Another memory flashed through Yun Qianxue's mind.
Ten years later.
"Again!"
A young Yun Lintian, his face smeared with dirt, stubbornly picked up his wooden sword despite the bruises covering his arms.
Yun Qianxue sighed. "That's enough for today."
"No! I have to get stronger!" His small hands trembled, but his eyes burned with determination. "I will protect this sect."
Her breath caught.
That night, she commissioned a real sword for him—one perfectly sized for his small hands.
…
Years passed.
The boy became a youth. The youth became a man.
And Yun Qianxue—
She stood frozen outside his chambers one evening, her hand raised to knock, listening to his quiet laughter with another female disciple inside.
Something sharp twisted in her chest.
That night, she sat alone on the sect's highest peak, staring at the moon until her eyes burned.
"This is wrong."
"I raised him."
"I shouldn't—"
Her fist clenched.
The mountain peak shattered under her aura.
…
Inside a bedroom.
