Who The Hell Are You? . . .
"We'll wait for that day to come. The day our Prime Grandmaster passes, the enemies will surely descend upon us! On that day, we'll drag them down to hell with us! We'll fight until our last breath! And when we die, we'll enter the world where our Prime Grandmaster has gone... Let's seek her protection once more when we reunite..."
In the Misty Cloud Palace, tears flowed freely, and mournful cries echoed through the air. The resolve to stand together, even in the face of death, permeated their hearts.
For an entire day, the eastern sky remained crimson, a testament to their Prime Grandmaster's audacious endeavor. The simultaneous eruption of countless volcanoes had marked her strike against the looming threat.
As night fell, a colossal explosion reverberated across the entire Qing-Yun Realm, shaking its very foundations. It was followed by an eerie, desolate scream that seemed to pierce the heavens. Then, as swiftly as it had begun, silence descended upon the realm.
The world held its breath, shrouded in uncertainty.
"Is the Prime Grandmaster safe?"
The ladies exchanged worried glances, their hearts heavy with concern.
"We must investigate the battle," declared an elderly woman with silver hair, her eyes filled with determination. "Regardless of the outcome, we must ascertain our Prime Grandmaster's condition."
Without hesitation, they wiped away their tears and took flight, heading towards the crimson-stained sky.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Han-Yang, Wen-Ren Chu-Chu and Bing Xin-Yue had remained in solemn silence for over a day. Each harbored their own thoughts about Feng Zhi-Ling, pondering in solitude. Communication had been minimal.
Breaking the silence, it was Bing Xin-Yue who finally spoke up.
"Chu-Chu... I've been contemplating for a long while. What if we capture this Feng Zhi-Ling and bring him back to our sect? What could be the consequences?" Bing Xin-Yue's voice carried a tone of gravity.
Wen-Ren Chu-Chu's complexion paled instantly. "Master... Is that truly the right course of action?"
Taking a deep breath, Bing Xin-Yue replied, "Of course, I understand it isn't. It will undoubtedly strain our relationship with him. But this individual holds paramount importance to the Misty Cloud Palace. We cannot afford to make a wrong decision in this matter..."
Unbeknownst to them, in a distant corner of the Qing-Yun Realm, a shadowy figure materialized and extended its hand, shrouded in swirling dark clouds. With a powerful grip, it tore open the very fabric of space, creating a rift.
The lithe figure stepped through the rupture—a direct traversal of space itself.
Back in the courtyard, Wen-Ren Chu-Chu wore a somber expression as she murmured, "Master, there's something you may not be aware of. Feng Zhi-Ling possesses an indomitable spirit. He is far tougher than we can fathom. On the day when he was struck by his enemy's precious martial art, I couldn't alleviate his suffering, despite my utmost efforts. During those agonizing days, he persevered through excruciating pain. Witnessing his endurance was daunting. Even when he fell into a coma, he didn't yield to despair or cry out. Such resilience... If we were to capture him, it could lead to his suicide out of disgrace. In that event, our sect's last hope would be extinguished..."
Bing Xin-Yue fell silent. After a contemplative pause, she conceded, "You're right. I was unaware of the depth of his fortitude..."
As they engaged in conversation, a sudden tremor shook their surroundings. Dizziness swept over them, making it challenging to maintain their balance. For a brief moment, the sky overhead darkened, casting a shroud of gloom.
Perplexed, Bing Xin-Yue gazed upward. "What's happening?" Her voice held a note of confusion.
Wen-Ren Chu-Chu clutched her head, her expression one of discomfort. "I have no idea. Could it be an earthquake?"
"It's definitely not an earthquake." Bing Xin-Yue's eyes filled with caution as she scanned their surroundings, a sense of alarm settling upon her.
Unbeknownst to them, an enigmatic presence had silently ascended to the roof of the house. It existed yet remained elusive—a shadow concealed in plain sight. Casting its eyes on Bing Xin-Yue, it showed a flicker of relief.
**[Finally, I've found her. It's not too late.]**
In the midst of their discussion, Wen-Ren Chu-Chu continued, "Even if we manage to capture Feng Zhi-Ling and coerce him into cultivating the Regeneration Lotus for us, will he genuinely consent? Besides the matter of cultivating the Regeneration Lotus, he holds the key to curing our ailment, but the method involves direct skin-to-skin contact. I doubt anyone in our sect would agree to such an arrangement."
On the roof, the mysterious observer, poised to descend, halted in her tracks upon hearing this revelation. Her eyes widened in curiosity. **[Skin-to-skin contact? An illness? What could this illness be?]**
Bing Xin-Yue pondered aloud, "You make a valid point. It's a seemingly insurmountable dilemma. Our people are all virgins, and they would never entertain the notion of physical contact with a man. So, what of Feng Zhi-Ling? Shall we allow him to remain in the Land of Han-Yang?"
Wen-Ren Chu-Chu, almost inexplicably relieved by the decision, smiled. She felt an odd sense of contentment, even if it meant that she, personally, could continue to tease Feng Zhi-Ling. However, when the thought of someone else interfering with him crossed her mind, it left her feeling somewhat uneasy.
"I believe it might be advantageous to let him stay in the Land of Han-Yang," she mused. "It's, after all, a lower-class realm where Qing-Yun Realm visitors are a rarity. This isolation can help safeguard our sect's secrets. If we build a positive rapport with him, it could benefit us in the long run. Someone like Feng Zhi-Ling is bound to ascend to the Qing-Yun Realm sooner or later. Once he experiences the harsh reality of our realm governed by the law of the jungle, and if we extend our assistance during his trials, he'll be indebted to us. He may even seek cooperation on his own accord. By then, he'll have grown significantly, presenting us with more favorable opportunities. Our utmost priority will remain addressing your ailment, Master..."
As they delved deeper into the complex matter of physical contact and the potential cooperation with Feng Zhi-Ling, Bing Xin-Yue's countenance took on a contemplative aspect. Her gaze drifted into the distance, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of hesitation. She spoke, her voice carrying a touch of uncertainty, "Allow me some time for further reflection on this... the issue of skin-to-skin contact."
From her hidden vantage point on the roof, the enigmatic observer's eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity upon hearing those three words—skin to skin.
Wen-Ren Chu-Chu, recognizing the shift in her master's demeanor, seized the moment. She sensed that Bing Xin-Yue was being swayed by the gravity of the situation. Adding her own perspective, she said, "Take all the time you need to ponder this matter. Our group, indeed, our entire sect, is on the cusp of realizing our hopes for a brighter future. If your concerns are grounded in the traditions and values upheld by our ancestors, remember that your consideration for me mirrors the same care our ancestors had for you. It's essentially the same sentiment."
Bing Xin-Yue's eyes bore the weight of her internal struggle, her uncertainty evident. She uttered softly, "Give me a moment of silence, Chu-Chu. I need to delve deeper into my thoughts."
Respecting her master's request, Wen-Ren Chu-Chu fell silent, her heart heavy with the weight of their predicament. She couldn't help but voice her puzzlement, "Why is Feng Zhi-Ling the Monarch of the Ling-Bao Hall? What could be the reason? Throughout its history, the Ling-Bao Hall has steered clear of conflicts and disturbances. Why has it chosen to become embroiled in the war between the kingdoms this time?"
Deep in thought, Wen-Ren Chu-Chu continued her musings, her voice barely above a whisper, "Who are you, Feng Zhi-Ling? What is the true nature of your identity?"