The soft, muted light of morning seeped through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting a gentle glow over the modest room. Jun Qiguang slowly regained consciousness, his mind gradually clearing from the fog of unconsciousness. The bone-chilling pain that had gripped him before had lessened considerably, and his body no longer felt as though it were encased in ice.
As he opened his eyes, Jun Qiguang found himself in an unfamiliar place. The room was simple, with plain furnishings that spoke of practicality rather than opulence. A large window dominated one wall, framed with heavy curtains that had been drawn back to reveal a mist-shrouded view of snow-covered mountains. The mist outside lent an ethereal quality to the landscape, adding to the sense of isolation and tranquillity. The room itself had a sparse, utilitarian feel, with a bed, a small wooden table, and a few basic pieces of furniture. There were no grand decorations or lavish details; it was functional and unpretentious.
Confusion clouded his thoughts. He tried to recall how he had ended up in such a place. The last thing he remembered was lying in the cold, snow-covered street of Xishan Village, severely injured and on the brink of death. It seemed someone had found him and brought him here, but he had no idea who.
As Jun Qiguang attempted to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his body, reminding him of his weakened state. He grimaced but managed to prop himself up on the pillows. His gaze swept across the room once more, trying to piece together what had happened.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. The door to his room creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. Jun Qiguang's eyes narrowed as he saw the tall, imposing man who entered. Clad in long, flowing white robes that exuded an air of elegance and authority, the man's dark hair was tied with a white ribbon, and his expression was as cold and aloof as the winter outside.
Jun Qiguang looked up with mild curiosity. Although he had never seen this man's face before, the inscription on the sword hanging at the man's waist drew his attention. The sword was engraved with the name "Silver Mist."
Jun Qiguang's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition. He had heard of Yao Huaijin—the formidable sword cultivator and Sword Sage of the Tianyongheng Sect, renowned for his exceptional skill. The stories had painted him as a legendary figure, with a reputation that commanded respect throughout the cultivation world.
Yao Huaijin moved with an aura of confidence and grace, his every movement precise and controlled. He approached Jun Qiguang's bedside with the same measured calmness, briefly assessing him before reaching out to check his pulse. His touch was cool but steady, professional and devoid of unnecessary emotion.
Yao Huaijin finished his examination and straightened up, his expression remaining impassive. "You are recovering well. Once you are fit, you may leave if you wish."
Jun Qiguang observed him closely, noting the intricate design of the sword's hilt and the name engraved on the blade. He couldn't help but find Yao Huaijin's bluntness amusing. The simplicity of his words and the lack of warmth in his voice contrasted sharply with his impressive appearance. Jun Qiguang chuckled inwardly, finding some entertainment in the fact that the famed Sword Sage lived up to his reputation with a demeanour as cold as the winter frost.
Despite his inner amusement, Jun Qiguang kept his composure respectful. He forced a courteous smile and bowed slightly. "Thank you, esteemed sir. I appreciate your kindness."
Yao Huaijin merely nodded, his expression unchanged. "I will leave you to your rest."
With that, Yao Huaijin turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. Jun Qiguang watched him go, his thoughts a whirlwind of reflections. He had no intention of leaving anytime soon. His body, though improved, was still fragile, and there was much he needed to consider.
As he lay back against the pillows, Jun Qiguang's thoughts drifted to the mysterious circumstances of his current situation. The presence of Yao Huaijin, the revered Sword Sage, was a significant development. It seemed that fate had woven a complex web around him, and he was now entangled in it.
This is certainly an unexpected twist, he mused. To be saved by the legendary Yao Huaijin, of all people. There must be more to this than mere chance.
Jun Qiguang closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of respite. His previous life as a demon lord had exposed him to numerous luxuries and extravagances, far beyond what he saw here. The simplicity of the room was a stark contrast to the opulence of his former palace, but it did little to faze him. He had seen and experienced far more in his past life.
As the morning mist continued to roll outside the window, Jun Qiguang allowed himself to drift into a deep, contemplative sleep. He was ready to face whatever challenges awaited him with renewed resolve and clarity. His quest for vengeance and his journey of rebirth had just begun, and he was determined to see it through—no matter where it led him.