Ling Qingshuang paid no attention to the various people trying to befriend her.
As soon as the competition ended, she followed the path in her memory back to the small courtyard on the west side of the city.
This was her home.
She pushed open the familiar wooden door.
Everything in the courtyard was exactly as it had been when she left.
The wind brushed under the eaves, bringing a familiar soft sound.
In the air, the comforting scent of earth mingled with the herbs growing in the corners.
Ye Chen was sitting on the stone bench beneath the old locust tree, holding a piece of warm wood in his hand, slowly carving something with a small knife.
Sunlight filtered through the sparse leaves, scattering mottled light across his body.
The scene was so peaceful, it looked like a painting.
Hearing footsteps, he paused, raised his head, and looked at her with clear eyes, a faint smile on his lips.
‘You’re back.’
“Sir.”
Ling Qingshuang walked to stand before him, lowering her head respectfully.
In her voice was a hint of disappointment even she hadn’t noticed.
“Disciple… failed to claim the top rank, and has disappointed Sir.”
To her, not defeating Xiao Liuli cleanly within a hundred moves was a failure—a betrayal of three years of her teacher’s guidance.
“Disappointed?”
Ye Chen was slightly taken aback, then laughed softly.
“You did not fail, so how could you have disappointed me?”
He set down the wooden carving in his hand, his voice gentle.
“Your sword has found its own path. And Xiao Liuli, her heart broke and was rebuilt, unfathomable. You two walk different Daos, but are already equal in realm. A draw in this battle only proves your strength—it is not your fault.”
His encouragement was like a warm current, instantly dispelling the gloom in Ling Qingshuang’s heart.
She raised her head.
A new light seemed to shine in her once-empty eyes.
“Thank you for your guidance, Sir.”
Ye Chen nodded.
He looked at the girl before him—now as graceful as bamboo after the rain—and felt a faint sense of pride, recalling the thorn-covered orphan from three years ago.
He thought, it was time.
“Qingshuang,”
His voice was still calm, but the words that followed would overturn her entire world.
“From this day forth, you, Ling Qingshuang, are no longer my Named Disciple.”
It was as if thunder exploded in Ling Qingshuang’s mind.
Yet after the thunder faded, an indescribable joy surged in.
No longer… a Named Disciple?
Did this mean…
She could finally become his true disciple?
For three years, she had dreamed of this moment—to stand by his side with rightful status, always able to listen to his teachings and feel his presence.
Her heartbeat quickened.
A blush crept up her cheeks, and even her breathing grew uneven.
She gripped the corner of her robe tightly, waiting, waiting for Sir’s next words—
“You are now my Formal Disciple.”
But time passed, little by little.
The courtyard was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind.
A long, long silence.
Sir did not speak again.
The surge of joy slowly cooled, solidified, and finally shattered into deep confusion.
Why…
Why did Sir stop?
Did I… misunderstand?
A cold chill, impossible to describe, rose from the depths of her heart, slowly but irresistibly spreading.
“Then… then I…”
Her voice trembled uncontrollably.
“Am I… already Sir’s Formal Disciple?”
She asked timidly, like a drowning person reaching for a final straw.
‘No.’
Ye Chen denied her guess.
His tone was calm, almost cruel.
“Your innate Sword Heart has stabilized.
The Emotional Shackles have been broken.
You have also gained entry qualification to Qingyun Sacred Land.
The path to immortality before you is bright and unimpeded.
These three years in Qingyang City were but a short chapter in your life’s journey.
Now, this trial has reached its conclusion.”
Every word was heavy, pounding into Ling Qingshuang’s heart.
She heard nothing of what followed.
Her world lost all sound and light, leaving only a few words echoing madly in the endless darkness.
Sir doesn’t want me anymore.
Sir doesn’t want me anymore.
Sir… doesn’t want me anymore…
Just like three years ago.
Her sect destroyed, her mentors slaughtered, cast out by the world.
She thought she’d grasped the only light left, but now even that light was pushing her away.
She stood frozen.
Her face was pale.
In her empty eyes, the last trace of spirit vanished.
“Qingshuang?”
Ye Chen finally noticed something was wrong.
He frowned, reaching out to gently shake her cold shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
The light touch was like a switch, breaking her strained nerves.
Silent tears fell down her vacant eyes.
She cried.
“Sir…”
Her voice was choked, full of a child’s helpless fear of abandonment.
“Is it… is it because Qingshuang wasn’t good enough?
Is it because I didn’t take first place, that Sir is angry?”
I don’t want this Qingyun Sacred Land status…
I don’t want to go anywhere…
“I just… I just want to stay by your side, Sir… Please, don’t drive me away…”
All the longing, admiration, and feelings of the past three years erupted at once.
She had long since made this man before her the meaning of her life—the only place she belonged.
Ye Chen looked at her tear-streaked face and, for once, felt a trace of confusion.
What is this?
To untie the knot, break through the barriers, and embark on a broader path—was this not a great fortune?
Why did she react this way?
His Sword Sovereign Soul, able to see the origin of all things, finally understood.
It was ‘emotion.’
That complex, fragile bond between mortals.
He had healed her Dao Injury, yet planted a deeper root of ‘emotion’ in her heart.
He sighed.
His tone softened, trying to comfort her with his logic.
“I never said I was sending you away.”
He explained.
“Your cultivation in Qingyun Sacred Land does not affect our relationship.”
“Eh?”
This simple explanation sounded like celestial music to Ling Qingshuang.
She froze, her sobs halting instantly.
No… it doesn’t affect it…
Sir’s meaning is… even if I go to Qingyun Sacred Land, our ties aren’t severed?
So… so that’s what he meant?
The darkness that had shrouded her world was torn apart, light pouring back in.
She stopped crying, though sparkling tears still clung to her long lashes, making her look pitiful.
“Then…”
She asked cautiously.
“Then in the future… can I still call you Sir?”
“Of course.”
“Then… I… can I…”
She summoned all her courage, cheeks reddening, and asked softly.
“Can I call you by your true name?”
Ye Chen felt it was a bit strange.
It was just a form of address—what difference did it make?
Without thinking, he nodded.
“You may.”
Receiving affirmation, Ling Qingshuang felt as though she’d been given the world’s sweetest treat.
All sorrow and fear vanished from her face, replaced by pure joy breaking through tears.
She lowered her head, and in a voice only she could hear, filled with shyness and deep reverence, she whispered the name for the first time.
“Ye… Chen.”