I had no intention of entering the martial world.

Chapter 27 A Visitor in the Rain

He then took out the red string that Jiang Wan had given him.

The red string is still there.

He tried to recall Jiang Wan's face, her smile, and the tone of her voice when she said, "I remember for you."

But I can't remember.

It's like looking through a thick fog; you can only see a blurry outline.

He gripped the red rope tightly, harder and harder, until his fingernails pierced his palm.

There was no pain.

There was only a cold, numb feeling.

He finally understood what Lu Jinghong meant by "the price".

It's not about losing your sense of taste, nor is it about losing your emotions.

It means losing "yourself".

Lu Chenzhou, who could hate, feel pain, love, and hesitate, was dying little by little.

What survived was a sword.

A sword that only knows how to move forward, only knows how to kill, only knows how to... complete a certain mission.

mission?

Lu Chenzhou suddenly remembered the last sentence translated from the runes in the stone chamber:

"If there is any movement, the gates of heaven will open, and the world will descend into chaos."

When the Azure Sword is activated, the Heavenly Gate will open.

Now, the sword is in his hand.

Has the Heavenly Gate opened yet?

He looked up at the sky.

The sky was cloudless, and the sunlight was blinding.

There was nothing there.

But Lu Chenzhou knew that some things had changed.

He stood up and continued walking.

This time, we have a direction.

It's not going back to Zhongnan Mountain, nor is it going to Qixia Town.

It's about going to...where you should go.

As for where to go?

he does not know.

But the sword knew.

Then let the sword take him away.

---

The rain started falling in the evening.

First, a few sparse raindrops pelted the dust on the official road, stirring up fine wisps of smoke. Then the clouds grew thicker and thicker, the sky darkened, and finally, with a "whoosh," a torrential downpour began.

Lu Chenzhou did not seek shelter from the rain.

He walked in the rain, step by step, slowly but steadily. The rain soaked his hair and clothes, streaming down his cheeks and forming a thin line of water at the red mark near his eye, like a tear of blood.

But he couldn't feel the cold or the dampness.

There was only one... strange feeling, somewhere between existence and non-existence.

It's like walking in a dream, like looking at the world through frosted glass.

The official road was quiet in the rain, with no pedestrians or carriages. Only the sound of rain, a dense, monotonous sound, like heaven and earth weeping.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, a dilapidated temple appeared ahead.

The temple was old, with peeling paint, broken tiles, and a crooked door that creaked in the wind. But there was a fire inside—a dim, flickering light shining through the broken windows, which seemed especially warm on this stormy evening.

Lu Chenzhou stopped in his tracks.

He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to see anyone.

But the body needs rest—not from exhaustion, but from the wounds. The knife wound on the left shoulder was still bleeding, the palm print on the back was throbbing, not to mention the emptiness left after the violent power within the body subsided.

He hesitated for a moment, but still pushed open the temple door.

"Squeak—"

The door hinges made a piercing sound.

There are people in the temple.

An old monk, a young scholar, and someone else... whom Lu Chenzhou knew.

Chu Xueya.

She sat by the fire, still dressed in white, her hair simply tied up with a wooden hairpin, a dry twig in her hand, gently poking at the fire. The firelight illuminated her face, her features cool and aloof, but the cinnabar between her brows appeared exceptionally vivid in the firelight.

When she saw Lu Chenzhou enter, she looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Young Master Lu." She nodded slightly as a greeting.

Lu Chenzhou didn't speak, but just nodded. Then he sat down in the corner furthest from the fire, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.

He was adjusting his breathing and observing.

The old monk, around sixty years old, was wearing a patched robe and chanting sutras with his eyes closed, holding a string of dark prayer beads in his hand. The young scholar, in his early twenties, was wearing a faded scholar's robe and reading by the firelight, occasionally reciting a few lines in a low voice.

Chu Xueya... why is she here?

After we parted ways at Zhongnan Mountain, she said she wanted to go back to Emei. But Emei is still hundreds of miles away, and we're in the wrong direction.

Just then, Chu Xueya spoke:

"Young Master Lu, you are injured."

It's not a question, it's a statement.

Lu Chenzhou opened his eyes and looked at her.

"A knife wound on the left shoulder, a palm print on the back, and... disordered internal energy." Chu Xueya put down the withered branch, stood up, and took out a small porcelain bottle from her bosom. "I have some wound medicine here."

"No need," Lu Chenzhou said.

But Chu Xueya had already walked over.

She crouched down and looked at Lu Chenzhou's shoulder—his clothes there were soaked in blood and stuck to the wound.

"The wound needs to be treated, otherwise it will get infected." Her voice was calm, but carried an undeniable firmness.

Lu Chenzhou looked at her.

In the firelight, her face was very close, her features clearly defined. He could see her long eyelashes, the firelight reflected in her eyes, and the faint, bluish veins beneath the cinnabar mark between her brows.

That's... the Ice Marrow Sword Bone?

He suddenly remembered that their sword energies had briefly mingled in Zhongnan Mountain. At that time, he sensed that Chu Xueya possessed a power similar to his own, yet not entirely the same.

They share the same origin, but are not the same in nature.

The Azure Sword is extremely yang and strong, while the Ice Marrow Sword is extremely yin and soft.

"I can do it myself," Lu Chenzhou said, reaching out to take the porcelain bottle.

But Chu Xueya avoided it.

"You can't see your back," she said. "Turn around."

His tone was indifferent, but Lu Chenzhou detected a hint of...command.

He remained silent for a moment, then finally turned around.

Chu Xueya gently tore open the shirt on his shoulder. The wound wasn't deep, but it was long, stretching from his shoulder to his upper arm. She poured out some medicinal powder and sprinkled it evenly on the wound.

The powder was cool, and when it touched the wound, Lu Chenzhou felt a slight stinging pain—this was the first time he had felt pain today.

But the pain quickly disappeared.

It's not because of the medication, it's because... my sense of pain is deteriorating.

"Back," Chu Xueya said.

Lu Chenzhou took off his coat. The handprint on his back was clearly visible; it was a complete handprint, bluish-black in color, with swollen edges.

Chu Xueya gently pressed her fingers on the edge of the palm print.

"It's the 'Mysterious Yin Palm'." She frowned. "The unique martial art of the Jiangling Prince's Mansion. Have you offended someone from the Prince's Mansion?"

Lu Chenzhou did not answer.

Chu Xueya didn't ask any more questions, but poured out more medicinal powder and applied it to the palm print. Her fingers were very cold, but when they touched his skin, Lu Chenzhou felt a strange warm current flowing from her fingertips into the wound, dispelling the chill.

It is the power of the Ice Marrow Sword Bone.

She was using her internal energy to heal his injuries.

"No need," Lu Chenzhou said. "I can manage on my own."

"Your internal energy is disordered; forcing yourself to circulate it will only worsen your injuries," Chu Xueya said softly, but with an undeniable authority. "Sit still."

Lu Chenzhou stopped moving.

It wasn't because I was obedient, it was because... that warm current felt very comfortable.

It's like someone who has been frozen in the snow for a long time suddenly encountering a ball of fire.

Although he couldn't feel the emotion of "comfort", his body's instinctive reactions were still there.

Chu Xueya placed her hand on his back, continuously channeling her inner energy into him. That inner energy was peculiar—cold on the outside, warm on the inside, like a frozen volcano. It flowed along his meridians, and wherever it passed, the emptiness left after the rage was slowly filled, and his injuries began to heal.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Chu Xueya withdrew her hand.

"Alright." She stood up and returned to the fire. "Don't get the wound wet, and don't use any force for three days."

Lu Chenzhou put on his clothes, glanced at her, and said, "Thank you."

Chu Xueya shook her head, sat down again, and continued to tend to the fire.

The temple returned to silence.

There were only the sounds of rain, the crackling of the fire, the low chanting of the old monk, and the rustling of the scholar turning the pages of his book.

But this quiet didn't last long.

The temple door was pushed open again.

Three people came in this time.

They were all wearing straw raincoats and bamboo hats, obscuring their faces. But as soon as they entered, they took off their raincoats—underneath were uniform blue close-fitting clothes, with knives at their waists.

Officials.

The leader was a man in his forties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and sharp eyes. He scanned the room as soon as he entered, his gaze lingering on Lu Chenzhou and Chu Xueya for a moment before settling on the old monk.

"Master, could you lend me a place to take shelter from the rain?" He clasped his hands in a respectful gesture, his tone still quite polite.

The old monk opened his eyes, put his hands together in prayer, and said, "Please, benefactor, go ahead."

The three officers sat down in another corner and started a fire. The leader took out some dry rations from his pocket, distributed them to his companions, and began to eat them himself.

The atmosphere in the temple became subtle.

Lu Chenzhou could sense that the three officers' attention was actually focused on him and Chu Xueya.