Jiang Qiulan sat at the table without motion, and yet every edge of her was out — finally showing what it meant to be Qingzhou’s sharpest blade.

Shen Yi looked away without comment, reached for the small wine crock, and knocked off the mud seal.

He took a mild sip of the medicinal wine.

You can say what you like — it costs nothing—

If she genuinely had the conviction to look down on everything, she wouldn’t have put on the long skirt.

This was the cost of carrying too many people’s hopes. When everyone in Qingzhou had made her their hope, she’d been placed on a high pyre — and every reverent gaze was another handful of dry wood thrown on the fire.

Shen Yi said nothing consoling. They were colleagues, nothing closer. She had helped him considerably, and if she needed help with something, he wouldn’t refuse. But they weren’t close enough for the kind of conversation that required an open heart.

Besides — compared to everyone else in Qingzhou, he believed only in what was in his own hand.

The room went quiet.

“…”

Jiang Qiulan watched the young man’s face. Something moved in those fine eyes.

Then, gradually, the sharp edge around her settled.

Like an immortal from a painting stepping down into the ordinary world — slightly less cold, slightly more real.

In front of others, she always had to maintain the appearance of complete control. But in front of Shen Yi, he consistently read her actual state through whatever she showed.

She raised the crock and drank it straight down. The amber wine slid past the corner of her mouth down to the pale neck, soaking into the collar.

She closed her eyes. The dense lashes gave a soft flutter.

“It’s close to breaking through. I’m a little anxious.”

She didn’t need a response. She only wanted something to say it to. The young man who, like her, was accustomed to silence was the most suitable person available.

“But when I put this on—” a beat— “all these years of cultivation felt like a joke.”

“I will kill it.”

She opened her eyes again. The blackness of them had shed the slightly deliberate sharpness. Entirely calm — and carrying a killing intent that ran to the bone.

Whether it was imagination or not — in the stillness of the room, something barely audible seemed to crack. But listening for it, it wasn’t a sound at all. It was the air moving.

Shen Yi set down the crock and looked over with an expression of mild exasperation.

“…”

Cultivation was supposed to be a serious undertaking. It required enormous lifespan to build realm by realm. Couldn’t she just—without a word—the air shouldn’t just start doing things from someone saying a few sentences.

“Thank you.”

Jiang Qiulan steadied her breathing, let the killing intent settle, and looked at the young man with a warmth she didn’t often show.

She was a step closer to the Mixed Origin Grandmaster realm.

“No need. A wooden post in this seat would have the same effect.” He said it casually.

Jiang Qiulan shook her head with actual seriousness. “It wouldn’t.”

The talent she’d always been proud of had just spent the evening being quietly outpaced. That was a genuine stimulation.

And this manner the young man had — unhurried, as if nothing truly occupied him — that she also envied.

It was why she’d walked back to this courtyard tonight.

“You should be at Condensate Perfection by now. With your comprehension—” there was a faint note of feeling in her voice— “crossing the three thresholds may take you a fraction of the time it takes most.”

Sowing the path seed. Nurturing the path embryo. Condensing the path infant. When the path infant had accumulated sufficient foundation — completely shattering the inner core — and that was the Mixed Origin Grandmaster realm.

“And for someone who isn’t so quick about it?” Shen Yi felt a faint unease stir.

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Her voice was gently reassuring. Every practitioner entering the core-nurturing stage for the first time had some nervousness — he probably didn’t realize yet how extraordinary his comprehension actually was.

“I’m asking for someone else.” He looked away.

“Someone not quick—” She hesitated, as if feeling this was slightly impolite, and her tone carried a touch of apology. “Someone like General Chen, perhaps — he planted the path seed around his two-hundredth year and entered the core-nurturing stage, and only broke through the second threshold when he went to Qingfeng Mountain recently. And he follows the Martial Immortal path — with an entire prefecture’s accumulated faith behind him, he’s never lacked for resources.”

You could see she was already reaching for the most generous comparison she could find.

He walked the divine spirit shortcut — far simpler than the Mixed Origin path. But after six hundred-odd years, the divine spirit still hadn’t properly awakened. He could only borrow a fraction of its capabilities.

“…”

Shen Yi glanced at the black armor on his body.

What a coincidence.

A small Linjiang Prefecture — managing to house two Demon Suppression Generals with unremarkable aptitude at the same time. Truly impressive in its own way.

Though fortunately — with enough demon lifespan, a few centuries wasn’t actually that significant.

Having learned the Heaven-Devouring Art, Shen Yi had a reasonable picture of the core-nurturing stage now. The difficulties really came down to three things.

First — sufficient resources. If you wanted to nourish the path using qi and blood, you needed tremendous quantities of precious medicines, refined into blood-force, and fed into the inner core. An extraordinarily slow process, and the medicines required were astronomical in number.

But he already had a direction for that. He intended to use demonic force — the most accessible resource available. Through the Heavenly Demon external pill’s domineering absorbing method, demonic force could be stored inside in an instant without requiring personal refinement first — fed directly to the inner core, skipping one entire step in the process.

Second — once enough had accumulated, how to condense that into the path seed. Third — once condensed, how to merge the divine spirit into it.

These latter two were almost certainly where General Chen’s slow progress came from.

For Shen Yi, both could be resolved with demon lifespan. The only real problem was not having enough demon cores on hand right now.

Once he had the new weapon — it was time to go back to Qingzhou.

Just then — a figure came moving somewhat quickly from outside the courtyard.

Jiang Chengyun rushed in, looked at the two figures sitting across from each other inside.

His expression went progressively more unusual.

No wonder he couldn’t find them. Apparently he’d been the only one who actually went to the banquet.

He wasn’t blaming either of them. He was just thinking — this situation might have gotten a little complicated.

He stepped slightly aside to reveal the slender young man in dark green behind him.

The Ji prince Jinjiang walked to the entrance of the room. His gaze moved between the two of them, then came to rest on the empty crocks on the table.

Shen Yi in black armor. Jiang Qiulan in a black dress. Neither speaking — just sitting there quietly — and still somehow giving the impression of complete ease with each other.

“Miss Jiang.” The prince broke the quiet.

Jiang Qiulan looked back.

She had no further intention of any involvement with the Ji royal household. But she had broken her word first tonight. She stood calmly, gave a small nod.

“I’ve already had someone relay my apologies to the Princess. Qingzhou has matters that need my attention — I have no focus for anything else right now. Please offer my further apologies to the Princess on my behalf, and forgive me for the discourtesy.”

She’d only agreed to come and give the prince guidance in cultivation. That had never included dinner and wine.

And after yesterday’s meeting, it was clear the prince’s attention wasn’t on cultivation at all. She had no reason to stay.

(End of Chapter)