At the Primordial Sacred Ground, fine snow drifted gently through the air.
The place remained as tranquil and leisurely as ever.
After the martial competition a few days ago, the Saintess, An Lingran, had gone into secluded cultivation.
She needed to calm her mind, cast aside pride and arrogance, and remember the life lesson her junior brother had taught her—reflecting on herself and adjusting her mindset.
Until she truly changed her state of mind, she had no face to meet him.
Only after improving herself would she be worthy of continuing to teach He Qiu swordsmanship.
Otherwise, whenever she looked at his gentle face, she would feel so ashamed she could hardly bear it.
Still, before entering seclusion, she left a small opening—
“Yun Qing, while I am reflecting, if my junior brother wishes to see me, let him come in. We can speak privately.”
That was her instruction to her spirit companion, Yun Qing.
Yun Qing nodded obediently without saying much, and An Lingran began her secluded reflection.
As for their previous wager—He Qiu had successfully mastered the Fine Snow Sword Art on time. She had lost.
So naturally, she would honor the bet.
From now on, she was willing to follow the marriage agreement and try to get along with her junior brother…
Even—
To become cultivation partners and accompany each other for life.
As long as he was willing, An Lingran felt none of this would be a problem.
First, she had completely taken a liking to the boy—his looks, character, talent, cultivation…
Second, although they hadn’t spent much time together, she believed that as long as two people liked each other, feelings would grow naturally.
When the time came, the engagement would simply follow its course.
To be honest, she felt her feelings for He Qiu could already be called “liking.”
If her junior brother did not mind her previous offense and also liked her, then she would be more than willing—eager, even—to develop their relationship further.
In truth, An Lingran had no experience with romance.
Her thoughts were still quite conservative, and she wasn’t entirely sure of her own feelings, nor whether she truly had the resolve to spend a lifetime in love with him.
Even so, she did feel a budding impulse—to know him better.
But she was thin-skinned and proud.
After being repeatedly humbled and weighed down by guilt these past few days, her confidence had taken a hit.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to face him yet.
She feared how disappointed he might be if he saw that she had not changed at all.
So, to bridge the gap between them, she wanted to improve herself—to grow, to rise, to at least come close to his level, earn his approval, and then continue nurturing their relationship as his senior sister.
That was her plan.
Of course, if her junior brother were eager to fulfill the wager and confirm their engagement, she wouldn’t refuse. In fact, she would be happy—relieved, even—if he took the initiative.
After all, confessions and proposals had always traditionally been initiated by the man.
Though she was his senior in rank, she was only nineteen.
With no experience in love, her feelings could only be described as those of a young girl.
And young girls were bound to be shy.
So she found herself quietly hoping that he would come to her—look at her with affection, propose to her earnestly…
And that she would happily accept, giving him a hug and her first kiss as a promise.
That was the scene she longed for.
Sometimes, even a Saintess would dream of romance like in storybooks—of being cherished by a handsome hero.
And that hero, in her heart, had already been decided.
None other than her gentle and refined junior brother.
As she thought about it, the corners of her lips lifted slightly, forming a soft, sweet smile.
I wonder when he’ll come to propose…
…
Naturally, He Qiu knew nothing of the Saintess’s thoughts.
Forget coming to propose—he wasn’t even in the sect anymore.
Last night, he had packed his belongings, taken what little money he had, and set off down the mountain to train his swordsmanship.
As for the so-called engagement with An Lingran?
Please.
He had never even heard of such a thing.
All he knew was that if he wanted to gain his senior sister’s approval and remain in the Snow Chant lineage, he had to go down the mountain, temper his sword skills, and within the remaining time, fully adapt to real combat and refine his techniques to perfection.
Only then would he have the confidence to face her and fulfill that “wager.”
So, he left overnight.
Charge!
Charge!
Charge!
After all, he was now a third-stage Spirit Realm swordsman—more than capable of handling himself.
Dealing with petty bandits should be easy!
As the Saintess’s junior brother and a direct disciple of the Snow Chant lineage, he ought to carry himself with the heroic spirit of a young sword immortal!
When he first left the sect, he was brimming with youthful vigor, practically bursting with enthusiasm as he dashed down the mountain like the wind.
However—
Less than three hours later, he was done.
He got lost.
The Dragon Roar Mountain Range was steep and oddly shaped, and without sunlight at night, charging blindly downhill had quickly left him stranded halfway up the mountain.
No matter which direction he took, he always ended up back at the same crooked tree.
“Tch… I should’ve asked Senior Sister Lingran to teach me sword flight…”
he muttered to himself.
Back when he first came to the sect, it was Elder An Daosheng who had flown him up the mountain on an ice sword—fast as lightning, incredibly dashing.
As a country boy entering the world for the first time, he had been completely awestruck.
So naturally, he hadn’t paid attention to the terrain at all.
And now, here he was—lost in the mountains.
“Something’s wrong… Aren’t I supposed to be the protagonist? How do I get lost just going down a mountain…?”
In the dead of night, the boy trudged along alone, sword in hand.
He was exhausted, thirsty, and starving.
At this rate, he might not even make it down before dying in the wilderness.
Forget it—better find somewhere to rest for the night and search for a path at dawn.
With a sigh, he sheathed his sword and began looking for a place to stay.
A pile of rocks?
A cave?
Under a tree?
…
None of them felt safe.
Not only would his neck be stiff the next day, but he might also get dragged off and eaten by some wild beast.
The more he thought about it, the worse it felt.
Nothing had gone right tonight.
Then suddenly—
A faint smell of smoke drifted into his nose.
“Is there… someone living nearby?”
Weighing the silver in his pouch, He Qiu decided it would be best to find a mountain villager and ask for lodging for the night.