Chapter 52: Breaking and Remolding Part 1

In this world of martial arts, people are like swords. A sword can be broken, and naturally, so can a person.

Feng Yun’ai truly did not want to see this woman break herself alone against the Dieshan Alliance. After a long silence, she had no choice but to nod in agreement. “I wonder how they will set up the flower stand this year,” she said tonelessly.

She had never seen it with her own eyes. Everything she knew about the Hero Recruitment Meet came from the mouth of Feng Rong.

Whatever Feng Rong had told her, that was what the Hero Recruitment Meet looked like in her heart.

On the eve of the meet, the Sword Trial Stage would be heavily cordoned off to prevent outsiders from sneaking in and tampering with the grounds. During that period, the Red-Necked String-of-Pearls would inevitably be moved onto the flower stand.

The flower stand sat at the dead center of the Sword Trial Stage. It was a heavy sword carved from gold and stone; ordinary blades could not damage it in the slightest.

The stand was thirty feet high. Only the flower bulbs of the Red-Necked String-of-Pearls were exposed, while the leaves and stems were buried deep within the stand to protect them from accidental harm during the matches.

Sang Chencao let out a cold laugh. “They definitely won’t be using the Red-Necked String-of-Pearls this year. It’s still a long time before those bloom.”

Feng Yun’ai’s gaze darkened. She thought of the budding flower tucked behind Feng Rong’s ear. If things were truly as Sang Chencao suggested—that the corpse was hidden within that golden-stone flower stand—she wondered if Feng Rong’s spirit in heaven would be enraged.

Then again, Feng Rong surely didn’t want to have died in vain. She would want the truth to be known.

“They’ll have to use a flower with a long enough blooming period to replace the String-of-Pearls,” Sang Chencao mused to herself. “The Hero Recruitment Meet lasts seven days. There are precious few flowers that can bloom for seven days straight without wilting.”

Feng Yun’ai frowned. “But what can we achieve by sneaking in now? They won’t set out the replacement plants in advance like they do with the Red-Necked String-of-Pearls. If they did, the flowers would wither just as the meet began.”

“We go to check if there are any hidden mechanisms inside that stone sword first,” Sang Chencao replied.

Feng Yun’ai truly didn’t know the details of the stone sword; Feng Rong had never mentioned them to her.

Beside them, Meng Youmu suddenly spoke up. “I’ve heard the Golden-Stone Heavy Sword is hollow. In past years, someone would hide inside to water the Red-Necked String-of-Pearls.”

Sang Chencao laughed, her voice leisurely. “And here I thought that flower stand had some grand secret. If that’s the case, if the flowers wilt, couldn’t they just swap them out from the inside?”

Meng Youmu shook her head. “I am only repeating hearsay.”

“When do we leave?” Feng Yun’ai asked bluntly.

“Rest up. We leave tomorrow.” Sang Chencao yawned and headed toward the side wing. She turned her head back and added, “We’ll go in using the Disguise Art tomorrow. That way, we won’t have to sneak around like ghosts, and we won’t arouse suspicion.”

It made a certain amount of sense. The Dieshan Alliance likely wouldn’t find peace tonight, given that the “infiltrator” had yet to be caught. Charging in now would only be adding fuel to the fire.

Meng Youmu watched Sang Chencao push the door open but said nothing, offering only a lukewarm, sideways glance. She picked up the wooden needle from the floor and resumed knitting, completely unbothered that the ball of yarn had gathered dust from the floor.

Feng Yun’ai followed. She had expected the place to be so dilapidated it wouldn’t even have a bed, but the room was surprisingly well-furnished.

Sang Chencao blew a thin layer of dust off the table and sat down. “I’ll sit tonight,” she said airily. “Lest you tell people later that I didn’t treat you well.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Feng Yun’ai was puzzled, unsure who these “others” were.

Now that Feng Rong was gone, there was likely no one left to care whether she was treated well or not.

Sang Chencao propped her chin in her hand, looking like she had no intention of moving. Her gaze slanted toward the bed. “I thought you would say that I never treat you poorly.”

Feng Yun’ai truly didn’t know how to respond. She hadn’t actually scrutinized whether she was being treated well or not. Currently, the two of them were neither enemies nor friends—how could one even discuss “kindness”?

Neither enemies nor friends, yet so intimate… what did that make them?

“Why the silence? Is it because I treat you too well?” Sang Chencao teased.

“You know the truth in your heart.” Feng Yun’ai didn’t take the bed either. She sat on the opposite side of the table and said coldly, “Once this matter is resolved, we go our separate ways. Such… suggestive words… it’s better if you say them less.”

“What wild imaginings is Xiuxiu having?” Sang Chencao’s lips curled up, her lowered voice sounding quite enchanting.

Feng Yun’ai snapped, “What does it have to do with you?”

“Truly cold-hearted, Xiuxiu,” Sang Chencao scoffed.

No lamp was lit in the room. Once the door was closed, only the dim moonlight filtered through the window paper.

Sang Chencao leaned her elbows forward, moving closer to Feng Yun’ai. “Why don’t you tell me? Just how far have your wild imaginings gone?”

The string of patience in Feng Yun’ai’s heart was close to snapping. Finally, she asked, “Why are you so obsessed with… calling me by my childhood nickname?”

Sang Chencao acted surprised. “Xiuxiu told me herself. Am I not allowed to use it? ‘Xiuxiu’ sounds lovely. It brings joy to my heart whenever I say it.”

Feng Yun’ai was speechless.

“Come on, tell me. What were you imagining?” Sang Chencao was clearly enjoying herself, refusing to let the question go.

Feng Yun’ai averted her gaze. In truth, she didn’t know what that strange stir in her heart was either.

Such intimacy… even Feng Rong had never called her that.

It felt as if her connection to this world no longer began and ended with Feng Rong.

However, the moment the thought surfaced, Feng Yun’ai crushed it back down to the depths. She knew perfectly well that she and this Demoness were not on the same path.

Failing to get an answer, Sang Chencao slowly pulled back and laughed. “If you can’t say it, I’ll just guess for myself. You can’t blame me if my guesses go astray, Xiuxiu—you’re the one who won’t speak.”

She was doing this on purpose. Feng Yun’ai found the woman increasingly cunning.

Sang Chencao stopped laughing. With a flick of her index finger toward the bed, she said, “Go lie down. Once we’re inside the Dieshan Alliance tomorrow, I’ll need you to recognize the paths. If you miss a turn, we’ll both suffer.”

The previous words had been mere provocation; this sentence actually hit home for Feng Yun’ai.