IVYSCP - Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Seeing Cui Heng's breath cease and her body plummet from midair, Ling Qingyue's eyes held not the slightest ripple of emotion.
If her senior sister pursued the matter later, Cui Heng had been the one to strike to kill first.
Reversing her grip on the sword, she tapped the hilt with her fingertips. In an instant the blade sheathed itself into the scabbard Bai Cha held behind her.
Without a backward glance, Ling Qingyue flew straight into the dust and sand. A palm strike dispersed the swirling grit that blocked her view, but she did not see Pei Yin. That sword shadow had been devastating; even the secret realm trembled and lurched.
Worry rose in Ling Qingyue's heart—had Pei Yin been injured? Even though she had entered the realm as a doppelganger, a heavy blow to the doppelganger would still affect the original body. If it disrupted the flow of her spiritual energy…
Ling Qingyue ground her teeth, wishing she could turn back and land a few more strikes on Cui Heng. But she had to find Pei Yin first.
Amid the tangled, fallen ancient branches, traces of pale golden spiritual energy still lingered. Pei Yin had to be nearby!
"Ah Si!" Ling Qingyue called out.
"Ah Si!"
No one answered. Not a single sound stirred. The fighting had long since scared off every yao beast in the area.
"Ah Si—"
Ling Qingyue's gaze halted. Beside a deep sword scar scored into the earth, she spotted something. She rushed over and scooped up the shattered wooden carving from the ground.
This was the wooden doppelganger she had made for Pei Yin. Now no divine sense lingered upon it.
"Pei Yin…"
Panic crept into Ling Qingyue's mind. She did not know whether the fragment's divine sense had returned to Pei Yin's true body or been reduced to smoke under that sword shadow.
"Ling Qingyue."
Someone called her!
Ling Qingyue's head snapped up, yet the voice seemed to come from no discernible direction. When she listened closely, it seemed to rise from all sides at once.
"Ling Qingyue."
It sounded like Pei Yin's voice, but not entirely—stiff and halting, as if deliberately imitated.
A thread of sharp malice rose in Ling Qingyue's eyes. She was already vexed. Whoever was mimicking Pei Yin to call her—once she found them, she would slice them with a sword.
"Who is it?" she asked aloud.
"Ling Qingyue, you came back." This time the voice carried more of Pei Yin's tone—startled disbelief and joy beneath grief and numbness, like something lost and found again.
Ling Qingyue furrowed her brow. That had been too accurate.
"Ling Qingyue, don't leave again. Don't leave me."
"I will protect you. No one will make you disappear again. I'll bring you into my Spiritual Platform—no one else can enter it."
"Ling Qingyue, we won't be apart anymore."
Ling Qingyue's heart quaked. This was Pei Yin. It truly was Pei Yin.
What did she want to bring into her Spiritual Platform? That place was not something anyone could enter at will!
"Pei Yin! Where are you?!"
Without realizing it, Ling Qingyue had walked into a dense fog. Hazily she saw a figure ahead, facing away—tall and graceful, a simple peach-wood hairpin tucked among her hair.
Joy surged in her chest. Without a second thought, she ran forward. "Pei Yin!"
But when she reached the spot, the figure dissolved into mist and vanished.
Ling Qingyue's expression shifted. She whirled around—the path behind her was now thick fog as well.
Pei Yin's voice still echoed in her ears. Ling Qingyue drew two deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down.
"Playing tricks!"
She brought both hands together, palms rotating in opposite directions. Then she half-crouched and slammed a palm strike against the ground.
A pulse of sword-infused energy instantly scattered the encroaching fog.
Pink and white blossoms swayed in the breeze, filling the air with the fragrance of peach flowers. A thousand-li peach grove bloomed in full splendor.
Ling Qingyue's hand tightened. Her eyes grew heavy as she studied the familiar scene.
This was the peach grove secret realm of Shangtianqiong. It seemed she had wandered into some sort of illusion.
She stepped forward. In the clearing she often visited, a figure was awkwardly practicing the sword. To call it sword practice was generous—it looked more like a drunken dance. There was no trace of sword qi or momentum. Every motion reeked of lazy intoxication: a listless wrist, light and soft swings, the blade's tip flicking petals into the air. Amid the drifting blooms, there was a hint of hidden, ambiguous yearning.
Ling Qingyue let out a cold humph. What drunkard was this, trying to win a beloved's favor after too much wine?
She walked closer. When she saw the person's face clearly, she pressed her lips together.
"…"
What a mess this illusion was. When had she ever danced the sword with such loaded meaning?
Ling Qingyue couldn't bear to watch. She was about to disperse that distant figure when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone else approaching.
It was… Pei Yin.
This Pei Yin did not have the calm, steady presence of today. Her expression was colder, more pristine—the look of a hundred years ago.
Herself a century ago and Pei Yin. Ling Qingyue suddenly grew interested. She wanted to see what this illusion would conjure.
Pei Yin must have come looking for her.
From afar, Ling Qingyue watched the young Pei Yin draw closer. The person dancing the sword sensed someone's approach and paused, face flushed with drunkenness. She looked at the newcomer and smiled. Then with a light kick off her toes, she flew over.
Ling Qingyue felt her brows twitch.
In the next moment, she watched herself—without a word of explanation—grab Pei Yin, ignore her startled look, shove her against a tree, and kiss her wildly.
Ling Qingyue: "…"
An illusion was an illusion after all. When had she ever treated Pei Yin like this?
Unwilling to watch that absurd scene, Ling Qingyue averted her gaze.
"Ling—Ling Qingyue!" Pei Yin was kissed until her face burned scarlet. Her lower lip had been bitten, her collar rumpled into disorder. "You're taking liberties with me!"
The words held no force at all—there was even a trace of shyness.
Ling Qingyue stole a glance from the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but wonder: if she really had treated Pei Yin like this back then, would Pei Yin have reacted exactly this way?
That would have been far too amusing. Truly interesting.
In an instant, the scene shifted. The peach grove vanished. Ling Qingyue scanned the surroundings and recognized them immediately—the guest quarters of Shangtianqiong.
She raised her eyes and spotted Pei Yin beside the table.
Pei Yin was staring into space, unconsciously lifting a hand to brush her lower lip, where a tiny lingering tooth-mark remained.
Ling Qingyue frowned. What was the meaning behind this illusion?
She walked to the table and sat down beside Pei Yin, then reached out to touch her.
Her hand passed straight through the figure, yet her soul felt a strange, intimate familiarity.
Ling Qingyue jolted. She stood up, staring in astonishment at the young Pei Yin before her.
This was no illusion. This was the divine sense of Pei Yin's doppelganger.
"Pei Yin? Pei Yin!" Ling Qingyue called to her, but her voice could not reach. She and Pei Yin seemed to exist in separate spaces.
A realization dawned on Ling Qingyue: "So this illusion wasn't aimed at me. It's Pei Yin's?"
Then just now…
Ling Qingyue touched her own lips, as if she had been the one to pin Pei Yin against the tree and kiss her.
How could Pei Yin's illusion contain something like this…?
Or had she once imagined herself treating Pei Yin this way?
Heat crept into Ling Qingyue's ears. She glared at Pei Yin with exasperated fondness. "Pretending to be so proper! All that spotless poise, and yet privately you entertain these thoughts."
Having found the doppelganger's divine sense, Ling Qingyue let out a slow breath of relief.
She hadn't seen this version of Pei Yin in a very long time, and it felt wonderfully novel. Especially this young Pei Yin, filled to the brim with conflicted shyness—she had never once seen her like this in the past.
Ling Qingyue watched the young Pei Yin take out her jade token and send a message to her master, asking about dao bonding matters. She listed off the ceremonial gifts she had prepared, completely exasperating her master.
Ling Qingyue laughed aloud. If she could, she truly wanted to embrace this moment's Pei Yin. That solemn, earnest look was unbearably endearing.
After laughing a while, Ling Qingyue slowly let her smile fade. Earlier, she had asked Pei Yin why she knew so much about dao bonding, and Pei Yin had said she helped a friend arrange one.
Could that friend… be herself?
Then what just happened…
No.
Ling Qingyue shook her head. If it had truly happened, why didn't she remember any of it?
Full of doubt, she watched the young Pei Yin spend an entire evening preparing for the dao bonding, considering every last detail with painstaking care. The next day, brimming with joy and expectation, the young Pei Yin went to find the young Ling Qingyue.
The young Ling Qingyue had slept off the wine and, without noticing Pei Yin, was locked in some intimate, bickering argument with Yue Shouming, their gestures close and familiar.
The young Pei Yin watched in silence, her expression growing colder by the second.
Ling Qingyue seemed to understand now what Pei Yin had once said.
—"You drape your arms over them without a second thought. Am I supposed to smile at you when I'm unhappy?"
The young Pei Yin returned to her room in a daze. She sat quietly. Quietly, she shed tears.
"Don't—don't cry." Seeing those beautiful eyes brim with tears, Ling Qingyue's heart ached. She reached out to wipe them, only to remember she couldn't touch her.
"She didn't know about any of this." Ling Qingyue tried to defend her past self, but watching the young Pei Yin's tears fall without stopping, she amended, "It was her fault. Why don't you go give her a beating?"
The illusion blurred the line between truth and falsehood, and time raced by. Ling Qingyue realized that while this illusory realm centered on Pei Yin, her own figure was woven throughout it.
From Pei Yin's eyes she saw the past—moments she remembered, and moments she could no longer clearly recall.
Pei Yin… had truly been watching her in silence for a very long time.
The more Ling Qingyue saw, the more she regretted. Why hadn't she simply turned around back then? Someone had been gazing at her all along.
Soon the realm arrived at the aftermath of the Immortal-Demon War. Pei Yin learned that Ling Qingyue had fallen. A dark, stormy expression on her face, she was determined to go to Shangtianqiong and demand answers. She had drained her strength setting up formations for the war; sustained sword flight was utterly beyond her, let alone the teleportation array she wanted to force herself to use.
Her master Chu Qianshan barred her from leaving and immediately contacted Shangtianqiong via jade token. Shangtianqiong's reply came swiftly—Ling Qingyue's soul lamp had been extinguished.
Upon hearing this, Pei Yin coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed unconscious on the spot.
Ling Qingyue's vision blurred. Her throat clenched so tightly she couldn't speak. She reached toward the fallen Pei Yin, wanting to gather her up.
This faint lasted half a month. The moment Pei Yin regained consciousness, the first thing she did was grab Chu Qianshan and demand: how was Ling Qingyue? Where was Ling Qingyue?
Chu Qianshan looked at her and gave a heavy, drawn-out sigh, then reached out and stroked her head.
Pei Yin accepted that Ling Qingyue was gone. She began to enter secluded cultivation, and each time she emerged, her expression visibly improved.
Ling Qingyue and the Chu Qianshan within the illusion wore identical expressions, growing more and more grim.
Every time Pei Yin emerged from seclusion, the aura around her grew a little more turbid.
"Pei Yin." Chu Qianshan stopped her and made a move against her. Pei Yin simply stood there rigidly, not defending herself.
Chu Qianshan looked at her with a mixture of fury and despair. At last, she had no choice but to probe Pei Yin's Spiritual Platform. Pei Yin jerked in alarm and raised a hand to block her.
Within that pale golden spiritual energy, a blood-red light was already visible.
Chu Qianshan's hand shook with rage. "Pei Yin! Do you even know what you've become?!"
Pei Yin lowered her gaze, staring at the spiritual energy in her own palm. In a low voice, she said, "I know."
"Pei Yin, do you mean to destroy your own great path for that person?!"
"If one day you succumb to cultivation deviation, how will you face the Cangshan grandmaster? How will you face me?"
"Excessive attachment is no blessing. You must switch to the Supreme Detachment Path from now on. Attain love, then forget it—quell the obsession in your heart."
Ling Qingyue felt numbness spread through her entire body.
Pei Yin… had once given birth to a heart demon because of her death.
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