Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 32: Shadows of Childhood

Since the dagger could not block his gaze, Mu Qingyao turned her back to him with a cold expression, leaving Yun Que with a striking and enchanting silhouette.

Mu Qingyao’s mood was low and frustrated.

With the deadly crisis outside still unresolved, now came an infuriating intruder. If not for the deep ties with the Yun family, she would have torn apart the rascal who had seen her body.

Behind her, faint rustling sounds arose.

Mu Qingyao’s downcast eyes flashed with a cold glint, and she gripped the dagger tightly.

No matter who it was, if they dared act rudely, she would fight to the death.

The next moment, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders.

Her fingers loosened their grip on the dagger once more.

Mu Qingyao did not refuse; she wrapped herself tightly in the garment, feeling the warmth seep in, and the frustration faded a little.

It was as if, while being bullied, she had also received a measure of protection.

The sensation was strange—disgust and warmth intermingled.

After calming herself, Mu Qingyao turned around, intending to speak, only to see Yun Que untying his belt.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my trousers.”

“Why are you taking them off?”

“So you can wear them. Don’t you think you’re a bit too exposed?”

“I don’t need them.”

Mu Qingyao declined coolly, her gaze low and wary upon Yun Que, like a cautious cat.

Since she refused, Yun Que did not insist, re-fastening his belt and reminding her,

“Suit yourself, but remember not to fly on your sword, or you’ll expose yourself.”

The air grew heavy.

“Give them to me.”

In the end, Mu Qingyao accepted Yun Que’s goodwill.

The clothes were a bit large, but she managed to arrange them properly, tying her disheveled hair into a loose knot at the back of her head.

Dressed in men’s attire, Mu Qingyao seemed less delicate and more spirited than before.

Yun Que, in contrast, wore a tattered inner armor above and only loose trousers below—a refreshingly simple look.

Before they could speak, tremors shook the ground beneath their feet, and the flower petal sword body began to compress inward!

Outside, the vines launched another assault!

Mu Qingyao sat cross-legged, swiftly forming sword seals with her hands. Her already pale face lost all color.

She had nearly exhausted her spiritual energy, barely holding on.

Yun Que wanted to help, but had no idea how.

After all, they were inside a magical treasure; meddling blindly would only make things worse.

Mu Qingyao lifted her face and gently shook her head, as if sensing Yun Que’s intention.

Yun Que nodded in understanding.

He then took out his last nine spirit stones and placed them within easy reach.

As if she had anticipated this gesture, Mu Qingyao, while forming sword seals, drew spiritual energy from the stones, barely sustaining the treasure.

Though she had seen him before as a child, this was their first meeting as adults.

There was no awkwardness or unfamiliarity, only the tacit understanding of old friends, as if their hearts were perfectly attuned.

Finally, as the nine spirit stones were depleted, the external assault ceased for the moment.

Both knew well—the vines would not give up their prey, only resting to prepare for a fiercer attack.

Yun Que felt a pang seeing the remains of the spirit stones.

A single spirit stone could sustain an artifact for a long time with an Overflowing Spirit Ring, but with a magical treasure, it was consumed almost instantly.

The rate at which magical treasures devoured spiritual energy far surpassed ordinary artifacts!

Seizing the rare moment of safety, the two hurried to communicate.

“How much longer can you hold out?” Yun Que asked.

“At most, I can fend off one more assault.”

Mu Qingyao knew Yun Que had given all his spirit stones, and said helplessly, “My storage pouch was destroyed by sword qi backlash, along with my clothes. It’s a pity about the pills inside—otherwise I could last longer.”

“Is there no other way?” Yun Que asked.

Mu Qingyao shook her head slowly, her voice low. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“What does ‘should’ matter? Once I recognized the Flower Spirit Sword, how could I turn away?” Yun Que smiled freely. “People should follow their hearts—life and death, so what?”

Mu Qingyao’s gaze flickered, silently repeating those words: life and death, so what?

Her heart, cold and still as ancient ice, was quietly pried open, a crack forming, and her emotions grew tumultuous.

Yun Que looked around at the strange sword bodies and asked,

“Why does sword qi backlash occur?”

“Qi Refining cultivators struggle to control true magical treasures; I’m no exception. Forcing the Flower Spirit Sword triggers sword qi backlash.”

“Why didn’t it happen just now? I see—you’ve learned to control the intensity of the backlash. No wonder you’re the South Institute’s foremost sword prodigy—your talent is extraordinary.”

There was no flattery in Yun Que’s words, only genuine admiration.

He spoke the truth.

Since Mu Qingyao was trapped here, at first she suffered sword qi backlash that destroyed her clothes and storage pouch. Now, with Yun Que’s arrival, she could control the backlash’s force—at least enough to spare her clothing.

It hadn’t been long—at most a day.

Sword qi backlash from a magical treasure was leagues above that from an artifact!

To grasp and control it in such short time, she was indeed a genius of the sword, truly gifted!

The foremost sword prodigy of the South Institute—she deserved the title.

Mu Qingyao took no joy in the praise; instead, she buried her face in her knees, helpless.

“What use is talent, if I can’t even save a fellow disciple? I’m useless…”

Listening to her, it seemed the disciples who entered the mountain from the South Institute were all doomed.

Yun Que remembered how Zhou Yuanliang had boasted two days ago about the benefits to be gained from Misty Mountain, and his mood grew heavy.

“Are all your South Institute disciples dead?” Yun Que asked.

“I don’t know. When we neared the summit, the vines attacked. I told them to flee while I stayed behind, but was dragged underground. I could only rely on the Flower Spirit Sword to barely survive. I couldn’t help anyone.”

Mu Qingyao’s voice was low and helpless, like a pitiful child.

She had led more than twenty junior brothers and sisters into the mountain, all placing their hopes in her, the foremost sword prodigy.

Yet she couldn’t even hold off the vines for a moment.

At that moment, Yun Que saw again the little girl from years ago, carried into the marquis’ residence on a soft chair, barely clinging to life.

The same fragile innocence, the same helpless gaze.

“They might just be trapped—maybe still alive. I rescued several of my own comrades who were recently parasitized by vines.”

Yun Que recounted Wu Dachuan and the others’ ordeal.

Mu Qingyao listened intently, a glimmer of hope returning.

“Let’s find a way out first, then search for your comrades on the mountain,” Yun Que said solemnly.

Mu Qingyao finally summoned fresh courage, nodding firmly, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

“You should smile more—it suits you.”

“You’ve seen me smile?”

“Of course. When you visited my house as a child, I gave you a singing rabbit toy to amuse you—you smiled then. Quite adorable.”

“Rabbit…”

Crunch, crunch.

The sound of tightly clenched fists rose and fell. Mu Qingyao struggled to suppress her anger, but the childhood memory was impossible to subdue.

‘Little white rabbit, snowy white, two ears lifted high, snip off the tail, snip off the head, lying still, so cute.’

Before her eyes appeared the dirt-smudged heir of the marquis, emerging from who knows where, holding a long-dead, filthy, white-eyed rabbit.

That was the shadow haunting her childhood, the nightmare companion of her growing years.

No matter how bizarre or absurd the nightmare’s scenes, upon waking, there was always the white-eyed rabbit and that soul-stirring, eerie rhyme.

Mu Qingyao stared silently at Yun Que, outwardly calm, but inwardly screaming.

Was that a smile?

I wanted to bite you, all right!