Chapter 451: Chapter 451
451: Chapter 447: Night Charm 451: Chapter 447: Night Charm Within the ice coffin, Yun Rong was not always in a deep slumber, day and night.
The wooden Spirit Root that had cultivated her into a Venerable Immortal was so powerful that, within a few short months, that force had reawakened her.
She could not leave the ice coffin, though; she could hear the sounds of the outside world, but she was unable to convey her own voice to it.
He was very happy about the night she awoke.
In the ancient city, desolate and uninhabited, he found a wind chime marked by rust spots, hung it in front of the ice coffin with vines, and its clear tinkling sound rang forth to alleviate her loneliness.
Fang Geyu felt that this couple always had their unique way of being together.
Despite having fallen into this state, tumbling into the dust, the two of them managed to live a fulfilling life, pure and without regrets.
She often saw him, in the deep of the night, take shelter in the forest, with a solitary bonfire flickering in the deserted mountains.
When idle, he would sit quietly in front of the ice coffin and talk to her about everyday life, the green pines, and the white snow.
He was not good at small talk; most of what he spoke about was quite dull, so much so that it could make even Fang Geyu want to doze off.
Yet Yun Rong always managed to sit quietly in the coffin, her hands wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on her kneecaps, her black hair draped over her shoulders, while her ever-present Snow Sword lay quietly by her feet.
In her eyes reflecting the light on the water, a gentle, soft smile could be seen.
She would treasure and seriously listen to every word he said, from beginning to end.
A weed in a wasted field stands tall without support.
Truly, it was a beautiful and peaceful scene.
Seeing this, Fang Geyu suddenly felt that this couple, trapped in dire calamity, seemed more like a real husband and wife than when they were respectful and mutually supportive in days past.
Arao once said Yun Rong was heartless, but Fang Geyu thought this was a bias against her.
All things start fresh and clear; one can wonder what this bud will turn into.
In Yun Rong’s eyes, Fang Geyu clearly saw tender affection that came at just the right moment, year after year.
After all, the Sword Master, worshipped by the world, was also, in essence, a mortal woman.
The snow was falling heavier, and he was still wearing the thin sword robe from the time he left Tianxi, his homeland.
Now without Spiritual Power to protect his body, he knew too well the hardship of age and cold, and the wind chill that he had not felt for a long time seemed to know to strike when he was weakest.
After idly chatting with her for a while, he felt feverish and his bones ached with cold.
Knowing this was a bad sign, he leaned against an old vine-entwined tree, preparing to sleep and rest.
Yun Rong quietly glanced at him; it was then that she suddenly realized that some things did not need to be taught to be known by a wife.
She bent her fingers and tapped crisply twice on the ice.
He watched her breath upon the coffin surface, steam rising as she scribed with reverse writing a line of characters: “When the snow becomes cold next year, I will sew winter clothes for my lord.”
At that moment, he smiled, eyes curving, and said, “Good.”
Just then, the clouds parted, and a pale and ominous gray cold moon slowly shone through.
The bonfire extinguished without wind, and a demon breeze arose in the wilderness.
The chill and sinister moonlight spilled between the mountains and forests.
The brown wilds, as if moistened by a kind of poison, suddenly began to grow dense and soft thorns.
The land covered by the thorns blossomed with dangerous and pale roses that tempted with a deadly beauty akin to poison.
He abruptly opened his eyes, took up the broken sword, and a sense of solemn vigilance flashed across his eyes.
Instinctively, he stood protectively in front of the ice coffin, surveying his surroundings.
Along the way, he had encountered countless demons, big and small, all of which he avoided if possible.
If avoidance was impossible, he had no choice but to fight.
Despite having his Spirit Root destroyed, the Daoist Skills he had learned over thousands of years were not entirely useless; he had not forgotten the art of Energy Introduction.
But now, his body was like a sieve leaking air, and the Spiritual Power he drew into his body could not be sustained for long.
No matter the battle, he had to remain calm and aim for a swift resolution.
However, this time, the demon he encountered was, in a certain sense, even more troublesome and difficult to deal with than those Great Demons that wreaked havoc.
Mists rose in the forest, carrying the desolate moonlight.
A massive figure stepped through the flowers, approaching from afar.
It was a full-grown black tiger with hanging eyes, upon whose back sat a beautiful woman with long hair draped over her shoulders.
Around her graceful figure, fireflies and forest dew seemed to emit a chilling charm like that of a nocturnal spirit.
In her hand, she carried a blue-and-white lantern, and the sound of the hanging Jade in the cold mist was crisp and clear.
The woman had a pair of entrancingly beautiful eyes and appeared like a mysterious sprite from the Dark Night Forest, dressed in a long gown adorned with flowing silver and hanging green jade.
Her ears were slightly more pointed than those of ordinary people, her skin was fair, and two strands of hair fluttered softly against her cheek in the wind, adding a touch of bewitching allure.
Clearly, she was an Enchanting Demon.
She gazed at him from afar, her eyes holding an undeniable fervor, hidden behind an ambiguous smile.
“Look who I’ve stumbled upon?
Isn’t this Immortal Fu Ye, who fell from the heavens?”
His gaze was heavy, and he did not move his sword.
Immortal Fu Ye was the title granted to him upon his ascension by Immortal Venerable Zhu Zhan.
But in the Mortal World, the cultivators of the Hundred Immortal Sects were more accustomed to calling him Sword Master.
Now that the Immortal World had already perished, every utterance of his title was laced with ridicule.
With the bonfire gone and relying solely on the moonlight, the Enchanting Demon scrutinized the man beneath the tree.
In this night of chaos reigned by a hundred ghosts, his spine seemed eternally straight.
Amidst his tall and slender physique, like a hardy pine, seemed to lie an unyielding strength.
She initially came out of curiosity, never expecting the exiled Sword Master from the Immortal World to be so handsome.
Just by gazing at him from a distance, she felt an infectiously radiant and sublime aura.
In an era where deities had perished, she had seen too many pious Immortals forsake their elegance and pride to grovel and flatter for survival, a sight that deeply repulsed her.
Yet the one before her, even in a tattered robe, was washed very clean and crisp, and he seemed to still retain that unattainable and dignified air in his bones, making him appear like a Divine Statue that could not be tarnished.
The Enchanting Demon’s light laughter spread through the night, and suddenly, her figure vanished.
In the distance, a delicate and ethereal silhouette was cast upon the ground, where bright red Blood Pearls like gemstones fell among the white flower petals.
The already bizarre petals, having absorbed her fresh blood, became moistened and saturated red, revealing an even more enticing and flamboyant allure.
A slender and delicate hand passed through his hair and pressed against his cheek with a seductive intimacy, leaving a trail of a blood-red mark across his pale face.
That was the blood of an Enchanting Demon, inherently fragrant, capable of bewitching the deepest desires within one’s heart.
Her other hand, soft and boneless, wrapped around his waist from behind and held him tightly, whispering seductively by his ear, “I had no idea Immortal Fu Ye was so handsome.
It seems I have wasted all these years.”
His expression turned cold, and his broken sword burst forth with a myriad of Sword Intents, shooting towards her behind him.
The Enchanting Demon’s eyebrows rose slightly, and her body dissolved into a peach-colored mist, vanishing from the midst of the Sword Intent.
In the next moment, she reappeared three steps in front of him, and in her still-bleeding hand, she now held a large black sword robe.
He was startled, realizing only now that, at some unknown point, the outer robe he was wearing had been unwoven by this demoness.