At that moment Chen Ping’s breath brushed against her forehead, carrying a faint trace of immortal energy, more comforting than any elixir.
“Senior Brother…”
Ling Xue gathered her courage to raise her head, her gaze meeting the smile in Chen Ping’s eyes. “What does it feel like, being in the Earth Immortal Realm?”
“It is like…”
Chen Ping thought for a moment, then lifted his hand toward a large rock not far away. With a light grasp, the waist-high bluestone split silently into several pieces.
“Before, when I looked at a mountain, it was just a mountain. Now when I look at a mountain, I can see the veins inside every stone.”
He withdrew his hand and let his fingertip brush her cheek. “Just like now, when I look at you, I can sense the little ripples in your spiritual power. Are you thinking of what happened inside the tower again?”
Ling Xue’s face instantly turned scarlet. She jerked her hand back and stepped half a pace away, glaring at him in mock annoyance. “Senior Brother is teasing me again!”
Yet her glare carried no real strength, more like a spring breeze rippling across a lake, soft and tender.
She turned toward the sect, but her steps were slower than before, deliberately leaving a little distance so that he would walk beside her.
Chen Ping watched her slightly flustered back, his shoulders shaking as he let out a quiet laugh.
He caught up quickly and walked side by side with her along the mountain path, the stones beneath their feet crunching softly.
“By the way,” Ling Xue suddenly stopped, pulled out a small embroidered pouch from her storage bag, and held it out to him. “This is dried blossom of the Heartflower. Carry it with you.”
“The ancient texts say this flower allows cultivators to become of one mind in battle.”
The pouch had been stitched with her own life-thread silk. In one corner was a tiny sword-shaped motif, the mark of a Sword Sect disciple.
Chen Ping took it. Though it weighed almost nothing, it felt as if he was holding a bundle of warm affection.
He lowered his head and inhaled. The fresh fragrance of the flower was laced with the faint scent of her fingers, more reassuring than any protective treasure.
“Then I shall keep it.” He tucked the pouch into his robe, right against his chest. “After we return from the Blackwind Mountains, I will teach you a new sword technique. I comprehended it during my breakthrough, and it suits your current spiritual power perfectly.”
Ling Xue’s eyes lit up and she nodded firmly. “All right.”
They walked on in silence, yet the occasional brush of arms or the glance they shared while ducking under a low branch flowed like a mountain stream, brimming with unspoken gentleness.
As they neared the sect’s gates, Ling Xue suddenly remembered something. She stopped and drew out a small jade bottle from her sleeve. “This… you should take this as well.”
Inside was a pale pink ointment she had specially prepared from Snow-Skin Grass.
“I do not need it.” Chen Ping smiled and tried to hand it back, but she firmly pushed it into his hand.
“Keep it!”
Her tone was unusually insistent, though her cheeks flushed even redder. “The Blackwind Mountains are crawling with evil creatures. If… if you are hurt, this salve can drive out poison.”
She finished quickly, and before he could refuse again, she turned and ran into the gate. Her skirt brushed the steps, leaving a line of faint footprints.
Chen Ping held the warm jade bottle, watched her figure disappear down the corridor, and lowered his head with a smile. He carefully put the bottle into his storage bag.
The mountain wind drifted through the gate, carrying the shouts of disciples training in the martial grounds. He drew a deep breath and made his way toward the Sword Sect’s compound.
But as soon as they returned, Ling Xue felt her legs weaken, her steps becoming unsteady. Each step made her brows crease in discomfort.
“Senior Sister Ling Xue, what is wrong? Are you injured?”
A young junior disciple, seeing her falter, asked with concern.
Ling Xue’s face flamed instantly. She stammered, unable to answer, her panicked eyes darting to Chen Ping as if begging for help.
