The Unspoken Vow

Mo Tingbei slowly exhaled a murky breath. The breath carried a faint, coppery sweetness, and a scorching anxiety that seemed to emanate from the depths of his very soul.

The calculating sword qi in his eyes completely receded, leaving behind only a profound weariness, deep as an abyss, and beneath that exhaustion, a cold, resolute determination.

“I’ve glimpsed some… grim possibilities.” His voice was hoarse, as if abraded by sandpaper.

Jiang Jinyue’s ice-blue eyes watched him silently, refraining from pressing him on the terrifying scenes these ‘grim possibilities’ entailed.

‘If her Senior Brother was unwilling to elaborate, then it was something she ought not to know.’

‘She would not pry.’

She stepped half a pace forward, her cool fingertips gently brushing a trace of blood that had, at some unknown moment, seeped from the corner of his lips. Her movements were so natural, as if rehearsed a thousand times over.

That touch carried her unique spiritual energy, as clear and cold as a spring in a snowfield, subtly soothing his turbulent Sea of Consciousness.

“Is it very troublesome?” she asked.

Her tone was placid, as if inquiring about tomorrow’s weather.

“Mhm,” Mo Tingbei mumbled in response, his gaze once again drifting towards the Wu Yin Dynasty, his eyes profound and distant.

Seeing his demeanor, Jiang Jinyue swiftly deduced the general truth.

Her aversion to such intricate thoughts did not mean she was incapable of them; moreover, an unspoken understanding, one defying verbal expression, existed between her and Mo Tingbei.

“The Immortal Alliance,” he uttered these two words with a complex, almost disgusted tone. “We need the Immortal Alliance’s power to intervene in Wu Yin.”

Jiang Jinyue’s slender brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

‘Wu Yin? Was that the realm where the body she now inhabited had been born?’

‘Her Senior Brother sought the Immortal Alliance’s aid, could it be…’

She naturally knew the current state of the Immortal Alliance.

Those ‘immortals’ perched high above the clouds had long lost their original intent, viewing the mortal realm as mere weeds; they would never, under normal circumstances, mobilize for mortals.

“They won’t concern themselves with it,” she stated a simple fact.

“Therefore, we must give them a reason they cannot ignore.”

Mo Tingbei’s gaze fell upon Changming, which now hung at Jiang Jinyue’s waist, shrunken to the size of an ordinary jade pendant.

“That star-skiff, those ‘patrol envoys’ — they violated forbidden territory and obstructed a Golden Core Dao Lord’s procession. This charge alone will suffice.”

The superfluous words remained unsaid; he trusted Jiang Jinyue would understand.

The Immortal Alliance’s own set of rules had long become rigid and corrupt. They could leverage those old regulations to dictate to the world’s current sects, thereby salvaging their dwindling prestige.

His words were calm.

“Tomorrow, at your Golden Core Grand Ceremony, the Immortal Alliance is bound to send representatives. It is then that we shall lay this matter bare.”

He looked at Jiang Jinyue. “You merely need to be present and uphold the dignity of your Golden Core Dao Lord status. Leave the rest to me.”

He intended to seize this occasion, using this pretext, to compel the Immortal Alliance to declare its stance before all influential factions, thereby forcing them to dispatch forces to investigate and purge the anomalies within Wu Yin, all to preserve the Immortal Alliance’s tottering authority and regulations.

Jiang Jinyue remained silent for a moment.

She was neither adept at nor fond of such intricate calculations and maneuvering; Mo Tingbei had always shouldered the burden of sectarian affairs.

Her preference, rather, was to draw her sword.

Yet, she trusted him implicitly.

Just as in childhood, he had led her by the hand through mountains of corpses and seas of blood; just as in youth, he had held her hand, teaching her to unleash her first streak of sword light.

“Good,” she nodded again, her reply as concise as ever. Her ice-blue eyes held no doubt, only absolute trust, and a subtle, deeply buried pang of sorrow for him, who, even in his current state, akin to a fleeting meteor, still found not a moment’s rest.

As Mo Tingbei beheld her in this manner, the corner of his heart, growing increasingly cold with his surge in power, seemed to be infused with a trace of warm, living spring water.

He raised his hand, very naturally wiping it on the corner of his robe first, before gently ruffling the top of her head. The gesture was familiar and affectionate, as if she were still the Junior Sister who needed his protection.

Witnessing his actions, the utterly mad idea in Jiang Jinyue’s heart grew even more resolute.

“Rest assured,” his tone softened slightly, carrying an almost imperceptible weariness, yet utterly resolute. “I will handle everything.”

Having spoken, he turned, facing the silent sect nestled beneath the sea of clouds.

Tomorrow, this place would be bustling with guests and fraught with hidden undercurrents.

He needed to immediately make arrangements, to consult with the various Elders and Elders of Affairs within the sect, ensuring tomorrow’s gambit was foolproof.

Just as he prepared to depart, Jiang Jinyue suddenly called out to him softly.

“Senior Brother…”

Mo Tingbei turned his head, facing her sideways, and waited.

She gazed at his profile, sharply delineated by the moonlight. Those eyes, which even amidst the direst challenges had always mirrored the calm of a spring lake, were now consumed by an anxious flame, and the warmth in her heart abruptly dissipated.

Her gaze faltered, unwilling to meet his eyes again.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Mo Tingbei remained silent for a moment. Seeing that she offered no further words, a sense of helplessness stirred within him. Someone had to break this awkward silence, so Mo Tingbei eventually spoke to bid farewell.

“See you tomorrow morning.”

“Mhm, see you tomorrow.”

Mo Tingbei’s figure transformed into a faint, imperceptible wisp of azure smoke, silently merging with the brilliant array of lights illuminating the sect below, lit in preparation for the grand ceremony, like a droplet dissolving into a surging river.

On the Star-Gazing Terrace, only Jiang Jinyue remained, alone.

The wind at this altitude grew fierce, making her moon-white robe sleeves flap loudly, yet it could not dispel the tranquility that seemed to form its own world around her.

She remained standing in place, her ice-blue eyes not following the vanished azure silhouette, but slowly lowering to rest on the top of her head, where his hand, after wiping on his robe, had just touched.

There, a faint trace of his warmth seemed to linger, along with a profound carefulness that had almost seeped into her bones.

He had raised his hand, first wiping it on his robe.

This action was like a rusty key, unexpectedly prying open a long-sealed casket deep within her memories.

In a trance, the cloud-shrouded immortal platform before her vanished, replaced by an endless purgatory of corpse mountains, blood seas, and wailing specters. The pungent stench of blood and char seemed to congeal into a suffocating, viscous reality.

Back then, he had been like the most cunning spirit cat in the darkest abyss, always guiding her to a sliver of hope amidst despair, exchanging the smallest cost for the greatest chance of survival.

Calculating, weighing, exploiting rules and even the enemy’s psychology…

That was an instinct deeply rooted in his very being, a wisdom for survival forged in the depths of desperation.

And now, that former self had resurfaced, if only slightly.

What had been merely an act of disturbing a procession, in a few short words, had been transformed into the grave crime of violating a sect’s forbidden territory and challenging a Dao Lord’s authority…

It had been a very, very long time since she had seen her Senior Brother in this guise.

So long that she had almost forgotten that beneath his usual gentle, even overly benevolent facade, there lurked a soul so calm, even ruthless, that he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

Having joined Three-Unity Sword Sect, taken charge of the sect, and ascended to the Purple Mansion, he had grown increasingly like a stable, reliable mountain, shielding those close to him from all storms and thunder, always leaving them with a seemingly calm and clear sky.

He had reined in all his sharpness, smoothed out the dark edges of his personality, becoming magnanimous, becoming… more like the ‘Sect Master’ everyone expected him to be.

Until this very moment.

A long-dormant corner of her heart suddenly stirred, gently, madly.

That thought, that utterly insane thought that had long festered but was always forcibly suppressed, now, like a vine that had finally found nourishment, suddenly grew rampant, becoming incredibly clear, incredibly resolute!

Cold determination, like ten-thousand-year-old profound ice, swiftly covered all subtle emotional fluctuations in her eyes.

She slowly raised her hand, a faint wisp of ice-blue flame, as if it could extinguish at any moment, swirling around her fingertips. The flame danced at her fingertips, reflecting against her expressionless profile, emanating an extreme coldness capable of freezing the soul, and… an aura of destruction.

Beneath the sea of clouds, the sect’s lights were warm and bustling, making final preparations for the grand ceremony tomorrow.

Above the sea of clouds, Jiang Jinyue stood alone in the biting wind, the Nirvana Flame dancing unseen at her fingertips. She watched the direction where Mo Tingbei had vanished, and in a voice only she could hear, she whispered softly, as if making an unchangeable vow.

“Senior Brother, I will never let go.”