Tan Tai Pingjing gazed quietly at the youth who could be called a favored son of heaven, her eyes filled with a touch of pity. Yet, when this tall and striking woman took a single step forward, not only did the Southern cultivators of the Guanyin Sect, who led the martial cultivators, retreat, even Li Mofan dared not be careless. He raised his arm and made a gesture understood by all officers and soldiers of the Beiliang army. The Longxiang cavalry immediately exuded an indescribable aura, like tigers leaving their cages—intense and wild. Over a thousand elite riders rapidly spread out, forming an aggressively expanding fan formation. Some cavalry units even maneuvered behind the cultivators, clearly intent on making a grand move to encircle and crush these haughty Nanhai cultivators.
The charcoal-selling girl wasn’t seriously injured, but she had been heavily suppressed by Xu Longxiang’s aura earlier and dared not act rashly. Now that her senior sister had personally intervened, she gained confidence. She leaped down from her mount, rubbed her only eye, gritted her teeth, and longed to flay the sallow-skinned youth alive, then cast his three souls and seven spirits into the sect’s primary artifact—the Moonwell Celestial Mirror—used specifically to suppress malevolent spirits and impurities.
The Guanyin Sect had five generations of cultivators. Tan Tai Pingjing, nearing a century old yet nearly ageless in appearance, and the charcoal-selling girl were the two most senior sister-disciples, their age difference staggering. Next were six elderly elders, their hair white as snow. Mei Yingyi, Sun Ya, Sun Longzhong were relatively young cultivators of the next generation. The fourth generation consisted of descendants of the six elders’ direct disciples, and finally came the younger disciples who had joined the sect only recently. With over a hundred cultivators across five generations, nearly each wielded one or more spiritual treasures or talismans. The charcoal-selling girl’s Land of Immortals Scroll and the now-destroyed Dragon-Charming Pendant, shattered during her capture of a river dragon in Shu, were among the Guanyin Sect’s most prized treasures. Additionally, the discipline elder’s willow branch and jade vase, a tiny three-inch-high vessel weighing six hundred jin, naturally contained inner mysteries. Sun Ya’s Panglongstone pedestal, storing thunder and lightning, suppressed evil spirits and conformed to the natural Dao, a marvel of craftsmanship. Talisman swords were common among cultivators, but the Guanyin Sect had suffered heavy losses during the Southern Campaign against the river dragons, losing seven or eight out of ten. This led to the dispute with the Longyan Sword Furnace of Youyan Manor over eighty-one talisman swords. Later, two world-renowned swordsmen uninvitedly arrived—Deng Tai’a and Sui Xiegu. The latter delighted in devouring swords, further straining the sect’s once-prosperous resources.
Tan Tai Pingjing did not display the same lofty demeanor as her junior sister who had earlier provoked Xu Longxiang. She simply walked forward, showing no hidden techniques, like an ordinary strong woman greeting an acquaintance. However, this time Xu Longxiang’s waiting was longer than ever. Each barely perceptible pause or slight retreat by Tan Tai Pingjing caused Xu Longxiang to show confusion, as if returning to his childhood days in Qingliang Mansion, once again becoming the Dull Huang Man’er—a simple-minded child. Xu Longxiang suddenly recalled something, scratched his head, and looked relieved. His brother had said that when faced with something puzzling, it was better not to dwell on it. Victory or defeat must be determined by fists. If he couldn’t win, he could always flee—green hills remain, clear waters flow on, and he could always say “until we meet again” like any good martial hero.
With his heart unburdened, Xu Longxiang’s entire demeanor transformed. This was not unusual to Li Mofan and the Longxiang cavalry, but to the Guanyin Sect cultivators skilled in observing auras, it was astonishing. Before a major battle, a martial artist’s fluctuating State of Mindwas a grave taboo. Those rare individuals who broke through bottlenecks in life-and-death struggles and emerged stronger were few and far between. In the past century of the Liyang martial world, Wang Xianzhi was one such anomaly, Gu Jiantang half another. Others like Li Chungan and Cao Changqing, renowned for their extraordinary talents, rose in cultivation naturally and steadily. Of course, after Xu Fengnian defeated Wang Xianzhi, many rumors—true or false—began circulating. Xu Fengnian became another master of “growing stronger through battle,” the only one since Wang Xianzhi. Otherwise, how could a spoiled nobleman who had only trained for less than five years suddenly reach the pinnacle of martial cultivation and claim supremacy over the Jianghu?
Could it be that the Xu family, already boasting a supposedly invincible Xu Fengnian, must also produce another Xu Longxiang? Did all the good fortune belong to the Xu clan, leaving none for others? Would Xu Fengnian, once tired of being the world’s strongest, simply hand the title to his younger brother?
Nowadays, martial sects and aristocratic families were divided by whether they could boast two first-rank experts standing side by side. Even a single Tianxiang expert was sufficient to dominate the martial world. But having two martial experts within one family or sect was unheard of. Even the Wujia Sword Tomb could not achieve this, for it was far more difficult than having father and son both attain high office in the imperial court.
At this moment, the cultivators observed that the young noble’s aura, previously like a raging fire, had transformed into a stagnant pool—vibrant one moment, utterly lifeless the next.
Tan Tai Pingjing, her figure rivaling Northern warriors, walked slowly and finally stopped within five or six paces of Xu Longxiang. She looked down at this intriguing youth, born with King Kongphysique yet deliberately suppressing his cultivation, and smiled: “You strike me. If you hit me, you win. From now on, my sect will obey your elder brother wherever we go in Liuzhou.”
Xu Longxiang shook his head solemnly.
Tan Tai Pingjing smiled knowingly. She understood the boy’s meaning perfectly: within the Beiliang domain, whoever set foot there must obey his elder brother. This principle did not need to be won through defeating others—it was simply natural law. Even before his elder brother inherited the Beiliang Kingship, Qingliang Mountain had always been where Xu Fengnian’s voice carried the most weight, even more than their father Xu Xiao. Now as a feudal king, not only a single mansion but the entire Beiliang should follow this rule.
Tan Tai Pingjing was not angered. Her expression remained pure and serene. Northern dragon-subduing cultivators often said that all Guanyin Sect disciples were carved from the same mold, and this was not without reason. Besides their uniform white robes and boots, their temperaments were identical—detached from the mundane, indifferent to the common folk and kings, devoted only to spirits and deities. When leaving the sect, cultivators were forbidden to carry anything except food and clothing, not even a single cherished talisman or artifact nurtured over years. Free from attachments, untouched by worldly karma, their Dao hearts remained unblemished. For example, cultivators of various generations in this journey, once entering the Nanhai solitary island to cultivate the Dao, severed all ties with their birth parents. Even if their parents died, they were forbidden from mourning them.
The Dao of Heaven was Mercilessyet governed by “constant laws.” Cultivators were the “fishermen” mending the vast net of the Dao, capturing the escaped fish. Thus, the great sage Zhan Motai once told the Guanyin Sect, more as a question than a statement: “The Dao encompasses fifty, but why does Heaven’s Dao only extend to forty-nine? Sages say one escapes, but where is that one?”
Tan Tai Pingjing had entered a secluded retreat for years precisely for this reason. Deng Tai’a’s sword slicing through the sea to flood the Guanyin Sect was not the true reason for her early emergence. Rather, after years of retreat, she had failed to find that elusive “one.” Thus, the entire sect’s migration northward was also an attempt to seek it elsewhere.
Within the Guanyin Sect, Tan Tai Pingjing was always silent and never took disciples. She had presided over the sect for nearly sixty years, accumulating deep authority. Even the elders felt uneasy in her presence, let alone juniors like Mei Yingyi, Sun Ya, and Sun Longzhong. Being able to speak a single word with their sect leader, whose status and figure were equally towering, was enough to satisfy them for a year. They all sensed the sect leader’s rare warmth toward the youth, and many younger disciples, regardless of gender, felt a trace of “jealousy.”
Tan Tai Pingjing stood not far from Xu Longxiang, her smile serene and pure. Before her, a faint, ethereal droplet of emerald water appeared. The droplet fell, splitting into two streams forming crescent arcs, rippling outward. In an instant, a great mirror formed between her and Xu Longxiang, upright and gleaming. The mirror’s surface shimmered with green waves, their reflections blurred. From Xu Longxiang’s side, only vague outlines were visible.
Guanyin Sect cultivators exchanged glances.
Even the charcoal-selling girl, known for her high standards, was deeply moved. The Guanyin Sect’s ability to rival the entire Northern Liyang dynasty’s dragon-subduing cultivators relied on two artifacts. The Land of Immortals Scroll, painted by the great master of the Da Feng dynasty, suppressed the “auspiciousness” of the martial world, while the Moonwell Celestial Mirror before the sect leader suppressed the “spiritual” forces striving to break the Dao’s constraints. Both were born from the blessings of heaven and earth, yet the greater their power, the more rebellious they became, seeking to cross forbidden boundaries. Thus, the Guanyin Sect had to suppress these two forces, already favored by the Dao yet still insatiable.
After “appearing” in the mirror, Tan Tai Pingjing smiled and gestured to Xu Longxiang, indicating he need not hold back and should unleash his full strength.
Then, everyone saw Xu Longxiang charge into the mirror, appearing before Tan Tai Pingjing and delivering a punch. Most disciples, witnessing the sect’s national treasure for the first time, instinctively gasped. But then they saw their sect leader’s form shatter like a glass artifact, scattering into countless glowing fragments. Without hesitation, Xu Longxiang charged toward the next location. Sure enough, another mirror appeared before him, and he shattered it, breaking another Crystalized Bodyof Tan Tai Pingjing. Repeating this tirelessly, within a short incense stick’s time, Xu Longxiang had charged into the mirror and shattered it over a hundred times on the sandy battlefield. Each time before shattering, Tan Tai Pingjing’s smile remained calm. The more ferocious and fierce Xu Longxiang’s attacks became, the more composed and Daoistly mysterious she appeared.
A junior officer rode up to Li Mofan, puzzled, and couldn’t help asking, “General, what’s going on? Is that woman really a fairy?”
Although Li Mofan was proficient in eighteen martial arts, a top cavalry expert on the battlefield, he had never encountered the obscure supernatural abilities of cultivators. He was also somewhat baffled but unwilling to admit ignorance before his subordinates. He thus feigned wisdom, stroking his chin and slowly saying, “Cultivators from the North and South have their own strengths. Northern cultivators are like rats stealing grain from a granary, feeding on imperial dragon qi. Southern cultivators like the Guanyin Sect nourish their spirits by consuming heavenly mists and thunder. The sect leader’s strange mirror is probably similar to the Daoist sages’ sleeves containing universes or the Buddhist technique of holding Mount Sumeru in a mustard seed.”
The bearded officer chuckled awkwardly after a long pause, “General, your knowledge is truly vast. No wonder the great general says you’re one of the top scholarly generals in Beiliang.”
Li Mofan laughed mockingly, “Get lost! After all these years of sucking up, you haven’t improved a bit. Scholarly generals? Pah! My position as deputy commander of the Longxiang cavalry was earned through countless battles at the forefront. Scholarly generals are just cowards hiding behind the battlefield waving fans and flapping their mouths.”
The officer protested, “I’d like to be a scholarly general too.”
Li Mofan rolled his eyes sarcastically, “With your butcher-like, slovenly appearance, you won’t become a scholarly general even in your next life.”
On the battlefield, Xu Longxiang halted, showing no sign of frustration. After a brief pause for thought, he dashed toward the gathered disciples of the Guanyin Sect, clearly employing the military tactic of besieging the city to strike the Reinforcements. If the sect leader refused to confront him directly, her disciples could not escape. Would she then reveal her true form and fight openly?
Tan Tai Pingjing appeared behind Xu Longxiang, facing away from the Longxiang cavalry’s fan-shaped charge. She gently tapped the mirror before her. In an instant, a mirror appeared before Mei Yingyi and the other disciples. Xu Longxiang charged through it and, in the blink of an eye, reappeared before Tan Tai Pingjing. This scene, utterly defying worldly logic, was eerie and bizarre.
Xu Longxiang’s stubborn nature flared. Instead of charging at the woman unwilling to face him directly, he turned again toward the Guanyin Sect disciples, accelerating. For the first time during his charge, he changed direction mid-run. His speed was so great that people first saw only a flickering shadow, then, within a hundred paces, saw Xu Longxiang everywhere. This scene resembled Wang Xianzhi’s battle against the useless monk, where ultimate martial arts mastery often converged on two principles: speed and precision. One seized the initiative; the other struck with purpose. Combined, they ensured invincibility and guaranteed victory. Regardless of the disputes between sword sects, both agreed on the importance of speed and precision. Deng Tai’a’s sword, renowned for its blazing speed like falling stars, suppressed the entire sword world before Li Chungan’s return.
The world of martial arts, like the Dao, was filled with mysteries and wonders, and Xu Longxiang and Tan Tai Pingjing stood at the heart of this unfolding tale.
With the passage of time, Xu Long Xiang still could not touch even a single hem of Dantai Jingjing’s or the disciples of Nanhai Guanyin Sect’s robes. Even Li Mofan was growing anxious, let alone those junior officers whose temperaments were as rough and fierce as the wind and sand of the northwest. They were all eager to charge forward at a moment’s notice, ready to ride their horses into battle and leave no one behind, regardless of whether their foes were immortal cultivators or refined martial artists.
At that moment, a distant black dot approached steadily, gradually revealing a clear figure.
He came alone, standing apart from the Longhu cavalry and the Guanyin Sect, forming a triangle between the three. Though the thousand Longhu cavalry and over a hundred cultivators vastly outnumbered him, none could rival his presence. He stood there alone, completely overshadowing the two formidable groups.
The Beiliang army, renowned as the most powerful in battle, recognized only two things: the Xu family name from General Xu Xiao, and the might of brute force. Ultimately, both boiled down to strength, for the old Beiliang King Xu Xiao had gained his unparalleled authority through the slaughter of half the able-bodied men during the Spring and Autumn Period.
After Xu Xiao’s passing, another Xu took up the mantle left by the death of the “Butcher of Men.” Most had believed that even a god could not fill the void left by Xu Xiao, but someone did—by slaying Wang Xianzhi.
Xu Fengnian now stood at this very place. Upon receiving news of the arrival of the Guanyin Sect and the Wujia Sword Tombs in Liuzhou, he had naturally placed greater importance on the latter and intended to personally welcome them at the border of Liuzhou and Beiliang. As for his younger brother Huangman’er, whether he was to escort the Nanhai cultivators or issue a warning, it mattered little to Xu Fengnian. He doted on Huangman’er so much that there was nothing his younger brother could not do. Yet, at the last moment, Xu Fengnian still felt uneasy. The Guanyin Sect had accumulated centuries of power, not to be underestimated. The charcoal-selling girl’s cunning tactics in Yan Zhi Prefecture, her Lu Di Chao Xian Tu, had nearly ensnared even him, the so-called new Supreme Under Heaven. Thus, he changed his mind midway and decided to personally witness Huangman’er before proceeding to welcome the hundred swordsmen from the Wujia Sword Tombs heading northwest.
Perhaps Xu Fengnian’s passive stance seemed insignificant to himself, but both Li Mofan’s thousand fierce and valiant Longhu cavalry and the over a hundred Nanhai cultivators, isolated though they were, felt an immense, silent pressure.
Especially the cavalry under the Xu banner, each man instinctively tightened his iron spear, fearing that their fearless Longhu army might be looked down upon by their prince.
For the cultivators, Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City had been the greatest escaped fish in the world, and no southern or northern sect could touch him. But after the death of that old monster, the suffocating despair was silently transferred to the young prince.
Who dared to face this man in direct conflict? This was not someone who could be challenged by sheer numbers. Even if you gathered more men, could you outnumber his thirty thousand Beiliang iron cavalry?
Dantai Jingjing turned her head, gazing at the tall, somewhat abrupt figure in the distance. Beneath her calm gaze lay an indescribable complexity.
Xu Long Xiang had already fallen into a frenzied state, head bowed, fists clenched. Though far from exhausted, he began to pant heavily, like an ancient ferocious beast, his energy surging across seven hundred miles in an instant—surpassing the so-called “Dragon Threshold” of six hundred miles set by the New Martial Arts Rankings.
Dantai Jingjing turned back just as Xu Long Xiang looked up, and she met his blood-red eyes.
If before it had merely been the playful mischief of a young boy, without any real intent to harm, now Xu Long Xiang had truly drawn his killing intent.
One who possesses a pure heart does good naturally and evil just as directly.
In Confucius Zhang’s “Treatise on Heaven,” there is a saying: “Heaven’s way is constant; it does not exist for sages, nor does it perish for villains.” This speaks of the unpredictability of Heaven’s Dao, which humans, though the most intelligent of all beings, cannot interfere with. This inevitably brought great confusion to cultivators who claimed to act on Heaven’s behalf. Each time they cast their nets, they did so cautiously, fearing they might go against the Dao and thus bear the consequences of karma. This is why Daoist immortals who cultivate naturally often achieve transcendence, while great cultivators rarely meet peaceful ends, let alone ascend to the Immortal Ranks. At this moment, Dantai Jingjing found it hard to judge whether Xu Long Xiang was good or evil, or whether his soul should be captured into the Yuejing Mirror. Indeed, within the Yuejing Mirror, besides notorious dark lords, there were also many revered sages. Yet cultivators often kept silent about the latter. The reason why noble legacies often ended within five generations was often because cultivators themselves were the executioners. Though the deeds of sages might benefit the people or the nation, they did not always follow Heaven’s Dao. Throughout history, so many transformative reforms brought prosperity to the people, yet the reformers often met tragic ends, sometimes even denied rebirth after death. Confucianism’s “Though millions oppose me, I shall go forth” has been passed down through generations, but for the individual, it is not always a blessing. Yet this is precisely what makes those scholars who strive for the world’s salvation most precious.
The young prince standing in the distance had once scorned scholars and literati during his youth. On the Jiangnan Road, he had even dared to mock Liang Tangxi, now a revered swordsman of the dynasty, with the question, “Master, can you sell a few jin of righteousness and morality?” Over the years, his attitude toward scholars had gradually changed, largely because from a high place, one could see further and higher. He had come to deeply respect those scholars who devoted themselves unreservedly to the fate of the world.
For in the world, those with purpose often struggled forward as pathfinders, simply so that future generations might have a road to follow.
Wang Xianzhi was like this to the martial world, and so were Xun Ping and Zhang Julu to the court.
Huang Sanjia was the same.
Such people, even if they were enemies, could be killed but never hated.
The founding of a prosperous dynasty always begins with warriors clearing the way through brambles and thorns, scholars diligently paving the roads, and only then can the people walk the path in peace and happiness.
Dantai Jingjing’s gaze still held pity as she looked at this second son of the Butcher, for the Beiliang region, nominally part of the Liyang dynasty, was a dead end. The central court sought to reduce the power of regional lords, yet needed someone to resist the northern barbarian cavalry. They could not trust Gu Jiantang, a cunning general, to rule as a king outside the royal family, nor could they tolerate the Xu family’s two generations of dominance. When Xu Xiao’s military achievements reached a point where no further honors could be given, and with so many atrocities committed, only his strong fate and upright conduct saved him, allowing the old prince to die peacefully in his old age. Yet his wife and four children inevitably suffered. Without the seven hundred years of merit sacrificed by Hong Xixi, the reincarnation of Lüzu, Xu Zhihu would have died young. As for the remaining three, even Xu Weixiong, though not the biological daughter of Xu Xiao and Wu Su, likely did not have a fate worth envying.
Dantai Jingjing had come to Beiliang because she had sensed the faint traces of the “One,” wanting to witness with her own eyes how the young Beiliang King would turn the tide, how he would change the fates of his siblings, and bring blessings to future generations. Such a feat was even more difficult than slaying a dragon by human hands.
Dantai Jingjing sighed softly.
Xu Long Xiang had also completed his buildup, with wind and sand swirling around him like a vortex. To an ordinary person, this would seem like a display of immense martial energy from the Butcher’s second son. But to Dantai Jingjing, with a century of cultivation experience, it was almost the form of a nascent dragon, naturally fierce and wild.
In her youth, Dantai Jingjing had once unknowingly performed a “Fengzheng” on a white snake. “Fengzheng” is a relatively obscure Daoist term, one rank below the legendary “Tianren Feng Shen.” Common folk might not know what it means for an emperor to “speak with Heaven’s decree” or for a Daoist immortal to “speak a prophecy into reality,” but they know the saying that monks never lie, and they often scold children for careless words, making them spit a few times to retract their rudeness. This is why the ancients believed that when words were first created, even ghosts and gods wept, for language carries unfathomable mysteries.
Many years later, she learned that this great fortune had occurred in the middle reaches of the Guangling River. At the time, she had been traveling secretly across the Central Plains with her master and uncles. She had encountered a massive white snake coiled by the riverbank, hesitating as it prepared to cross the river. Just as a carp must leap through the Dragon Gate, a snake must also cross the threshold of Heaven’s Dao to transform into a dragon or a jiao, a perilous journey where countless great snakes perished. Dantai Jingjing, still young and naive, felt an inexplicable kinship with the ten-meter-long white snake. Without knowing the dangers of Heaven’s Dao, she rashly performed a “Fengzheng,” blessing the white snake to become a dragon. To her surprise, the snake, as thick as a water vat, shed tears like a human, then shed its eighth skin effortlessly and painlessly, sprouting a jiao horn. A simple blessing from a novice cultivator had allowed the white snake to ascend instantly, transforming into a white jiao before even entering the river. As it leapt into the river, it licked Dantai Jingjing’s arm affectionately, then vanished into the stormy waters. Her master, upon hearing of this, was both amused and exasperated, calling it a case of “a fool’s blessing.” Later, Dantai Jingjing learned that even the Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s revered Celestial Master, the “Feathered Official,” would only dare to gradually bestow titles upon such beings, never daring to rashly speak of true dragonhood. Dantai Jingjing’s act had bound her countless lifetimes of merit to the white snake. If the snake succeeded in becoming a dragon, she would gain great fortune in all her rebirths. But if it failed, she too would share its fate, never to be reborn, and all those close to her would suffer the karmic backlash. Fortunately, her master had great confidence in the white snake; otherwise, regardless of how much he cherished Dantai Jingjing, he would have expelled her from the sect to avoid calamity.
Since then, only Li Yufu, the young Taoist master of Wudang, had encountered a similar fate. At that time, on the banks of the Guangling River, a carp had leapt from the water into his arms. The Taoist had cradled the fish and sat down.
“Poor Daoist Li Yufu, you and I are fated to meet. If all things in the world can indeed cultivate, then let us encourage each other and cultivate the Dao together. Let us meet again in several hundred years.”
Yet the world only knew of Li Yufu’s feat of subduing an evil dragon beneath the earth, not of this secret encounter.
Facing the furious Xu Long Xiang, Dantai Jingjing, for reasons unknown, showed a rare moment of distraction.
Even the younger disciples of the Guanyin Sect, two or three generations below her, noticed.
This tall woman, who had long reached the pinnacle of cultivation yet deliberately kept her appearance at thirty, suddenly felt a deep sorrow.
She thought of her master, that man who had always been beyond her reach. Back then, when they stood side by side, she had always been a head taller, and her master had to look up to speak to her. At those moments, even the all-knowing, all-powerful master had seemed helpless.
Before vanishing without a trace, her master had a saying: “You big silly girl.”
After her master’s “passing,” she had pieced together from an elder’s vague words that her master had likely been a person destined to perceive Heaven’s will—when his fate rose, he lived; when it fell, he vanished.
But as to which hidden historical figure he had been, Dantai Jingjing never sought to guess, nor dared to speculate.
This was also a form of respect for the revered.
At this moment, Xu Long Xiang’s direct charge interrupted the cultivator grandmaster’s reverie, and for reasons unknown, Dantai Jingjing felt a surge of anger—an emotion even the Confucian scholar Xie Feiyu of Shu had failed to provoke.
Dantai Jingjing quickly raised her hand, summoning the mirror whose origins were unknown even to the founding patriarch of the Guanyin Sect. She was about to teach the boy a lesson.
A woman’s heart is deep and unfathomable, and even a cultivator equal to an immortal could not escape this truth.
At that moment, a cold, clear voice echoed in everyone’s ears: “Huangman’er fighting your cultivators is like scholars and generals arguing over whose merit is greater—it’s meaningless.”
In the next instant, a figure emerged from the Yuejing Mirror before Xu Long Xiang could reach it, stepping in front of Dantai Jingjing.
The mirror’s surface rippled not at all as he passed through it.
But after he emerged, the water danced joyfully.
As if meeting an old friend.
The mirror no longer seemed like a mirror, but like the shattered moon reflected in a well.
Xu Fengnian approached the abnormally tall Guanyin Sect leader, having to tilt his head slightly to meet her gaze. He offered a polite smile, then turned toward Huangman’er, ruffling his hair. The previously frenzied boy immediately calmed down.
Dantai Jingjing gazed at the young man’s retreating figure, her lips trembling slightly.
She formed the two words with her mouth, but no sound came out.
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