In the disciples' courtyard, Gu Jingzhao was still bickering with Xu Yuan, while the guest quarters not far away presented an entirely different scene.
Compared to the clamor of the other sects' resting places, the courtyard where the Primordial Unity Sect was staying seemed somewhat quiet and desolate. Once the group returned, they scattered swiftly like droplets falling into sand.
Some treated their wounds, some discussed the day's battles, and some digested their insights. Whenever their gazes happened to pass over Ling Anxin, they carried complicated, unspoken emotions—admiration, reflection, and perhaps a trace of distant separation born from knowing they could never reach her heights.
She stood there like an ember not yet wholly extinguished—scorching, dazzling, yet enough to make others hesitate to approach.
Ling Anhe did not slow his steps, walking directly toward the quietest room at the deepest part of the courtyard. He stopped before its tightly shut ebony door without turning around or even shifting sideways, merely tossing out four words in a flat tone devoid of discernible emotion, yet chilling to the spine of anyone familiar with him:
"Anxin, come here."
Ling Anxin's breathing hitched. She pressed her somewhat chapped lips tightly together and followed him without a word.
Click.
After she entered, the heavy wooden door shut by itself, sealing perfectly and swallowing the daylight along with every faint sound from outside. He did not light a lamp. The room sank into darkness, and without circulating spiritual power, their eyes could barely make out one another's blurry outlines.
Deathly silence grew and spread wildly through the gloom, almost gaining tangible weight as it pressed heavily upon the chest. Only the two of them breathed softly, the sound exceptionally distinct in the absolute quiet.
Ling Anxin could even hear the dull thudding of her heart striking