Chapter 3

Immortal Venerable.

As the title escaped his lips, An Wuxue momentarily faltered.

Since he had become Su Xue, Xie Zhefeng had never returned to Luoyue Peak.

Facing the mountain gate in broad daylight, he still regarded the person before him as the cold-hearted, indifferent junior apprentice brother. While all the cultivators bowed, he stood on the long steps, unwilling to see him again, and remained silent.

Until this moment.

This was the first time he addressed Xie Zhefeng as “Immortal Venerable” to his face.

In the past, no matter the time—even when Xie Zhefeng’s cultivation surpassed his—he had only ever called him “junior apprentice brother.”

After all, Xie Zhefeng was the entire cultivation world’s Chuhan Immortal Venerable, but still only his junior apprentice brother.

Now, with that one word “Immortal Venerable” spoken, it was as if an invisible sharp sword had suddenly appeared from nowhere, piercing through the dense fog in his heart, completely severing the ties between him and Xie Zhefeng, and cleansing the tangled emotions he had been unable to sort out since awakening.

Suddenly, he was no longer confused.

Even though Xie Zhefeng was right in front of him—so what?

The “An Wuxue” on either side of him was already dead.

As long as he carefully concealed the true identity of the soul within this shell, and found a chance to quietly leave, the past would remain nothing more than the past.

Xie Zhefeng could be Xie Zhefeng, the Chuhan Sword Venerable; he could be Su Xue.

Everyone content.

In an instant, his thoughts cleared.

But even with this resolve, hearing the sound of Xie Zhefeng’s breath so close, memories accumulated over a thousand years surged like a violent storm. His intact chest ached sharply, and he couldn’t help but clutch his spirit pouch tighter.

Xie Zhefeng remained silent.

He didn’t want to sit in this awkward silence any longer. “Immortal Venerable, what brings you here at midnight?”

“The lights are dim. How do you know it is me?”

“This place is near the Frost Burial Sea, beside the Immortal Venerable’s cave dwelling. No one dares to cause trouble here. The only one who would enter my room at midnight is the Immortal Venerable.”

Xie Zhefeng said nothing.

Only then did An Wuxue notice that Xie Zhefeng sat motionless at the bedside, holding a slightly twitching furry creature.

—it was Kunkun!

Unlike its usual mischievous nature, Kunkun was silent in Xie Zhefeng’s hand, looking like a quail caught doing something wrong.

“...Immortal Venerable, are you here for it?”

Better that he wasn’t here for him.

“It saw you troubled by dreams, so it came at midnight to help you sleep.”

As a miasma beast skilled in spirit arts, he understood the moment he saw Kunkun.

Since Xie Zhefeng had found Kunkun, why hadn’t he left yet?

Could it be that he expected him to rise and see him off?

He hesitated, silent. Suddenly, the man’s voice grew solemn: “What troubles you so much in your dreams?”

Hearing this from Xie Zhefeng, An Wuxue felt his heart hollow.

What else could it be?

He knew that Xie Zhefeng suspected why Kunkun was drawn to him. Suppressing the chaotic emotions, he replied calmly, “I do not know. I was once a mortal, and after arriving at Luoyue, I felt uneasy. Perhaps I merely long for the mortal world.”

Xie Zhefeng remained silent. He could only sit in the corner between the bed and the wall, clutching the useless spirit pouch, waiting for Xie Zhefeng to leave.

Yet he still did not move.

Not only did he not move, but he seemed to be staring at him.

Naturally, Kunkun dared not move either.

An eerie silence settled over the room.

---

An Wuxue had no choice but to speak again: “...Immortal Venerable?”

Xie Zhefeng seemed to suddenly come to his senses. His sleeve moved slightly, and with the flow of spiritual energy, a light breeze stirred.

Two lotus-shaped lamps filled with luminous pearls descended on either side of the hut, casting a warm glow that immediately dispelled the dimness.

The man was indeed staring intently at him, his expression even more stunned than before. His black eyes lacked the sharp, icy resolve he displayed before many during the day. Instead, his gaze appeared dim, somewhat misty.

Such an expression was unlike the Chuhan Sword Venerable’s cold swordlight at the mountain gate in daylight, but resembled the junior apprentice brother he remembered practicing swordplay alongside.

An Wuxue immediately looked away, glancing up from Kunkun in the man’s hand.

Xie Zhefeng’s black hair was bound high with a deep blue headband engraved with runes and adorned with a white jade snowpin. He wore a white robe patterned with cloud motifs, a pale blue sash holding a spirit pouch, and silver-trimmed boots resting in the shadows beyond the light.

His gaze faltered, his expression stunned.

Had his eyes deceived him?

Why was Xie Zhefeng wearing this outfit?

Wasn’t this the robe he had given him?

After their master perished in the Immortal Calamity War, the realm was unstable, the Immortal Venerable seat vacant. Xie Zhefeng had hastily assumed the title, though he had cultivated for less than a century at that time. Despite his extraordinary power, his renown was not widespread, and the Chuhan Sword was not yet the awe-inspiring force it would become.

Being slightly older, An Wuxue felt it was his duty as senior brother to do something for the junior.

He ventured into the far northern secret realm, plucking snow and ice from the year-round frost atop ancient trees and forged it into a snowpin; then he traveled to the ancient starlit path, acquiring a nebula to weave the fabric; with a friend’s help, he finally crafted this ceremonial robe.

Everyone in the cultivation world said he was ruthless, decisive, and unrestrained, but no one knew that even the patterns on this robe had been carefully considered.

Before Xie Zhefeng’s succession, he had gifted him the robe with some trepidation, saying, “Junior, your cultivation is extraordinary but you are still young. Wearing something solemn before the sect leaders may enhance your authority. Do you like it?”

Xie Zhefeng had stared at the neatly folded robe and the jade pin atop it, pondering before saying, “Thank you, senior brother.”

With a wave of his sleeve, he had packed the robe into his spirit pouch.

And that was all.

Xie Zhefeng never wore it.

Years passed, and now Xie Zhefeng sat at his bedside in this cloud-patterned snow robe.

Perhaps he had forgotten its origins and took it up casually.

This man wore the robe he had given in a past life, sitting neatly by his bed. And he?

His hair was disheveled, his clothes untidy as he sat sideways in the cramped corner, a thin silk quilt barely covering his legs.

The sleeping clothes prepared by Luoyue Peak disciples were somewhat large on him, loose and baggy. His pale wrist was partly exposed, one hand clutching the spirit pouch, the other supporting his slightly reclined posture.

This position was especially tiring; he shifted slightly, and the ill-fitting garment slid at his shoulder, sending a chill through his collarbone.

He hurriedly tugged the quilt back up.

The man sitting upright at the bedside, noticing his discomfort, said, “When the Cloud Sword Sect sent you here, I had to leave the mountains abruptly and did not instruct you. But the sect should have explained why you are here.”

An Wuxue’s movements froze.

His eye twitched; he nearly lost control of his expression.

Of course, he knew.

Immortals share the same lifespan as heaven and earth, their hearts transparent, rarely troubled by demonic thoughts. Even those who pursue the path without emotion are no longer shackled after ascending. Xie Zhefeng could indeed practice dual cultivation with others.

Su Xue’s identity did not forbid dual cultivation.

But—

Concealing his identity was one thing; if he were to truly feign compliance and enter dual cultivation with Xie Zhefeng, it was absolutely impossible.

A sudden palpitation gripped him; his hand clutching the spirit pouch turned white from the strain.

Xie Zhefeng still watched him.

No longer holding Kunkun, the creature seized the opportunity to roll onto An Wuxue’s lap.

He quickly lowered his head to hide his expression, skillfully avoiding Kunkun’s sensitive belly, which disliked being touched, and gathered its limbs into his arms.

Suddenly, Xie Zhefeng said, “You know where it does not like to be touched.”

It was not a question, but a statement.

“Mew…”

He stroked Kunkun’s fur, his eyes moving gently as he said slowly, “When I came here during the day, I happened upon Kunkun and played with it for a while. Later, Master Xuan came and told me it was the Immortal Venerable’s spirit pet.”

His words were half-truths; even seeking Xuan Fang’s counsel would not clarify the matter.

Worried Xie Zhefeng might linger, he added, “I just arrived at Luoyue Peak; many things are unknown to me. I did not expect the Immortal Venerable to come tonight and was unprepared. So...”

Xie Zhefeng remained silent; whether he believed it or not was uncertain.

This person had always been this way—that much had not changed.

“Mew…”

Kunkun nudged his arm.

Only then did Xie Zhefeng say, “It likes you very much.”

“Perhaps we simply get along.”

Speaking the word “get along,” Xie Zhefeng’s eyes flickered.

His voice was low, almost as if speaking to himself rather than to him: “I hesitated before letting you stay.”

What did that mean?

Xie Zhefeng paused, then said, “Forget it.”

An Wuxue was speechless.

The man spoke abruptly and incomplete, then rose, picking up Kunkun, and said only, “You should sleep.”

Just as he had been hoping Xie Zhefeng would leave, a new thought struck him, and he hurriedly called out, “Immortal Venerable, wait!”

He wasn’t sure if he could stop him.

When Xie Zhefeng wanted to leave, no one could hold him back.

Yet Xie Zhefeng truly paused, turned slightly, and looked back at him, waiting for him to continue.

“This place is beside the Immortal Venerable’s cave, rich in spiritual energy, perfect for cultivation. I know your kindness, but I...” He softened his tone. “I am ignorant in cultivation, weak in power, low in status, and unworthy of such a precious place. Luoyue Peak is full of masters; many seniors come and go here. I feel uneasy. Could I be allowed to move to a more secluded, remote spot?”

This place was too close to Xie Zhefeng, causing too many restrictions and troubles.

He did not want to live so near him.

The longer he delayed, the harder it would be to bring up. Better to try now.

Unexpectedly, Xie Zhefeng looked at him with some puzzlement: “This place is chosen by me; no one dares to interfere. Do you have other concerns?”

He asked exactly what An Wuxue dared not answer.

He could only reply, “No... it’s just—”

“Then so be it.”

Before he finished, the man’s figure grew distant, a sweep of his sleeve, the door closed, blocking the frost wind and his view completely.

The two lotus lamps containing luminous pearls remained inside.

Luminous pearls, refined from fire essence, were not glaring but dispelled the cold within.

It was no longer as cold as before.

—

Outside the hut.

Xie Zhefeng carried Kunkun out and closed the door behind him. He then looked back once at the firmly shut door.

Kunkun struggled in his arms, seemingly wanting to return, murmuring, “Mew...”

Xie Zhefeng muttered to himself.

“No wonder you abandoned the Frost Sea with its rich spiritual energy to come here at midnight seeking him.”