When yin and yang merged, their bloodlines intertwined; at this moment, he was certain that even without using the Autumn Water Sword, he could contend with his Master head-on.
During seven days of cultivation, the Dragon's Breath surging within his Qi Sea gradually calmed.
He looked up to see Yun Qingrao still in meditation. Although she was suppressed by the laws of heaven and earth and couldn't break through to the Profound Realm, her Immortal Maiden body, which had merged with the Dragon race bloodline, could rival an early-stage Profound Realm cultivator even bare-handed.
However, the ethereal coldness that usually adorned her brows now carried a hint of worldly charm.
His gaze involuntarily fell upon her bare jade feet, and he suddenly recalled an anecdote recorded in an ancient scroll.
Back then, a young man from Mount Zhongnan achieved enlightenment in a dream, only to wake up with his Master's bare feet clutched in his palm.
Qing Feng rubbed his still-warm fingertips, musing, "If I could live in this ancient tomb with this Dragon race Saintess, it would indeed be a carefree life. Still, I'm ultimately luckier than that one-armed hero."
"Look again, and I'll gouge out your eyes," a voice like cold jade broke the silence.
Qing Feng immediately straightened his back, assuming a meditative posture, but the dragon patterns beneath his clothes shimmered with a faint golden glow.
Yun Qingrao's black hair fell, obscuring half her face. She curled her legs, hiding them within her skirt, and closed her eyes to focus on regulating her breath.
Her usually clear mind was now like a Cold Pond into which shattered jade had been thrown, its ripples overlapping and hard to calm.
The chaotic memories from when her bloodline ran wild surged like a tide. As her rationality gradually broke free from the binds of madness, those fervent entanglements transformed into clear imprints, etched deep within her Sea of Consciousness.
What made her ear tips flush crimson was the realization that it was she who had torn open his clothes, taking the initiative to drag him into a whirlpool of desire.
This situation was like a child who had accidentally drunk strong liquor, only to have a maid bring a bronze mirror the next day and recount her drunken antics in detail.
Yun Qingrao's jade fingers unconsciously tightened her skirt belt, the surging Dragon blood energy beneath her snowy skin making her meridians burn like hot iron.
Although this serendipitous encounter helped her break through the Profound Realm's shackles, it cost her purity, which was more precious than life itself. If Qing Feng had been a villain taking advantage of her, she could have severed the karmic ties with a single sword strike.
But this absurd entanglement was a karmic debt she had personally sown, and she had even transferred half of the Dragon Vein's essence, a treasure rarely seen in a thousand years, to him.
The candlelight on the green jade table flickered, reflecting the golden light swirling in her eyes.
The absolute rationality brought by the Pure Heart Incantation fiercely clashed with the turmoil in her heart, finally culminating in an almost imperceptible sigh.
With a light wave of her delicate hand, she placed a cloud-and-mist barrier between them, letting twelve layers of ice-silk gauze curtains fall.
...
Half a month later, at dawn, the dragon-shaped phantom coiling around Yun Qingrao suddenly solidified. When she looked up at Qing Feng, who was sitting in meditation, her pupils had turned into translucent amber gold: "How high is Young Master Xu's cultivation now?"
Deep within the cave dwelling, Qing Feng suddenly pressed his brow. In the instant his spiritual platform cleared, fragmented memories surged like a tide. Certain details from that spiritual resonance cultivation could not be hidden after all.
"A Foundation Establishment cultivator cannot possibly condense a Yuanshen (Primordial Spirit)," Yun Qingrao's voice had the crispness of clashing jade, yet it sent a chill down Qing Feng's spine.
He should have realized that when their spiritual senses intertwined during cultivation, his hidden trump card would be impossible to conceal.
"Early-stage Spirit Transformation," Qing Feng rubbed the sword tassel at his waist, telling her truthfully.
This answer made the ice-silk curtains move without a breeze, and the Nine Revolutions Exquisite Pendant at Yun Qingrao's waist vibrated faintly.
Even though she had a premonition, the existence of this Spirit Transformation cultivator, not yet thirty years old, still exceeded her understanding of the cultivation world's common sense.
A single reverse scale, glowing with a moon-like halo, drifted onto the cold jade bed. "Whoever holds this item can ask this Maiden for three favors."
Yun Qingrao pushed the Dragon race's supreme treasure to the center of the stone table, her slender jade fingers tapping lightly on the surface.
Qing Feng knew that sound was a kind of severance, clearly distinguishing between romantic affection and life-and-death gratitude.
Qing Feng smiled as he put the reverse scale into his Qiankun bag, but his fingernails dug deep into his palm. How could he not understand that this Dragon Maiden of the East Sea was never one to be entangled in matters of love?
Yet, when those eyes, always tinged with frost and snow, looked at him, a subtle prickling pain would still arise in a corner of his heart.
"The treasures in the tomb..." Qing Feng turned towards the gilded antique shelf, his fingertips brushing over the dust-covered jade slips. "Senior Sister truly won't take a single bit?"
Yun Qingrao lightly waved her wide sleeve, and the twelve-branched bronze lamp illuminated the dragon pattern on her brow: "This Maiden has already obtained the Ancestral Dragon's Reverse Scale Armor."
She deliberately emphasized the words "this Maiden," watching Qing Feng's back stiffen imperceptibly.
Three days later, at dawn, the turtle shell stele forest automatically parted, forming a passage. Qing Feng, holding the newly acquired Profound Nether Turtle Shell, suddenly felt this innate supreme treasure weigh more than a thousand jun.
Yun Qingrao walked three steps ahead of him; her mermaid-silk skirt no longer picked up dust as it brushed against the green bricks, unlike before.
As the strong winds outside the Sword Mound dispersed the last dragon's roar, Qing Feng touched the reverse scale in his sleeve. It still carried the unique chill of the deep sea, much like someone's eternally distant eyes.
As the light of day seeped through the crack in the bronze door, Qing Feng leaned on the door knocker and paused, looking back. The dark passage buried the most thrilling years of his past two decades.
Truth peeled away amidst the murals, and emotions grew wildly in the candlelight. His knuckles unconsciously rubbed the wall bricks, as if he could still feel those nights mixed with blood and fragrance.
"It's time to depart."
Yun Qingrao's mermaid-silk shawl swept across the floor covered in talisman ash. She knew better than anyone how many unspeakable secrets were hidden in this winding labyrinth; the scattered divination sticks on the green jade table still bore the words "love tribulation."
The luminous pearl adorning his sword tassel suddenly dimmed by three points, much like the trembling shadow of her eyelashes when she lowered her gaze.
"Wait."
Qing Feng's voice made even the Zhulong relief on the stone wall hold its breath. He looked at the back that consistently maintained a seven-step distance from him, and the dragon scales in his palm glowed faintly: "You said it would be settled only after we leave the tomb?"
The sword cultivator's suddenly tensed shoulders betrayed her emotions. When she turned, the hairpins in her flowing cloud bun remained perfectly still: "A life-saving grace should be repaid with a great treasure, but the red thread in our destinies..." Her frost-and-snow-like fingertips traced through the air, "...was severed long ago by the Heavenly Secret Sword."
Qing Feng suddenly laughed. This smile reminded Yun Qingrao of when they broke the Seven Stars Formation together; the young man had likewise wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and placed the last half of a Rejuvenation Pill into her lips.
Now, he approached, treading on moonlight, the dark patterns on his black martial attire like moving star trails.
"Then let's borrow half an hour of illusion again."
The mermaid-silk fell like clouds. As his warm breath brushed against the cinnabar mole behind her ear, Yun Qingrao was startled to find her Ice Soul Sword Heart melting.
When the calluses on Qing Feng's palm traced over the seal on her lower back, a certain curse mark that had slumbered for a thousand years suddenly awakened, blossoming into scorching red lotuses within her bloodline.
She hastily formed a hand seal, but lost her strength the moment she saw the dragon scale pendant around his neck. That token, which should have been returned to its rightful owner at midnight last night, was now pressed against his throbbing pulse.
"Thank you, Immortal Maiden, for fulfilling this."
When Qing Feng stepped back, the lingering warmth on his fingertips condensed into frost flowers. He stretched his limbs, facing the dawn light, his brows now devoid of lingering tenderness, only the sharp edge of a drawn sword remaining.
Five hundred years of spring and autumn unfolded in his spiritual consciousness like the River Diagram and Luo Shu, each divination urging him: it was time to rewrite predetermined fate.
Yun Qingrao silently formed a seal, enclosing the room's lingering sensuality in a cold jade box. But when she rode her sword, she couldn't help but look towards the southeast.