In the deep, quiet courtyard of the Slaughter God Pavilion, the morning mist hung like a sheer veil.
The air was alive with the fragrance of rare blossoms and the melodious songs of spirit birds. Lin Che, dressed in simple white training robes, moved through a series of slow, flowing exercises designed to nourish his qi. His movements were unhurried, his breathing deep and measured. A faint haze of spiritual energy enveloped him, blending seamlessly with the tranquil dawn light.
Luo Jiayin sat on the veranda, brewing tea with practiced grace. Her lustrous black hair cascaded over her shoulders as she occasionally glanced toward the graceful figure in the courtyard, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Sunlight filtered through the carved wooden lattice, dappling her peerlessly beautiful profile. It was a scene of perfect, undisturbed peace.
Creak—
A soft sound broke the morning's stillness.
Lin Che and Luo Jiayin turned simultaneously. There, framed within the courtyard's moon gate, stood a petite figure.
Dressed in a gown of soft, sunrise-yellow, her skin seemed to glow like pure snow. Though her figure had not yet fully matured into womanhood, it already hinted at a budding grace. It was Lin Ying, emerging from over three months of secluded cultivation.
"Ying'er?" Lin Che ended his form, a look of pleasant surprise spreading across his face. "You've finished your seclusion?"
He strode forward, automatically reaching out with his divine sense to gauge her cultivation. To his surprise, her aura was deep and settled, still firmly at the Peak of the Deity Transformation stage—unchanged from three months ago. He frowned slightly.
"Your cultivation… it doesn't seem to have advanced?" he asked, a trace of confusion in his eyes. "Did you encounter a bottleneck during your seclusion? What did you gain?"
Lin Ying did not answer. She merely lifted her gaze. The large, expressive eyes that were usually full of lively mischief and laughter were now like a pair of deep, unfathomable pools—profound, complex, and possessing a depth of insight that belied her age. She gave Lin Che a long, appraising look, then, without a word, walked past him and into the bedchamber he shared with Luo Jiayin.
She moved as if they weren't even there, stopping before the large, curtained bed with its soft brocade covers. Then, she sat. Her back was ramrod straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her posture was so prim, so formal, it was a world away from the carefree, often-sprawling "Little Glutton" they knew.
Lin Che stood frozen, his hand still hanging in the air, his mind a whirlwind of questions. Did seclusion scramble her brains? What's with this behavior?
Luo Jiayin set down her teacup and glided over, her beautiful eyes filled with concern and bewilderment. "Ying'er, what's wrong? Did you have trouble with your cultivation? If you have any questions, you can ask your brother or me. We'll help you."
Lin Ying finally reacted. She turned her head slowly, her gaze settling on Luo Jiayin. The look was still complex, penetrating, as if it could see past flesh and bone. After a long moment, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips—a smile that held a hint of understanding, a dash of amusement, and even a trace of the old Lin Ying's characteristic slyness.
Then, she turned her attention back to Lin Che, her gaze locking onto his face.
This time, it did not waver.
Lin Che's skin prickled. This gaze was all wrong. It wasn't a sister looking at her brother. It was the gaze of someone… someone who knew him intimately, re-evaluating him. And yet, beneath the scrutiny, he felt a strange, inexplicable sense of… connection. A bond that seemed to stretch across time itself.
The longer he looked, the more unsettled he became.
The stronger the feeling grew, the harder his heart pounded. A tidal wave of emotion—joy at a reunion, the fear of a long-awaited return, and a deep, aching sorrow for time lost—threatened to overwhelm him.
Is this really my little sister?he thought, his mind reeling. Why does this look… feel so much like… like the one I've been searching for, night and day…?
The atmosphere in the room grew thick and heavy, the air itself seeming to congeal.
Luo Jiayin sensed the shift. She moved closer to Lin Che, linking her arm with his, and whispered, "Lin Che… what's wrong with Ying'er? Her eyes… they're so strange. It's like… like she's a different person. And we haven't done anything to upset her, have we?"
Lin Che swallowed hard, his throat dry. "She… she might really have 'changed'… And… we… we did…"
Just then, Lin Ying, still seated on the edge of the bed, spoke.
Her voice was not loud, but it carried a strange resonance—a blend of a young girl's clarity and an ethereal, distant echo, as if speaking from a faraway past.
"Lin Che."
It wasn't the coquettish "Big Brother," nor the teasing "Stupid Lin Che." It was the full name, spoken with a specific, formal cadence—the exact tone Su Qingyao had always used.
Lin Che's heart slammed against his ribs. "Here!" he answered, the response almost a reflex.
Lin Ying rose slowly and walked toward him. Her steps were measured, deliberate, each one carrying a weight of settled composure. The hem of her yellow gown swayed gently, yet it exuded an unnerving aura of authority and familiarity.
She stopped before him, tilting her head back to look him directly in the eye.
"These past three months," she began, her voice deceptively calm, yet each word struck with the force of a sledgehammer, "I have 'seen' many things."
Lin Che's breath caught. His heart felt as if it might leap from his chest.
"I 'saw' you travel across countless mountains and rivers, risking life and limb, all to find me." Her tone remained even, but a flicker of pain crossed her eyes.
"I 'saw' you grow strong, build the Slaughter God Pavilion, stain your hands with blood—all so you could survive in this cruel world and find me."
"I 'saw' you…" She paused, her gaze drifting almost imperceptibly toward the pale-faced Luo Jiayin before returning to Lin Che. That faint, knowing smile returned. "…surrounded by beauty and warmth, with a lovely woman in each arm, living a life of pure bliss."
Lin Che's face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out.
"I can understand you and Sister Jiayin practicing dual cultivation to increase your power," Lin Ying continued, her tone still light, almost teasing. But her next sentence sent a chill straight to Lin Che's soul. "But… could you please explain to me… what is the matter with Sister Qingcheng?"
BOOM!
Lin Che's mind went utterly blank, as if struck by lightning. That phrase… that tone… that all-seeing gaze…
The image of the woman he had searched for across countless years, the woman of his dreams, superimposed itself perfectly over the still-youthful face before him.
Every question, every hint of familiarity, had its answer in this single, earth-shattering moment.
Shock, elation, terror, guilt, and sheer, utter disbelief—a tsunami of emotions crashed over him, threatening to tear him apart. His entire body trembled violently. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over unchecked.
"You… you…" he stammered, pointing a shaking finger at her, his voice a broken, tearful wreck. "You are… Qingyao?! How… how is this possible?! You… how can you be Qingyao?!"