“Tsk! Tsk!”
Bai Zihan clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the air like a slap.
“Your imagination’s really something else, Xinyue,” he said, tone mockingly amused.
“Unfortunately… it’s dead wrong.”
He strolled forward lazily, hands tucked neatly behind his back like he had all the time in the world and not a single care burdening his steps.
“I’m not here to shut you up. I’m just here to see my dear cousin.”
The way he said it, with mock affection dripping off every syllable, made it clear he didn’t expect a warm reunion.
If anything, it sounded like he was daring her to explode, taunting her like he used to when they were children—except back then, it was teasing over pastries or training dummies.
Now? Now they stood across from each other with years of blood, betrayal, and bitterness between them.
Bai Xinyue’s eyes narrowed, her expression like frost slowly forming on glass. And then, she smiled.
Not a kind smile but a bitter one.
“Oh?” How touching. If only those heartfelt concerns had shown up before my Dao Bone was ripped out of my body.”
She didn’t yell. Didn’t even raise her voice.
But her words hit harder than a slap.
Cold, cutting, and soaked in the kind of fury that didn’t burn—it simmered.
She knew that the injustice she had endured was something only she could seek justice for.
After all, who could possibly hold the Bai Clan accountable when it was one of the most powerful forces in the land?
And just like Bai Zihan had said earlier, everything could be brushed aside with two simple words: family matters.
“I don’t remember you stopping that from happening,” she added.
Her arms were folded tightly, shoulders drawn up in tension. Her eyes locked onto his. Steady. Unflinching.
She stepped forward, just slightly. Not enough to threaten. Just enough to show she wasn’t afraid.
“So forgive me if I’m a little suspicious of your sudden family bonding moment.”
For a second, the silence between them stretched taut.
Then Bai Zihan let out a low, lazy chuckle. Like she’d told a joke.
“Oh, Xinyue…”
He said, sighing as if she was the one being unreasonable.
He shook his head, just once.
“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t come here to make amends. Or explain the past. Or any of that sentimental nonsense.”
His smile faded. His voice dropped.
“I came here to warn you.”
The words were sharp and dry, like winter wind across stone. The mockery was gone now. His gaze hardened.
He wasn’t trying to hide behind any false kindness or excuses. He didn’t bother acting like he cared about her anymore. Maybe he never really did.
Because what apology could ever undo what had been done? What kindness could balance the scales of stealing someone’s very Dao Bone?
He looked down on her now—not with arrogance, but with cold certainty.
“Don’t sully the Bai Clan’s name. How can you let someone from the Mo Clan—of all people—bully you?”
His words slammed into her like a slap to the face, but not because she cared about the Bai Clan anymore.
No.
It was the sheer audacity.
Bai Xinyue’s fists clenched at her sides.
“What Bai Clan’s name?”
She hissed, voice finally rising in fury.
“The one that abandoned me? The one that ripped my Dao Bone from my body like I was just a vessel to be emptied?”
She stepped closer, fire in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare stand there and act like you’re speaking from some noble high ground, Bai Zihan!”
But he didn’t rise to her anger. He didn’t yell back. He didn’t even blink.
He just stared at her. Cold. Silent. Like her rage didn’t even graze him.
After a long, drawn-out moment, he let out a breath—part sigh, part scoff.
“Looks like you’re doing well for yourself!”
There was no emotion in his tone. No warmth. Just an observation. Detached. Indifferent.
“But no matter how far you run…”
He tilted his head, almost like he was studying her anew.
“You still carry the Bai Clan’s name.”
He took a step back, his voice lowering with every word, deliberate and sharp.
“So don’t you dare lower yourself before insects like Xu Yuhan.”
He turned, then. No dramatic flourish. No parting smirk.
Just a simple pivot and walk away.
His robes trailed behind him, and the cold wind seemed to follow in his wake as he disappeared from view, not even sparing her a backward glance.
Bai Xinyue stood frozen, glaring at the space he’d just occupied. Her breath came shallow and tight.
Today was full of surprises.
Xu Yuhan had shown his true colors—violent, entitled, pathetic.
But even more shocking was appearance of Bai Zihan.
Additionally, he had changed.
Still arrogant, yes. Still cruel, still sharp-tongued.
But beneath that cold demeanor, there was something… different.
She couldn’t quite name it, but it wasn’t the same helpless, frustrated Bai Zihan from years ago.
And that alone was dangerous.
Despite everything, despite the hatred twisting in her gut, she remembered.
When her parents disappeared, it had been Bai Zihan’s family who took her in.
Back then, she had looked up to him. The young heir of the Bai Clan—cold, distant, but not unkind.
Not to her.
He had looked after her, in his own awkward way. And even when everyone mocked him for his lack of talent, she had never joined in.
When she awakened her Cultivation talent, she had hoped… foolishly hoped… that they could be close.
But instead, he distanced himself further. The gap between them grew.
She tried to comfort him once.
He thought she was mocking him.
After that, he changed.
He started lashing out—at the servants, the disciples, even her. But she let him. Endured it quietly.
It wasn’t real bullying, not to her.
She saw it for what it was: desperation. The cries of someone drowning under pressure, with no one willing to reach out a hand.
She thought that was the least she could do for the boy who had once looked after her like a brother.
But then…
Then her Dao Bone was stolen. Her very essence. The foundation of her cultivation, her future, her life.
Ripped away.
Given to Bai Zihan.
Whether he asked for it or not, whether he knew at the time or not—it didn’t matter.
Her fate was sealed that day.
Her body was broken. Her path crippled.
She survived only by sheer will. And luck. The kind that left scars.
“Bai Zihan…” she whispered, voice barely audible.
“No matter what, our fate is incorrigible.”
She turned away from the wind, from the emptiness he left behind, and clenched her fists once more.
Her path forward wasn’t for revenge alone.
It was for herself.
And maybe, just maybe, to one day stand before him again—on equal ground.
And ask the question that still haunted her:
Did you ever regret it?