Watching the Mountain

Into the suffocating silence, Ye Qingxue walked in from outside the hall.

She didn’t look at anyone, nor did she say a word.

She walked straight to the open space before the hall. With a thought, her Flying Sword unsheathed with a sharp ring, hovering by her side. The blade hummed, exuding a reckless chill.

Then, she moved.

The light from her sword flashed like snow—swift and vicious. This was nothing like her usual cool and restrained style; instead, it carried an almost crazed determination as she lunged straight for several young disciples in the Four Major Sects’ party who still wore arrogant expressions.

Those disciples had never expected to be attacked in front of the Profound Pure Sect’s main hall. They hastily defended themselves, but the suicidal force behind her swordplay sent their insides into turmoil. They staggered backward, coughing up blood, having clearly suffered severe internal injuries.

"Audacious."

"Stop."

Several angry shouts rang out at once.

Everyone was stunned by this sudden, utterly brazen act.

Several Elders hadn’t even had time to intervene. They stared at Ye Qingxue, who stood with her sword in hand. Her breathing was slightly ragged, but her eyes were terrifyingly bright—like a beast guarding its food, or a madwoman who cared for nothing at all.

The leading Elder from the Four Major Sects’ delegation stared her down, his face grim. "Who are you? How dare you be so insolent."

Ye Qingxue slowly raised her eyes, wiping away a trace of blood from the corner of her mouth—a result of the Spiritual Power backlash.

Her voice was calm, not even deliberately raised, yet it carried clearly across the entire area:

"I am Ye Qingxue, the junior sister held by Senior Brother Ye Shan."

The moment her words fell, the entire area fell silent.

The members of the Four Major Sects were stunned, and so was everyone from the Profound Pure Sect.

Countless gazes fixed on her, filled with shock and disbelief.

They seemed completely unable to understand why, at such a tense, sword-point moment, she would choose to introduce herself that way—specifically mentioning that Ye Shan had held her.

’Does anyone really care about what you two do in private?’

’Hmm? Wait, that’s not quite right... This seems to be about Ye Shan. And if that’s the case, well, maybe we are a little interested.’

She saw the confused, probing, and even strange looks in their eyes.

But she didn’t care.

’That was something worth bragging about, wasn’t it?’

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「Two years later.」

The spirit of Divine Sword Peak was gone. With its departure, so too had Nine Profound True Monarch departed.

Sunlight filtered through the clouds above Divine Sword Peak, scattering in fragments and illuminating a new grave on the back of the mountain.

There was no headstone, only the grave resting quietly against an old plum tree. Her master had planted it years ago, saying he liked this spot.

Ye Qingxue knelt before the grave, carefully patting down the last handful of soil.

Her movements were slow. Her fingers brushed across the damp earth, which felt cool to the touch.

A sword lay beside the grave. It was the one her master had often used, its hilt worn smooth from his grip.

She hadn’t buried the sword with him, merely placed it here to keep him company.

The mountain wind blew, rustling the leaves of the plum tree. She remembered the day her master brought her back to the Sect, how he had knelt down, looked into her eyes, and said, "From now on, this is our home."

She also remembered the sight of her master standing alone in the courtyard, his face a silent silhouette as he gazed up at the northern stars.

He had told her that people pass away, but their memories, their feelings, and the things they did become a part of those who live on.

Now, her master was a part of her.

She stood up. The hem of her plain white skirt was dotted with mud, but she didn’t bother to brush it away.

Her heart felt empty, yet at the same time, it felt as if it were filled with something heavy—a weight that didn’t drag her down.

She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were dry. She only felt the chill of the wind on her face.

In the distance, the halls of Divine Sword Peak still stood majestically, their curved eaves appearing and disappearing in the clouds and mist.

She gazed at the sky and thought of someone else.

Senior Brother Ye Shan.

The young man whose eyes had burned like stars as he declared, "In this world, no one is a match for me, Ye Shan," was now lying dormant somewhere.

She knew that in the end, her master had wanted to protect her and him.

By doing this, her master had severed his own attachments, hoping to free her Senior Brother from all worries.

It was a choice she felt she understood, yet couldn’t fully grasp.

She just felt that her master must have believed in something—believed that the reckless, bright-eyed young man would one day rise again.

’So, I can’t be sad.’

’At least, not the kind of grief that leaves you paralyzed.’

Her master had said that to truly disappear is to be forgotten. So, she had to live well, to live on for those who had passed, too.

Now, her Senior Brother was dormant, her master was gone, and Divine Sword Peak suddenly felt empty.

’But the road ahead must still be walked.’

She looked down at her palm.

There were thin calluses from years of gripping a sword.

Her master had said her steadiness was her unique quality, not a flaw.

She hadn’t quite understood it before, but now, she was beginning to.

’Steadiness means that no matter how hard the mountain winds blow or how fiercely the clouds churn, you can still walk on, step by step, at your own pace.’

She bent down and picked a small, nameless blue flower growing beside the grave. It was an ordinary flower, but it bloomed with earnest intent.

She gently placed it on the mound of earth.

Then she turned and started walking down the mountain.

Her footsteps were as light as ever, as if she were afraid of disturbing the very dust in the air.

The hem of her white dress fluttered slightly in the wind. Her silhouette was slender, but her back was held ramrod straight.

The mountain path was long, winding down until it disappeared into the forest.

She walked on, step by step, listening to the sound of her own footfalls and the faint chime of morning bells in the distance.

The lake in her heart was now perfectly calm, without a single ripple.

But deep beneath the surface, something had quietly settled, growing harder and more solid.

The sunlight gradually grew warmer, its rays falling upon her and dispelling the morning chill.

She lifted her head and looked forward.

The road ahead was still long.

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In the days after Ye Shan became dormant, Ye Qingxue never went to visit him.