The Price of a Destined Fate

A soft creak sounded.

The bamboo door swung open, though no breeze stirred.

Her body felt utterly drained, as if every sinew and bone had been stripped away, leaving her to cling to the doorframe for support.

She was all but devoid of strength.

The moment Mo Tingbei reclaimed his cultivation, the Foundation Establishment cultivation that had resided within her, yet never truly belonged to her, flowed back into his body, drawn by a connection that transcended all causality.

Now, she merely clung to a semblance of composure, preserving the last vestiges of her former pride, lest she collapse like a heap of mud onto the ground.

She gazed at Mo Tingbei’s figure, a dazed expression upon her face.

Mo Tingbei stood there, his white hair cascading like a waterfall, yet his entire being was enveloped in an aura that sent shivers down one’s spine, making him seem utterly unlike the gentle and refined Master Mo she had once known.

If one were to compare him to an object, the former Master Mo was akin to a lake freshly thawed in early spring, reserved and pellucid; the aura surrounding him now, however, was far more intense, more ferocious than an approaching tempest.

She attempted to speak, yearning to utter all the words she had already spoken but still felt were insufficient—to confess her willfulness and arrogance, to pour out the loneliness and helplessness that haunted her midnight dreams…

Yet, the words caught in her throat the moment her gaze met his eyes.

Those eyes, though still bright and clear, no longer held the vibrant vitality of yesteryear; only a profound stillness remained.

Involuntarily, she took a step forward, but the instant her foot landed, her legs gave way, and with a stumble, she collapsed before Mo Tingbei.

She wished to instantly find a crevice to hide in, so profound was her embarrassment.

Struggling to rise, she found her limbs too weak to obey her will.

Mo Tingbei lowered his gaze slightly, casting a glance upon her.

That look was like the last fading ember on a snow-covered plain—fragile, yet possessing a warmth that was utterly captivating.

He extended a hand, his fingers, translucent as jade, gently alighting upon the crown of her head, patting it ever so lightly.

“It’s alright.”

His voice was low and hoarse, yet it carried a peculiar, soothing power.

With that gentle pat, Ye Jinghuang was startled to find a sudden resurgence of strength within her.

A warm, comforting current surged through her Dantian, thoroughly dispelling the chill that had permeated her very bones.

Jiang Jinyue’s expression shifted.

“Senior Disciple Brother! Why did you not reclaim that last shred of your Original Source, but instead expended your spiritual energy to ignite her Qi Sensation, helping her refine this trace amount of inherent essence?”

Her voice carried an undisguised bewilderment and a faint hint of sorrow.

Upon hearing this, Ye Jinghuang, already numbed by overwhelming guilt, felt even more so.

She didn’t even know what expression to make, merely staring blankly up at Mo Tingbei.

Mo Tingbei, however, simply withdrew his hand with an air of indifference, as though he had performed a most trivial task.

“Let it be a memento.

After all, there was a bond between us, a spiritual connection.”

He paused, his gaze shifting to Jiang Jinyue, only to be met with her evasive eyes.

Mo Tingbei couldn’t help but sigh.

“Moreover… she is, after all, your blood sister in this life, and a karmic bond has been forged.

Why be so absolute?”

“But she harmed you…” Hearing this, Jiang Jinyue abruptly turned her head, instinctively about to utter harsh words, but ultimately quieted under Mo Tingbei’s reassuring gaze, leaving only a tightly pressed line of her lips.

“Little Phoenix.”

Ye Jinghuang trembled violently, lifting her head, her face streaked with tears.

Mo Tingbei gently shook his head, no longer looking at her, and instead called out softly:

“Little Phoenix.”

Ye Jinghuang trembled violently, lifting her tear-streaked face.

“The elder sister you believed her to be was, in truth, a Mirage conjured by a wisp of my Junior Sister’s divine ability.

She entered the mortal realm, protected by a sect treasure and her Latent Wisdom, and coincidentally became your blood sister.

Now that your Spiritual Root has manifested and your Qi Sensation is nascent, in accordance with the Heavenly Dao, you are naturally destined to enter the Three-Unity Sword Sect’s fold…”

Before he could finish, Ye Jinghuang suddenly prostrated herself, her forehead striking the bamboo floor with three dull thuds, her voice choked with sobs: “Disciple Ye Jinghuang pledges to sweep and serve, to be a s*ave or a maid, I only beg Master Mo not to cast me out!”

Mo Tingbei seemed taken aback, letting out a soft sigh.

“Within the Three-Unity Sect, kneeling is not customary…”

He bent slightly, offering a gentle, ethereal support, and a soft, irresistible force, born from nothing, lifted her to her feet.

“Once Xiaoxiao awakens, you shall accompany her to my cave abode to pay respects to the Ancestral Master, and for now, you will serve as a registered disciple.

She will instruct you on the specifics.”

“What remains in your Dantian is neither strength nor technique, but a wisp of Core Flame born from my Original Source.

When you re-embark on the path of cultivation, you may refine it yourself.

You can use it to burn away inner demons and wicked thoughts, attaining clarity of mind and insight into your true nature.

Do not, as before… stray from the correct path.”

Hearing this, Ye Jinghuang’s hand unconsciously rose to touch her Dantian, her gaze slowly falling, lost in a daze, wondering what she was thinking.

Jiang Jinyue turned her head, her gaze sweeping indifferently over Ye Jinghuang, her voice still chillingly clear.

“You should know, this is his path.

Accept it well.

If I ever discover you have failed him,…”

Though she left the rest unsaid, Ye Jinghuang understood perfectly.

“No need to trouble yourself, Martial Aunt.”

The two words, ‘Martial Aunt,’ were enunciated with deliberate emphasis.

Meeting with such a subtle rebuff, Jiang Jinyue found her aversion towards Ye Jinghuang lessened somewhat.

At least she possessed some backbone, and could still discern right from wrong.

She was not, after all, completely beyond redemption, like rotten wood that could not be carved.

For the first time, Jiang Jinyue truly scrutinized this unfamiliar younger sister.

It would have been better had she not looked, for upon seeing, the placid lake of her heart, usually calm as an ancient well, was suddenly churned into a furious tempest.

Though Ye Jinghuang’s spiritual aura was nascent and weak, under Jiang Jinyue’s discerning gaze, it subtly revealed an incredibly obscure, yet utterly domineering and unparalleled, Fate Aspect.

That trajectory was not naturally formed; rather, it appeared to be the trace of something forcibly twisted and concealed by heaven-defying means, only to resurface when her Original Source was stirred!

“Senior Disciple Brother…” She abruptly cast her gaze towards Mo Tingbei.

“She is…”

Mo Tingbei nodded gently.

Jiang Jinyue’s heart instantly felt as though a spice shop had overturned within her, with salty, bitter, and spicy sensations erupting all at once.

“A Python Sparrow Devouring Heaven (TL Note: A rare and dangerous Fate Aspect, signifying immense ambition and destructive potential) Fate Aspect?!”

She practically hissed those words through clenched teeth, and an uncontrolled surge of chilling energy emanated from her, instantly frosting the bamboo walls of the house with a thick layer of rime.

This Fate Aspect was monstrously fierce; ancient records described it as ‘Greedy Wolf devouring its master, harming all blood relatives’.

One burdened with this Fate Aspect was like a young python trapped in a shallow pool, or a swallow confined to a forest—seemingly frail, yet inherently possessing the instinct to devour all surrounding fortune, even the lives of their closest kin.

They merely awaited the opportune moment to transform into a malevolent dragon or a fierce phoenix, soaring to the heavens and engulfing the cosmos!

The price for such a destiny, however, was often the withered bones of those closest to them.

If it had been she who went to settle that karmic debt…

Jiang Jinyue dared not contemplate further.

While Mo Tingbei’s previous affliction was certainly due to his self-sealed cultivation, that Fate Aspect, clearly concealed by someone at the Purple Mansion peak nearing the First Heaven, undoubtedly played a crucial role in it.

In other words—Mo Tingbei had taken a tribulation for her!

No wonder Senior Disciple Brother, despite reclaiming his cultivation, had used his own Original Source Core Flame to ignite her Qi Sensation, forcibly stabilizing her nascent Spiritual Root.

He intended to leverage this karmic connection to utterly shatter that profoundly malevolent Fate Aspect!

Jiang Jinyue gazed at Mo Tingbei’s profile, so calm it bordered on cruel, and an unprecedented surge of anguish and fury threatened to overwhelm her reason.

He was always like this!

Always silently shouldering the most perilous karmic burdens, yet never telling them.

What exactly did he consider his own life to be?

Merely a sufficiently weighty bargaining chip?!

“Did you make all these plans eight years ago?!” Jiang Jinyue could no longer restrain herself.

She rushed forward, fiercely pressing Mo Tingbei down onto the white jade bed.

Her petite frame now erupted with a terrible power truly befitting her cultivation realm, like a tigress whose cubs had been snatched again, her icy-blue eyes uncharacteristically blazing with fury.

Mo Tingbei’s breath caught under the sudden pressure of her domain, and he offered a faint, almost imperceptible wry smile.

“It wasn’t quite that far.

I merely habitually prepared for the worst.”

Jiang Jinyue’s expression softened slightly, as she suddenly remembered the other gazes in the room.

She instinctively shifted her eyes, only for her gaze to collide directly with a pair of eyes incredibly close, and she was drawn in.

Those eyes were profound, but at this moment, a slight watery sheen due to his constricted breath reflected her own discomposure.

Their noses were almost touching; she could even distinctly feel his faint breath brush against her lips, bringing a shiver of ticklish sensation.

The thought of this intimate scene being witnessed by others made her utterly uncomfortable.

Yet, the almost savage possessiveness that had grown from her fear of loss made her stubbornly refuse to release him, instead clutching his robes even tighter, her knuckles turning white.

Mo Tingbei quietly watched her rare display of girlish emotion, a faint smile actually blossoming in his eyes, and he spoke as if joking: “My life is so valuable; if I don’t exchange it for enough, how could it be worth it?”

Mo Tingbei reached out a hand, gently pressing Jiang Jinyue’s shoulder, slowly and firmly helping her to rise.

Jiang Jinyue could, of course, have forcibly suppressed his actions with her cultivation, but in the end, she merely yielded to that faint strength, straightening herself.

Then, as if all her energy had been drained, she allowed herself to lean forward, her forehead gently resting against his shoulder, her entire body seeming to melt into his embrace.

“Can you not leave?”

Her voice was muffled, carrying a barely perceptible sob, as her warm breath brushed his ear.

“Just stay within my Ever-Bright.

I will surely find a way.”

Mo Tingbei allowed her to hold him, feeling the rare dependence and trembling in his arms.

The smile on his lips gradually faded, replaced by a deep, gentle warmth, yet he still shook his head with unwavering resolve.

“There are always some things,” he murmured softly, his voice imbued with an unshakeable sense of destiny, “that simply must be done.”

“But why must it be you?!” Jiang Jinyue abruptly lifted her head, her icy-blue eyes fixed on him, swirling with indignation and pain.

“I am stronger than you now!

I can resolve it for you!”

Mo Tingbei raised a hand, his fingertips lightly brushing a wisp of hair that had fallen by her temple, his gaze distant, as if piercing through the bamboo house to perceive some predetermined path of fate.

“Some chess games,” he said slowly, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable authority, “can only be advanced by the ‘rook,’ while the ‘king’… cannot.”

His gaze fell upon the water screen formed by spiritual power within the room, where a faint white glimmer vaguely appeared in the deep black night.

“The time has come.”