knocked on the door.
Three times.
Neither too loud nor too soft, just enough to be heard without being startling.
Bai Qingxue moved the Frost Moon Chant from her knees to the bedside, stood up, and opened the door.
Han Muchun was standing outside.
At this moment, Han Muchun had changed into a dark-green casual attire, no longer wearing the stained martial outfit. The bandage on her left arm had also been replaced, the new white cloth wrapped neatly and efficiently.
Her complexion was better than it had been on the plaza during the day. The abnormal flush on her cheeks had faded, but a trace of un-dissipated exhaustion still lingered in her eyes.
She stood in the moonlight outside the door, her lips curved at a perfect angle—not too deep, not too shallow—neither appearing overly intimate nor distantly cold.
“True Disciple Bai,” Han Muchun spoke first, her voice gentle and soft, like stream water thawing in late spring.
“I apologize for disturbing you so late. It’s just that tomorrow is the arena match, and I thought... we are old acquaintances, after all. I came to catch up.”
Bai Qingxue did not move away from the doorway, nor did she have any intention of inviting her in. She simply looked at her indifferently.
Han Muchun seemed to have expected this reaction. She smiled lightly and did not push. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe with her hands folded in front of her. The moonlight shone from behind her, casting her shadow long across the corridor floor.
“Actually, it’s nothing much,” Han Muchun’s tone grew even softer, as if she were mentioning a completely trivial matter.
“I just suddenly remembered something from many years ago in Yunzhou... Senior Sister Bai should still remember, right?”
As Han Muchun spoke, her gaze fixed on Bai Qingxue’s face, as if trying to capture every flicker of emotion beneath that calm expression.
“Back then, it seemed that young master of the Lin family was betrothed to you? Then for some reason, it was broken off. You were quite young then, weren't you? To have an engagement publicly broken... it must have been... quite difficult to bear.”
Han Muchun’s voice held no obvious mockery. Instead, it carried a seemingly genuine concern and regret, as if she were merely bringing up an old story and sighing for the other person.
But her eyes never left Bai Qingxue’s face. Her gaze carefully swept over Bai Qingxue’s brows and the corners of her mouth, waiting for even the tiniest crack to appear on that ice-like countenance.
Upon hearing this, Bai Qingxue simply raised her eyes to look at Han Muchun.
The moonlight fell into Bai Qingxue’s pale pupils, making those eyes appear even more translucent, like two deep pools covered in thin ice.
She did not avoid the gaze, nor did she lower her eyelashes. Even the rhythm of her breathing did not change.
She just looked at Han Muchun for about two breaths before speaking calmly.
“Is Senior Sister Han here for tomorrow’s match?”
The words she suddenly spoke were like a thin, sharp ice blade, cutting through the facade of conversation.
The curve of Han Muchun’s lips faltered slightly.
That tiny pause was like a wrong note played on a string. Although she quickly recovered her composure, it was enough for both of them to understand the truth.
Bai Qingxue looked at her and continued, “Senior Sister Han need not take such a long way around. Victory or defeat will be decided on the arena tomorrow. There is no need for such talk.”
Han Muchun’s fingers, folded in front of her, moved slightly.
The smile remained on her face, but the layer of gentle light in her eyes had faded, replaced by a faint, almost unexpected seriousness.
She re-evaluated the woman in the frost-white robes before her.
Many years ago in Yunzhou, she had just been a quiet little girl. But the person standing in the moonlight now seemed to have changed a great deal.
Silence hung between the two for a few breaths.
Han Muchun straightened up, withdrawing her weight from the doorframe. The gentle smile on her face dimmed, though it did not completely disappear.
She looked at Bai Qingxue and said softly:
“Perhaps you should be grateful for that broken engagement.”
With that, Han Muchun turned and left. Her dark-green hem brushed against the stone floor of the corridor, her footsteps a bit faster than when she arrived, and she soon vanished around the corner at the end of the hall.
Bai Qingxue stood in place, watching the figure be swallowed by the night. The moonlight leaked through the small patch of open sky outside the doorframe, falling on her shoulders and dyeing the frost-white fabric a soft silver-gray.
Bai Qingxue stood for a moment, then turned and closed the door.
Returning to the bed, Bai Qingxue sat cross-legged again, her hands resting on her knees, preparing to continue her meditation.
Suddenly, she paused.
She turned her head, her gaze shifting toward the thin wall. On the other side was Lu Xueqing’s room, which was currently silent, with no sound to be heard.
But Bai Qingxue knew that with Lu Xueqing’s cultivation and alertness, it was impossible for her not to have heard Han Muchun standing at the door and talking for so long.
There was indeed no movement next door. No sound of a door opening, no deliberately heavy footsteps. It was so quiet it seemed as if no one was in that room at all.
But Bai Qingxue’s gaze lingered on the thin wall for a few extra breaths.
Then she withdrew her gaze, closed her eyes, and began to circulate her spiritual power again.
The pale blue spiritual light once more seeped from her fingertips, winding around the Frost Moon Chant.
Next door, Lu Xueqing sat on the edge of her bed, holding her scabbard. Her fingertips moved back and forth, tracing the lines of the scabbard's mouth.
She had heard every word Han Muchun said.
“Yunzhou broken engagement,” “that young master of the Lin family,” “publicly broken engagement.”
Those words were like a blunt knife, cutting into Lu Xueqing’s heart over and over again.
She thought of the dazed expression Bai Qingxue sometimes had when she fell silent. She remembered how Bai Qingxue would sometimes gaze into the distance without moving or speaking, and how she would sit alone in a corner to meditate, not relying on or paying attention to anyone.
Before, she only thought it was a natural coldness. Now she realized what might be contained within those silences.
Lu Xueqing’s fingers tightened around the scabbard.
She felt a pang of heartache—heartache for the humiliation Bai Qingxue faced when her engagement was publicly broken, and heartache for those days she had not been a part of and that Bai Qingxue had never mentioned.
But after the heartache, a thicker and heavier sourness filled her chest.
Junior Sister Bai had never told her anything.
Not even a single word, not even a name. This person had pressed all the old stories beneath the surface of the ice, never letting anyone see them.
Clearly, she had finally gathered the courage to ask about Junior Sister Bai’s past before.
But Junior Sister Bai was unwilling to tell her anything.
Was Junior Sister Bai really deceiving her after all...?
Lu Xueqing lowered her head, her forehead resting against the cold scabbard.
Suddenly, Lu Xueqing understood.
What she wanted.
What she wanted wasn't for Bai Qingxue to tell her everything. She wanted Bai Qingxue to be willing to bring those heavy things up from beneath the ice, and for the first person she sought out to be her.
But what if Bai Qingxue never brought them up?
Lu Xueqing closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, the sourness had subsided, suppressed by something more determined.
She laid her sword across her knees and slowly stood up. She walked to the thin wall and pressed her palm against the cold surface.
Forget it.
If she didn't know, then she didn't know. She couldn't erase the past she didn't know about for Bai Qingxue.
But she could stand below the stage for tomorrow’s match, and she could stay by her side in the days to come.
The past couldn't be changed, but people still moved forward.
But why... why did her heart feel so miserable?
Lu Xueqing removed her hand from the wall, returned to sit by the bed, laid her sword across her knees, and began to meditate.
Spiritual power flowed slowly through her meridians, calming the surging thoughts in her heart layer by layer.
She knew that tomorrow’s arena match was very important.
On the other side of the thin wall, the pale blue spiritual light flickered faintly on the floor, visible through the sliver of light beneath the door.
The sea breeze poured in from the window, making the flame of the oil lamp shake again and again before finally stabilizing, burning with a warm yellow light in the silence.
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