The Master and His Wealthy Fiancée

"Ahem, ahem!" Zisang Jin coughed lightly. "Due to a tiny little slip-up on my part, I won't hold you responsible for crushing my flowerbeds."

Outwardly, Chen Dong bowed. "Thank you, Senior!"

Inwardly, however, he was grumbling. 'You were clearly the one who sent us flying, yet you turn around and blame us? Whatever. You're the powerful one, so you get to make the rules.'

Zisang Jin's expression softened, and she broke into a sweet smile, looking for all the world like a radiant young girl.

It wasn't just her smile; her voice, too, was as sweet and clear as a young girl's. "Originally, I was supposed to… ah, no, *This Seat*. Ahem. Originally, This Seat intended to make you realize that you are completely unworthy of Junior Sister Tian, to make you back down. But a small problem arose. Since it has come to this, you may as well go in. Let Junior Sister Tian tell you herself!"

Chen Dong bowed once more and strode into the hall.

An Array had been set up within the great hall. The moment he stepped inside, he felt as if he were standing in a sea of flowers. The Spiritual Qi was nearly twice as dense as it was outside.

Tian Sisi, dressed in a simple green robe with little makeup, sat cross-legged amidst the sea of flowers. She was like a distant mountain, holding all the colors of the world within her, yet the sorrow in her dark, downturned brows made Chen Dong's heart twist in pain.

The dance of a thousand flowers could not compare to the faintest glimmer in her eyes.

A long blade, its hilt tightly wrapped with an embroidered cord, rested across her knees. Tian Sisi spoke softly. "Chen Dong… my blade… is dull."

Her words stopped Chen Dong in his tracks.

"I… still can't let go."

Tian Sisi's voice was as beautiful as ever, each word a perfect, mellow pearl, as ethereal as curling incense smoke.

But Chen Dong understood all too well the sorrow laced within her words.

He couldn't take another step forward. He couldn't even move half a step.

"I thought that once I obtained the Cultivation Technique, I could break through to the fourth level. But my mind is full of you. You linger in my thoughts and won't leave. You've become my obstacle. You have me trapped here. You have… dulled my blade…"

Chen Dong understood Tian Sisi's inner turmoil, her anguish. But he could no longer make any promises or offer any guarantees. He had once fantasized about having a harem of wives and concubines, but now he realized his heart wasn't big enough for that. He couldn't do it.

During those three days by the Cold Pool, Tian Sisi hadn't been happy. Chen Dong could feel it deeply—she was using her own suffering to accommodate him.

Chen Dong stood with his head bowed, silent. 'I want to scream. I want to rush forward and pull her into my arms.' But he found he couldn't. It was as if his throat was choked by the Supreme Dao Skill, unable to make a sound. His body felt restrained by an ultimate power, immovable even if he were to exhaust all his cultivation, unable to so much as tremble.

Tian Sisi could lie to herself, and perhaps she could even lie to Chen Dong, but she could not lie to her blade.

A single, crystalline pearl of a tear, reflecting Chen Dong's image, fell upon the blade and spread.

Her pale hand caressed her Miao Blade and gripped its hilt. Veins suddenly bulged on the back of her jade-white hand. 'How I wish I could slice you open with a single stroke,' she thought, 'devour your heart and lungs, and refine your soul into my blade. Then you would be mine forever.'

The threads of love were a tangled mess, unable to be cut or severed. Like pearls from a broken string, her tears fell upon the blade, one after another.

Part plea, part obsession, a mix of hope and delusion—a final question.

"Are… you… willing…"

A gust of wind swept through the sea of flowers, and the swirling petals drowned out the sound of the long blade in Tian Sisi's moment of surrender.

Chen Dong's heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. He still couldn't say the words. 'Perhaps I could lie to myself, and even lie to Tian Sisi,' he thought, 'but I can't bear the thought of her becoming a mere plaything in my hand.' He was terrified that if he so much as flinched now, he would never again see that soul-stirring blade-stroke in the mirror, never again witness that brilliant flash of her blade that could stare down Celestial Thunder itself.

'Only by erasing myself from her heart can the cold light of her blade be reforged.'

Her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Tian Sisi gave a faint smile. The tear stains on her cheeks only enhanced her pure beauty, making her seem as unreachable as the swirling sea of flowers around her. Even if he could grasp her, she would only become an illusion at his fingertips. Like a lingering fragrance left behind by one who has not yet achieved immortality—a reality that could never be held.

Her defiant voice was still beautiful, but it was like a double-edged sword, slicing through the bond between them to carve out something that was hers alone. She wanted something whole, something true to herself. For that, she would give up the three thousand paths of the Great Dao without a second thought…

But the wind died down, and the scattered petals settled back into the sea of flowers. After a long silence, Chen Dong still hadn't looked up.

Finally, her voice returned to a state of calm, as if she were merely speaking to herself.

"I actually… I already knew. You're someone who can't let go, either… just like me."

A flash of cold light surged forth, a power that far surpassed Tian Sisi's own cultivation level. Its intent was even greater than the 'fragrance' from Zisang Jin's attack. It seemed to sever time and space themselves—and with them, the bonds of love.

A cut appeared on Chen Dong's cheek, and a thin line of blood began to seep out.

The thousand joys of their past, as rich as morning dew, were all severed in this moment of sorrow.

At the same time, a line of beaded blood appeared on Tian Sisi's own wrist—the price she paid to guide the razor-sharp edge of her blade and sever a single lock of Chen Dong's hair.

She clutched the lock of hair—the only thing she could keep—and spoke. Each word seemed to drip with blood, yet her tone was as soft as warm jade.

"…Go. From now on… let's not see each other again."

She had never spoken with such a gentle tone before, and she was using it to say goodbye.

Her blade was now a streak of cold light that could sever the heavens, free from all its shackles.

With newfound resolve, Chen Dong turned. He looked toward the exit of the now-unfamiliar hall and strode away.