Chapter 62: The Beautifully Tragic and Powerful Villain—My Father Is the King (End)

(Page 1 of 3)

The reason? Hmph, it was nothing more than Bai Yuqing being smitten with the white-clad immortal, Qiao Mingyue, who stood nearby. Now that he felt he had someone in his heart, he deemed it inappropriate to entangle himself with other girls, and so he avoided her as though she were a venomous snake.

Any mission that required Qi Shushu to get close to Bai Yuqing, to lure him into the demonic sect or sway him toward it, would be doomed to fail. Fortunately, her real task was simply to vex Qiao Mingyue.

Killing was out of the question; Qi Shushu was no match for Qiao Mingyue in martial arts. Luckily, she was clever and quick-witted—though she couldn’t win in a fight, she was never at a disadvantage.

All the way, as she served as a handmaid, Qi Shushu ground her teeth in frustration. What kept her going was seeing Qiao Mingyue suffering just as much.

Qiao Mingyue was as cold and distant as the moon in the sky, perfect for admiring from afar but never to be profaned. Qi Shushu, on the other hand, was ever-changing; whatever you wanted, she could become.

Qi Shushu thought Qiao Mingyue was a hypocrite, always preaching righteousness as if she herself were its very incarnation. It was irritating to watch. But now, at least, they both shared the same bitter fate.

On the road, Qiao Mingyue recognized Qi Shushu as the saintess of the demonic sect and even fought her. Qi Shushu, unable to win, fled—not too far, but straight toward the trio.

Qiao Mingyue gave chase, her gaze icy and stern as she informed everyone that Qi Shushu was not to be trusted, that her intentions in approaching them were impure. The result? She was left speechless.

If Qi Shushu had impure motives, did that mean Qiao Mingyue was one of them? Qiao Mingyue, whose original purpose was to slay demons and rid the world of evil, found herself at a loss for words.

Qin Bing always felt an odd sense of closeness to Qiao Mingyue. Having been taught to be wary and sharp by Qin Ye, he immediately recalled all the outrageous tales Qin Ye had told him in the past and began to suspect that, since Qiao Mingyue hailed from Shuiyue Nunnery—and because his own father had abandoned his mother for the abbess of that very nunnery, driving his mother mad—Qiao Mingyue must surely be his half-sister.

In the original story, Qin Bing mistook his feelings for Qiao Mingyue as love, and planned, before his master (Qiu Lingsu) found out, to deal with Qiao Mingyue himself.

But now, Qin Bing saw through everything with a single glance, guessed the truth, and began to look at Qiao Mingyue with growing displeasure.

Qiao Mingyue sensed that she had become a target, but merely accepted it in silence.

When the three of them arrived at Huayue City, Qiao Mingyue immediately sensed something was wrong. Ordinary citizens were scarcely seen; those coming and going were all martial artists, none of whom looked particularly upright.

Qiao Mingyue turned to return to her sect, only to find she couldn’t even approach the mountain gate. The people of Shuiyue Nunnery were trapped.

The one leading the siege was from the demonic cult. She wore black, her figure graceful, a black veil over her face, yet the allure in her exposed eyes and brows made it clear she was a great beauty.

As the abbess’s only personal disciple, Qiao Mingyue quickly recognized her: Qiu Lingsu, former saintess of the demonic sect.

The saintess of the demonic cult and the traveling enforcer of Shuiyue Nunnery had always been fierce rivals, their enmity ancient and bitter. But something was odd: Qiu Lingsu had surrounded the nunnery, but did not attack, instead allowing them to send messages for help.

What was she planning?

Qiao Mingyue dared only to observe Qiu Lingsu from the corner of her eye, for grandmasters were exquisitely sensitive to the gaze and intentions of others. Looking straight at her risked immediate discovery.

Qiao Mingyue retreated and found the trio. At least they were as skilled as she was, and as for the other great sects, she was sure they’d already sent for reinforcements. All she needed to do was wait.

A storm was brewing over Huayue City. Beneath the surface prosperity, a hint of desolation crept in. The ordinary residents, at Qin Ye’s command, had already been evacuated. When martial artists fought in earnest, they seldom spared a thought for civilians. In such times, the death of ordinary folk was meaningless.

The moment the two youngsters arrived in Huayue City, Qin Ye knew, but did not show himself.

One objective of the trio was to uncover Xiao Jiang’s origins, which had already been investigated. Xiao Jiang’s family had long since perished, caught in the crossfire of a martial vendetta. His parents, kind-hearted, had once saved a wounded hero; after he left, pursuers tracked him down and slaughtered Xiao Jiang’s entire family.

Xiao Jiang survived only because his mother, in desperation, placed him in a wooden basin and set him afloat downriver, hoping he might be found by a kind soul.

After learning the truth, a somber mood fell over the group. Even Qi Shushu dared not appear, fearing she would be caught up in their tragedy.

It was Xiao Jiang who finally broke the silence, and the tension eased.

...

“Master, why don’t we attack?” Ghostbane asked, visibly impatient. His poisons were the deadliest around—only Qin Ye had ever bested him in that art. Under Ghostbane’s hand, everyone in Shuiyue Nunnery had been poisoned. Should they circulate their internal energy, the poison would invade their organs. Even with their eyes closed, they could not lose this battle.

Yet Qiu Lingsu ordered them to surround but not attack, and allowed Shuiyue Nunnery to send for help.

Other demonic sects involved were dissatisfied, until Qiu Lingsu killed one as a warning. Only then did they realize she had brought the Blood Pagoda, and, astonishingly, could wield it.

The Blood Pagoda was the Sacred Lord’s divine weapon, and for Qiu Lingsu to command it, she must have his sanction.

Many doubted Yan Wushuang’s title as the greatest under heaven, especially those of the demonic path. They refused to acknowledge him, at least openly.

Only the Sacred Lord’s strength was never questioned—those who did were now dust beneath the grass on forgotten graves.

His title had been earned through slaughter.

No one knew that, in his youth, the Sacred Lord had, like Qin Ye, single-handedly challenged the seven great sects—and won.

Qiu Lingsu was recognized by the Blood Pagoda because of her bloodline: she was the Sacred Lord’s daughter by a disciple of Shuiyue Nunnery, that legendary white moonlight who once sacrificed herself to the demons—her name was Su Nu.

The Sacred Lord had shut himself away in bitter seclusion, and the Blood Pagoda was left forgotten in his chambers. Upon discovering it, Qiu Lingsu had long sought a way to control it, and finally succeeded, though at the cost of her life.

If the Sacred Lord himself intervened, the Watchtower would yield. So long as Qiu Lingsu refrained from slaughtering everyone in Shuiyue Nunnery, their reinforcements would never arrive.

The other sects were the same. Years ago, they had already been bested once. Though the Sacred Lord was now older, he was far from feeble. So long as no one crossed his bottom line, the seven sects would rather yield than fight. If they had lost before, how could they hope to win now?

The Watchtower had actually not suffered much, but had instead engaged in a friendly exchange with the Sacred Lord. Still, everyone else had lost face, and they, not wanting to draw resentment, kept silent about it.

Thus, outwardly, the Watchtower remained deeply respectful and wary of the Sacred Lord.

Qiu Lingsu let Shuiyue Nunnery send for help because she was confident no one would come. The six great sects would not intervene, and no number of lesser sects could change the outcome.

As for Qiu Lingsu, she commanded the entire demonic sect in the name of the Sacred Lord, and none dared disobey. The Lord himself did not show, but his divine weapon had appeared, and seemed to be at Qiu Lingsu’s command. That was proof enough that she had his backing.

Who would guess that Qiu Lingsu was merely putting on a show of strength, bluffing? After all, they did not know she was utterly mad.

They only knew that Qiu Lingsu had once openly betrayed the demonic cult, and yet still held high rank—proof, surely, of her importance in the Sacred Lord’s eyes.

Shuiyue Nunnery’s path was blocked. Unless they wished to fall from the ranks of the seven great sects, there was only one choice left: to seek help from Yan Wushuang.

But would Yan Wushuang come?

“Of course he will. She was the love of his life.”

Ghostbane had asked why they did not attack, but Qiu Lingsu replied with this baffling statement.

Ghostbane drew a deep breath and held his temper. The Blood Pagoda, looking like an ordinary blood-jade bracelet, hung from Qiu Lingsu’s wrist. When would these vexing days end? If it wasn’t Qin Ye oppressing them, it was the Sacred Lord—and the Lord hadn’t even appeared. Not one dared truly betray Qin Ye. As for Qiu Lingsu, she was completely deranged.

Fortunately, Qiu Lingsu did not make them wait long. After Shuiyue Nunnery had been besieged for seven days, many from the other six sects arrived, but none acted. They weren’t elders or masters, just the younger generation—as if they’d come to witness a grand event and gain some experience.

Neither Qiu Lingsu nor any other demonic leader took these juniors seriously.

Until, one day, a man rode into Huayue City atop an old yellow ox, wearing a bamboo hat and carrying a sword wrapped in cloth on his back.

High above, Qin Ye shaded his eyes and looked down at the man. “Is this the greatest under heaven?”

“Nothing but an empty reputation—our master is the true number one,” came a sycophantic reply from his subordinate.

Qin Ye rolled his eyes and turned back to watching Yan Wushuang.

As he continued to observe, Qiu Lingsu, upon hearing the news, immediately took a boat to the gates of Shuiyue Nunnery.

The nunnery was named for the lake before its gate. On nights of the full moon, the moon hung high above, its reflection clear on the water—a sight of breathtaking beauty.

Now, the lakeshore, Silver Mirror Lake, was ringed with people, like a crowd of elderly onlookers at a spectacle.

Qin Ye had long since claimed the best vantage point: Mingyue Tower, the tallest building in Huayue City, originally built by a suitor for Sang Lanxin in an attempt to win her favor. As Sang Lanxin refused both the suitor and his gift, the tower had no owner—until Qin Ye took it for himself.

At the nunnery gate, Qiu Lingsu appeared, clad in plain monk’s robes, Sang Lanxin waiting silently in her priestess’s hat.

When she saw Qiu Lingsu, Sang Lanxin looked up. “You’ve come,” she said calmly, as if greeting an old friend.

Qiu Lingsu’s response was to raise her hand, intent on taking Sang Lanxin’s life.

Sang Lanxin could not evade the blow, but she did not die by Qiu Lingsu’s hand. For behind Qiu Lingsu, a surge of energy locked onto her. If she attacked again, she would face an immediate, devastating counter.

Qiu Lingsu withdrew, turned, and gazed at the small boat gliding across the lake. On it stood a seemingly unremarkable middle-aged man.

“Yan Wushuang, I knew you would come.”

(Page 2 of 3)

She spoke coldly.

Yan Wushuang looked up, his face marked by the passage of years, yet still steady and trustworthy, inspiring confidence without the need for words.

“Lingsu, I wronged you all those years ago. I thought our movements were secret, and so I left you behind. As soon as I finished matters with Lanxin, I hurried back, but you were already gone. I asked the witnesses, and they said you had returned to the demonic sect of your own accord—”

Qiu Lingsu’s voice cut him off sharply. “Enough! Don’t make excuses for your faithlessness. The truth is, you abandoned your pregnant wife and ran to another woman.”

Sang Lanxin sighed. “The blame is mine. At the time, I didn’t know you were carrying Yan’s child, nor did I know he’d left you behind to come to my aid.”

“Shut up, you wretch. I’ll settle with you later. Right now, I only want to kill Yan Wushuang, to avenge my dead child!”

Emotion finally flickered in Yan Wushuang’s eyes. “The child—”

Before he could finish, Qiu Lingsu attacked. Her moves were vicious, but she was no match for Yan Wushuang.

The “Heavenly Demon Dance” was a forbidden art, its practitioners often driven mad. Its ultimate move was a beautiful dance performed with one’s very life.

When her attacks failed to break through, Qiu Lingsu unhesitatingly unleashed her trump card. Bells tied to her ankles chimed with every step, their clear tones weaving a melody of ethereal beauty, enchanting all who heard.

In that moment, it seemed as if a celestial maiden descended from the heavens, crossing a path of starlight. Her every glance and smile was captivating beyond words, making all who watched wish to abandon everything for her dance—the illusion of the Heavenly Demon Dance beguiled the senses.

The onlookers were entranced, watching as if in a dream.

Qin Ye, seeing his own subordinate similarly bewitched, kicked him out of the building and continued to observe.

It was truly a forbidden dance, acclaimed as the greatest among all: a beauty that demanded one’s life as payment.

Yan Wushuang had little resistance to such a mind-bending attack. He stood there, motionless, ensnared by the spell.

As her skirt whirled, wounds appeared one after another on Yan Wushuang’s body. Blood stained his coarse robe, making him seem a man risen from a sea of blood.

Among the spectators, only true masters remained clear-headed. Qin Bing and Xiao Jiang kept their wits about them only because they possessed divine weapons.

Qin Bing watched coldly as his birth parents fought, his thoughts inscrutable.

Any enemy caught in the Heavenly Demon Dance and wounded by its performer would be poisoned—a poison that, with time, would drive the victim mad or, if not killed outright, would leave lasting harm.

Qin Ye could see that Qiu Lingsu had a chance to strike a fatal blow at Yan Wushuang, especially when he was utterly defenseless under the dance’s spell. If she channeled the Blood Pagoda at full force, even if Yan Wushuang survived, he would be gravely wounded.

But she did not. In fact, her dance seemed less an attack than a performance for Yan Wushuang—an offering of the famed, death-defying Heavenly Demon Dance to the man she could not let go.

Ah, women—even those who shout they will kill their beloved, who seem ready to sacrifice their own children for vengeance—when true danger comes, they are the first to shield the one they love.

Qin Ye saw right through her, and though Qin Bing lacked his insight, he also perceived something hidden in Qiu Lingsu’s eyes.

Having realized something, Qin Bing lowered his gaze. When he looked up again, he charged forward.

Xiao Jiang tried to stop him, but had no choice but to follow. Even knowing his own father was nearby, he could not let Qin Bing face danger alone.

Qin Bing’s sudden dash drew attacks from both his parents. Yan Wushuang, jolted by this intrusion, regained his senses and instinctively struck at Qin Bing.

Qiu Lingsu, too, was about to attack, but then she recognized Qin Bing’s eyes.

Su Nu had possessed beautiful eyes, in which one could see all the world’s goodness. Qiu Lingsu had not inherited them, but her son had a similar look.

When her child was born, Qiu Lingsu had loved him deeply, but that love was drowned by hatred for Yan Wushuang and the bitterness of betrayal. She had tried to strangle him, only to be stopped by the Sacred Lord. The Lord cared little for his daughter, but perhaps still had feelings for Su Nu.

So, intending only to see how far his foolish daughter had fallen, the Sacred Lord intervened to save his grandson. When Qiu Lingsu later abandoned the child, the Lord did nothing, believing the boy would fare better growing up in Swordsmith Manor.

He could never have imagined that Qiu Lingsu’s love would drive her mad, launching a campaign of revenge whose first step was to ruin her own son’s home and family.

Now, in this moment, Qiu Lingsu’s mind cleared as never before. Recognizing Qin Bing’s eyes, she immediately drew back, turning to block Yan Wushuang’s attack.

Standing side by side, mother and son shared a striking resemblance. Qin Bing’s face was expressionless, while Qiu Lingsu’s outstretched hand trembled.

The grand battle seemed to end as abruptly as it began. No one from the righteous path spoke, nor did any of the demonic leaders interfere.

Qin Ye, ever the hidden master, stood at ease, arms folded behind his back, enjoying the drama—a grand family saga that had swept across the martial world.

“Bing’er…” Qiu Lingsu’s voice was filled with anguish: the pain of realizing how she had hurt her son in her madness, the memory of trying to strangle her newborn, and the guilt over causing the deaths of more than a hundred good people at Swordsmith Manor, all of whom had once helped her.

“What have I done?” Qiu Lingsu wept, wanting to touch Qin Bing’s face but not daring.

In that moment, her black hair turned white as snow, her tears flowing as she was consumed by remorse.

Yan Wushuang, seeing her transformation, understood at last. He pressed his lips together, unsure how to react, and finally could only look at Qin Bing with stern gravity.

After venturing out into the world, Qin Bing had learned much about his parents’ entangled past. Upon discovering that Qiu Lingsu was his mother, he matched the memory of the woman who had called him useless at the sacred headquarters with his birth mother.

Qin Bing knew Qiu Lingsu was aware of his existence, and then, she had truly believed that a useless person did not deserve to live—and he was the one she had deemed useless.

Qin Bing was not as precocious as Xiao Jiang, but he knew everything. He simply chose not to dwell on it.

To others, he might seem simple and carefree, but in truth, he genuinely believed that as long as his father was still his father, nothing else really mattered. Since childhood, it had been his father who nursed him through illness, worried for him, spent time with him.

His birth parents’ actions were less important to him than those moments.

So, he was not as heartbroken as Xiao Jiang feared, nor as fragile. Yet, seeing Qiu Lingsu’s hair turn white and the pain and clarity in her eyes, Qin Bing realized he wasn’t as indifferent as he’d thought.

Xiao Jiang, seeing his friend lost in thought, patted him on the shoulder, snapping him back.

Qin Bing forced a smile, looking every inch the gentle, affectionate child longing for parental warmth—a pitiful, endearing sight that immediately melted Qiu Lingsu’s heart, making her wish she could travel back and strangle her past self for her madness.

“Bing’er, I am your mother,” Qiu Lingsu staggered toward him.

Qin Bing feigned shock. “You really are my mother?”

“Yes, I am. Bing’er…”

Just as the tender scene was about to unfold, Qin Bing struck like lightning, knocking Qiu Lingsu unconscious with a single blow.

Even Yan Wushuang was stunned.

Before Qiu Lingsu hit the ground, Qin Bing caught her and passed her to Xiao Jiang, who took her away.

Only Yan Wushuang, Qin Bing, and the distant Sang Lanxin remained.

“I never knew my mother,” Qin Bing said calmly. “She died the day I was born—well, she feigned her death—and my father raised me alone.”

Yan Wushuang had no answer.

“Pity, really. I have no blood ties to the man who raised me, while my real father is an utter disgrace, unworthy of the name.”

“You misunderstand your father,” Sang Lanxin interjected.

“Silence. You, shameless enough to seduce a married man, hardly have the right to defend yourself.”

Sang Lanxin turned pale and fell silent.

Watching from afar, Qiao Mingyue, seeing her master slighted, leaped over the obstacles to defend her.

“You don’t know what happened back then. How dare you slander my master?”

Qin Bing’s expression was cool. “So you know the truth?”

Qiao Mingyue retorted, “Everyone knows it was my master who went into seclusion with Yan, not some demonic witch who deliberately came between them.”

Qin Bing smiled, his grin carrying a hint of Xiao Jiang’s slyness. “Then why am I your brother, and you my sister?”

Qiao Mingyue was briefly stunned, then turned instinctively to Sang Lanxin, who looked even paler.

Yan Wushuang gripped his sword tightly, his heart in turmoil. For ten years, he had lived as an ordinary man, his only tie to the martial world the daily practice of his sword. He had lived alone, ignoring the storms of the world, living a plain, self-sufficient life.

But now, in a single day, he learned he had both a son and a daughter.

What kind of surprise was this?

Before Yan Wushuang could gather his thoughts, Qin Bing attacked.

Yan Wushuang, at first holding back, was soon enveloped by a sharp sword intent.

(Page 3 of 3)

Wait—wasn’t Bing’er a master of unarmed combat? Why did his fists look so much like a sword’s feint? Even his punches carried sword energy.

Qin Ye gazed skyward, feigning innocence. Though no one knew the invincible gauntlets now carried sword energy because of him, he maintained a low profile. Many great villains met their end because of small details.

No, he wasn’t a villain.

Setting aside such thoughts, Qin Ye leapt lightly from the tower, plucked a leaf mid-air, and, channeling his internal strength, used it as a stepping stone to join the fight—crossing the lake on a single leaf. To be honest, this move was dazzling, the very embodiment of a legendary master.

This was true mastery.

Qin Ye chose this moment to enter because Qin Bing was struggling and about to lose. No matter how much trouble one’s own child caused, only a parent had the right to discipline them—never anyone else.

Especially since these two children were so well-behaved, how could anyone else lay a hand on them?

Yan Wushuang, having initially gone easy, was provoked by Qin Bing’s increasingly cold gaze. Realizing perhaps he should fight with all his strength as a sign of respect, Yan Wushuang became serious.

As soon as he did, Qin Bing, despite wielding a divine weapon, began to falter.

Xiao Jiang spun his flute so fast it left afterimages, clearly itching to join in, but when he saw Qin Ye enter, he relaxed and stopped.

The demonic flute: … So even weapons can get dizzy… ugh.

As the fight grew fiercer, Qin Bing’s eyes lit up. Like a child running home to complain after being bullied, he called out to his father.

Qin Ye ruffled his hair in comfort, then glanced at Yan Wushuang, feeling a clear surge of hostility from him—tinged with a sour jealousy.

How ridiculous. You abandoned your own child, and now you’re jealous?

Qin Ye narrowed his eyes, giving Yan Wushuang a provocative look.

Yan Wushuang gripped his sword. “I’ll be merciful and spare your life.”

Qin Bing bristled. “You’re the one who’s courting death!”

Yan Wushuang: …

Who could understand this? His own son, siding with his “adoptive” father, declared he was seeking death—a true slap in the face.

Yan Wushuang’s gaze grew frostier as he looked at Qin Ye, as if staring at a dead man.

Qin Ye, by contrast, looked at him with real warmth—after all, he was the child’s real father.

In comparison, Yan Wushuang’s favorability rating plummeted.

Qin Ye turned his back to Qin Bing, glancing at Yan Wushuang with a prideful smirk—do you really think you can compete with me? Do you know the value of a “wild father,” you fool?

Yan Wushuang: …

Some desires to stab someone simply can’t be hidden. The more he wanted to harm Qin Ye, the colder and more hostile Qin Bing’s gaze became—a vicious cycle.

Ultimately, Yan Wushuang spoke coldly. “For Bing’er’s sake, step aside.”

Qin Ye smiled, which only enraged Yan Wushuang further. Then Qin Ye said, “You think yourself worthy to wield a sword?”

Murder gleamed in Yan Wushuang’s eyes.

Killing intent flashed in Qin Bing’s eyes as well.

Yan Wushuang: …

He wanted to kill Qin Ye even more. His own son, for the sake of a “wild father,” was ready to kill him? Patricide!

Yan Wushuang gripped his sword, only to feel it trembling.

“You’re angry for me, aren’t you? Don’t worry. He’ll fall beneath our sword for his arrogance,” he muttered to his weapon.

The sword: … My lord, I’m not angry for your sake—I’m shaking with fear! With terror! Understand?

Of course, Yan Wushuang didn’t. He resolved to use the ultimate move he had perfected in seclusion.

“This move is the culmination of my life’s work. It is called Sword—Peerless.”

Qin Ye’s face grew solemn, showing his respect. Then he witnessed Yan Wushuang’s ultimate technique.

It was truly dazzling. In a world where the upper limits of power were clear, a dazzling genius could still appear—Yan Wushuang was one.

Too bad he was facing someone from a higher dimension.

Qin Ye admired him, but admiration wouldn’t make him hold back.

The waters of Silver Mirror Lake erupted, forming a momentary curtain of water that blocked out the sky. Sunlight refracted through the spray, casting a dazzling rainbow.

Yet beneath this beauty was deadly intent.

When the water fell, Yan Wushuang stood dazed, staring at Qin Ye. “What… was that?”

“A sword.”

Upon hearing the answer, Yan Wushuang collapsed.

Perhaps he had overdone it this time.

Qin Ye, feeling a bit awkward, coughed, bit his tongue, and spat a mouthful of blood.

“Father!”

Qin Bing rushed to support him, not sparing a glance at Yan Wushuang.

Unfortunately, Yan Wushuang had already fainted—otherwise, seeing how Qin Bing ignored him in favor of Qin Ye would have been enough to drive him mad, while Qin Ye would have been smug as ever.

Thus ended the great siege of Shuiyue Nunnery by the demonic cult—a grand event that fizzled out anticlimactically.

The greatest gossip among martial artists was that the Sword Pavilion’s master had emerged, perhaps to replace Shuiyue Nunnery among the seven great sects—or perhaps the seven would become eight.

There was also the scandal of the current abbess, sworn never to marry, secretly giving birth to a daughter and raising her as her disciple—an incredible revelation.

But the juiciest gossip was this: two beauties, mother and daughter, entangled in a tale of secret love, captivating the entire martial world.

After defeating Yan Wushuang, Qin Ye took the gravely injured man and left Huayue City.

When Qiao Mingyue, having learned the truth of the previous generation’s grievances from Sang Lanxin, sought out her brother Qin Bing and her biological father Yan Wushuang, she found only an empty trail.

Back in Tianwu City, Qin Ye lounged in the sun. Three people sat in wheelchairs—Qin Ye out of laziness, the others genuinely injured: Qiu Lingsu and Yan Wushuang. Both sat, eyes vacant—Yan Wushuang’s sword heart shattered by Qin Ye’s blow, unable even to hold a sword; Qiu Lingsu’s martial arts crippled, her hair turned white, her mind unsteady. Only Qin Ye could have saved her from death.

As for why he saved her? To fulfill his son’s small wish.

After that, Qin Ye paid them little mind. Qin Bing, believing his father gravely injured from the duel, attended him with utmost care, which only brought Yan Wushuang back to reality.

Day after day, he simmered in jealousy.

Realizing his own son preferred Qin Ye, Yan Wushuang adopted a new strategy—pretending to be on good terms with Qin Ye, hoping to win back his son’s favor. Had he the strength, Qin Bing might have crippled Yan Wushuang’s martial arts, just as he had Qiu Lingsu’s.

Yes, it was Qin Bing who had crippled Qiu Lingsu, while Qin Ye merely saved her life.

Thus, the five of them lived together—though not in harmony. Only when Qiu Lingsu was lucid and sought to make amends did moments of motherly warmth arise. But whenever the atmosphere softened, Qin Ye would chime in coolly, reminding everyone that if he were killed, his poor son might fall once more into Qiu Lingsu’s hands.

Qiu Lingsu could not refute him; in her madness, she had indeed used her son as a tool for vengeance.

As for Yan Wushuang, he needed no words—he simply ordered Qin Bing and Xiao Jiang about, making them serve him, all the while muttering about how some people, blood-related or not, had no right to claim a son after abandoning him for so many years.

In truth, it was Qin Ye, Xiao Jiang, and Qin Bing who formed a happy trio, with two put-upon companions sharing their home.

Life settled into peaceful routine. After some time, Qiao Mingyue arrived, informing Qin Ye that her mother had resigned as abbess, gone into lifelong seclusion, and sealed the mountain for twenty years. Qiao Mingyue herself was no longer a disciple.

She apologized on her mother’s behalf to Qiu Lingsu. As it turned out, Yan Wushuang had indeed cared for Qiu Lingsu, and only left her behind because he believed her safe. Later, he failed to realize she had been captured, as the truth had been deliberately concealed by someone within Shuiyue Nunnery.

Sang Lanxin, ignorant at first, only learned the truth months later, by which time Qiu Lingsu had vanished into the demonic sect. Knowing the fate of traitors, she assumed Qiu Lingsu was dead. Wracked by guilt yet harboring feelings for Yan Wushuang, Sang Lanxin remained at his side, and eventually they became a couple. Yet when she became pregnant, she hid it, left Yan Wushuang, and secretly bore the child.

Partly out of love for her daughter, partly as a calculated move—hoping to bind Yan Wushuang’s strength to Shuiyue Nunnery forever.

Now, with the tides turned, Sang Lanxin simply acknowledged the truth, recognizing her time was over.

Qin Ye didn’t care. It was, after all, a family matter for Qin Bing, to be handled as he wished.