"Senior Brother… please stop…"
Luo Lingmiao's delicate body trembled uncontrollably as Lu Bingxuan's words pierced her defenses. Her right hand, held steady only by his grip, would have fallen limp otherwise.
"Why should I stop?" Lu Bingxuan retorted sharply. "What are you afraid of?"
"You think this is resistance? It's not. All you're doing is killing the person you once were!"
"Do you really believe that by casting off the timid, incompetent version of yourself, you'll somehow be reborn?"
"You won't. Deep down, you're still the same timid, incompetent person!"
"There's no mountain higher than humanity itself. The only thing to fear is your own refusal to confront the truth. True strength comes from not submitting to fear. Right now, your heart is full of cowardice!"
"No one wishes for an imperfect past. But that's no excuse to run from it. Your so-called resistance is just an excuse for avoidance. You've never faced yourself or your past head-on!"
"Your rebellion is nothing but escape!"
His words were like knives, each one stabbing directly into Luo Lingmiao's heart.
It wasn't lies that wounded most deeply, but the truth. Beneath the aura of the perfect Water Spirit Root and the noble title of the Third Princess of the Taiyan Dynasty, the real Luo Lingmiao was simply a shadow, hiding from herself.
"The past cannot be changed," Lu Bingxuan continued relentlessly. "But the future? That's in your hands. If you choose to keep running, you're not worthy of being my Dao Companion."
His voice, resolute and cold, seemed to echo in the air long after he had released her hand.
Luo Lingmiao froze. Already teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, she panicked. Spinning around, she clutched his hands tightly, as if holding on to her last hope.
"Senior Brother…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her breathing was uneven, her chest heaving as emotions overwhelmed her. Words formed in her mind, but she swallowed them, unable to voice them aloud.
She wanted to beg, to surrender her pride, even offer herself in desperation to make him stay.
But his words—each one still ringing in her ears—held her back.
That wasn't what he wanted from her.
She clenched her hands around his, her tears falling freely, and finally found the strength to ask:
"Then… Senior Brother… can you tell me why you chose to practice the sword?"
"Me?" Lu Bingxuan was momentarily taken aback, but he composed himself quickly.
"That day, you told me you wanted to practice swordsmanship," he said simply. "So I decided to practice it too."
He kept his tone calm and unassuming. There was no need to reveal that his real motivation had been simple laziness—choosing the first offensive technique at random to avoid deliberating further.
But truthfully, he did find swordsmanship rather appealing. After all, sword cultivators looked undeniably cool.
"I see…" Luo Lingmiao whispered.
In her ears, his words carried a completely different weight.
He had chosen the sword because of her.
"I understand now, Senior Brother…"
She released his hands slowly, her expression growing resolute as a newfound determination took hold.
"I know why I want to wield a sword now."
Though the other half of her thoughts remained unsaid, they burned brightly in her heart.
I want to stand by your side, Senior Brother. I want to be worthy of being your Dao Companion.
"That's good." Lu Bingxuan exhaled in relief. Whatever convoluted thought process she'd gone through, it seemed to have worked.
"Senior Brother, I want to enter seclusion now," Luo Lingmiao said. Her voice was steady, even as tears still lingered on her cheeks. "If I can overcome the Heart Demon Tribulation, it will mean your guidance was right."
"I'll keep watch for you," Lu Bingxuan said without hesitation.
"Huh?" Luo Lingmiao blinked, surprised.
"It's fine," he added. "I'll guard you."
Inside the chamber, the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation.
Guarding another during seclusion was a rare act of trust, reserved for the closest of bonds between master and disciple, or Dao Companions. After all, the cultivator in seclusion was at their most vulnerable, relying entirely on the other to protect them.
"Once you emerge, I'll say something you've never heard before," Lu Bingxuan said, settling into a seated position across from her.
"It'll help you judge if you've truly overcome your Heart Demon Tribulation."
"Understood, Senior Brother."
Luo Lingmiao nodded, then closed her eyes and began circulating her Qi. The process of breaking through began.
Her spirit reached out, battering against the barriers of her Violet Palace. Her determination, strengthened by their earlier conversation, fueled her resolve.
For the first time in years, she felt the courage to face herself.
The hours dragged on, and her body began to emit waves of frost as the frigid aura of her Ice Spirit Root intensified. Her brows knitted together as she entered the tribulation's final stage.
The memories hit her like a tidal wave.
Her mother's pallid hand grew cold in her own as the woman's fading voice whispered, "Lingmiao… Mother can't be there as you grow. Be careful, and trust no one… not even him—your father…"
Rain battered the palace walls as Luo Lingmiao sat alone, clutching her mother's lifeless hand. Outside, the grand palace felt more desolate than ever.
The next day, servants removed her mother's body without explanation. Her once carefree days ended abruptly. Left without her mother's protection, Luo Lingmiao became a pawn in the court's political games.
Quiet, submissive, and alone, she learned to endure. She had no allies—only her growing beauty, which drew unwanted attention.
Finally, the war came. The Taiyan Dynasty lost, and her fortunes shifted once more.
From her lowly position, she was suddenly treated as a treasured princess. Yet this was not a blessing, merely a gilded cage.
She sat at banquets and ceremonies, a mere ornament while her father bargained for peace.
The visions blurred, but one remained constant:
Two kings laughing on a high platform as they negotiated her future.
Below, Luo Lingmiao sat quietly, her head bowed.
Her elevated status was nothing more than decorative wrapping for a gift being sent away.