The night was as dark as ink, the moonlight shrouded by heavy clouds, and the mountains of the Zixiao Sword Sect were enveloped in silence.
Heavenly Sword Peak, Sword Courtyard.
Inside Ye Chen’s room, a single lamp flickered like a bean.
He recalled the “Mysterious Woman” who had just arrived uninvited.
That seemingly simple yet perilous “exchange of moves” with her had deepened his understanding of the “Nameless Sword Technique” from his previous life, but the mental and physical exhaustion was immense.
He was about to sit cross-legged to recover his lost spiritual energy, when three restrained, light knocks sounded at the door.
“Senior Brother Ye Chen, may I come in?”
A strange voice sounded, steady and respectful.
Ye Chen frowned slightly.
At this hour, who could it be?
He rose and opened the door, only to see an inner sect disciple in a gray-blue robe standing silently outside.
This disciple’s bearing was sharp and composed—a figure clearly not ordinary even among the inner sect.
“Greetings, Senior Brother,”
The disciple bowed at once as Ye Chen opened the door, holding two finely crafted envelopes in his hands, each sealed with a blue cloud insignia.
“By the order of the elders of the sect’s Transmission Hall, I bring to Senior Brother two letters from the ‘Qingyun Holy Land,’ to be opened personally.”
“Qingyun Holy Land?”
A hint of surprise flashed in Ye Chen’s eyes.
“Indeed.”
The disciple explained.
“These letters are of the highest rank, formal communications between holy lands, issued by the Elder Council of Qingyun Holy Land, addressed by name to a recently joined disciple of our sect named ‘Ye Chen.’”
“After many verifications, the letters were confirmed and finally delivered to Senior Brother by the direct disciples under Elder Qingyu.”
“Thank you for your efforts.”
Ye Chen reached out and took the envelopes.
“I dare not accept such thanks,”
The disciple handed over a pen and a jade slip.
“Please sign here, so I may report back.”
Ye Chen signed his name casually.
After confirming it, the man bowed once more, then turned and left crisply, disappearing into the night in a few flashes.
Ye Chen closed the door and window, holding the two letters between his fingers, a ripple stirring in his heart.
Who could it be? The Ye Family?
But he immediately dismissed that thought—the Ye Family likely didn’t even know where he was.
Besides, the letter came from Qingyun Holy Land and had nothing to do with the Ye Family.
In that case, only the two names he’d left behind in Qingyang City remained.
He opened the first letter.
The paper was soft and flexible, carrying a faint fragrance.
The handwriting was graceful yet sharp, as if each stroke was imbued with sword intent.
[Letter Content · Xiao Liuli]
To my former fiancé, Ye Chen—personally opened:
I hear you’ve entered the Zixiao Sword Sect, leaving without a word.
Was it out of fear?
Why?
Are you afraid my talent will recover, that I’ll outshine you and leave you ashamed? Or are you afraid that when my strength reaches its peak, I’ll take revenge for the humiliation of our broken engagement?
Ye Chen, you always spoke of pursuing the Dao.
How goes your path of the Dao now? Have you broken through to Foundation Establishment? I imagine, with your mortal body, your journey of cultivation must be fraught with difficulty?
I am now a direct disciple of Qingyun Holy Land, taught personally by the Holy Lord.
My cultivation advances a thousand miles a day, leaving you far behind.
At this moment, do you feel a trace of regret? Regret that you insisted on severing all ties with me, Xiao Liuli?
I think you must regret it.
But it doesn’t matter.
Such is the vision of mortals.
No need to worry.
When the Great Sect Competition of Northern Continent arrives soon, I will come to the Zixiao Sword Sect in person to seek you out.
At that time, before everyone’s eyes, I will “bring” you back to the Holy Land, guide you in cultivation myself, and show you what the true Heaven-ascending Dao is.
Just wait for me.
“……”
The letter slipped from Ye Chen’s fingers.
He pressed his throbbing temples with a hand.
“Former fiancé?”
At first, the title confused him.
But as that familiar, obsessive, and piercing aura surged from the letter, memories flooded uncontrollably to the surface.
From their first meeting in the Ye Family manor, to the “Three Year Betrothal,” to easing her chronic illness, and finally, to his decisive severance for her to pursue her own Dao without distractions—scene after scene, vivid as yesterday.
His original intent was to sever a meaningless engagement, to let this daughter of heaven break her shackles and fly toward her own sky.
Yet now…it felt as though he had become her “heart demon” and an obstacle she was determined to overcome on her path of cultivation.
Every word in the letter brimmed with concern, yet beneath it ran a current of control and scrutiny.
Rather than a letter, it was more like a one-sided, inescapable “decree.”
“……”
Ye Chen sighed helplessly, picked up the letter, and crumpled it.
These sorts of things were the ones he was worst at handling.
He forced himself to calm down and looked at the second envelope.
“I hope this one is a little more normal.”
He muttered, opening the second envelope.
This envelope felt utterly different in his hand.
No fragrance, no sharpness, only a cold aura.
The letter was made of some kind of profound ice jade, thin as a cicada’s wing and chilling to the touch.
And the moment the envelope was torn open—
Buzz!
A formless, icy aura laced with obsessive sword intent burst from within!
The sword intent did not harm, but it was like a handful of snow in the dead of winter, instantly soaking Ye Chen to the bone.
More precisely, it was like a pair of hands, groping through darkness for ages, finally grasping the only light—possessive, mad, and unrelenting.
Ye Chen didn’t even need to read the letter to know who it was from.
In all the world, only one person’s sword intent was so pure, so obsessive, and so intertwined with his own.
Ling Qingshuang.