Chapter 136: Kunlun

Snowflakes swirled through the air—a rare and breathtaking sight for those from the south, yet here on the summit of Kunlun, it was a view that had long since lost its novelty. The young girl moved with fluid grace, her form dancing through the flurries. As she swung her long sword, her spiritual energy rippled outward, catching the fallen snow and lifting it in a gentle vortex. Clad in robes of verdant green, she looked for all the world like a figure stepped out of a classical poem or painting, possessing an ethereal, otherworldly quality that was a joy to behold. Up close, her features were even more striking; her skin seemed whiter than the snow itself, delicate and refined.

Suddenly, from a jagged rock nearby, a figure vaulted toward her like a hawk. In a few swift bounds, he closed the distance with such speed that the eye could barely track him. Without a moment’s hesitation, his hand swept out, snapping a three-foot branch from a nearby tree. He wielded it as if it were a sword, the whistling sound of it cutting through the air marking him as a master not to be underestimated. His shock of white hair further signaled his formidable nature. The girl, however, showed no surprise. As she spun to face him, the corners of her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. With a deft flick of her blade, the snow that had been dancing around her transformed, shifting into shapes that resembled pear blossoms—yet even whiter, even more pristine.

The two collided, and in an instant, the "pear blossoms" fell to the earth, vanishing into the snow until one could no longer tell where the petals ended and the drifts began. They stood back-to-back, perfectly still. The world fell into a sudden, unsettling silence. After a long stalemate, the old man finally sighed, turning around to face the girl’s back. "How tedious," he grumbled with a childlike petulance. "Every time, you wait for me to speak first, as if I were the child and you the elder. It has been over three years; can you still not let it go?"

"Decades have passed, Master, yet I have never seen you let go of anything, so why do you insist on tormenting your disciple? You should be pruning your plum trees in the courtyard instead of coming here to test my swordsmanship. If I could best you after only three years, then the martial arts of Kunlun would be shallow indeed." Her tone was a stark contrast to his—though she was young, her words carried a seasoned, weary wisdom. While she addressed him as Master, there was an air of casual familiarity that made their relationship seem rather unconventional.

Whether stung by her words or simply lost in thought, the old man’s playfulness vanished. His expression grew solemn. He gazed at the branch in his hand, then turned his eyes toward the southeast, lost in a memory. A man of his years could not be without his burdens. Perhaps time had dulled his edges, or perhaps he had simply become better at masking his heart, but he remained an enigma. Seeing his mood, the girl stopped her practice. She sheathed her sword and walked to his side, standing in silence for a moment before asking softly, "Are you longing for the Central Plains again?"

"I have spent the better part of my life here in the Western Regions; the Central Plains are nothing but a fleeting memory to me," he replied, his voice tinged with a defensive air that felt surprisingly genuine. "It is you who should be longing for them. After all, that is your true home." He paused, his gaze lingering on her face as if searching for something. "Even if a person insists they no longer care, the heart never truly forgets, especially when there are people left behind who still hold a piece of it. Wan'er, my time is short. As my only disciple, you are the successor to the Kunlun lineage, and your days of freedom will soon be at an end. Should you not take this chance to return? Even if you cannot find closure, you might at least find peace of mind."

Qiu Wan'er knew this day would come. It had been over three years since she arrived at Kunlun. Though the isolation had been difficult and contrary to her nature, her heart had found a rare stillness here. Under the guidance of Zhuola Weiyang, her martial arts had progressed by leaps and bounds. Today, even with him exerting his full strength, she could hold her own for dozens of rounds. At this rate, in another few years, she would undoubtedly become the foremost expert of the Kunlun range.

"I fought so hard to escape to find this peace—why would I return to those places of strife?" Wan'er turned to look at him, her eyes steady and resolute. "Look at these endless Kunlun mountains. Under the white snow, there is only clarity and purity. It is like the people here, like the life here—simple and joyous. Why must I stain my heart with the dust of the world?"

The old man watched her, seemingly understanding her perspective. He let out a long, regretful yet resigned sigh. "Very well. These are your choices to make. If you can let go, that is best. I will not force you. As long as you remain true to your heart, that is enough. The struggle between gain and loss is a painful one; if it is a torment, then clinging to it will only bring you sorrow. It seems you have gained a deeper understanding than I."

"Would you like to spar again?" Sensing the atmosphere growing heavy, the girl sought to shift the topic before the melancholy took hold. She looked at him with an expectant, almost pleading expression. Since when had she become such a martial arts fanatic? Perhaps only in this tranquil place could she find the focus for it. Zhuola Weiyang did not answer. He simply flicked his wrist, sending the branch tumbling over the edge of the cliff. As it disappeared into the abyss, he turned and walked away. They both understood what his silence meant.

Qiu Wan'er resumed her sword dance. To an untrained eye, it looked the same, but for those who knew, it was different. She slowed her movements, each strike landing with a newfound heaviness. The peace she had fought to maintain was cracking. Once a thought is planted, it is not easily uprooted. She had hoped to purge her frustration through the dance, but the faster she moved, the more restless her spirit became.

Human strength has its limits. Exhausted and feeling no closer to peace, she drove her sword into the snow and collapsed to the ground. The biting cold of the earth seeped into her, yet it could not cool the fire in her blood. She gasped for air, her face flushed. In that moment, she realized that avoidance was no solution. She had never truly forgotten her past. Slowly, she reached for the pendant hanging around her neck. Feeling the warmth of the bead against her palm, she reached a decision.

If some people and some events were destined to remain in her heart, then why not take this chance to seek them out once more? Perhaps their story was not yet over, and perhaps, just perhaps, there would be a day when they might meet again.