Chapter 20: This Is Getting Interesting

Twenty or so needles, Xiao Che moved with the ease of a practiced hand, yet as beads of sweat formed on his brow, his left hand trembled slightly, and his motions slowed noticeably. Once, a single breath had sufficed to drive a needle home; now, it required several. After thirty needles, each took longer still.

If Summer Qingyue were to glance back, she would notice that Xiao Che had used only his left hand for every insertion. He was not a left-hander, nor was his left hand his stronger one. It was the Azure Demon Pearl embedded in his palm, its surface reflecting the needle’s path.

With each silver needle’s entry, the pearl flickered faintly. Its power seeped silently into Qingyue’s body. This force was not poison, but a purifying energy. The Azure Demon Pearl could cleanse all poisons—both the lethal and the mundane impurities within the body. Yet this was no mere physical cleansing. Its true purpose, the reason Xiao Che had labored so to treat Qingyue today, was to "refine her spiritual essence."

Dispelling coldness and unblocking meridians were mere pretenses. What he truly sought was to elevate Qingyue’s inner self.

One minute passed. Ten. A quarter-hour slipped by.

Wisps of cold energy rose from the silver needles, and after two full minutes, fifty-four needles had pierced Qingyue’s back. At last, Xiao Che’s hand paused, but only briefly—less than half a minute—before he thrust both hands forward, yanking a single silver needle free with sudden speed. In the blink of an eye, all fifty-four needles vanished from her back.

Qingyue’s snow-white back remained unmarred, as pristine as untouched jade under Xiao Che’s mastery.

“It’s done,” he murmured, withdrawing the needles. A long sigh escaped him.

The moment the needles were pulled free, Qingyue felt as though she had drifted into paradise. A warmth spread through her, comforting and strange, making her wonder if it were truly her own body.

She adjusted her robes, then activated her Xuanli. When the Ice Cloud Technique surged forth, she nearly stumbled—her Xuanli responded with an almost imperceptible speed, flowing through her veins with a fluidity that surpassed her previous limits.

Four years of cultivation had left her often struggling to master the technique. Now, she knew with certainty that her body had reached a new tier. Her progress would naturally ascend a level.

Overjoyed yet stunned by this outcome, she marveled at Xiao Che’s words, which had come true—and surpassed even his promises. She trusted that if her master saw her now, he would be equally astounded.

“Now… do you believe me?”

Xiao Che’s voice echoed in her ear, hoarse and weak. Qingyue turned, seeing him slumped against the bedpost, his face pale as death, his clothes and brow soaked with sweat.

A sharp pang struck her heart—a fleeting pain like a needle’s prick. It stirred an odd emotion in her chest, a pity for this man she had no bond with, yet whose efforts for her stirred something unspoken.

“I believe you’re a miracle worker,” she said, her gaze heavy with complexity. “The entire Flowing Cloud City underestimated you. Yet you possess such power… but you knew I had no feelings for you. Even after a month, I’d leave forever. Why reveal this to me? Why go to such lengths?”

An enormous favor.

“Three reasons,” Xiao Che gasped, his face creased with a tired smile. “Almost everyone scorns me. You, however, have the power to scorn me—and yet you strive to uphold my dignity. Last night, fearing for me, you sought me out and left a blanket at my door. For those who care for me, I will care for them tenfold.”

Qingyue remained silent.

“The second reason… you are my wife.”

Qingyue opened her mouth but could not speak.

“The third, and most important…” His smile grew mischievous. “I think you look particularly beautiful when you’re undressed.”

She had always scorned his lewd words, but now, seeing his pale, smirking face, she could not summon anger.

“That’s all,” he said, extending his hand toward the medicine jar he’d brought. “My wife, pour out the liquid inside and drink it.”

Qingyue met his gaze, unasked questions lingering, and drank the potion in one gulp.

“This is merely the first of seven refinements. To maintain this state, six more are needed. Each should be taken at midnight, when the world’s negative energy peaks. The effects will be strongest then. Whether to continue is your choice.”

He finished speaking, then closed his eyes. His body was truly exhausted—not feigned.

“Rest well,” Qingyue whispered, her expression a maze of emotions. She left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

In the courtyard, she raised her hands, examining her palms. Her thoughts swirled.

What kind of man was he, really?

At least… I’ve misunderstood him. The entire Flowing Cloud City has, too…

After Qingyue departed, Xiao Che’s body slumped fully against the bed, unmoving. His lips murmured incoherently:

“She’s… so weak. Even refining her spiritual essence drained me… If the Patriarch knew I’d seen her undressed, he’d probably descend from the heavens to scold me. After all… I could sew needles through cloth at thirteen. By fifteen, I did it with my eyes closed… Sleep…”

……………………

Since receiving Xiao Sect’s letter, the entire Xiao Sect had been steeped in an unprecedented atmosphere of tension. The gatekeeper, elders, and officials labored day and night, fearing even the slightest oversight. The younger generation, fueled by fervor, trained relentlessly, dreaming of breakthroughs that might secure their place in the sect.

Yet none of this concerned Xiao Che, who remained the most idle of them all.

That day, in the mountains behind Xiao Sect’s grounds.

A burial ground the sect had carved into the rear hills. Those who died within the sect were laid to rest here.

Xiao Hui stood before a gravestone, his white hair streaming in the wind, his face etched with sorrow. The wind howled around him, cold and mournful.

The inscription read: *Xiao Eagle*.

“My son… I know your childhood dream—to fulfill our ancestor’s wish, to restore our neglected lineage. Now, at last, such a chance arrives… but sixteen years too late.”

Xiao Hui’s gaze wavered. He stood rigid, murmuring almost unconsciously:

“I know, even after all these years, you still cling to many memories… my son Xiao Che was born with a crippled spiritual root. That’s fine. He’ll live a life of obscurity, free from conflict and grudges. Now, he’s grown and has a family. I pray he remains safe and content… Though not by blood, he was spared by your lives, and I’ll do all I can to protect him.”

*Click.*

A sharp sound pierced the air. Xiao Hui jolted, snapping back to awareness. He turned, shouting: “Who’s there?”

His voice echoed, and Xiao Yu Long emerged from behind a towering tree at the burial ground’s center. Xiao Hui blinked, stepped forward, and bowed formally: “Yu Long has the honor of serving Fifth Elder… I apologize for disturbing him.”

Xiao Hui’s expression shifted, his earlier grief momentarily forgotten. “Yu Long, why are you here?”

“Fifth Elder, the messenger from Xiao Sect arrives tomorrow. Father believes this matter will alter our sect’s fate, so I came to inform our departed Patriarch. I apologize for the intrusion.”

Xiao Hui’s voice hardened. “Did you hear what I was saying?”

His presence radiated an inscrutable power. Xiao Yu Long’s face paled. “Fifth Elder, I’ve only just arrived. If not for your voice, I wouldn’t have noticed you—or heard your words. If you wish me gone, I’ll leave at once!”

Xiao Hui saw no deception in his subordinate’s eyes, his aura subsiding, his expression softening: “Never mind. The messenger comes tomorrow. You’re the most likely candidate to lead our sect’s revival.”

“Fifth Elder’s words are weighty. I’m honored,” Xiao Yu Long bowed.

Xiao Hui nodded, then departed.

After he left, Xiao Yu Long’s expression grew thoughtful. He pressed his right hand to his chin, murmuring: “Hmm… if this is true, it could be… interesting.”

………………………………………………

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