Lu Jing's Probing of Wang Dong'er

Just as Qian Renxue went to take a bath, a light knock sounded at the door of Wang Dong'er's room.

She frowned slightly. At this hour... who could it be?

She stood up and walked toward the door with light, graceful steps.

Opening the door, she found none other than Lu Jing standing there.

He had clearly just finished a cleansing himself; his short, black hair was still damp, with a few unruly strands clinging to his temples. This made his youthful face appear even fairer, faintly glowing with a luster like polished jade.

He had changed into a clean, dark-colored robe, and he seemed to have grown slightly leaner and taller. Most striking, however, were his eyes—after being tempered, they had become even calmer and deeper, like two bottomless ancient wells.

"Sister Dong'er," he said, his voice steady as he looked at the peerless girl before him.

Wang Dong'er stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him to shut out the atmosphere of the hallway.

"What do you need from me?" She walked to the table and leaned against the edge, her posture appearing relaxed, though her powder-blue eyes locked onto Lu Jing like searchlights, filled with curiosity and doubt.

The girl, fresh from her bath, still had a healthy pink tint to her skin. Her long lashes drooped slightly, casting a small, fan-shaped shadow beneath her eyelids.

Lu Jing did not answer immediately.

He paced to the window, casting his gaze toward the neatly trimmed pines and cypresses in the courtyard of the Worship Hall. A moment of silence caused the air in the room to stagnate slightly.

He finally turned around, meeting Wang Dong'er's gaze with calm eyes, and got straight to the point: "There are some things we need to discuss in advance."

"Oh? What things?" Wang Dong'er raised an eyebrow, a hint of inquiry in her expression.

"Naturally, your identity."

Lu Jing's voice was not loud, but it struck clearly through the air between them. "For instance, what is your true identity, and where exactly did you come from?"

He paused, as if weighing his words. His tone remained calm but carried a trace of earnestness that brooked no evasion. He reminded her, "We are currently ten thousand years in the past, surrounded by danger. You could say we are grasshoppers tied to the same rope—we count as allies, don't we? Some secrets should be brought to light. Keeping things hidden benefits neither of us. Who knows... your true identity might, at a critical moment, become an unexpected asset or a talisman to avoid disaster."

He stared at Wang Dong'er, his words filled with sincere expectation, yet hiding a sharp edge of probing.

He knew Wang Dong'er's true identity. The reason he asked this question was to see what she was thinking, and whether she still lacked trust in him as a partner.

Upon hearing this question, the trace of casualness on Wang Dong'er's face vanished instantly.

Her right hand, resting at her side, curled unconsciously, her knuckles turning slightly white.

She looked at Lu Jing. Deep within those beautiful powder-blue eyes, like the surface of a sea before a storm, vigilance, scrutiny, and struggle flashed by, eventually settling into a heavy, complex expression.

She certainly understood what Lu Jing meant—an alliance required trust, and trust required honesty.

However...

"Why are you asking this?" Her voice turned cold, like thin ice cracking on a lake in early spring, carrying a sharp edge of being offended.

Ten thousand years later, the identity of the Young Master of the Clear Sky Sect was a badge of honor and a powerful reliance. But ten thousand years ago, in an era where the Martial Soul Hall was at the height of its power and maintained a delicate, even hostile, relationship with the Clear Sky Sect, this identity was no different from a sharp blade hanging over her head!

How could she easily speak of it? Especially to someone whose own background was equally unclear?

Lu Jing seemed to have anticipated her reaction; his face remained entirely devoid of ripples, calm to the point of cruelty.

"I said it before: for the sake of the future."

He took half a step forward, an invisible pressure quietly permeating the space. "Sister Dong'er, this is ten thousand years in the past. The variables are too great. Knowing each other's true roots gives us that much more certainty of survival and a way back. After all—"

He slightly drew out the end of his sentence, his gaze as sharp as a blade, as if he could pierce through all her pretenses and reach her very core. "This is ten thousand years ago, not ten thousand years later. Whatever background you have is useless here. So, regardless of whether we can eventually return, we should at least be honest with each other. Don't you think?"

The air in the room froze completely.

Sunlight filtered through the exquisite carved window lattices, carving bright patches of light onto the floor and stretching the silhouettes of the two people in their silent confrontation.

Wang Dong'er seemed to have become a frozen jade statue; only the slight rise and fall of her chest proved she was still breathing.

She stared fixedly into Lu Jing's eyes, attempting to find even a trace of hypocrisy or calculation, but those eyes were bottomless, filled only with a calm, almost frank profundity.

Time ticked away, the silence heavy as lead, pressing down on their hearts.

Finally, Wang Dong'er slowly released her tightly bitten lower lip, leaving behind a row of shallow tooth marks.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, the struggle and wariness in her eyes were replaced by a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve.

It was a look of exhaustion and determination, born from seeing her situation clearly and shedding a layer of her disguise.

"I..."

Her voice was dry, carrying a trace of imperceptible trembling, yet it rang out with startling clarity in the quiet room. "I come from the Clear Sky Sect."

She paused for a moment, as if needing to summon all her strength to utter the next few words. She explained, "I am the Young Master of the Clear Sky Sect."

Each word fell like a hammer, shattering the frozen silence.

Lu Jing's face remained expressionless, though his calm eyes flickered with a speed that was almost impossible to catch.

He leaned forward slightly, his inquiry carrying a hint of feigned ignorance. "The Clear Sky Sect?"

His voice held just the right amount of confusion as his gaze fell upon Wang Dong'er's empty hands. He asked, "But isn't your Martial Soul the Goddess of Light Butterfly? It seems... a far cry from the Tool Martial Soul inherited by the Clear Sky Sect."

This precise "challenge" was like a needle, instantly piercing the last shred of wishful thinking beneath the shell of courage Wang Dong'er had just mustered.

She snapped her head up, two flames of indignation igniting in her powder-blue eyes. The previous struggle and hesitation were replaced by a fierce pride that belonged to the Young Master of the Clear Sky Sect.

"Heh!" A short, cold laugh escaped her lips.

In the next second, without a word of nonsense, she abruptly raised her right hand, which she had been keeping tightly clenched at her side!

She turned her palm upward and fingers snapped open!

BOOM!

An incomparably domineering and terrifying aura suddenly exploded outward! The air in the room seemed to be squeezed and torn by an invisible giant hand, emitting dull, booming cracks!

Blinding blue-violet lightning, like giant pythons dancing wildly, coiled around the object that had appeared out of thin air in her palm. It crackled and popped, with violent energy particles scattering in every direction, whipping up tiny whirlwinds that tousled the hair on both their foreheads.

It was a... hammer!

The handle was as dark as ink, as if it could swallow light itself. The hammerhead was unimaginably massive, presenting a heavy, condensed dark blue hue. Its surface was not smooth, but covered in ancient and rugged lightning patterns!

Most strangely, in the center of the hammerhead's widest face, there was an inlaid pattern of a Goddess of Light Butterfly, outlined in pure golden energy as if it were about to take flight!

It did not look like a lifeless object; the butterfly wings seemed to breathe, flickering with a gentle and sacred radiance that formed a powerful and bizarre harmony with the violent Lightning Power of the hammer itself.

Clear Sky Hammer!

This peerless divine weapon, symbolizing the strongest offensive Tool Martial Soul on the continent, was revealed to Lu Jing without reservation.

The violent Lightning Power intertwined with the sacred radiance of the butterfly wings, casting flickering light and shadow across Wang Dong'er's beautiful face. The pressure surrounding her surged, instantly transforming her from a bright, lovely girl back into the young mistress who held the fate of a top-tier sect in her hands.

"Martial Soul?" A curve of arrogance and a hint of coldness touched the corners of her lips. Her powder-blue eyes were like blades tempered in ice, piercing straight at Lu Jing. Her voice was clear, every word ringing with conviction as she retorted: "Have you never heard of—"

"Twin Martial Souls?"

Lightning growled in her palm, and butterfly wings shimmered on her hammer. The air was thick with the scorched scent of intense Spirit Power collision, along with Wang Dong'er's undisguised, piercing gaze, waiting for a final explanation.

Lu Jing watched quietly as she held this unique Clear Sky Hammer, which carried the power of two top-tier Martial Souls. He looked at the golden butterfly wings poised for flight on the hammer's face, and the last trace of probing in his eyes finally settled, transforming into a profound, settled clarity.

"So that's how it is." He nodded ever so slightly, a nearly gentle smile slowly blooming on his face. There was no surprise in that smile, no awe, only the calm of someone who had solved a riddle, and a hint of indescribable complexity.

It seems that this girl, Wang Dong'er, is more trustworthy than Tang San. I had been overthinking it.