A sound like the splitting of heaven and earth thundered, and before him, a fissure resembling a black hole appeared in the air. Like cracks formed by the flash of lightning and twisting of dragons and snakes, it spread irregularly.
Yet within, faint dots of energy escaped, carrying the profound meanings of emptiness, vastness, and majesty, making anyone who laid eyes upon it tremble in fear.
Chen Jichuan focused intently, activating his ’Insight Skill’ to observe the depths of the darkness.
A surge of terror came.
It was as if a bolt of lightning cut through the void, streaking straight toward Chen Jichuan, threatening to obliterate him into dust.
Chen Jichuan’s heart sank.
With a quick thought, he hurriedly logged off.
Deep within Qinling Mountains, atop Feiyun Mountain.
Wang Yan sat alone at the mountain peak, staring dazedly into the boundless sky, her face showing a trace of weariness.
At the base of the mountain, some disciples of the Taixu Sword Sect caught sight of the silhouette atop the peak, and one by one, sighed quietly.
The Taixu Three Ancestors were famed far and wide.
Rumors had always swirled, saying that among the Three Ancestors, Grandmaster Wang Yan and Grandmaster Wang Shan had been childhood friends, sharing a deep bond. Grandmaster Wang Shan had roamed far and wide year-round, and Grandmaster Wang Yan had always followed in his footsteps.
But alas, the falling blossoms pine, while the running water is unfeeling.
Grandmaster Wang Yan’s deeply rooted love for Grandmaster Wang Shan was unrequited, as he saw her merely as a niece of his own family.
Until the end of their lives, he never gave her any formal acknowledgment.
After Grandmaster Wang Shan achieved the rank of Supreme, he silently shattered the void and ascended beyond the heavens.
He left behind only Grandmaster Wang Yan, who grew pale and haggard.
All the disciples cultivating in Feiyun Mountain had witnessed Grandmaster Wang Shan at the mountain’s peak practicing his punches, tearing open the void and leaping through, disappearing from this world.
No further news followed.
Grandmaster Wang Yan could not witness the scene firsthand. She arrived afterward and had been sitting desolately atop Feiyun Mountain, the place of Wang Shan’s ascension.
She neither ate nor drank, growing increasingly frail.
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"One is devoted, while the other is heartless. Such a fateful tragedy!"
The disciples at the foot of the mountain sighed gently, shaking their heads, unwilling to watch further.
Wang Yan remained sitting in solitude.
From dawn to noon, and from noon till dusk.
The sun began to set.
Another day was about to pass.
Amid the glowing sunset clouds, Wang Yan caught sight of a familiar figure—an endlessly yearned-for face abruptly appearing before her.
Momentarily forgetting to speak.
"Why are you sitting out here?"
Chen Jichuan had been hiding outside for an hour, and upon entering, he saw Wang Yan sitting on a rock, looking exhausted. He couldn’t help but speak.
He suddenly realized, and couldn’t help but laugh at himself: "You thought I ascended?"
Shattering the void and disappearing suddenly—it truly was easy for people to misunderstand, to think he’d ascended beyond the heavens.
"Even if I were to ascend, I’d say my farewells to you and Brother Qingshan."
"How could I leave without a word?"
Chen Jichuan shook his head and walked forward, intending to help Wang Yan up.
Yet Wang Yan moved first—
Wang Yan sprang to her feet, wrapped her arms around Chen Jichuan, buried her face into his chest, and called out twice before breaking down in tears, sobbing in his embrace: "I thought you were gone. They all said you shattered the void and ascended to the Immortal Realm. I was so heartbroken, I missed you so much..."
Chen Jichuan stood there still.
On his chest, there was a faint dampness.
This was one of the rare occasions he had seen Wang Yan cry—he vaguely remembered the last time was when Wang Ji’s elderly parents passed away together.
That time, Wang Yan had knelt beside their bed, crying in the same way, unable to hold back her tears.
Chen Jichuan softly patted Wang Yan’s back, feeling for the first time the tenderness within her strength.
Wang Yan was no longer the ’Lightning Sword,’ the ’Heavenly Tribulation Sword,’ or one of the ’Revival Three Ancestors.’ She was simply a small, pitiable, helpless woman, carrying the burdens of unrequited love for two hundred years and a heart full of grievances.
"I won’t let you go!"
Wang Yan unexpectedly showed a flash of temper, clinging tightly to Chen Jichuan, unwilling to let go for even a moment.
Chen Jichuan agreed with her, humoring her.
Li Qingshan hurried over, caught sight of the scene, exchanged glances with Chen Jichuan, his eyes filled with joy. Then, sensibly, he turned and left again.
Leaving the two some space.
No one knew how much time had passed.
The sun had completely set, a crescent moon had risen, and the sky was cloudy and dim, yet not fully dark.
Wang Yan had finished crying.
Sitting close to Chen Jichuan, she had calmed her emotions and dried her tears. Tilting her head slightly, she gazed at his profile, meeting his eyes, half-curious and half-playful, she asked, "Junior Master, all these years avoiding women, with only me by your side—have you really never felt anything for me?"
Four hundred years of silent companionship.
Wang Yan had been waiting all along.
But after this misunderstanding, after breaking down completely, Wang Yan had finally come to a realization. Summoning her courage, she voiced the question aloud.
Her life span was nearing its end.
Junior Master was about to ascend.
If she didn’t ask now, she feared she would carry this unresolved longing to the grave, regretting it for eternity.
Chen Jichuan lowered his head slightly, meeting Wang Yan’s gaze.
Compared to the days back in Pengshan City and Xiyu City, her eyes were no longer as bright and lively. Traces of time had left their mark, revealing hints of cloudiness.
Four hundred long years.
Although her appearance had scarcely changed, she had endured too much, and her life was nearing its end.
The once youthful girl was finally growing old.
Through Wang Yan’s eyes, Chen Jichuan saw longing, saw admiration, saw stubbornness, and saw sorrow.
Her eyes carried an overwhelming depth of emotions.
They seemed a bit clouded, as though veiled by a layer of mist, dimming the vibrance and mischief of days past.