Ten Thousand Swords Piercing the Heart (1)
“Junior sister, today is my birthday.”
Xiao Lanle lowered her head slightly, their noses meeting.
Her starry eyes reflected Lin Qianshuang’s face, determination flashing in her gaze. “So I get to choose where we go.”
Lin Qianshuang caught the stubborn longing in her eyes and felt a pang of unease. She pried Xiao Lanle’s hand away, words tumbling out hastily, “We’ve let too many misunderstandings fester between us. Let me make this clear—I don’t return your feelings. I’m not inclined that way, and soon I’ll be wed into the Chen family. You… you deserve to find your own happiness.”
Xiao Lanle bristled at her rejection and clinical tone. The engagement was a farce in her eyes—just another excuse to keep her at arm’s length. Everyone knew Chen Shangqing’s reputation as a notorious philanderer. Lin Qianshuang had only agreed to this sham betrothal to protect her.
Without mutual affection, even a marriage would be nothing but a hollow sham—how utterly joyless. Would her senior sister truly settle for such an unworthy match? Lin Qianshuang refused to believe it.
Xiao Lanle pressed her forehead to Lin Qianshuang’s, her delicate features unbearably close. Their gazes locked as she pleaded in a pitiful, trembling voice tinged with youthful crispness and a shy lilt, “Junior sister… don’t push me away. Let me hold you like this—just a little longer, alright?”
Lin Qianshuang sighed. Considering their dwindling time together, she relented, “Fine, fine—I’ll stay still. But keep us away from crowds, understand?”
A smile flickered across Xiao Lanle’s lips as she tightened her embrace and urged her sword forward, cutting through layered clouds. Flocks of wild geese sailed past beneath their sword, while sky lanterns released from Tianshu Tower’s pinnacle glowed like daylight stars overhead. Several drifted upward beside them, their flames winking out as they vanished into the glowing haze.
“Senior Sister Qianshuang, just look at these lantern prayers—mortals truly lack imagination. All their wishes are the same clichéd phrases.”
Xiao Lanle snatched a passing sky lantern, tsked at its inscription, then released it abruptly. She turned to Lin Qianshuang with fervent intensity. “I wouldn’t be so foolish. My words are safest here—” she pressed a hand to her heart, “—because a blank lantern speaks louder than a thousand worn-out verses. Some truths are too vast for paper to hold.”
Lin Qianshuang steadied herself on the sword’s flat blade, offering a stiff chuckle. When did this naive junior become so silver-tongued? Her spontaneous declarations already outshone Liang Jingxuan’s rehearsed sweet talk.
Xiao Lanle blew a crisp note on her bone flute, summoning a white crane that glided down beside them. She pulled Lin Qianshuang onto its back, and together they circled Tianshu Tower—its peak shimmering with ascending lanterns. Cradling a lotus-shaped lantern with an undying shark-oil flame, Xiao Lanle let it rise from her palms.
Lin Qianshuang glanced sideways. Bathed in golden light, Xiao Lanle clasped her hands in earnest prayer, features softened by devotion. Against her will, Lin’s tension eased. She released her own lantern, watching it join the constellation of wishes flickering against the night.
In the human cultivation realm, Xiao Lanle tugged Lin Qianshuang through the festival crowd to watch street performers. They nibbled square cakes in the firelight, lingered until the act ended, then drifted to a nearby stall to fiddle with wooden trinkets.
Lin Qianshuang’s smile masked her hollow unease. Liang Jingxuan’s signal had been sent. By now, chaos would be ripping through the Penglai Immortal Sect.
===
The courtyard gate was locked. Lin Qianshuang gave it a gentle push, and the lock clattered to the ground. She hitched her skirt and stepped over the threshold, guiding the blindfolded Xiao Lanle inside.
“Can I look now, junior sister?” Xiao Lanle teased, plucking at the silk scarf. “What’s this myste—”
The fabric fell. Her words died as she froze, stunned by the sight before her.
The childhood Xiao manor materialized before her, perfectly preserved. She drifted through the courtyard like a sleepwalker, pausing at the inner hall’s round table where steaming longevity noodles sat beside twelve small bowls of vegetable dumplings – an exact recreation of the Xiao clan’s holiday rituals.
Xiao Lanle lifted the bowl with trembling hands, chopsticks hovering over the noodles. Across from her, Lin Qianshuang silently placed twin blood-jade bracelets on the lacquered wood.
“The family estate never became that abandoned ghost tale. I bought the deed and restored it.” Lin’s finger tapped a carved name on the bracelet. Suwen. “Found these inside. Your mother’s, perhaps.”
Xiao Lanle cradled the jewelry, eyes shimmering with complex emotions as she stared at Lin.
“City Lord Mu arranged everything for your birthday,” Lin blurted, hastily pushing the noodles closer. Her laugh sounded too bright. “Eat it all, Little Senior Sister. Let’s not waste my culinary ordeal.”
Xiao Lanle swirled her chopsticks through the bowl of noodles, her eyes darting mischievously as she scrunched her brows. “Too salty. Too sour. These are completely spoiled.”
“Spoiled?” Lin Qianshuang blinked, snatching her own chopsticks to taste the noodles. She chewed thoughtfully—they were perfectly seasoned, savory and fresh.
Before she could protest, warmth brushed her right cheek—a fleeting kiss—followed by the clatter of chopsticks being seized. A tongue swiped the corner of her lips.
Xiao Lanle cradled the steaming bowl, a sly smile curling upward. “Ah, much better. The aroma’s richer now.”
Heat crept up Lin Qianshuang’s neck. She feigned obliviousness, blinking slowly at her junior sister. Xiao Lanle merely tilted her head, posture regal as she consumed another bite, the picture of innocence. As if she hadn’t just stolen a kiss mid-meal.
A white crane fluttered agitatedly at the latticed window, its crimson claws scrabbling against the courtyard door with an ear-grating scrape when the room’s occupants failed to respond.
Xiao Lanle set down her bowl and pushed open the door. There stood her father’s prized crane—recognizable by the slate-gray feathers mingling with black at its wingtips—pacing with a scrap of parchment bound to one leg.
Lin Qianshuang rose from the rattan chair as color drained from the younger woman’s face. “You’re pale as snow, junior sister. What’s wrong?” she pressed, wide-eyed with manufactured concern.
Snatching the note, she sucked in a sharp breath. Feigned panic sharpened her voice. “Sect Master Xiao’s natal soul lamp—it’s dimming! The Penglai Immortal Sect is under attack!”
She caught Xiao Lanle’s wrist, her grip urgent. “Stay here. Let me assess the danger first.”
Xiao Lanle shoved the door open with urgency, throwing Lin Qianshuang an anxious glance. After soothing the agitated white crane, she mounted its back and took to the sky, vanishing into the distance.
Lin Qianshuang unfolded the note concealed in her left hand. A sound transmission talisman materialized in her palm, crackling with Liang Jingxuan’s frenzied voice:
“Senior Sister! Thanks to you dismantling the barrier and freezing the defenses, my demon army slipped right in. Those doddering old men and stubborn crones of Penglai Immortal Sect crumpled like paper! Executed every disciple who dared resist. Old Xiao Shen’s bones may be tough, but he’ll crack soon enough—still no lead on the Glazed Temple Gem. Hah! Did he really think I’d spare him after his humiliations? Every insult will be repaid tenfold before the entire sect!”
A pause, then his tone turned cloying. “Shuang’er… Hurry to the main hall. Let’s celebrate together. I’m now the rightful leader of Penglai Immortal Sect, and you—” his voice dropped, smug, “—my esteemed Sect Leader’s wife.”
Lin Qianshuang grimaced. Shuang’er. The saccharine nickname prickled her skin like spider legs.
She retrieved five magic cores from her jade storage slip, absorbing them in one sharp inhale. The demon infant within her dantian surged, its cultivation rocketing upward—only to stall abruptly at the threshold of advancement.
The power thrumming through her now rivaled that of any demon cultivator at the Out-of-Body stage.
Lin Qianshuang absently brushed her fingers against the Spirit Conversion Stone at her collarbone, verifying no demonic qi seeped through, then withdrew the bamboo Tianshu Order Mu Weiyin had given her. The token pulsed faintly—confirmation received. Reinforcements from Tianshu City would soon encircle Penglai Immortal Sect.
In the main hall, Liang Jingxuan sprawled across the Sect Master’s throne, the unsheathed Purple Heavenly Sword glinting with rosy light where it leaned against his knees. A voluptuous demon cultivator hovered at his shoulder, bending periodically to murmur in his ear with saccharine smiles.
Sect Master Xiao Shen dangled upside down from the vaulted ceiling, bloodied robes clinging to his broken frame. Elders sat rigid along the aisles, their cultivation sealed, flanked by snarling demonic beasts that snapped at the slightest movement. Not one dared protest.
Disciples crowded the lower steps, fists trembling. Several lunged forward only to be yanked back by comrades. The severed heads lining the stairway—discarded like grisly ornaments—leered grotesquely down at them.
Footsteps. Sharp. Urgent. The hall’s heavy doors shuddered open.
Xiao Lanle dismounted the white crane and stormed into the hall. Her sword flashed, severing the ropes suspending Xiao Shen midair. She caught the Sect Master as he fell, her hands trembling at the sight of the gaping wound where his inner core had been ripped out. Only a thread of immortal energy sustained him now.
“Liang Jingxuan!” Her glare burned into the man lounging on the sect throne, the hilt of her sword creaking under her grip. “You butcher your own sect siblings, mutilate our leader, and dare claim authority here? Death wouldn’t absolve your crimes!”
Liang Jingxuan pushed aside the demon cultivator whispering at his ear and rose, Purple Heavenly Sword gleaming ominously at his side. “Careful, Junior Sister.” He flicked imaginary dust from his deputy master’s robes. “I am Penglai’s rightful leader now. Removing treacherous elements is my duty—unless you’d join them?”
Three sharp laughs cut the air as Xiao Lanle steadied her father. “A demonic rodent hiding behind trinkets.” She gestured at the cracked stone amulet at his throat. “Did you think this trinket could mask your stench? A gutter-born demon scheming to rule Penglai—laughable. Step down now, or I’ll carve the truth from your flesh!”
Liang Jingxuan’s gaze lingered on her face, a twisted mix of hunger and nostalgia in his smirk. A decade of failed attempts to break her pride only sharpened his appetite. How sweet it would taste—watching the sect’s treasured jewel kneel as his attendant, her defiance crushed into obedient whispers. Better yet, to have Lin Qianshuang witness her former protégé reduced to a trembling Cauldron in his bedchamber. The fantasy warmed him more than any throne.
“Such fire,” he crooned. “We’ll see how brightly it burns when your beloved Sect’s blood stains your hands. Starting with his.” He nodded at Xiao Shen’s shuddering form, savoring the fury twisting her features. “Or perhaps you’d bargain? A concubine’s collar might yet spare this wretched—”
The hall shuddered as Xiao Lanle’s blade struck the dais, fracturing the stone between his boots. “Rot in the Nine Hells first.”
Liang Jingxuan flicked his sleeve dismissively. The demon cultivator beside him retreated as he crooked a finger at Xiao Lanle standing below the dais, lips twisting with malicious amusement. “Climb up and settle onto my lap, Junior Sister Xiao,” he drawled. “Do that, and I’ll free everyone here. Might even let that fossil Xiao Shen keep breathing.”
Xiao Lanle’s Plain Inquiry Sword had barely cleared its sheath when Lin Qianshuang—slipping into the hall like shadow—caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
Lin Qianshuang spared Liang Jingxuan a sidelong glance before turning to Xiao Lanle, her serene mask fracturing into a venomous smile. Pathetic worm. Still trying to grope after her with your neck already halfway into the noose. Just wait.
Focus snapping back, she tightened her grip on Xiao Lanle while stealthily drawing a poison needle from her sleeve. Behind them, the unconscious Xiao Shen twitched faintly as she slid the needle into his crown. Even if this toxin doesn’t kill him, she mused coldly, it’ll leave him a drooling simpleton. Useful.
She turned to Xiao Lanle with anxious urgency. “Liang Jingxuan wields the Purple Heavenly Sword. Even his Superior Purple Lightning Fire could raze this hall to ash, not to mention the horned dragon guarding him. If you charge in recklessly, Junior Sister, you’ll never overpower him.”
Xiao Lanle shifted her gaze to Lin Qianshuang, peeling the other woman’s hand from her wrist only to clasp it tighter. Her eyes hardened like forged steel. “Shuangshuang,” she said, low and sharp, “don’t fret. I’ll drag Liang Jingxuan’s corpse through nine hells myself.”
Nearby, Xiao Shen lay paralyzed—poisoned, mute, his trembling arm straining toward Xiao Lanle. His bulging eyes fixed on her lower dantian, where the Glazed Temple Gem pulsed faintly beneath her robes. It’s my only hope now, the desperate glare screamed.
“The Sect Leader’s been poisoned! What do we do, Junior Sister?” Lin Qianshuang’s voice wavered with feigned panic. Her gaze flicked to Xiao Shen’s twitching form, glacial contempt flashing in her eyes before she schooled her features back to concern. “Stay with Sect Leader Uncle. I saved Liang Jingxuan once—he’s no true villain. Maybe… I can coax the antidote from him.”