But on one side, Qingyin didn’t even sway in the slightest.

While the heaven and earth were shaking, there was something indescribably strange and unique about her demeanor.

Li Xun hadn’t fallen hard, but the impact left him dizzy and disoriented. Lying face down on the ground, he couldn’t get up right away.

Only after the shaking stopped did he manage to roll over onto his back, gasping for air.

Just then, a gentle warmth brushed across his face. He opened his eyes, only to be dazzled by the light of the rising sun.

The sky above was a flawless blue, not a single cloud in sight. It was the kind of warm winter day you rarely see.

Li Xun felt a deep laziness settle over his body, but his senses had sharpened to a degree that surprised even him.

He could feel the flow of qi mechanisms in the air. It was far clearer and more vivid than ever before. Under that clear sky, countless threads of qi mechanisms, familiar yet strange, weaved through one another, leaping and dancing with life. They shimmered with a vitality he'd never sensed before.

A faint, continuous humming echoed in the air around him. It stirred the true breath within his own body, setting it gently pulsing. His blood responded, flowing with ease, bringing a rare and soothing relief.

He let out a low groan, tempted to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

And just then, the soft voice of Qingyin entered his ears, “Primordial qi resonates, the subtle sounds of heaven and earth… He’s finally leaving.“

Li Xun’s body jolted as he suddenly flipped over and sat upright, eyes wide, staring toward Guantian Peak. But there was nothing to see. Zhong Yin’s tall, lean figure had already disappeared beyond the reach of the naked eye.

But there was this  strong feeling that he was still there.

In that moment, countless eyes were on the peak. But the strange and wondrous changes unfolding didn’t slow down in the slightest, no matter how many were watching.

The deep humming that had filled the world slowly faded away. The once-vivid flow of qi mechanisms dissolved back into the background, as quiet and subtle as it had always been.

Suddenly, a brilliant arc of light flared across Guantian Peak, followed by a clear, ringing note of a sword. There was a trace of sorrow in that sound.

Li Xun couldn’t even describe what happened in that instant. He felt his mind go blank, as if something had been pulled from deep within him; torn away and gone forever.

Even before the final echo of the sword’s cry faded, a stream of azure qi descended from the sky. It was faint, almost the same color as the sky itself. Then came a second. A third. All the way to the ninth.

Nine streams of qi hung down. The heavenly path revealed.

As a passage from the ancient texts rose in his memory, a second sword cry rang out from the peak. A dim streak of light shot into the air, arced, then fell. It headed straight for Zhiguan Peak.

A clear bell sound rang out softly, and as its long echo faded, the hanging azure qi gradually shrank bit by bit.

And across all seventy-two peaks of Lianxia, a chorus of bells suddenly rang out in waves. The watching cultivators joined their voices in chants and sacred verses, offering blessings and praise. The air was thick with solemn reverence.

Up on this icy peak, everything was unusually quiet.

Qingyin stood. Li Xun sat. Neither of them spoke.

The last wisp of azure light finally melted into the sky. At that exact moment, the morning sun rose high, and hundreds of rays spilled across the land.

Li Xun squinted against the light, then turned to glance at Qingyin, intending to offer her a few words of comfort. But as his eyes passed over her face, he saw something unexpected. Her lips and cheeks lit by the sunlight, forming an expression he couldn’t quite name.

Sadness? Relief? Joy?

Li Xun felt that maybe only Zhong Yin coming down to the mortal world could answer that.

The ripple effects of Zhong Yin’s ascension were, for now, being held in check by the steady hand of the Mingxin Sword Sect.

Though hidden currents of unrest stirred across the Tongxuan Realm. And many old enemies Zhong Yin had once crushed were now sharpening their blades. Overall, things were still under control.

Outwardly, the sect maintained a calm front. Training and cultivation outside the mountain continued as usual, though now every group of disciples sent out to temper themselves was accompanied by two or three powerful Immortal Masters. Unless someone had the misfortune of running into something like the demon phoenix that ambushed Lin Ge, the safety risk was low.

Meanwhile, back at the sect’s main gate, work was underway to upgrade the restrictive formations. As Qingming had mentioned before, Li Xun had been brought into the core team handling the upgrades.

Among the entire planning group, he was the only third-generation disciple.

It took Qingming’s bold eye for talent, and the collective approval of the entire Mingxin Sword Sect, for this to happen.

And on that front, Li Xun had done remarkably well. The Immortal Masters had all seen his potential firsthand, and the newly recorded "Single Stick of Incense” formation, now entered into the sect's official archives, was enough to quiet most of the disciples’ doubts.

From then on, Li Xun’s days became a blur of activity. His schedule was so packed it felt like his heels were about to smack the back of his head as he ran around.

As a junior, he not only had to help the Immortal Masters work through complex restriction patterns inside the planning rooms, but also, as a matter of course, had to take on a pile of minor, tedious; but absolutely essential “miscellaneous” duties.

Things like terrain mapping, wind and weather analysis, and field verification. He was constantly flying between the seventy-two peaks of Lianxia. There wasn’t anyone in the entire sect busier than him.

This chaos lasted all the way until the day the restrictions were officially deployed. And that was half a month later.

That day, several hundred disciples from Mingxin Sword Sect mobilized at once. Under the guidance of the Immortal Masters, they began upgrading over a hundred key formations that guarded the sect inside and out.

It was a breathtaking sight. Hundreds of sword-lights soared and streaked across the sky, with countless threads of qi mechanisms crossing and intertwining in midair, triggering wave after wave of primordial qi vibrations: so much so that even the famed colorful clouds of Lianxia Mountain were forced to disperse in the shockwaves.

Having just finished adjusting an unstable qi mechanism, Li Xun wiped the sweat from his brow and rose into the air. Hovering above, he surveyed the formation site from high overhead.

His area of responsibility was Bijian Peak, which sat next to Zhiguan Peak. It held a key position in the entire protective system. Among the Seven Swords of Lianxia, both Mingji and Mingde were also present here, but when it came to the actual execution of the work, they had no choice but to serve as his assistants.

Mingji had always thought highly of him, and Mingde was straightforward by nature, so when Li Xun gave orders without much deference, things went surprisingly smoothly.

He truly valued this opportunity. After all, being able to lead dozens of fellow disciples, including two senior Immortal Masters, wasn’t something that came around often. So he threw himself into the work with even more energy.

Saying he handled everything personally would be a stretch, but it was true that whenever a problem came up, no one responded faster than he did.

During the inspections, whenever his eyes happened to meet those of a senior brother, he would offer a polite smile. Even though he held the highest position on site, his demeanor remained humble.

In a demonic sect, this kind of attitude would’ve been seen as weakness. An open invitation to be bullied. But in the Mingxin Sword Sect, it only helped solidify his reputation.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto something, and a wry, half-smiling, half-exasperated look crossed his face. He pressed his lips together, sighed inwardly, and flew over.

Clapping the man on the shoulder, he said softly, “Senior Brother Shan, something’s changed over here. Let me take a look.”

Shan Zhi, drenched in sweat and clearly overwhelmed, instantly understood that Li Xun was giving him a graceful way out. He stepped aside with obvious relief, though he still tried to save face, muttering, “No wonder it was acting weird. Good thing you’re here, junior brother.”

Li Xun knew that Shan Zhi definitely had the talent for cultivation. The problem was, he'd never been one to work hard at it.

He’d only been accepted as a disciple under Ming Song because that “mad experimenter” of a master had taken an interest in his unique physique, which happened to be perfectly suited to a newly developed technique. Ming Song had bent the rules to take him on.

And in order to test the full potential of that new technique, the master had even forcibly boosted Shan Zhi’s cultivation level beyond what he was ready for, leaving his foundation unstable.

Over the past few years, Ming Song had taken quite a few scoldings from Qingming over this issue. Feeling ashamed, he had tried to make up for it, but Shan Zhi’s mindset had already become so restless that he couldn’t focus. Progress was slow, and he’d fallen behind in his studies more than a little.

On normal days, the problem didn’t show. But in situations that actually called for real skill, it became clear he was in over his head. This was already the fourth time today that Li Xun had to step in and cover for him.

Li Xun disdained his prideful need to save face, but he kept a smile on his face anyway.

Truthfully, it would’ve only taken him a few moments to straighten things out, but to spare Shan Zhi the embarrassment, he pretended to fumble a bit and wasted some time doing things that didn’t really need doing.

Shan Zhi, of course, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He kept trying to chat, and Li Xun responded half-heartedly, already growing tired of the whole thing.

“Hey, did you hear?” Shan Zhi suddenly lowered his voice, adding a tone of forced secrecy. Li Xun gave him a curious look.

Shan Zhi glanced around to make sure no other sect members were within a few dozen steps, then leaned in and whispered, “Wenhai’s been in a pretty bad mood lately.”

Because there was Qi Bi between them, and also because Li Xun already knew the full story, Shan Zhi felt bold enough to call their senior brother by name.

It was clear now that his unrequited feelings for Qi Bi had begun to affect the people around him. Li Xun had noticed this shift a while ago.

He caught the smug tone in Shan Zhi’s voice and shot him a warning look, telling him to cut it out.

But Shan Zhi was in high spirits today, and whatever little bit of respect he’d recently started to show Li Xun had already faded.

Shan Zhi grinned, then quickly put on a serious face. “Junior Brother, I’m not just gossiping here. This actually concerns you.”

Li Xun paused what he was doing and raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Exactly!” Shan Zhi’s eyes lit up at his reaction, clearly enjoying himself. Still, he kept up a show of grave seriousness.

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘The tall tree catches the wind’? You’ve been getting way too much attention lately.”

If Li Xun couldn’t pick up on the real meaning behind that, he might as well have wasted all these years of experience.

And he could see through most of what was going on in Shan Zhi’s mind, too.

He scoffed inwardly. This wasn’t just about attracting attention. More like “setting the tiger on the wolf.”

He wasn’t surprised Shan Zhi would be thinking this way. After all, once someone falls under the influence of his Guiding Ghostlight technique, it’s only natural for their thoughts to start twisting inward.

What Shan Zhi didn’t know was that Li Xun had laid a trap for him months ago. If he ever wanted to, he could expose Shan Zhi completely; ruin his reputation and leave him with nowhere to run.

What actually puzzled Li Xun was something else: Wenhai. A man known for his broad-mindedness and integrity, suddenly showing signs of distrust toward him?

To be fair, in recent months, he had been standing out a lot… maybe too much. Especially with how often he’d been seen around Qi Bi.

But Wenhai wasn’t an idiot. He had to understand how Qi Bi felt. And besides, his sights were clearly set on becoming the sect leader in the generation after next. That position doesn't go to whoever happens to be in the spotlight the most.

If it did, the current sect leader wouldn’t be Daoist Qingming; it would’ve been Zhong Yin, the unparalleled Divine Sword.

Still, Shan Zhi’s claims didn’t seem completely baseless. If they were, they’d just be too clumsy to take seriously.

Could it be that Wenhai really wasn’t as sharp as Li Xun had thought?

Unable to make sense of it just yet, Li Xun decided to quickly finish the task at hand. Once done, he grabbed Shan Zhi and pulled him aside, planning to get to the bottom of things. And maybe drop a few hints of his own in the process.

He had no intention of stirring up trouble, but in a place as sensitive as this, it always felt better to have a card up his sleeve than to rely on promises.

Just as the two of them were about to find a quiet spot to talk, a flash of sword light streaked across the sky. It moved so fast. Li Xun looked up, and he recognized it right away. It was none other than the hot-tempered Mingde.

Something stirred in him. He quickly told Shan Zhi they’d talk later, summoned his own sword light, and soared into the air, only to run right into Mingji, who was just about to take off.

“Fourth Martial Aunt?” he asked in surprise.

Mingji glanced at him and gave a quick smile. But unlike her usual sharp, straightforward demeanor, the smile this time felt forced.

Li Xun grew even more curious and was about to press her, but she cut him off with a smile and said, “The sect leader needs a word with me. I’m leaving everything here in your hands. Don’t let pride hold you back. Remember, they may all be your senior brothers, but you’re the one in charge here. Don’t forget that.”

That was a terrible joke. Nothing funny about it at all. Li Xun had rarely seen Mingji brush off a question so clumsily. He gave a vague response out of courtesy but was about to press further when she vanished in a flash, not giving him the chance.

Still full of questions, Li Xun hovered in the air, looking down at the peak. Most of the disciples had stopped whatever they were doing and were looking at each other in confusion. Their expressions were strange. Some even stunned. A few of the junior female disciples had red-rimmed eyes, clearly fighting back tears.

Li Xun was even more puzzled now. He descended quickly and grabbed a familiar senior brother to ask what was going on. The answer he got left him stunned:

“Immortal Master Qingyin just sent word down… She said she has no lingering attachments, and she’s entered a death seclusion.”

This senior brother, normally known for his stoicism, let out a long, shaken sigh.

But as he looked down in sorrow, he failed to notice that Li Xun, standing right in front of him, had gone utterly pale. His face drained of all color in an instant.

Li Xun’s state was strange. His mind was a complete blank. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, but everything happening around him still came through with stark clarity.

Disciples on the peak had begun murmuring in small groups, exchanging thoughts in low voices.

“It has to be for love… Immortal Master Qingyin must’ve chosen this after seeing Immortal Master Zhong Yin ascend.”

“They really were the perfect pair… If it weren’t for that wretched Jade Wanderer…”

“After everything she went through, only Zhong Yin could’ve comforted her. And now that he’s gone from this world, there’s nothing left here for her.”

"Jade Wanderer’s a curse on this world! Why didn’t Heaven strike him down during the Forty-Ninth Tribulation?"

Voices poured into Li Xun’s mind, echoing back and forth, shaking him awake. Slowly, he began to snap out of his daze. He opened his mouth, on the verge of shouting at them. These clueless idiots, spewing nonsense they didn’t understand.

That’s not what happened at all! Those two hadn’t seen each other in over a thousand years. Qingyin hated Zhong Yin. There was no way she would die for him.

Qingyin didn’t love Zhong Yin. She loved... she loved Jade Wanderer. Or rather, she used to love Jade Wanderer. And now… now…

No. No, that’s impossible. Zhong Yin entrusted her to me. Qingyin promised me. Zhong Yin couldn’t have been wrong. And Qingyin... she wouldn’t lie to me.

That’s it. This must be a mistake. Someone got it wrong. Or something happened. Something changed. Something… What the hell actually happened?

“How could this happen?”

Li Xun didn’t even know how he made it back to Zhiguan Peak. He didn’t know if anyone had seen him lose control. All he knew was that he was sitting on his bed now, hands clenched and pressed to his lips, teeth gnawing unconsciously on his fingers, trying to use the pain to stay grounded.

When the pain finally spiked past his limit, Li Xun abruptly stood up, fully alert, and stormed out of the room.

Right now, there was only one thing on his mind:

Fly to Zuowang Peak. Find Qingyin. And demand to know what the hell she was thinking.