She lay curled on the ground, shallow breaths fogging the frigid air. The way her chest rose and fell, it seemed like using the sword had taken a lot of her. "Yes, just the side effect of using the sword,"

  Zhen’s eyes flickered toward the icy blue sword still embedded through Zhao Shi’s chest. A single clean strike. Instant death. Yeah, must have been some sword.

  It felt like this girl was breaking every unspoken rule Zhen knew about this world. A walking contradiction wrapped in mystery. But at least she wasn’t a beauty. That was some small comfort.

  He shook himself. Focus.

  The area around Zhao Shi was covered in frost, jagged crystals of ice radiating from the point where the blade pierced his heart. The ground beneath him was cracked, as if the cold had reached deep into the earth itself.

  Zhen made a noncommittal noise in response.

  "Senior Brother… do you want to ask me anything?"

  Zhen stilled. She must have noticed his gaze on her sword. Instead, he sighed. “No.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

  Ning Xue hesitated, then lowered her gaze. “You don't have to worry. You did so much to save me,” she bit her lip, hands curling into fists. “I am not just anyone. I’m—”

  Zhen cut her off before she could continue. “You don’t have to explain.”

  He had saved the girl. That was enough. More than enough. He didn’t want to know. He really doesn’t.

  Saving her had already been pushing his sense of duty. The more he learned, the more he risked being entangled in things that had nothing to do with him. Even if she was not a jade-beauty. Maybe she will in the future. Maybe that is the reason why her trouble is so prominent…

  Ning Xue looked at him carefully. “Senior Brother really doesn’t want to know?” Her voice was quiet, almost unreadable.

  "I really don—"

  “But you risked so much to rescue me!” Her voice sharpened with conviction. “Senior Brother is a good person, so he didn’t want to pry into my secret, right?” Her tone was soft yet stubborn, the kind of certainty only a child convinced they had outwitted an adult could manage.

  Zhen blinked.

  The imagination of this little girl was quite wild.

  Before he could shut down her nonsense, she pressed on, her tone taking on a self-assured lilt. “My mother once told me—if someone helps you even at the cost of their own life, then you should trust that person with yours.” She lifted her chin, as if daring him to refute it. “So, Senior Brother is also someone I trust.”

  Zhen exhaled through his nose. “That’s—”

  “It’s alright.” She cut him off before he could deny it again, taking a deep breath. “Actually, I’m from the Xue Clan.”

  Zhen stared at her. The girl was watching him expectantly, waiting for some kind of reaction. Shock. Awe. Realization. Anything.

  Nothing came.

  He shifted slightly, rolling his shoulder where a dull ache was setting in. "Am I supposed to know what that is?"

  Ning Xue's mouth opened, then closed. A crease formed between her brows. "The Xue Clan. The Martial Xue Clan," she emphasized. When he still didn’t react, her eyes twitched. "The clan of generals. The Lan Empire’s strongest military family?!"

  Zhen gave a slow blink. "Never heard of them."

  A sharp inhale. She looked downright scandalized.

  For a second, he thought she might attack him out of sheer offense.

  "You—!" Ning Xue pointed a trembling finger at him, expression torn between disbelief and indignation. "How could you not know? Everyone knows!"

  "Clearly, not everyone," he deadpanned.

  Silence stretched between them. A breeze carried the scent of blood and dust through the air.

  Then, she sputtered. "What kind of cave have you been living in?! The Xue Clan is one of the most powerful lineages in the empire! Our ancestors have served as generals for generations! We lead the empire’s armies! We are—"

  "—far from home," Zhen interrupted.

  She stopped mid-rant. "What?"

  "You’re not from this place," he repeated, rubbing his temple. "I deal with situations related to the Abyssal Harmony Sect. You’re talking about some prestigious clan of warriors or whatever in the empire." He shrugged. "Not my issue."

  Her jaw dropped. "Not your—?!"

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Zhen sighed. He could already feel the headache forming. "Look, I saved you. You saved me. That’s it. We're equal. If you're expecting me to be impressed, I’m not. If you want to repay the favor, you don't have to. If you want me to bow my head and swear allegiance, I won’t." He tilted his head at her, expression unreadable. "What exactly do you want from me, Xue girl?"

  Ning Xue froze.

  For the first time since she started talking, she hesitated. The fiery indignation wavered, uncertainty creeping in. Her hands curled into her sleeves.

  Then, just as quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she lifted her chin.

  “…Nothing,” she muttered. “I just thought you should know.”

  Zhen exhaled and glanced away. “What are you going to do now?”

  A beat of silence.

  When he looked back, her expression was lost, as if she had only just realized she had no answer.

  Something in his chest tightened. For a brief moment, he almost—almost—offered his help. But then he stopped himself.

  Not again.

  Ning Xue exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking. “I… don’t know.” Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeves. “I thought escaping was the hard part. I thought—” She bit her lip. “I didn’t think about what came next.”

  Zhen watched her, saying nothing.

  She let out a hollow laugh. “Senior Brother—” she caught herself, hesitated, then continued, softer, “You must think I’m foolish.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She blinked, surprised, but he didn’t elaborate.

  Instead, he said, “You can’t go to Abyssal Harmony Sect.” His tone was firm. “And taking you with me isn’t possible either. I am not strong enough to protect you.”

  Ning Xue flinched. “I know.” Her voice was small. “I shouldn’t expect that from you.”

  Zhen frowned but didn’t comment.

  After a moment, he asked, “How about one of the Immortal Sects? They—”

  “No.” Her voice cut through the night air, sharp and sure. “Those hypocrites would send me back the first chance they get.”

  Zhen studied her for a moment. “You sound certain.”

  She scoffed. “Because I am. The Immortal Sects don’t care about people like me. They only care about rules, alliances, and keeping order.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t shelter me. Not against the empire chasing me.”

  Zhen didn’t argue. It wasn’t his problem.

  Another silence settled between them, longer this time. Ning Xue looked away, drawing her arms around herself. For the first time since he met her, she seemed small.

  Zhen sighed. “Well… we can decide later. For now, it would be good to move from here.”

  Zhen’s gaze swept the area, eyes narrowing. There should be some loot on these two. It was a crude thought, but practical. Combat like this meant treasure — talismans, artifacts, even spirit stones — and considering the trouble they had gone through, it would be wasteful to leave it behind.

  When no reply came, his eyes shifted toward Ning Xue.

  She lay curled on the ground, shallow breaths fogging the frigid air. Her body trembled, her thin robes barely offering protection against the cold.

  His gaze sharpened as he took in the sight of her.

  Ice had crept up her fingers and halfway up her wrists, jagged and white-blue beneath the moonlight. Her breathing was shallow, fogging the frigid air with each shaky exhale. She lay curled on the ground, trembling violently, her thin robes doing little to protect her from the cold that seemed to radiate from within her.

  Zhen’s mouth tightened. He crossed the space between them and knelt beside her, feeling the biting chill press against his skin. "Are you alright?"

  As he leaned closer, a bone-deep chill swept over him. The temperature around her was unnaturally cold, biting through his robes and sinking into his skin.

  Ning Xue’s eyes fluttered open, her breath shaky. “M-maybe… I used too much of my lifeblood.”

  Zhen’s brow creased. Lifeblood? He didn’t know exactly what she meant, but it sounded similar to when he overexerted his cultivation.

  His hand hovered over her forehead — too cold. His heartbeat quickened.

  “What should I do?” he asked, more sharply than intended.

  Ning Xue’s gaze drifted to his hand. Her lips parted slightly.

  Is she… seeking warmth? Zhen thought, confused. “Hey, Ning Xue!! Focus. Is there something that I can help with?”

  Ning Xue hesitated, biting her lip. Something about her expression made his chest tighten.

  It's not one of those situation where she is going to ask for some warmth right? For a moment Zhen mind wandered as many plot twist surfaced in his mind.

  In a barely audible whisper, she said, “If you could… give me some of your blood.”

  That stopped Zhen cold.

  Blood? His mind raced. It had to be some sort of cultivation technique — or maybe a lifeblood thing? Or… wait… His thoughts spiraled toward dangerous territory. Did she mean blood in some symbolic way? Did she want to establish a connection? A bond? Or worse… was this some kind of twisted intimacy ritual? His mind shouldn't have gone in that direction but this is a girl with water spirit root…

  His face heated involuntarily. He shook his head sharply, cutting off the thought. What the hell am I even thinking? He cursed himself inwardly. Now was not the time for that kind of thinking.

  “...Sure.” He swallowed. “How… do I do that?”

  Ning Xue’s pale eyes met his. “Just cut your hand… and let me… drink it.”

  Zhen stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. Thankfully it's quite simple. Without hesitation, he pulled his dagger from his sleeve and slashed his palm.

  The sharp sting barely registered. Blood welled and dripped between his fingers.

  On Earth, this would be insane. Here, it’s just a cultivation technique.

  Ning Xue’s delicate fingers curled around his hand. Her lips pressed to his palm, and the sensation of blood being drawn from him was immediate.

  A chill swept through his veins as the cold qi rushed toward his hand, but instead of pain, it was oddly calming. His qi reacted instinctively, resisting the cold qi, keeping it contained.

  That’s it? Zhen’s mind faltered. He had expected… something worse.

  “The cold qi… is good for your cultivation,” she murmured.

  Zhen studied her face. Is this one of the properties of her qi… or something deeper, tied to her roots?

  The cold energy was sharp yet soothing, settling into his body without resistance. He had cultivated enough to know when something was forcing its way into his qi pathways—but this wasn’t that.

  Without hesitation, he began to absorb the cold qi she was releasing. The hollow feeling from blood loss quickly faded as his body adjusted, circulating the cold energy through his meridians.