While Cheng Yue stood silently on her celestial platform high above the mortal peaks, the mist swirling around her robes like obedient clouds, her thoughts were entangled in a net of growing disappointment. The spiritual wind danced around her, stirring her long sleeves and the silver strands of her hair, but her heart was far from tranquil.
Her disciple, Li Yao, whom she had once molded with such precision and care, now seemed more and more like a dull blade—sharp once, but rusted by emotion and obsession.
"This girl..." Cheng Yue thought, narrowing her cold eyes as her gaze pierced through layers of cloud, directed vaguely toward the Sixth Peak. "I had hoped she would become my sword. Instead, she clings to this boy like a foolish mortal maiden… unable to differentiate between affection and ambition.She really have become hopeless."
