Chapter 164: Disciples Pay Homage to the Master

Huanpu Mountain is not encircled by real waterfalls, but by several water-like curtains cascading down the peaks. These secluded curtains are more advanced than peach curtains and are called Boundary Curtains.

The Peak Lord's Hall stood majestically high. It bore no magnificent colorful clouds or exquisite rare flowers, only countless pine and cypress trees, appearing like an ancient, solemn, ordinary tall mountain.

At this moment, the monstrous Nine-Infant stood atop the originally towering peak. Its two limbs rested on the rocks at the base of the peak, while its central, giant python-like head was raised high, staring intently at the sun. Its remaining eight heads were fixed to the mountainside like arms, and its long tail cascaded down the rock face, extending from the summit into the clouds at the mountain's waist.

The Sect Master's Hall was nestled within the embrace of the Nine-Infant's colossal body.

Light shimmered on the Boundary Curtains, not reflected, but flowing down like waterfalls, forming sheets of cascading light. They were hidden far beyond the four peaks, only becoming visible when the Grand Formation of Mountains and Waters was activated.

At this moment, the Grand Formation of Mountains and Waters had been activated.

The positions of the four peaks and Huanpu Mountain resembled a pointed-roof house, with the four peaks forming a rectangle and Huanpu Mountain at the apex. Once the Grand Formation was activated, all the spiritual energy of the four peaks, like blood in a pulse, flowed into the Sect Master's Hall with each beat of a heart. On each mountain, the once lustrous spiritual fruits and flowers gradually faded and lost their vibrancy.

Looking out now, Huanpu Mountain appeared like a colossal pillar of light reaching from earth to sky.

"What are you doing?!" Shouxiao Peak trembled violently.

Jing Yangxia soared forth on his Bixiao Sword, descending from the sky, intending to cleave through the flowing Grand Formation of Mountains and Waters. His sword strike was immensely powerful; amidst the emerald light, the ground cracked for dozens of meters. However, the formation's foundation lay much deeper and remained unshaken.

The Peak Lords of Xuanyi Peak and Huiyang Peak also rode their swords out.

"What's happening?" Xue Xunxue exclaimed in alarm.

Xue Lin quickly understood: "Han Chi has reversed the Grand Formation of Mountains and Rivers, intending to monopolize all the remaining spiritual energy and fortune of the Heavenly Sect!"

Xue Xunxue frowned, saying, "How could this be?"

"Do not interfere in this matter. My actions are merely to break down and then rebuild. Once I fuse with the Nine-Infant's bones and acquire the Sword Scripture, the Heavenly Sect's three hundred years of prosperity will begin today," Han Chi Zhenren declared, his voice filled with righteous power, echoing across the four peaks, audible even to disciples covering their ears.

The three Peak Lords exchanged glances.

Jing Yangxia, channeling his voice into a thread, asked, "Should we activate the Guardian Sword of the Mountain?"

Xue Xunxue gently shook her head. "Lu Jiajia is nowhere to be found."

Xue Lin glanced at the sky and said, "It seems a heavenly tribulation is approaching?"

Han Chi Zhenren presided over the Sect Master's Hall, like a chess player behind the scenes. He surveyed the chessboard of the Heavenly Sect, with its four main peaks resembling the corner pieces. He not only intended to win the game but also to seize the entire board for himself.

"Lu Yuanbai, a disciple of Tianku Peak, has harbored Ning Changjiu, a criminal of the Heavenly Sect, and defied a master's command. His crime is unforgivable. He shall be charged with the same crime as Ning Changjiu, and both shall be apprehended!" Han Chi Zhenren's voice resounded once more.

On Tianku Peak, his projection was precisely bisected by Lu Yuanbai's blade.

Ning Changjiu carried Lu Jiajia on his back, his sword blade showing countless nicks and heavily scarred.

"To whoever apprehends these two, I shall bestow my personal sword, grant them the Supreme Sword Art of the Yujian Heavenly Sect, and a seat as an elder in the Sect Master's Hall in the future," Han Chi Zhenren promised, offering incredibly tempting conditions.

What an honor it was to be gifted his personal sword! It virtually designated one as the successor to the next Sect Master! Moreover, these words came directly from the Sect Master himself.

Many elders cultivating in seclusion within the hidden peaks of the four mountains were stirred. For most, their cultivation limits were set at birth, and decades of effort might prove fruitless. The Sect Master's words, however, offered them a glimmer of hope to break through their inherent talent's ceiling.

Most importantly, the Sect Master's conditions didn't seem difficult. No matter how brilliantly Ning Changjiu performed today, he was still just a young disciple, and someone named Lu Yuanbai had never even been heard of.

"Lu Yuanbai..."

On Xuanyi Peak, a quiet and elegant woman suddenly stood up. One hand clutched her heart, the other rested on the sword at her waist, her eyes flickering. "How could it be him?"

"Hmm? Do you know him?" a man beside her asked.

The woman closed her eyes, stood still for a moment, then slowly sat back down, shaking her head. "I've forgotten."

The man gave her a deep look.

At this very moment, a pursuit originating from Tianku Peak began.

Figures in sword robes rode their swords, rushing towards Tianku Peak. Although there weren't many cultivators above the Longevity Realm on Tianku Peak, their combined number totaled over twenty.

Lu Yuanbai did not leave the summit of Tianku Peak. He was confident that the Longevity Realm cultivators of the Heavenly Sect were mostly a disorganized rabble, no match for the demeanor of a Grand Cultivator of the Purple Court Realm like himself. He had been suppressed for too long. Today, he would stand with his blade and sword at the peak, unyielding, to face every cultivator who dared to approach, and to utterly astonish those juniors who had once looked down on him, making them exclaim in awe at his might.

Fearing others wouldn't know what was happening, Lu Yuanbai cleared his throat and loudly proclaimed, "Today, the fiendish Han Chi wreaks havoc upon the Heavenly Sect! Lu Yuanbai, the righteous hero of Tianku Peak, stands here, defending the peak alone, yielding not an inch!"

His voice echoed across the four peaks.

However, many disciples who had initially been amazed by Uncle Lu's hidden power felt a bit awkward after hearing this, thinking, "Uncle, are you still a little child poisoned by martial arts stories?"

"Lu Yuanbai?""Is that Uncle Lu? The Uncle Lu who idles around in the hallways every day?""Yes, that's Uncle Lu, the king of the hallway entrance who drinks all day and never takes anything seriously.""And he has a low alcohol tolerance.""His drinking manners are terrible too!""But I never expected him to be so powerful...""Come on, let's go see Uncle Lu!"

Ning Xiaoling listened to their conversation, then cast a worried glance at Yazhu and said, "Brother's situation doesn't seem very good right now."

Yazhu patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry unnecessarily."

Ning Xiaoling didn't know how to explain, but she said earnestly, "It's true, Brother seems very tired right now..."

Yazhu sighed softly and hugged the little girl beside her, comforting her. "From our time together these past few days, I may not know much else, but this young Ning Changjiu is not only tough but also full of tricks. I doubt they can do anything to him."

Ning Xiaoling also had confidence in her brother, but she could vaguely sense his emotions and knew he was feeling quite down, which made her extremely worried.

"Uncle Yazhu, I want to go out," Ning Xiaoling said.

"What will you do out there?" Yazhu asked.

"I want to go out and kill people," Ning Xiaoling replied, looking up with a serious expression.

Ning Changjiu encountered his first ambush on the mountainside of Tianku Peak.

Amidst the bare tree trunks, a sword thrust towards his back. Ning Changjiu ignored it, and the sword pierced Lu Jiajia's cocoon-like garment, then broke.

The broken blade fragments shot out, spinning at high speed, circling around his body and slicing towards his waist.

Ning Changjiu paused, extended two fingers to intercept a flying blade, and then swept his hand back. The assassin tried to block with his sword, but Ning Changjiu directly grabbed the blade, twisting it into a twisted mess. Simultaneously, with a flick of his finger, the flying blade shot out at high speed, embedding itself in the assassin's throat.

As one assassin died, the fallen red cherry blossoms on the ground suddenly burst open, and another man, who had been lurking for a long time, rose in a coffin-opening posture and lunged at Ning Changjiu. Ning Changjiu had anticipated this; the moment the man rose, he grabbed the twisted sword and stabbed downward. The sword effortlessly pierced the man's chest, pinning him back into the scattered red blossoms on the ground.

In mid-air, another cautious individual launched a flying sword attack from a distance. To shake off his pursuers, Ning Changjiu needed to establish his authority. Therefore, he gave his opponent no chance to preserve his life. After striking down the flying sword with a single blow, he forcefully imbued it with his spiritual essence, erasing the opponent's psychic imprint that had nurtured the sword, thus making it his own.

Ning Changjiu pressed his brow. Shortly after the flying sword shot through the air, it returned, stained with blood.

After killing three people in quick succession, the previously fervent cultivators calmed down considerably and no longer dared to act recklessly.

"Ning Changjiu, how dare you! How dare you indiscriminately kill Heavenly Sect elders!" someone roared fiercely. "If you don't surrender now, today you shall be torn into ten thousand pieces!"

Ning Changjiu stopped his escape down the peak. With Lu Jiajia on his back, he turned to face them and asked, "Do you also wish to die?"

Several flying swords hovered on the mountainside of Tianku Peak, figures standing on them like small boats adrift in the void. They had originally expected Ning Changjiu to flee down the mountain first, allowing them to form a siege in the open and kill him. But to their astonishment, Ning Changjiu, holding his sword, turned and walked towards them instead. There were clearly more than ten of them, each a Longevity Realm cultivator. How... how dared this young man?

Ning Changjiu said no more. After a brief sprint, he pushed off the ground, soaring into the air, his sword creating continuous streaks of shadows. He resembled a small demon carrying a coffin, his killing intent and sword qi flickering erratically like wisps of netherfire from the underworld.

The instant his figure shot through the air, several elders understood the unspoken command. Their flying swords darted out, instantly forming a formation in mid-air, which then, along with the grand sword array, pressed down towards Ning Changjiu's position. This sword formation was called the Hundred Prisons. Though hastily assembled, it was by no means ordinary; on the contrary, it was of a very high rank. When the Heavenly Sect descended to the mortal realm to hunt demons, this sword formation was the quickest and most effective technique, having slain countless evil beings.

As the sword formation was about to reach Ning Changjiu, almost everyone instinctively held their breath. But the next scene left them dumbfounded: the formation passed right through Ning Changjiu as if touching a phantom, not a single drop of blood splattered. The exchange between reality and illusion happened in an instant. Ning Changjiu, still carrying the cocoon-garment, landed on a flying sword beneath one of the elders' feet. The suspended sword rapidly plummeted. This sensation of freefall caused the elder to panic, momentarily forgetting how to control his sword. Ning Changjiu then seized his wrist, forcing him to end his own life in a manner akin to seppuku.

The formation shattered without needing an attack.

Ning Changjiu pushed off with his foot, and the flying sword, along with the body, plunged down the peak.

A golden light gleamed in his pupils.

"Ning Changjiu! There's still time to turn back; don't make a grave mistake!"

A sword strike, like a massive waterfall, slammed towards him. Ning Changjiu extended his hand, twisting his palm outwards. He pulled his arms apart, tearing the sword-waterfall asunder. Ning Changjiu then delivered a punch directly to his opponent's chest.

With a loud thud, the elder who had attacked slid backward through the air with his sword. His robe tore open at the chest, revealing a caved-in heart-protecting mirror. The remaining individuals surrounded Ning Changjiu, but none dared to advance recklessly.

Ning Changjiu, his expression unchanged, calmly suggested, "Go fight Lu Yuanbai; don't bother me."

With that, he controlled his sword, turned, and flew down the mountain.

As several elders hesitated whether to pursue him, someone suddenly mentioned that Lu Yuanbai at the summit of Tianku Peak seemed to only injure people, not kill them. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances.

Meanwhile, Lu Yuanbai, currently reveling in his swordplay at the peak, had no idea what awaited him. Before long, under the exasperating harassment of those stinging hornet-like elders, he would be cursing and abandoning his sword to flee.

In the Sect Master's Hall, beside Han Chi Zhenren, the figure of an old man in gray robes slowly materialized.

"He's just a junior disciple. Is he worth such a grand fuss?" the gray-robed man asked.

Han Chi Zhenren replied, "He is not simple."

"How 'not simple' is he that you've woken me up?" the gray-robed man asked calmly.

Han Chi Zhenren said, "The lower volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is currently in his possession."

"What did you say?" The gray-robed man frowned. "The Sword Scripture has appeared again?"

Han Chi Zhenren looked at him and asked, "Did the previous Sect Master not show you the Sword Scripture?"

"The Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is a divine text that only the Sect Master may read. Even I have never seen it," the gray-robed man said with regret.

Han Chi Zhenren said, "Then I must trouble you, Elder, to emerge from seclusion and help me retrieve that scripture. When the time comes, I am willing to study the Sword Scripture together with you."

"What?" The gray-robed man's eyes flickered slightly, but he rigidly shook his head. "That is against the rules."

"Rules are made by people," Han Chi Zhenren said, shaking his head. "Past Sect Masters were unwilling to hand over the Sword Scripture purely out of fear. I am different from them."

Han Chi Zhenren looked at him, earnestly saying, "Elder, you have presided over and guarded this hall for many years, performing great deeds. You rightfully deserve this honor. Moreover, that disciple has now killed many people on the peak. Surely, you wouldn't want to see the four peaks continue to be in chaos, would you?"

The gray-robed elder also looked at him and said, "You intend to take the Nine-Infant as your body. Be careful not to fall into the demonic path."

Han Chi Zhenren laughed loudly. "I, as a human, cultivate the demonic path, and then transform the Nine-Infant into a human. Whether it's the demonic path or the evil path, all can be transformed into the Heavenly Dao! When I step into the Five Paths, it will be the beginning of our sect's revival."

The gray-robed elder looked at him in silence.

As Ning Changjiu rode his sword from the mountain to its base, he encountered two more ambushes, but he overcame both dangers. His body was in a rather poor state.

The cause of it all was the sword strike he had unleashed with all his might in the cold prison, combining forces with the spirit of the Sword Scripture. The Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture either ensured a kill or resulted in immense backlash. The backlash felt like thousands of ants crawling over his body, tormenting him constantly, and his earlier resolute sword strike had further aggravated his internal injuries.

"Lu Jiajia, what exactly are you doing? Why is it taking so long to overcome a heart demon tribulation? Ning Xiaoling is even stronger than you!" Ning Changjiu felt a little annoyed, thinking, "I refine your body and help you polish your Dao heart every day, yet why are you still so disappointing!"

In the sky, dark clouds had already gathered, a sign of an approaching lightning tribulation.

Lu Jiajia returned to when she was a little girl. She walked alone down a very long street, where unfamiliar faces came and went. Relying on scattered routes from her memory, she reached the center of an old street. It was a door with tight wood grain, studded with copper nails.

A little girl ran out of the door. Lu Jiajia exchanged a glance with her. The little girl was very thin and small, her clothes old and yellowed. Her face was sharp due to her gauntness, yet her skin was very pale, and she might even appear delicate if cleaned up. Lu Jiajia watched her cautiously walk past. The little girl dared not even breathe, as if a slightly forceful breath would be a desecration.

After she walked away, Lu Jiajia went to the well and looked down. She found herself appearing to be five or six years old, wearing a white dress, with a dignified bun in her hair, and a decorative wooden sword at her waist, looking quite like a little sword immortal. She looked at her reflection in the well water, then bent down and threw a stone, shattering the image in the water.

Lu Jiajia did not get lost in the illusion of the heart demon. Although she didn't immediately realize she was undergoing a tribulation, she understood that this must be something akin to a dream. Yet, looking around, the marks of time on the walls of the buildings were so clear; every scratch could be distinctly touched, feeling its roughness and unevenness.

Cart ruts rolled across the street, and she stepped aside to avoid them. A white-bearded old man led a horse, laden with goods on its cart. Alongside him jogged a few soldiers in tattered robes, their faces covered in dust. People nearby whispered to each other, speaking what seemed to be a distant dialect. All of this felt so real.

Lu Jiajia hesitated for a long time.

"Jiajia!" Someone called her name from behind.

It was a woman in luxurious clothing, her hair adorned with a gold phoenix hairpin, her makeup a little heavy, yet her demeanor was graceful and dignified. Lu Jiajia instinctively responded and walked over.

The woman held Lu Jiajia's hand and walked forward, saying, "Oh, my little ancestor, where have you been? The Immortal Master has been waiting in the house for ages. He traveled thousands of miles to get here, we can't keep him waiting, can we?"

"Immortal Master?" Lu Jiajia asked.

"You silly girl, did you hit your head? Today is your apprenticeship ceremony! The master from the Immortal Sect wants to take you as a disciple; he says you're a rare talent seen only once in a hundred years," the woman chattered on. "Oh, and I asked, even after you go to the mountain, you can still come home for festivals. When you become an immortal, don't forget your mother, remember to visit often."

Lu Jiajia mumbled a vague affirmation, then was led by the woman into a large mansion.

The mansion was extremely lively today, with people coming and going, adorned with lanterns and streamers. In the grand hall, gold bowls and silver chopsticks were neatly arranged, and beautiful faces and delicate hands moved about, chatting and laughing. Upon seeing Lu Jiajia, everyone swarmed forward, surrounding her like stars around the moon, offering greetings and asking about her well-being. The woman smiled and helped her politely decline their attention.

Lu Jiajia paid them no mind. As if sensing something, she stood on tiptoe, her gaze struggling to pierce through the crowd, looking towards a certain direction. Seeing this, the woman quickly parted the crowd and led the little girl to meet the Immortal Master.

The Immortal Master sat on a chair that should have been discarded. The artisan who made this chair had clearly erred; the chair was unwieldy and crude. Had its material not been exceptionally good, it would have long been broken up for firewood.

But when the Immortal Master, clad in white robes, sat on it, the chair seemed imbued with a special magic. It looked like an elegant, nimble deer, obediently crouching beneath the Immortal Master.

The Immortal Master rose and slowly turned. Lu Jiajia held her breath, then felt a little disappointed—the Immortal Master was wearing a white mask. She figured he must not be very good-looking; if he were handsome, why would he wear it?

"This is to avoid the world," the Immortal Master explained. His voice sounded young and calm, yet it gave a sense of hidden depths.

A somewhat familiar answer.

"Jiajia, quickly greet your Master," the woman said.

"I won't call him that, he's not my Master!" Lu Jiajia didn't know why, but she instinctively felt something was off about him. She even faintly felt a chilling dread, as if taking off the mask would reveal a fox-like face. Lu Jiajia said defiantly, then turned and ran.

The woman took a long time to chase her down. Ultimately, Lu Jiajia and he formed a master-disciple relationship in name only. Yet, Lu Jiajia felt resistant and never once called him Master.

Their sect was located on an immortal mountain beyond the mortal world. Upon returning to the sect, the Immortal Master, his white robes flowing, removed his mask.

It was a young and delicate face. The lines of his cheeks were like those carved by a knife and chisel, possessing a masculine ruggedness, yet his gaze was gentle, subtly holding a calm smile. Lu Jiajia looked at his face and his silent white robes, and a sense of familiarity arose within her. But whenever she wanted to speak, she felt extreme resistance. In short, she refused to kneel or call him Master.

The five or six-year-old girl thus came to the sect and became his last disciple. Although this Master was young, he showed no youthful arrogance or presumption. He was learned and gentle, treating her exceptionally well, as if she were his own child.

Unbeknownst, several springs and autumns passed in the blink of an eye. Lu Jiajia grew day by day, her hair becoming increasingly long, slowly growing from her shoulders to her waist, then past her waist, racing towards her ankles, like willow branches drooping in spring. Finally, one winter, she personally cut her own hair off at the waist with her sword. That year, she was already eighteen.

Her swordsmanship was exceptional, with few rivals in the sect. Her Master had less and less to teach her. They occasionally conversed, speaking of sect trivia or amusing past events, and she would always smile as she listened. When they sat alone together, Lu Jiajia's heart felt most peaceful.

Many years had passed, yet her Master's face had not changed at all. He still preferred white robes, his features remained delicate and handsome, as if he were an eternal youth. Lu Jiajia once found his white robes too plain, so she secretly opened his wardrobe and discovered that dozens of clothes hanging there were all white.

Time flowed like water, and a few more years passed in a blink.

That year, Lu Jiajia was twenty-four. She had long shed her youthful innocence. Her figure was graceful and slender, her build delicate and exquisite. Her features were elegant and pure, and with her white dress and sword, she was as beautiful as a celestial fairy descended to the mortal world, standing tall and refined, far removed from earthly matters. She was the most revered immortal maiden in the entire sect.

However, for some unknown reason, her smooth cultivation suddenly hit a bottleneck. That year, she bid farewell to her Master and decided to descend the mountain alone, to slay demons and eradicate evil, seeking new opportunities.

In the Imperial City of Zhao, thunder rumbled across the heavens and earth, and wind and rain pressed in. From Qifeng Lake to Changjie, her opponent was an ancient fox whose cultivation realm was unfathomable. She discovered that her swordsmanship, cultivated for so many years, was utterly useless here.

At the critical moment between life and death, she stood on Changjie. A sudden thunderclap ripped through the sky, and Lu Jiajia's mind cleared, as if waking from a profound dream. Heavy rain poured down on her.

"Heart demon tribulation..." She watched the ancient fox walk towards her, and the consciousness sealed deep within her mind finally surfaced uncontrollably. The past, which had been so vivid in the heart demon illusion, suddenly became utterly false. The one who grew up in luxury was not her at all; the thin, small girl she had occasionally glimpsed in her childhood was her true self. Similarly, her Master was not that white-robed man; her Master... had already died by her own sword.

This was an inevitable path for almost all cultivators entering the Purple Court Realm—to wander through the heart demon illusion, then suddenly awaken at the most crucial moment and break through to the next realm. Lu Jiajia was no different.

She raised her sword. This ancient fox was powerful, but that didn't mean his clone on Changjie was equally strong. Her past self was indeed no match for him, but now she was completely different. There was no trace of fear in her heart, and on Changjie today, there was no one in a green robe to receive her sword. All she possessed was courage and conviction that transcended her realm.

On Changjie, in the downpour, every raindrop was illuminated brilliantly by the sword light. The sound of splashing footsteps in the rain occasionally echoed. The ancient fox's once imposing figure was engulfed by the street full of sword qi.

Yet Lu Jiajia felt it wasn't enough. She closed her eyes, her consciousness connecting with the street, with the Imperial City, with the entire state of Zhao, extending all the way to the edge of the downpour. Every raindrop was like a sword. Dark clouds from across the entire world also gathered here.

The ancient fox died in a torrential rain that felt like divine retribution. Before his death, he smiled at Lu Jiajia.

After everything settled, Lu Jiajia realized that the heart demon tribulation still had not been broken.

"This clearly *is* my heart demon..." Lu Jiajia recalled her life. Her cultivation had always been smooth sailing until she encountered her greatest setback in this Imperial City—a setback that almost cost her life and had, for a time, cast a shadow over her Dao heart. She didn't understand why, even though she had clearly severed this past, she still hadn't broken free from the tribulation.

Unbeknownst to her, she had returned to the sect. She went to see her Master.

The heavy rain had passed, and everything became serene. Now that she had seen through the illusion of the heart demon tribulation, she naturally understood everything. How could this white-robed figure be her Master? It was clearly her disciple, Ning Changjiu...

Lu Jiajia looked at him, her feelings complex, not understanding why the heart demon tribulation would conjure such an illusion.

"You're back?" Ning Changjiu spoke slowly.

"Yes," Lu Jiajia said.

"It's good that you're alright." Ning Changjiu opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "This was your first trial. I've been worried for a long time."

Lu Jiajia found the scene before her very strange. Although she knew it was a dream, she still found it somewhat difficult to accept. "Thank you..." she whispered.

Ning Changjiu smiled, but his eyes looked a little tired. "From today, I'll entrust the position of Sect Master to you, won't I?"

Lu Jiajia remained silent. She looked at the young man before her, recalling many things. From their first meeting, the downfall in the Imperial City, then all the small details on Tianku Peak, and those unforgettable nights. It had only been half a year, yet they had experienced so much.

During those nights, Ning Changjiu refined her body and answered her questions on the path of cultivation, truly treating her like his own disciple. And that day, he had said a thoughtless remark, "Why don't you just become my disciple?" That phrase was originally a joke, yet for some reason, it had lingered in her mind, refusing to fade, until that day when Ning Changjiu's figure merged with the green-robed figure on Changjie, and everything finally erupted.

Was *this* truly her heart demon? Why is it so persistent... so annoying.

Lu Jiajia clenched her hands, her long, curled eyelashes softly lowering. The light in her autumn-water eyes shimmered with a hint of melancholy.

"What's wrong? Are you unwilling?" Ning Changjiu smiled faintly. "Or... have you never considered me your Master?"

His voice was also full of sorrow.

Lu Jiajia looked at him, at this strangely real dream. Faint thunder rumbled in her ears. The heavenly lightning tribulation was about to arrive.

Ning Changjiu waited for a long time, but received no answer. He walked towards the outside, his white robes like a cloud—a cloud that, once drifted away, would never return.

"Wait," Lu Jiajia suddenly said.

That cloud stopped at the doorway, at the transition between light and shadow. *This is just a dream, no one will know...* Lu Jiajia thought.

She suddenly lifted the front of her skirt and slowly knelt. Her graceful figure prostrated itself, her delicate head bowed, her smooth, jade-like forehead touching the cold brick surface. Her long hair cascaded down like a waterfall in the night.

"This disciple greets Master," her voice clear and respectful.