Chapter Forty-Nine: Nangong Qinxin

In the days that followed, Leng Bingyan maintained the guise of an onlooker, silently guarding Xia Yu while always remaining in her Feathered Form. She discovered that, in this state, the celestial energy within her flowed with remarkable ease—only as a Feathered One could she fully wield the power of an early-stage Celestial Empress.

It was on this day that an unexpected incident occurred, instigated by Nangong Qinxin—the current Vermilion Bird. Evidently, it was no mistake to say that the Spirit Phoenix and the Vermilion Bird were enemies because of the Divine Dragon. The moment Nangong Qinxin returned from abroad, she and Xia Yu clashed instantly.

In a secluded grove, Nangong Qinxin lay in ambush, intent on testing whether Xia Yu had the strength to vie with her for the Divine Dragon, Xia Tian.

In terms of beauty, the two were evenly matched—different extremes, yet both devastatingly enchanting, both stunning as falling feathers. One was alluring, the other pure; one mature, the other innocent; one, like a light cloud veiling the moon; the other, as drifting snow caught in a playful breeze. One, at first glance, shone like the rising sun amidst morning clouds; the other, on closer look, glowed like a lotus emerging from emerald waters.

They were two absolute opposites.

A faint, mystical radiance suffused the tranquil night under the verdant corridor, as a wisp of pale garment floated by. In the depths, fragrant snow-like leaves fell, scattering on the ground…

Strolling along a path where autumn was departing and winter approaching, the scenery around lifted Xia Yu’s spirits. She drew a deep breath of the natural air and hastened her steps toward her dormitory.

Suddenly, a long-dormant sense of alertness flared within her. With a piercing sound slicing past her ear, Xia Yu leapt nimbly, her body sliding more than a meter to the left in an instant. Once steady, she turned to look back—embedded deep in a nearby tree trunk was a dark gold longsword, its hilt quivering visibly.

Xia Yu’s pupils narrowed, a trace of surprise flickering in her eyes. The sword, stuck in the thick trunk, was slowly fading away under the dying sunlight, its presence unspeakably strange. In mere seconds, the entire blade vanished into thin air, leaving only a scar in the bark as evidence.

“Energy solidification!” she thought. It had been a fully materialized sword of energy. Though it had disappeared, Xia Yu knew it was not because the energy had exhausted itself. Energy of that purity and solidity would not dissipate so easily. The only explanation was that its master had dismissed it at will.

Xia Yu could not guess the sword’s owner’s intentions, but one thing was clear: whether she admitted it or not, the one who wielded this sword outmatched her. She couldn’t conjure such a pure, solid sword herself.

A chill crept into her heart. From all the preceding signs, that mysterious person was certainly no friend. As Xia Yu pondered, a sudden palm strike swept toward her. She quickly gathered her energy, crossing her arms in defense. Instantly, a searing heat surged through her hands—the Vermilion Heartfire spontaneously rose to protect its master.

Astonished, Xia Yu didn’t have time to question why the Heartfire had appeared on its own. Was it a response to her facing a formidable foe?

There was a muffled impact as the two clashed directly. Xia Yu caught a glimpse of her assailant—a figure in a black trench coat, uncannily similar to her own shadowy attire, but she failed to see the person’s face. Amidst the flickering light, she vaguely saw, besides the dark red of her Heartfire, a strange and brilliant dark gold.

Her body shot like a meteor through the secluded woods, snapping several slender trees before crashing fiercely against a great boulder. Blood churned within her; a metallic taste filled her mouth as she spat out fresh blood.

As for her attacker—Nangong Qinxin—she strolled calmly into the copse, dusting her shoulder with a gloved hand. Gazing at Xia Yu, slumped against the stone, a trace of cruelty curled beneath her mask. She advanced with the poise of a victor.

“So this is the so-called Queen of the Spirit Phoenix?” Her voice was gentle, yet laced with unmistakable disdain. Then, gentleness turned to coldness, her lips arching in arrogant triumph. “Nothing special.”

Her words were so cold they seemed to freeze all creation. Ice three feet thick is not formed in a single day—one wondered how long she’d been harboring this deep chill.

With a flick, a longsword manifested in her grasp, its dark golden radiance eclipsing all else.

“It’s time this ended. The victor is me.”

As the sword’s tip neared Xia Yu’s slender neck, several startled birds burst from the trees, their wings beating the air in a flurry of sound.

Nangong Qinxin withdrew her sword and vanished in the blink of an eye. “Shadow Step!” Xia Yu thought with a bitter smile—her opponent’s skills had reached their peak, the gap between them was vast.

What puzzled Xia Yu was why, in the end, she had chosen to withdraw.

Leng Bingyan sighed inwardly. She hadn’t expected such an incident while she was momentarily distracted. Fortunately, she’d reacted swiftly, quietly neutralizing the crisis from the shadows.

Through the rustling leaves came a familiar figure. Tears streamed uncontrollably down Xia Yu’s cheeks as she flung herself into Xia Tian’s arms, releasing all her pent-up grievance.

Gently, Xia Tian stroked her back, letting her cry herself out. “It’s alright now, you’re safe,” he soothed, though his eyes blazed with fury and murderous intent.

He had rushed over after receiving a mysterious message and hadn’t expected to find someone truly meaning harm to Xia Yu.

After escorting her back to her dorm and instructing her roommates to care for her, Xia Tian made his way to a familiar place.

Spring blossoms and autumn moons, memories like song—some tenderness forever lingers in the heart. In a dreamlike age, one feels the caress of the wind, or sometimes its wrenching pull.

Standing in the place he once knew so well, Xia Tian’s heart burned with unrelenting rage.

A figure approached, undisturbed by the biting wind. In a white dress, alluring and graceful, she would have caused a sensation had others seen her—so many had once cared for her, held her in their thoughts.

“What do you want from me?” she asked first, while Xia Tian remained silent.

“You should know better than I what brings me here,” he replied with a slight frown, displeased by her feigned ignorance. No matter how dazzling she was, a venomous heart could never be perfect.

She laughed softly—a sound that could topple nations. “Xia Tian, I don’t understand a word you’re saying. If you’ve come for no reason, at least give me an explanation.”

“Nangong Qinxin, stop pretending. I know you were the one who attacked Xia Yu!” Xia Tian was truly angry; in the past, he would never have called her by her full name, let alone in such a cold tone.

The girl was indeed Nangong Qinxin. Her smile faded, replaced by a sardonic sneer. “So what if it was me? She stole what should have been mine.”

“And you know what? I wish I’d killed her just now—I almost succeeded!” Even as she uttered such venom, she smiled, as though behind that gentle curve lay only ruthless intent.

“You’re beyond salvation,” Xia Tian shook his head with a sigh. “You are no longer the kind-hearted Nangong Qinxin you once were.”

“No, I am still myself—only more mature now.” Nangong Qinxin retorted, “Don’t you like me better this way? Beautiful, mature, powerful—how am I any less than your little vixen who only knows how to play coy?”

To compare Xia Yu to a little fox who only pouted made Leng Bingyan chuckle inwardly. Indeed, in Xia Tian’s presence, Xia Yu’s favorite thing was to act spoiled.

This Xia Yu was so different from the one Leng Bingyan had once known. Perhaps, in front of those they love, women are always gentle and vulnerable.