Persecution

After revealing everything to Gong Ning, Lu Yunling stood by the cliff, waiting for the ferryman—only to come face to face with Wang Cheng.

She hadn’t expected such terrible luck.

She had originally planned how to deliver the intelligence carefully.

But early that morning, she heard a Heart-Sword Hall disciple had been taken by the Punishment Sword Division.

After investigating, she realized—the worst-case scenario had come true.

With no choice, she’d come directly to the Heart-Sword Hall.

And now, she’d run into him?

Wang Cheng stared at her, sharp-eyed as a vulture.
“What are you doing here?”

“Reporting to Elder—came to buy a book.
There’s one circulating among disciples lately—Waste Immortal. Have you heard of it?”

“What?”

“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve been obsessed.
Can’t sleep, can’t eat.
It always spreads from Heart-Sword Hall first.
The latest volume just came out, so I thought…”

“…Enough. Focus on cultivation. Don’t indulge in distractions.”

She wasn’t sure if the excuse would work.

“Yes, Elder.
May I ask what brings you here?”

“None of your business. Don’t pry.”

“Yes.”

Just then, a ferryman arrived.

Lu Yunling stepped onto the boat.

Wang Cheng turned, watching her leave—his expression shifting like storm clouds.

Then he turned toward the Heart-Sword Hall and walked in.

Gong Ning was deep in thought—how to use this new information—when the duty disciple called out:

“Elder Wang Cheng of the Sword-Steering Hut requests an audience.”

Again.

“Tang Qiaohuan, take the tea away.”

That subtle move.

Only after Tang Qiaohuan removed the tea did Gong Ning allow the duty disciple to let him in.

“Elder Wang Cheng—visiting the Heart-Sword Hall at this moment, deliberately choosing a time when Yu’ao is away… surely you have ulterior motives.”

“That’s unnecessarily harsh.”

“Harsh words are better than rotten deeds.”

Wang Cheng ignored her, going straight to the point:
“You know the truth about your disciple’s background.
In two days, Xuantian Sword Sect will hand her over to the Governance Institute.
You know Great Yan’s stance on Great Yuan remnants.”

“Say it plainly.”

“Even if I don’t, Elder Gong Ning surely understands.
I have only this to say. Goodbye.”

“You’re like a palace eunuch delivering messages.”

Wang Cheng froze.

He turned, face dark as a cauldron.
“Gong Ning—don’t push your luck.”

“I don’t need you to give me face. Get out.”

So cool, Master! So cool!

Watching Wang Cheng leave, face twisted with suppressed rage, Tang Qiaohuan couldn’t help but feel giddy.

Her Master was rarely this bold.

Ah, what a pity—it wasn’t for me.

“Elder, so you have this side of you too?”

“Just verbal victories. Nothing more.”

Gong Ning shook her head, returning to her bedroom to continue her thoughts.

The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the paper windows.

Gong Ning stared at the cloud patterns on the canopy, fingers unconsciously digging into her palm.

It was already past midnight.

Even the crickets outside had quieted.

Yet the storm in her chest refused to subside.

She knew Lingling could endure prison.

But this—this was not her fate.

She had trained day and night, won the freshman competition.

She deserved admiration, glory—not chains.

Her hand under the blanket clenched—knuckles white.

Gong Changqian’s smug face flashed before her.

And Wang Cheng—his false kindness.

In the end, it always came back to cultivation.

In this world, one’s strength was everything.

When she was Golden Core, Tianjian Pavilion wouldn’t have dared touch her.

After Golden Core, one stood beyond control.

Even outside Xuantian Sword Sect, the world was home.

But without strength, with too many treasures—she was forced to bow.

Again, the cultivation problem.

No matter how she thought—she had to strengthen herself.

No matter how long the road.

Gong Ning just sat cross-legged—when she heard the courtyard gate creak open.

That familiar step—she knew instantly.

The visitor—or rather, the returning one—was Jiang Yuyao.

She knocked directly on Gong Ning’s door.

It opened immediately.

She wore a thin sleeping robe.

In the flickering candlelight, it shimmered like pearls.

The collar hung loose, revealing the delicate line of her collarbone.

The fabric clung to her back, tracing smooth curves.

The sash at her waist was loosely tied.

The hem swayed—hinting at what lay beneath.

“Where were you?”

Four simple words.

No strong emotion.

Yet they stirred Jiang Yuyao’s heart.

“Handling Yuqing Sect’s affairs.
They want a deep alliance with Xuantian Sword Sect—especially the Heart-Sword Hall.”

“Good. Come in.”

Jiang Yuyao followed Gong Ning, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve heard about Lingling.”

That saved an explanation.

“Wang Cheng came this afternoon.
Said they’d hand Lingling to the Governance Institute.
The meaning was clear—blackmail me for the technique.”

Jiang Yuyao asked, “What do you plan to do?”

“I’m torn.
Should I take revenge…
Or just hand over the technique, avoid trouble, and get Lingling back sooner?”

Jiang Yuyao took Gong Ning’s hands in hers.

They were ice-cold—like they’d been pulled from freezing water.

“You already know the answer.”

“I do.
If I back down, Lingling will blame me.”

Jiang Yuyao smiled faintly, placing Gong Ning’s hands on her chest—the cold seeping into her heart.

“As long as I’m here, they can’t hurt you.
Your disciple will be safe.”

Gong Ning felt a weight lift.

She leaned into Jiang Yuyao’s arms.

“I don’t want to rely on you.”

Jiang Yuyao gently stroked her cheek.

“Why? Is your male pride acting up?”

“How would I know I have that?”

“Then don’t say things like that.
Your beauty alone can make most people serve you.
You should get used to accepting it with peace of mind.”

Gong Ning opened her eyes, glanced at her—then lowered her lashes again.

“So many twisted truths.”

“This is an eternal truth of humanity.”

“I don’t like it. But it’s true.
Don’t move your hands around.
I’m not in the mood. I’m thinking.”

“Even now, you’re still worrying about her?
After a hundred years… I’m a little jealous.”

“Stick to the topic. Don’t say things that upset me.”

Gong Ning sighed.

She had to admit—Jiang Yuyao being here made her feel grounded.

From her System space, she pulled out an item.

“Before we do anything reckless—learn this technique first.”

“A dual cultivation manual?
Are you that impatient? Can’t spare a little time?”

“You’re different. You’re Nascent Soul.
Far more effective than ordinary dual cultivation.”

Jiang Yuyao smiled.
“So I’m only fit to be your furnace vessel?”

“You’re the one who said I should get used to accepting help with peace of mind.”

Gong Ning buried her face in Jiang Yuyao’s chest—hiding her flushed cheeks.

The last time she’d said such affectionate words was when her mother was still alive.

Now, with someone to rely on… they slipped out without her noticing.